Page 53 of Exes That Puck
“Please,” I whisper, touching his whole body. I kiss his neck and then his collarbone. I flip him over so that I’m on top, and I kiss him down his body.
I pull his sweats down, kissing his V-line.
“Kare,” he moans.
I tug at his sweats. “Lift your ass.”
He chuckles, pulling them down for me.
I start pumping his cock with my hand. “I can’t stay away from you,” I admit.
His hands run through my hair as he says, “You don’t have to.”
He always says that when I try to give him head. I open my mouth, licking his tip. “I want to.” I also want to hear that he can’t stay away from me either, but he’s not saying it back.
I slide his dick into my mouth, watching him watch me. He’s slightly growing out a mustache, and it’s so hot. I lick him and say, “Do you want me too?”
He nods. “I always want you.”
I suck him harder, faster, until his eyes roll my back and he’s gripping my hair hard. And then I slip off my pants. He grabs a condom and rolls it on. Then I sit on him with my back facing him. He pulls me back, kissing my neck.
“This will never get old, Kare. I love you so fucking much.”
I start bouncing him. “I love you too.”
When I finish first, we breathe together in the quiet aftermath. No victory grin from him, no commentary. Just closeness.
“I love you,” I whisper before I can stop myself. Heat floods my face immediately, fear following close behind.
“I love you,” he answers simply. No leverage in the words, no attempt to use them as a bargaining chip. Just truth.
Relief and dread split in my chest. Is this real change, or just the calm before the next storm?
“There’s a party this weekend,” he says, fingers tracing patterns on my arm. “Come with me?”
My thumb is already moving across my phone screen, calling an Uber before my mouth catches up. “My Uber’s about to be here.”
I dress quickly while he watches, confused but not pushing. Westley gives me a two-finger salute from the couch as I pass, and Dylan nods neutrally from the kitchen. Again, no judgment. Men really are more chill about this.
Zeke follows me to the porch, hands shoved in his sweatpants pockets. “Text me when you get home?”
I nod noncommittally and slide into the Uber.
In the back seat, I replay everything. “I love you” spoken too much. The party invitation. My panicked exit. The driver asks if I’m okay, and I realize I’m crying.
I want Zeke so much. Not just sex. I want all of him. I also want proof that I won’t shatter again, that he won’t break me and watch.
The contradiction sits heavy in my chest as campus blurs past the window.
21
I stand in the doorway watching her Uber’s taillights disappear. The morning air cuts through my t-shirt, and her unanswered party invitation hangs between us like unfinished business.
Back in my room, I find her hair tie on the nightstand. I pick it up, then deliberately leave it where it is. Don’t clutch. Don’t text.
My phone buzzes with the team group chat.
Carter: Saturday at Rocky’s
