Page 53 of Second Chance Ex
Much to my surprise, Prue responds eagerly, lashes fluttering, lips parting on a silent moan. Her hands are suddenly gripping my waist, holding me to her as she grinds needily against my leg. When I feel the heat of her through my jeans, I swear to God, I’m one stroke away from coming in pants like a keyed-up teenager.
Leaning closer, I drop my head, grazing my lips with her ear. “You have no fucking idea what you to do me, baby. What you did to me this morning. Do you know how badly I wanted to rip off your cute little pajama pants and fuck you right there in the kitchen? Feel your perfect cunt clench around my dick.”
Prue whimpers. Still loves the dirty talk, I see.
“Do you know how many nights I’ve spent alone, thinking about these tits?” I graze her breast with the back of my knuckles, feeling the nipple pucker beneath my touch. “And this ass.” I grasp her ass with my other hand, palming the cheek hard. “Thinking about your lips and how good they feel when they’re wrapped around me, your hot little mouth greedily swallowing every last drop of my cum.” I ghost my lips against hers in the tease of a kiss.
Her hips move faster like she’s balancing precariously on the very edge. I grip her ass in both myhands, encouraging her to ride me harder, groaning at the feel of her soaked pussy grinding against my leg. That frenzied look on her beautiful face as she chases her climax is my Roman Empire; I’ve dreamed of that look every night for the last two years. Hoped and prayed I’d get to see it again, and there it is; there’s my girl.
“Fuck, I love you,” I whisper against Prue’s ear, gently flicking my tongue at that spot at the base of her neck, the spot I know makes her knees buckle.
Wait. Did I just say what I think I said?
Almost immediately, it’s as if a bucket of icy water has been doused over my head and I’m brought back to the now, realizing exactly what I’ve just gone and done, what I’ve said, when Prue pushes me hard in my chest.
Gasping for breath, she glares up at me, her brows knitted together, eyes wide and filled with anger. And before I can stop her, she’s stepping out from between me and the wall, smoothing the front of her dress, pulling down the hem. She rubs at the corners of her mouth, runs a hand over her hair and then offers me one more look; although this one is a little less pissed, and a lot more pained, complete with unshed tears gleaming in them and reflecting the colorful lights zipping about the club.
“Prue, wait,” I try, reaching for her hand.
She shakes off my advance and flashes me a withering glance before storming past me and heading back upstairs to our group.
On a heavy groan, I sag forward, banging my forehead against the wall. I take a moment to really consider just how badly I fucked up. And sure, telling the woman I’ve been in love with since I was eighteenthat I’m still in love with her even now, after everything, whilst drunk out of my mind, in a seedy nook hidden away in some nightclub probably wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had, but I know without a doubt something just happened between us. Something undeniable. I felt in the way Prue held me, the way she looked into my eyes when she was so close. And as much as she chooses to push me away, I know she feels it too. And I’m not going to give up on my girl, because I’m nothing if not a persistent asshole.
Iwake in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, still dressed in my dress from last night. My head pounds, my stomach lurches with even the slightest movement, and I have a distinct taste of ass in my mouth. Assandtequila. Fucking tequila. Thankfully, I don’t remember much from last night; it’s all a blur after I caught myself rubbing up against Joey like a goddamn dog in heat in a darkened corner of a nightclub.
“Fuck, I love you.”
Dragging my hands over my face, I groan as Joey’s words send an involuntary shiver to run through me. Talk about ruining the moment. I was so fucking close to coming right there against his leg. But then he went and spoiled it all by saying something stupid like fuck, I love you. I’m sending my therapy bill to Frank Sinatra’s estate.
After the moment we shared in the club, I wentstraight back up to the VIP and got wasted in the worst possible way. Now, I’m paying for it.
I force myself to sit up, my head spinning as I do. Clutching my stomach, I take a few deep breaths in through my nose to try and quell the nausea.I will not throw up. I will not throw up.
Looking around the room I’m in, I try to gather my wits. This room is smaller than the one I was in with Adam. Judging by the twin beds, it’s the designated kids’ room, and I can only assume it’s downstairs and closest to the front door, because I’m hardly a featherweight and was probably just dumped here by whoever was sober enough to carry me inside last night.
A glass of water greets me on the nightstand, and I don’t hesitate before chugging back a few mouthfuls, trying not to wince at the feel of razor blades searing my throat with every swallow. I know I’ve said this before, but I am never drinking again.
Heaving myself up, the balls of my feet feel bruised from those damn heels I wore last night, and I limp across the room to the bathroom door hanging ajar.
I walk into the small bathroom and take a look at myself in the mirror, and holy shit. I’m met with what can only be described as Cruella Deville’s disheveled sister staring right at me. Hair all nested. Eyeliner smeared underneath my eyes. Red lipstick stain smudged around my mouth. Good Lord. I make quick work of washing my face with the ice-cold water from the faucet and the harsh complimentary hand soap, scrubbing a little harder than necessary like it’s my own personal form of punishment.
When I make it out of my designated bedroom, mysuspicions are confirmed; I am downstairs, and less than a few feet from the front door. I have no idea what time it is, but I don’t want to wake anyone so I tiptoe down the hallway, listening for any signs of life coming from upstairs. But there’s nothing; silence. And it’s that overwhelming kind of silence, almost eerie. Frankly I’m surprised I’m even awake before everyone considering I must have been barely conscious when we got back here last night.
Confused, I head for the kitchen, but the second I walk through the swinging door, I’m stopped in my tracks by an unexpected sight; Joey sits on one of the stools that line the kitchen island, a coffee in one hand, his phone in the other, staring down at the screen. He’s fully dressed in a pair of fresh Nikes, black jeans and a navy hoodie, hair damp as if he’s fresh out of the shower. Enviably a lot lessDisney villainthan me.
“Morning,” he says, still staring down at his phone, his voice deeper than usual.
Although he doesn’t look at me, I’m suddenly more self-aware than I’ve ever been. Hugging myself, I remain in place by the door, as far from Joey as the space will allow.
“Morning.” I croak, my throat painfully raw.“Where is everyone?”
Joey glances up then, one brow dubiously quirked as he scans me from head to toe. “Gone.”
I freeze. Surely, I misheard him because no way is everyone justgone. “Huh?”
He stands, glancing at me on his way around the counter to the kitchen sink. “They left. It’s almost two p.m.”
No fucking way. My grainy eyes search the kitchenuntil I find the microwave, the illuminated digital clock confirming that he’s not bullshitting me and it is, in fact, 13:46. What the fuck? I really was wasted. I scratch the back of my neck, glancing sheepishly at Joey.
