Page 78 of Cherry Picking
I grasp at his hair, his shoulders, his hips, thrust my hands under his sweater to claw at his ribs like a deranged animal becausehe’s right.
He deserves my frustration.
He deserves my desperation.
He deserves for me to love him so hard his soul quivers beneath my fingertips.
Our tongues find sanctuary in each other’s mouths, hands seeking to anchor, and chasing pleasure with every hitched breath we share.
I’ve never felt a need as strong, as overwhelming and bone deep as the need to fall apart in the arms of a man I love so damn much I’ve hidden part of myself away for two damn years just to have him.
Riley’s beard is slick with spit as it scrapes my cheeks raw, but I don’t part from his demanding mouth until the heat in my guts spills over. Until I’m pulsing like an overexcited teen in my pants, dropping my head to Riley’s shoulder as little orgasmic waves ripple along my body.
He doesn’t ask for anything in return, just holds me to him.
We stand there in silence as the cum dries, leaving a sticky residue in its wake.
We stand there as he softens, as he cards a hand through my hair and whispers into the electric air, “I’m sorry.”
This time, I believe him.
Standing half naked in my boyfriend’s family’s bathroom should make me a little self conscious, but in all fairness, he’s also half naked, so we’re in this thing together.
By ‘thing’ I mean the process of cutting and dying Riley’s hair despite his protests because I needed to do something with my hands other than lay in bed and rub them all over him.
One orgasm and a love confession aren’t going to fix my abandonment issues.
“This feels aggressive,” he mumbles as I scratch my fingers over his scalp, working in the bleach.
“You spent two weeks ignoring my calls and forcing me to take my repressed feelings out on the ice. You’re lucky that aggressively doing you a favor is my worst.”
His fingers close around my wrist, and I look up to catch his eyes in the mirror. There’s a towel draped over his shoulders, and the gray storm clouds watch me carrying a hurricane of emotions I can’t even begin to dissect.
“You could’ve been done,” he says soft and ragged. “You could’ve given up on us when I left. You should have.”
I shrug. “Do I look like someone who has any self-preservation? I’m a goalie; insanity is practically in the job description.”
He doesn’t laugh, but his smile settles deeper, like a piece of Riley I’ve never quite been able to reach is coming through.
“I mean it, Griff. I love you, and Iwantto want the people close to us to know it, but something isn’t right up here.” He taps his temple, and I make sure to snap the gloves I’m wearing a little extra hard as I toss them in the trash.
“Why tell me that you were ready when you weren’t?”
“Because you deserve?—”
“What I deserve,” I say, placing my hands on his shoulders and peering at him through the mirror, “is honesty.”
He drops his eyes, and I drape myself across his back, careful to keep the bleach off my face as I lean in close to his ear.
“We’re in this together, Riley. You can’t go off into your own head creating all these worries about us without talking to me about them.”
His fingers find mine as they walk down his chest.
“If I tell you, I’m afraid I’ll lose you.”
I bury my face in his neck, breathing in the chemical fumes and the musky smell of his skin.
“If you don’t, we’ll lose each other. Little by little. Piece by piece. I don’t want that for us.”
