Page 96 of Unleashed

I shake my head on the pillow and sigh in frustration. “I’m sorry.”

He mutters, “Right,” as he drags his nose and lips lower. When he reaches my pubic hair, he inhales, and then the soft moan on his exhale scorches my already burning skin.

“You’re mad. I get it. But what’re you going to do? To me?”

Greg dips his head and runs his nose over my clit, back-and-forth. I lift my impatient hips, needing something of him within me. Anything. I want him to goddamn own me.

Fuck. That is not the right answer. How am I graduating from college? He’s basically renting me, but not like a hooker...just repaying—in exchange—for his helping me with my father... Maybe more like borrowing a library book. Shit. I’m so done with myself.

As a car comes down the hill across the street, the headlights brighten Greg’s face as he lifts his head. His coffee-brown eyes are almost black, and I see his damp hair sticking up. “What am I going to do to you? Any damn thing I want. Anytime. Anywhere.”

My swallow is loud, and my voice is scratchy. “What if I don’t want you to?” I let the words hang between us, hoping they sink in for him.

He laughs against my open pussy, his hot breath teasing my clit. He holds onto my thighs. “You won’t want me to stop.” Greg Rodwell cocky? Oh, hell no. “Like now. You want to come in my mouth so fucking bad. And I’m starving. I’ll eat your pussy until I’m full and then fill it with my dick.”

I shake my head, but it’s more out of disbelief at what he’s saying than of me saying no. The bastard knows my weakness but assumes it’s sex with any man. Never.

Greg mutters something and tips his head back a little. Outside, headlights reflect off his teeth before the car turns, darkening his face as he drops to my pussy. I’m breathless, speechless, and restless. His teeth scrape me. I jump, but it’s not a horrible feeling. It just catches me off guard.

“Fuck,” I whine as he rhythmically rubs his teeth against my tender skin. I think of what it looked like in the mirror earlier, different shades of pink, soft and wet. His tongue sweeps up, erasing the sting. Greg burrows his tongue into my pussy. When he groans against my lips, it vibrates my soul. My pussy floods with mini-waterfalls, and I bear down somewhat to feed his mouth. He growls as his tongue works faster, and I hear him swallowing my offerings. Fuck me to France. This is getting too personal for me. I also won’t last, but I don’t want him to stop.

Greg whispers, “So sweet,” before smashing his lips against my pussy and moving his hands to my ass, pulling me closer. More car headlights pass. Greg’s eyes are closed in the light as he works. He moves to sucking on my clit and dragging his teeth over it, and I nearly blackout as I pant. Greg doesn’t stay there long, thank God, and returns to fucking me with his probing tongue.

Having lost control, I bury my fingers into his damp strands. He wants to play with fire, then I’ll strike the match. I hold on to his scalp and grind into his mouth. He doubles down, pushing my lips open like I had done in the mirror, and kisses me where no man ever has. In the alternating light, his head bobs like he’s pursuing his lifelong passion. He shifts to slide two fingers into me.

Horns blare in my head. Shit. He was right. I need to come in his mouth so fucking much that it’s a serious problem. But it’s not just an orgasm I feel brewing. When he thrusts his fingers deeper, the tingling spreads throughout my lower body. My pussy tightens more around Greg’s fingers, and damn if that doesn’t do something to him. Greg shifts onto his knees and wiggles his fingers at me to come. No, no, no. Fuck, no.

I shove away from him and sit up against the headboard. I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing. Nothing else exists at this moment. It’s all I can do to not give him all of me. The orgasms he gave me were life-changing, and I’d always express my true feelings. He can use my body, but I won’t let him trample my heart again.

His panting punches the dark, and he rasps, “I wasn’t done.”

I shrug, unsure if he can see me. The bed dips as he crawls toward me, but he stops before he’s too close. He sprawls his bare legs in front of mine, so we’re perpendicular like an L. I see his chest heaving and stomach muscles clench in the dim, sporadic light. He doesn’t need a damn six-pack. I see the dark hair disappearing into his Tommy Hilfiger boxers and notice another waistband underneath them. Greg is wearing underwear with his boxers. Why? As a courtesy to sleep next to me? Like, I’ve never seen him naked, and we haven’t fucked twice tonight.

