After All

She jerks her head back in surprise. “Really? Who? What happened?”

“It’s a long story. Not very interesting. She was in wardrobe. We met on our play in London. I fell in love, or in something I thought was love. So did she. I moved back here and convinced her to come. She left it all behind. And then I realized…she didn’t really know the real me. And I couldn’t pretend anymore. So I broke it off.” The dark sticky swirls of the memory attempt to drag me down but I brush them off. “Poor girl. I felt horrible. Honestly, I still do. She gave it all up to be with me, moved her life all the way over here, and I left her in the end. I guess that’s just the type of person I am.”

I briefly meet Alyssa’s eyes but instead of seeing disappointment in them, I see compassion. “But that’s life,” she says after a moment. “People take chances and get their hearts broken and break up. It’s the chance every single one of us have to take if we ever really want to get anywhere. And in the end, it means she just wasn’t the right person for you.”

I shake my head. “I can’t even imagine who the right person could possibly be.”

But that’s a lie. You can imagine. She might be right in front of you.

Scratch that. I don’t want to imagine.

“I’m complicated,” I go on. “And complicated people need other complicated people to work. Otherwise, you don’t fit.”

“That’s a load of crap,” she says, eyes fiery. “The right person might be complicated or simple or both. The right person will find a way to fit into your cracks until you’re flush.”

Alyssa is taking me by surprise here. For someone so dry and cynical as she seems to be, she’s doling out the advice like it’s her job. I’m starting to think there’s something much softer hidden under her armor. Whoever gets to see that secret part of her is a lucky man.

“I’m not an easy person to love,” I admit and the words crash around us like a demolition.

Fuck.

I can’t believe I just said that. That’s the kind of thing you tell your therapist, not your date.

Then it’s good you aren’t actually dating her.

Nothing to lose.

“That was a brave thing to say,” Alyssa says softly, seeming as surprised as I am. “But if that’s true, then it just means the right person needs to work a little harder, that’s all.”

“Love shouldn’t be work.” I pour more iodine on the pad and lean in closer, patting it on her chest.

“Sometimes it is though,” she says. “But it’s worth it.”

I bite my lip and nod, trying to pay attention to the scratches on her chest and not look into her eyes. The last thing I want is to believe that I might be worth it.

Deep down, I know I’m not.

I screw the cap back on the iodine bottle and finish up on her chest, even though it’s pretty obvious now that she’s cleaned up enough and I’m just touching her for the sake of touching her.

“Thank you,” she says in a whisper.

I take in a deep breath through my nose and look up at her. “For what?” My throat feels dry, my words come out slow.

“For patching me up,” she says, giving me a wane smile that puts a dimple in her left cheek. “It feels nice to be taken care of.”

In this moment, she looks absolutely vulnerable. She looks like her armor is starting to slip, that I might be getting a glimpse of the beautiful pink heart underneath.

Before I can stop myself, I’m reaching up to cup her face, pulling her face toward mine until our lips are crashing against each other. She lets out a moan I feel all the way to my toes as our tongues stroke each other into an inferno.

“Emmett,” she says softly–fuck, does my name sound good right now–and her hand disappears into my hair, taking a hold and tugging.

I unleash myself on her neck, licking and sucking just the way she liked it before, until she seems to yield, her body running hot, her moans so sweet and desperate and hungry for more.

Fuck I’ll give her more. So much more.

While she sits there, all flushed and bothered on the couch, I get undressed to my briefs in a flash, her eyes taking in my body before she’s joining in and ripping her shirt over her head, her breasts bouncing free. I drop to my knees and take off her running shoes, then pull down her tights. My hands slowly work their way back up her thighs.

My fingers find her underwear, the silky material wet with her desire.

“God, you’re so wet for me,” I whisper to her, my voice catching in my throat. “Can I make you wetter?” I move her panties to the side and slip my finger along her sweet pussy, the sensation making me delirious with lust. She lets out a lengthy moan, her hands tighter in my hair. “I want my cock to slide into you, just like this.” I add an extra finger and move them in together. “In and out, in and out,” I whisper as my fingers go along. “You want it harder, deeper?”

She groans and I look up to see her arch back, her breasts pointed forward, her sweet, pink nipples tight and hard.

What a fucking sight, her pale skin glowing against my white couch, like an angel waiting to be fucked.

I can scarcely believe what’s happening but all thoughts in my head are slowly shutting down, drowned out by the pounding of my heart, the raw, hot tension running through me. How easy this is to touch her here, to coax these perfect sounds out of her, to say all the dirty things I want to say.

“Do you want my cock?” I ask softly. “My tongue? How would you like me to fuck you?”

“Anything, anything,” she says through another moan as I drive my fingers even deeper.

I hunch down and press my face in, my tongue snaking out and licking up to her clit.

Heaven. This angel tastes like heaven.

“You taste so good,” I murmur into her and she shudders from the vibrations. “I could feast on you for hours. Would you like that? Tell me what you like, what you want.”

“More, I want more.” She’s practically whimpering.

I suck her clit into my mouth, wet, warm, and she gives a sharp cry, calling out my name in such a way that it will be my undoing if she keeps this up.

My tongue and fingers work her harder and from the way she bucks her hips into me, I know she can take more. But I don’t want it all to end here.

I pull away and get to my feet. Her eyes are half-closed, dazed, mouth open. Lust and sex just oozes out of her. God, I’m a lucky son-of-a-bitch.

I step out of my briefs, my cock popping out. I lazily stroke myself, my eyes never leaving hers. “Is this what you want?”

She swallows loudly, her eyes pleading. “God, yes.”

I grin. I fucking love how she isn’t afraid of my mouth. She’s got quite the dirty one herself.

“Flip over,” I tell her.

She bites her lip and grins and then slowly turns over so she’s on all fours.

“Just a second,” I tell her, grabbing a condom from my bedroom and coming right back. I roll it over my shaft, my cock hot and inflexible in my hands. “Can you move yourself up a bit?”