I remained still, completely frozen.
Letting out a low laugh, he gently lifted my left foot and placed it on the chair. Then he gripped my thighs to hold me steady.
Without any warning, he sucked my swollen clit into his mouth—forcing me to fist his hair. I bit my lip as he flicked his tongue against my pussy repeatedly, as he rendered me powerless.
Kissing my pussy like he was kissing my mouth, he darted his tongue deeper and deeper, not giving me a chance to control the tempo.
“Ahh...” I moaned as he used his thumb to rub my clit, as he tortured me with a soft, sensuous rhythm. “Oh god...”
He groaned as he slipped a finger inside of me, never pulling his mouth away. The music outside his door began to shake the walls, and my screams came out muffled against the loud chants in the living room.
“Grayson...” My legs shook as he palmed my ass, and I struggled to keep my balance. “Grayson, I can’t um...I...”
He didn’t pay me any attention. He continued taking his time with his tongue, letting my pussy throb against his mouth. I felt unfamiliar waves of pleasure building inside of me, felt tremors making their way up and down my spine.
Crying out, I shut my eyes and fell forward against the chair as an orgasm wrecked its way through my body. I lost all control of my muscles, feeling boneless and limp.
He stood up and kissed the back of my neck, then he lifted me up and carried me over to his bed. He blew one final kiss against my pussy and then he disappeared into his bathroom.
I heard the soft sound of water running and opened my eyes. I was unable to do anything but stare at the ceiling.
Grayson returned to the room minutes later and massaged my legs before helping me sit up. He pulled my phone from his pocket, tapped a few things on the screen, and returned it to me.
“Like I was saying,” he said, “I need you to stop looking for excuses to break up with me. I want to be with you and only you, and even though you want to deny it, I know you feel the same way.” He smoothed my hair. “If anyone else comes to you with any other lies, let me know so I can put them to rest. Although, I think we can both agree that after tonight, no one will ever say that I’m incapable of being in a public relationship anymore.”
I looked down at my phone and saw that he’d tagged me to his latest Facebook status:
Grayson Connors is in a relationship with Charlotte Taylor.
“So, now we don’t have any issues with each other.” He pulled me up from the bed and walked me to the door. “Right?”
I nodded. I was still trying to process what he’d done to me.
“Glad we could finally get on the same page,” he said. “Now, since you still owe me two hours at this party, meet me back in my room in forty-five minutes so I can eat your pussy again.”
GRAYSON: THEN
Seven years ago
Pittsburgh
DEAR GRAYSON CONNORS,
My name is Anna Paige and I’m the CEO and lead agent of Paige & Simon, Associates. I wanted to congratulate you on your historic season thus far at The University of Pittsburgh. (#GoPanthersGo)
I’m sure several agents are contacting you with interest in representing you, but as the owner of the top sports agency in the country, I wanted to send you a personal letter and a few reasons why I think you should consider my firm for representation if you choose to pursue a professional career in the National Football League.
My top three reasons are below, but my more detailed reasons (as well as things you should know about our firm will be sent to you via express mail later this afternoon.)
1) We’re the best.
2) We’re the best.
3) See numbers 1 & 2
My team and I will be rooting for you during the final games of your season, and we have no doubt that you’ll make history in the post-season.
Hail to Pitt!
Anna Paige
CHARLOTTE: THEN
Seven years ago
Pittsburgh
PITT’S FINAL RECORD for the regular season stood at an impressive 12-0. The last win came after a seven-point nail-biter over Penn State, and it ignited a night of wild parties and recklessness on campus. Cars and dumpsters burned, blue and white fireworks lit up the sky, and glittering gold confetti sparkled on the cathedral’s lawn.
To celebrate, I was supposed to accompany Grayson to a slew of parties. He wanted me to dance with him at each one and remind him to say, “Thank you for your support” to as many people as possible.
However, we’d been to six parties so far, and we hadn’t danced to a single song. Instead, he’d pulled me into any available corner and kissed me as if no one else was watching. And when we left one party to go to the next, he stopped and kissed me in front of everyone just because he knew they were watching.
By the time we reached our seventh location of the night—an abandoned warehouse off campus, my body was on edge. My lips were swollen from his kisses, and I knew without even looking that he’d left claiming red marks on my neck.
The smell of alcohol and marijuana clung to the warehouse walls, and the music was so loud I could barely hear my thoughts.
“How many more parties do you have to go to?” I shouted over the music to Grayson.
“What?”
“How many more parties do you have to go to?”
He looked at me in confusion and clasped my hand, pulling me across the room to a makeshift bar. “Did you say you’re ready to leave?”
“No, I just wanted to know how many parties you had left tonight.”
“This is the last one.” He handed me a drink. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket. “I can take you home.”
“I’m not ready to go home,” I said.
He looked confused. “You just said you were.”
“I meant that I want to go back to your place.”
“Okay. Well, just so we’re clear, I’m not watching another Friends marathon with you,” he said, smiling. “Three episodes was more than enough.”
