Page 46 of Knocked up By the Minotaur

Grace

It’s nearly midnight, and I’m emotionally exhausted.

I don’t know what I thought I could achieve with Brad today. We stayed at Silver Spoon until it shut, and moved to The Golden Griffin tavern until we were the last customers and Nib had to politely kick us out. All that time, and still nothing was achieved.

Brad hasn’t given me anything new, made no promises I believed, and only ever talked about Lucas when I made indications that I wanted to end the conversation, forcing me to stay to ‘figure things out’. Otherwise, he would eventually steer the topic back to himself. Where he would live. Why he would suffer without me. How he had changed.

I. Am. Exhausted.

This entire evening was a colossal waste of my time, and I regret being the better person and giving him this last chance to make a sliver of a difference.

He doesn’t care about Lucas, at least not more than he cares about himself. And that’s not enough for me, or for my boy. I told him Lucas and I never wanted to see him again. He cried, and literally fell to his knees before me on the sidewalk. I was so emotionally drained, the most I could muster in response was embarrassment as I was subjected to his public theatrics.

I have never been more done in my life. And on top of everything, now I’m angry.

I’m so sick and tired of his every problem being myproblem. It always boils back to him.

Brad and his joblessness, Brad and his homelessness, Brad and his childish, useless, selfishness with no regard to any outcome other than his own. I’m starting to wonder if he ever actually helped me at all, or only made a show of it while I was at my lowest, too exhausted to notice the difference. Which is why I’m so angry. At him, but also at myself for letting him play me for so long.

I arrive at Oli’s apartment building with these thoughts rushing through my brain, and after a second he buzzes me in.

Why have I never let myself just take something for my own? Why do I put my partners before me, even when I shouldn’t? It’s always been the same, even with my ex-fiancé. And what good does it do, losing myself to men who don’t also put me at the top of their priority lists? It gets me cheated on. It gets me abandoned while pregnant. It gets me nothing.

I take the elevator up, these thoughts still ratcheting through me as I knock on Oli’s door. He answer’s bleary-eyed, in dark sweatpants and a loose Tee, his normally perfectly styled hair ruffled, and his shirt crinkled and slightly askew. There’s something so entirely kissable about him like this, all rumpled and sleepy, and something just snaps inside me.

When will it be my turn to take something for myself?

I step inside, shut the door, and grab Oli by the collar.

“I need you,” I whisper, before tugging him down and kissing him.

He’s immediately pliant to my desires, despite his obvious surprise. His lips feel soft against my own, and as I slip my tongue against his he lets out a low, rumbly groan and presses me into the door. Immediately my body is alight, sensitive and desperate for his touch, and our tongues dance with quickening desperation. He feeds off my energy and palms my backside, lifting me roughly into his embrace, and I wrap my legs around his hips and grind against his hard abdomen, since our size difference means I can’t be lower while we kiss. His arms tighten around me, and bites at my bottom lip.

“Is everything alright, kitten?” His voice is low and deep and slightly rough from sleep as he pulls back to look at me, and it sends a shiver through my body, straight between my legs.

“Yes,” I gasp, raking my nails up along the back of his head. “No. I just… please, Oli. Please.”

He bends his neck and runs his lips along my throat, murmuring into my skin, “Please, what?”

Frustration, need, desire and a desperate wish to be closer to him, to connect our bodies and just feel good againwashes over me. I dip one hand down between our bodies, searching out the thick rod of his cock, and I squeeze my fingers around what I find, running my palm up and down as far as I can. “Give this to me, please.”

He thickens further at my touch, at my words, and he groans again and bites lightly at my neck.

“Anything you want.”

“Sit.” I bring my hand back up to his face and force him to look at me. “On the couch. Now. I need to just…”

His arms shift around me, and he bounces us off the wall and strides across the room, dropping onto the couch so quickly it surprises a giggle out of me.

“At least I know you’re keen,” I mutter, biting my lip as I finally feel his knot pressing against my core. God, he feels so good.

“And why,” he says as both hands squeeze tightly into my ass, “would I not be keen?”

Tension is coiling through me at lightning speed, and I rip off my shirt and bra, grab his hand, and shove it over one of my breasts. He immediately squeezes, running a thumb lightly over my nipple, and it pebbles under his touch in no time.

“I mean, I’m sort of taking advantage of you…” I say as his lips once more drop to run along my skin, and then my movements slow as my words catch up to me. Oh, wait, that’s a good point. He looks as if I’ve just woken him up, is this right? Does he even realize what’s going on? “Actually, maybe I shouldn’t…”

His palm snakes up and covers my lips, and he leans back to look at me, a half amused, half worried expression on his face. “For the love of the entire pantheon of gods, please, do not finish that sentence. Yes, you should.”

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