“I don’t know, Iz. I just think there is something to be said about closure . . . for both of you.”
Closure? I laugh to myself as I lie back against the headboard. This man has lost his fucking marbles if he thinks I can, or want, to have a sit-down with Axel. I can’t. I just can’t. This must be some cruel joke from above. I knew I was onto something when I stopped praying. No one who throws so much shit at someone should be trusted. Haven’t I been through enough? I just started to feel ‘normal’ again. Hell, I just stopped seeing my therapist a month ago!
“Just go, G. Please, just go.”
I turn over, pull the sheets over my head, and cry softly into my pillow. I hear the door shut and heavy-booted feet stomping down the hall, followed by soft murmurings.
Just when I’m about to fall asleep, I feel slender arms wrap around me, holding me tight.
“Love you, Iz. We will get through this.”
Dee’s reassuring words are the last thing I hear before I fall into a restless sleep, hoping for some peace to be found.
CHAPTER 7
“God, Izzy, you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock. So . . . fucking . . . tight,” he rasps as he slowly thrusts his long, thick length into my waiting body. “Never felt anything as good as you.”
His hands tighten on my hips as his pumping picks up speed. His powerful rocking is rubbing my erect nipples in the most delightful way against his sheets. I dig my fingers into the sheets, trying, but not succeeding, in keeping my moaning down. All I want to do is scream out in pleasure with every single thrust and every single roll of his hips. He gives a good push in, the tip of his generous cock hitting my cervix. Each thrust now has tightening up and lightning bolts of sheer pleasure shooting from my pussy to every part of my body. My fingers tingle; my toes curl; my breasts feel like they are throbbing. Every single inch of my skin is on fire for this boy.
“Fuck me . . .” he rumbles, his breathing coming in fast bursts against my back. “Like you were made for me, baby.”
I’m afraid to open my mouth, to respond with any kind of sound that will let him know he has me feeling the exact same way. I know the second I unclench my lips, screams of pure ecstasy will come bolting out. God, I love him. He’s right; we fit together like we are meant to be. Both our bodies align perfectly, our movements are in perfect sync with each other, and our thoughts communicate wordlessly.
His hand reaches between my thighs and he starts to roll his thumb in deliciously circles, making my body’s pleasure reach even higher than before.
“Come with me, Princess. Come fucking with me.”
Right when my pleasure reaches insurmountable levels and the claws of the most powerful orgasm start taking hold . . .
I wake up.
Sitting straight up with a giant jolt, I hear a thump to my right and look over to see Dee sticking her tired head up over the side of the bed. Unhappiness with a twinge of confusion mars her pretty face. Her hair is sticking up in every direction possible, and her flawless makeup from the night before is smudged under her eyes and lips. If I weren’t still feeling the effects of that dream, I might laugh. She looks absolutely ridiculous.
“Jesus Christ, Iz. A simple wake up would have sufficed, too.”
“Sorry,” I snort, earning me a new glare.
I take my eyes from the tiny ball of unhappiness on the floor and slowly look around my room, trying to figure out what feels so different. Well, besides waking up with Dee in my bed, freaking weirdo. A knock at my door has me frowning even deeper. For the life of me, I can’t seem to figure out what feels so off.
The door opens a crack and Greg pokes his head in. “Hey,” he says hesitantly, “Okay if I come in?”
And that is all it takes for it all to come rushing back in crystal clear HD Technicolor. My birthday, the package, Club Carnal, and Axel.
Dee pulls herself off the floor, rubbing her ass as she pushes past Greg on her way out the door and mumbling heated words under her breath.
“Someone woke up happy,” Greg says, walking over to the edge of my bed, taking a seat. He looks over at me, digging in for what seems to be a nice little visit. “Mornin,’ baby girl. Sleep okay?”
He looks so awkward in my girly room. His brown hair is tousled in a just-woke up way, giving him an almost boyish look to his normal hard face. He’s wearing sweats and a tight white undershirt, showing off his thick, muscled arms. He screams masculinity in my frilly room.
“Slept decent, I guess. Or at least I think I did.” I pick at some imaginary lint on my comforter, not looking up into his knowing eyes. I feel him shift, turning to his side so he is facing me. Still, I don’t look up.