Page 38 of If You Go
“I want you…” I had said, calming his nerves of my rejection.
“Good girl.”
He pressed his thumb further into that back entrance that no one ever talks about. It felt weird at first. Not painful, but uncomfortable for sure. I had never had anyone warm me up before putting something in there before. The sensation tried to bring back memories, but I wouldn’t let them rise. This is Brenden. Not Gavin. I had to repeat that to myself a few times. And I know Brenden could tell.
“You have to relax, Surry. I’ll never get anything in there if you keep clenching.”
This is Brenden. I take a breath. This is Brenden. I take another breath. I can feel his thumb enter inch by inch each time I take a breath. He pulls out slightly, and I feel his warm saliva land on my entrance before he pushes back in. This time, much further.
“Good girl, great job Surry. You’ve got this. I’ve got you.” I take another breath. His praise easing me once again.
Once his thumb is totally seated within my ass, I feel his other fingers begin to strum my core, pressing two fingers within me, filling me completely. The sensation is magical.
I blush at the memories. It was so hot, and so beautiful at the same time. Then I remember him switching to his cock at my entrance and the pressure I felt. Slowly, he had begun to enter me. That hurt more, but after what was probably ten minutes, he was fully seated and riding me, making me see stars. It felt so good. The soreness I feel between my legs, and the cum I can feelbetween my legs renews the throbbing in my core that I felt last night.
“That’s it, Surry, take my cock. Take it deep in that sweet, tight ass of yours. I’m gonna come, Surry. I want you to come with me.” At that, I exploded, pressing back into him, screaming my release into the dark room, Brenden leaning forward, and roaring into my hair as he wildly thrust into me, filling me. It was thrilling and empowering, honestly.
My thoughts are interrupted by the voice rumbling under my ear of the man who I was just thinking of.
“Morning, my Siren.”
“Morning.” My voice comes out ruined and soft, a blush creeping over my skin. “Did we—”
“—forget to make it upstairs?” He huffs a laugh. “Yeah.”
We untangle slowly, carefully, like the wrong movement will shatter whatever fragile thing is hovering over us. He stands first, muscles stretching before placing his shirt over his head and pulling it into place, then offers me both hands like I’m breakable. I’m not, but I let him pretend. He grabs the blanket from the daybed and swings it over my shoulders, fingers lingering at my collarbone like he can’t quite help himself.
“Shower?” he asks.
“Please.”
We sneak through the quiet hallways like teenagers who absolutely should not be proud of what they did and absolutely are. We collect shoes, a stray sock, my shirt that somehow ended up draped over a sconce, and a hair tie from the floor like breadcrumbs as we make our way out of the room and back to my room upstairs. Inside, I grab clean clothes from the wardrobe, and the bathroom fills with steam in seconds. He kisses my forehead—just my forehead—and leaves me to the hot water and the quiet that hurts.
By the time I’m dressed—jeans, a soft black tee, my hair pulled into a damp knot—someone knocks.
“Don’t open it,” I whisper automatically. My heart does that cold flush thing it learned in another life.
Brenden squeezes my hip once before he strides to the door and opens it just a touch.
I see fiery red hair through the crack; it’s just June.
She leans in the frame, sunglasses on her head despite the indoor lighting, a grin she doesn’t bother to hide. “Well, well,” she singsongs. “Did we have a nice little movie night?”
I internally die. “We watched the credits,” I mutter.
“Is that what you call it?” She looks over my shoulder. “Slater, I see your shirt. I also see it’s on the wrong person.”
Brenden, traitor that he is, grins. “Looks better on her.”
June cackles. “Josh sent me to come get you two. There’s news about Gavin. And—” her gaze softens for a half-beat “—you probably want to hear it sitting down.”
The folded feeling in my chest returns. The present tightens around the edges, color draining out. I nod once. “We’ll be right down.”
Juniper heads back down the hall. Brenden’s thumb finds that spot at the base of my throat and presses gently. It’s not restraint; it’s reassurance—like he’s telling my pulse to breathe. “I’m with you,” he says.
“I know.” I hate how much I mean it.
We take the stairs together, hands entwined. His are so much bigger than mine, we can’t intertwine our fingers, but I think it’s cute holding hands like an old married couple
