Page 72 of Intoxicated
Chapter 23
CHER
Gone are the urges to do nothing but throw each other down on the bed and slam bodies like jackhammers. Although my skin is on fire to touch, caress, and be stimulated in return, I’m not thinking about thehottestsex. I don’t care that Drew is packing a dick made for me. Nor do I consider how good he feels when we’re on the same diabolical wavelength. Our whole so-called relationship has been nothing but rough and passionate sex. Now it might simply be passionate.
Slow, but passionate.
I haven’t willinglymade loveto someone in so long that I barely remember what it’s like. Oh, I’ve done the whole slow and methodical sex thing with my exes. Because that’s whattheywanted. Me… well, you know what I’m like. I want to slip into an effortless fantasy full of hard fucking and a slight sentiment of danger. I want bruises on my hips from where my man has held me down to do the dirtiest of deeds. I want hickies on my throat and cum all over and all up in me. I want to be so sore in the morning that I forget how to walk, let alone in flats or heels.That’swhat I fantasize about. Big, hungry dick and impossible positions that make me feel both possessed and utterly possessive. Slow lovemaking? Things calledlovemaking?That’s reserved for people who are earning my heart. You have to be one special bastard for me to take my time kissing your lips while you slowly undress me and get between my legs.
I don’t know how I’ve fallen so easily for this. Drew said the right words, that’s all. I’m emotionally vulnerable. I’m probably ovulating. Some women get mad PMS. I get my most emotional when my ovaries are craving some fertilization. This is the time of the month when I watch Hallmark movies and dive into romance novels that are more than wall-to-wall kinky sex. (Yes, I own a whole two of those books.) So is it really a surprise that a man like Drew could turn on the romantic charm and cajole me into bed forlovemaking?
Honestly, saying the word makes me want to shudder.
We don’t say a single word as we make our way into Drew’s bedroom and start the undressing. He pulls my T-shirt over my head, mouth diving for my throat while my hands fight for a place to go. I should feel self-conscious in nothing but a pair of unflattering leggings and an old sports bra that takes much more effort than usual to get off. Yet Drew’s attentive motions keep lulling me into a false sense of security. I sway in his arms, ready to fall onto the bed at any moment. Even when he takes off his shirt and tosses it on top of mine, all I can think about is turning off the lights and exploring his body. It’s no longer about getting hard, getting wet, or getting off all night. It’s about indulging my stupid heart as it navigates these unknown and treacherous waters.
Would it be too boring to describe such simple sex? While I’m not the one to gab to my girlfriends about raucous cowgirling or leg shaking doggying, I do feel that I should have somethinginterestingto say about the sex I’m having. Yet it’s so simple, isn’t it? Drew takes off the rest of my clothes. He slides between my legs, kissing every inch of my skin that stretches from forehead to shoulders. The intentional hicky he leaves on my neck isn’t the side effect of giving into forbidden pleasures. It’s his way of marking me as his for at least one night. Every time I look in the mirror for the next few days, I’ll see that unflattering mark. Then I’ll smile to see it, remembering this tender moment when Drew Benton slipped his tongue into my mouth and his cock into my body.
There’s never any hurry to get off between us. Never has been. Definitely not tonight, as he takes his slow time to undulate against me. Sometimes he lies still, the only sensations of sex existing in the hardness inside of me. I accommodate him as easily as ever, yet without the constant thrusting and groaning, I have more time to appreciate the softer moments that occur between two people having sex. The way he caresses my breast before wrapping his lips around my nipple will haunt my memory for at least a few years. That sweet demeanor I see every time I open my eyes almost makes me feel like a kid again. Back in those days when people didn’t seem to play so many games with each other. You took people for how they presented themselves. That girl in second grade was awful to you, but at least you knew it from the moment you met her. It wasn’t until later you realized that manipulation and machinations make up a bulk of the human experience. Everything was tainted after that. Cynicism settled in.
Don’t I know what it’s like.
Allowing myself to be raw in front of anyone is deceptively freeing. I almost fall for it. This idea that there is one person out there I can bare myself to, heart and soul. Maybe there are people out there suited for that. Me? I don’t know.
Maybe I don’t want to know.
“You are so gorgeous.” Drew distracts me from my worries to tell me something that almost means nothing. This man has called me all sorts of things in the bedroom. We easily go from“damn, you’re beautiful,”to“who’s a big ol’ nasty slut, huh?”I call him hot. That’s about it. Oh, and bastard. Asshole. Total shithead. But it’s not that kind of night, is it?
My hands curl around his shoulders. I urge him to continue his slow and deep thrusts before I regret what we’re doing. Yet he’s too focused on my face, looking me in the cloudy eyes as I fight to regain any clarity in my brain. “You like stating the obvious, huh?” I ask, my husky voice absolutely unintentional. I’ll take it if it means he starts going again.
“Sorry. I can’t stop looking at this mesmerizing face of yours.”
I encase his cheeks, bringing him down for a kiss. Drew resists me.
“You don’t understand,” he says. “You look like an angel every time you’re into it.”
“You’re trying to tell me that you’d rather talk about my O face than keep fucking me?”
“I can take a little break. Why, can’t you?”
“Maybe taking a break means I lose all concentration.”
“I’d love to see what you look like when you’re really concentrating.”
“There are ways to facilitate that, you know.”
We figure out the best way in another five seconds. I may have been beneath him a moment before, but now I’m top, my legs easily spreading across his pelvis as my own drops into his lap. Drew pierces me right in my core. The ache for him remains, long after he’s filled me like he always does. It’s not enough, though. Neither is bracing my hands against his sturdy chest or letting my hair fall between us. Drew draws his hands up from my hips and down my arms, hands momentarily encasing mine before raising them back up to stroke my face.