I don’t know why that lights an intense fire in me, but when he looks away with a sigh and the room darkens again, I pounce on him. Greg falls back, and I straddle him, but instead of accepting me, he pushes on any part of me he can. He yells, “Get off me! Oh, God! No! Stop!”

OMG. I just ambushed a sexual assault victim in the dark, no less. I’m too moronic to live. His arms fling toward me and knock me sideways. He’s got to realize who’s with him. However, he doesn’t because he hits the side of my head, and I shriek, but I don’t stop to worry about myself. I did this to him. I need to fix it as much as possible. I might be an idiot sometimes, but I own my mistakes.

I break through his swinging arms to grab his jaw with both hands. “Shh. It’s me. Shh. It’s Simone.” I frown and whisper, “It’s Garrison. I will not hurt you, Greg. It’s okay.”

When the dim light returns for a few seconds, my wide eyes meet his scrunched, wet eyes. Holy fuck. Risking getting head-butted or a broken nose, I lean my forehead against his as his fast, panicked breaths that still smell like me blast my face. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You can trust me. I’m sorry, baby.” That’s why he needs to call the shots. Shit. Shit. Triple shit.

He shakes underneath me, and I wonder how in the hell he has sex with other women. I doubt he’s mentioned his past, and any woman is bound to trigger him by accident. I mean, Greg and I were married, for shit’s sake, and I just did the stupidest thing possible.

Greg sniffs, slowing his breathing, and I realize my damp pussy hair is on his stomach. This keeps getting worse.

I let go of his face and try to sit next to him, but he grabs my legs, holding onto my open thighs. I tentatively return my hands to his jaw. When he doesn’t fight me, I say, “It’s Simone. I’m sorry I did that. I wasn’t trying to... You’re in control, Greg. You. Not me.”

I close my eyes. He’ll leave, and I’ll need to face my dad alone. Greg doesn’t respond, but I drop to his neck to nuzzle him as a comfort thing. Fuck, he smells like spicy sex. With my lips on his hot skin, I kiss him and keep whispering, “I’m sorry,” a few times. I kiss his neck down to his collarbone and push the envelope, kissing up to the bottom of his chin to let him know he’s not alone. There’s no sexual connotation to it. His stubble bristles over my lips, and his pulse pounds a different rhythm. His breaths aren’t shallow but pick up speed again.

As I kiss his throat, I scratch my fingernails over his jaw on the other side of his face, not realizing I’m doing it until I do. Then I feel like an opportunistic whore. He swallows beneath my lips and groans. Damn it. “It’s Garrison. I’m here. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” I move to the other side of his neck to calm him more. Or maybe myself.

Greg wraps his arms around me. I pretend it’s a genuine hug and slide my arms beneath his neck. I sync my breathing with his, and it’s calming. I remember cuddling like this with him after making love at his mother’s house. And at Amos’s. Except for those times we kissed each other’s lips, whispered, ‘I love you,’ and did it all again. My heart and pussy overflowed with him.

When he relaxes his arms, I lift my head and kiss his pulse points, checking to see if he’s better. What would his girlfriend do if this happened with her? Would she freak out? Would she dump him? The thought sickens me. Greg and I broke up for different reasons, but his assault wasn’t one of them.

We hold each other for a few minutes with only the sound of our breathing and my light kisses on his neck. I didn’t anticipate being with Greg like this. I’m not supposed to, but I wanted to have sex with him tonight. Until he left with Blue Bonnet. I expected to argue with him when he returned, but not any of this. And never me holding Greg because I scared the hell out of him. No matter what anger or hurt I feel toward Greg, I’d never turn my back on him for this fucked-upness. Especially when I caused the breakdown.

When his breathing kicks up again, I whisper, “Are you okay? What can I do?”

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