Page 29 of I Just Want to be Yours

“I want you inside me,” she says, her breath heavy with heat. “I want you to fill me until I can feel you everywhere.”

Jesus Christ.

“Margot, have you put another finger in?”

“Mhm . . .” The sound comes out of her slow, laced in pleasure.

“Good girl,” I rasp, knowing her eyes are squeezed shut. I know her lips are parted. I know she’s rolling her hips in a way that could get me off in seconds. Moving my phone from the crook of my neck, I put it on speaker and set it on my bunk, so I can fucking focus. Her breathing quickens. “That’s it. Fuck your hand like you fuck me.”

Another moan leaves her lips. “Sometimes,” she says, panting, “when you’re inside me, it feels like there’s nowhere for you to go.” Her words come out choppy. “It feels like youcouldn’t possibly stretch me further . . . fuck me deeper . . . but you always do. You always fuck me so good, Jackson.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, my hand tightening around my cock. “If you keep talking like that, you’re going to make me come.”

“Tell me how you’d fuck me.”

My balls throb, begging for release. “I’d bend you over and push that skirt up.”

Another whimper.

“You’d be so fucking wet, and I’d take you from behind. I’d fuck you the way you want to be fucked, Red. Harder than I’ve ever fucked you before. Because you’re mine.”

“Oh, god,” she says, and I know she’s close.

My lower back tingles, but I grit my teeth. “You’re mine. Say it.”

She’s breathing hard. “I’m yours,” she says, quickly followed by the sweet sound of her coming undone. That’s all it takes for my back to stiffen as my own release sends a shudder through my entire body. It’s the hardest I’ve come since leaving, and just the sound of her ragged breaths slowly returning to normal has me wishing the band would leave me alone more often, so I can do this again and again.

16

margot

I’m already startingto reconsider my hectic schedule as I race around the apartment, getting ready for work. I stayed up too late finishing my essay for Women’s Studies, and I may have overslept. I wanted this, though. I wanted a constant distraction so I wouldn’t notice how much I miss him.

I still notice.

It doesn’t matter if I’m alone or surrounded by people. Ialwaysnotice.

I’m counting down the days until I’ll be in New York. Every day, it’s the first thought that pops into my mind.

As of today, it’s thirty-two.

The past few days, we’ve tried to check in with each other at least once, but it’s mostly over text. I can’t stop thinking about what it was like to hear his voice on the phone the other night.

I want you to touch yourself.

Good girl.

Fuck your hand like you fuck me.

I shake my head clear of the thought.

Thirty-two days.

I reach for my keys as I race around the kitchen counter, but I’m too fast for my own good. The keys fall to the floor, and I bend down to get them, cursing under my breath. I cannot catch a break. Why does every little thing have to go wrong when I’malreadyrunning late?

In a feeble attempt to gather myself, I take a steadying breath before I open the door and leave my apartment. My hands shake from the nerves and adrenaline of trying to get to work on time, but I manage to lock the door and book it down the stairs to our parking lot below.

My chest heaves by the time I open my car door and throw myself into the seat. Missing the ignition with the key the first time has me craning my head around the steering wheel, but I get it on the second try.

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