“That’s not what I wanted to do either...”
He raised his eyebrow and stared at me.
“I said I was ready...” My voice was a whisper. “I meant it.”
“Okay.” He kissed my forehead and wrapped his arm around my waist, holding me against his side as we made our way through the crowded dance floor. When we stepped outside, he didn’t walk me to his car. Instead, he led me through the streets of upper campus, making us take the long way to his apartment.
When we arrived, the lights were dim, and Kyle was steering his car out of the driveway.
Walking me into his room, Grayson helped me out of my coat and locked the door. “I was kidding about Friends,” he said. “I’ll watch that with you if you want.”
“That’s not what I want.”
He trailed his finger against my collarbone. “Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“I need you to say it.”
“Yes.” I looked into his eyes. “I’m sure.”
He pressed a quick kiss on my lips, and then he slowly pulled the elastic band from my ponytail, forcing my hair to fall across my shoulders. Looking me up and down, he grabbed the hem of my shirt and slowly pulled it over my head.
“Turn around,” he whispered, and I obliged.
Blowing soft kisses against the back of my neck, he unclasped my bra and pushed the straps down my shoulders one at a time.
“Are you still sure?” he asked again, softly palming my breasts from behind.
“Yes...”
He took his time trailing kisses in a line across my shoulders; then he reached around my waist to unzip my jeans. Bending down to push them past my thighs, he gently bit my ass. “Step out of your pants.”
I hesitated, temporarily distracted by the feel of his hands moving up my body. He was caressing my nipples, and I could feel his cock hardening against my cheeks. I heard him lau
ghing softly, and before I knew it, he was picking me up and carrying me over to his chair.
Rubbing his hands up and down my legs, he got on his knees and slid a finger through the lace of my panties, pulling them down to my ankles. He pressed a hand against my thighs, looking up at me when he noticed I was shaking.
He cupped my face and brought my head down to his, kissing me deeply—using the soft rhythm of his tongue to say, “It’s okay.” He didn’t let go of my mouth until I was entirely breathless, and before I could catch my breath, he slid his hands under my thighs and lifted me up—moving me to his bed.
My heart was beating so hard and loud against my chest that I was certain he could hear it.
I watched as he took off his shirt in one smooth motion and untied his sweatpants before climbing on top of me. He blew warm kisses against me, leaving a wet trail all the way down my body.
My legs shook as he softly blew against my clit and slipped a thick finger inside of me. I grabbed the sheets as he teased me relentlessly, as he pressed his other hand against my stomach to keep me still.
Unwrapping a condom, he kept his eyes on mine as he put it on. He grabbed my hand and placed it against him, making me touch his length as he spread my legs apart. Positioning himself over me, he pressed his mouth against mine once more, and he pushed his cock inside of me, inch by inch, making me tense at the unfamiliar pain.
When he was halfway inside of me, I dug my nails into his arm.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked, not pushing himself any further.
I didn’t answer.
“Charlotte?” He kissed me. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No...”
He stared at me for a few seconds, as if to make sure, and then he entwined his fingers with mine and thrust his cock deeper, completely filling me.
“Ahh...” I cried out, and he bit my bottom lip. I shut my eyes, and he whispered, “Don’t do that. Look at me.”
I obliged and kept my gaze locked on his as he thrust in and out of me. I cried out with each one—feeling a mix of pain and light pleasure.
“Grayson...”
“Yes?” He slid inside of me again, burying himself deep.
I moaned, unable to say anything else. Just as I was adjusting to his length and his rhythm, grabbing onto his hair to hold on, he suddenly pulled out of me. Catching me completely off guard, he gave me a quick kiss on my lips and flipped me onto my stomach.
Planting kisses up and down my spine, he positioned himself between my legs and slid his cock inside of me.
I couldn’t help but clench the sheets as he established a slower but more reckless rhythm, as he filled me again and again. I shut my eyes as he gripped my sides and controlled me, as he made love to me for what felt like forever.
I felt him stilling behind me—moaning, and he held my hips a little tighter as he found his release.
He whispered something I couldn’t comprehend before pulling out of me and getting out of the bed.
I lay still, unable to move a muscle and seconds later he returned.
“Are you okay?” He pulled me into his arms
“Yes.” I nodded, and we lay entangled in the darkness—his lips casually pressing kisses against mine as I rubbed my hands against his chest.
“What are you thinking about?” he whispered against my mouth hours later.
“Something I want to ask you.”
“Something bad?”
“Not really.”
He rolled me on top of him, looking concerned. “What is it?”
“Can we do that again?”
CHARLOTTE: NOW
Present Day
New York City
I UNLOCKED THE DOOR to my gallery at five o’clock in the morning and hit the lights. I didn’t normally come to work this early, but my latest collection was drawing record attention and I was struggling to keep up with all the orders.
Determined to finish my current work-in-progress, I turned on a pot of coffee and set up my easel near the windows. I rinsed my favorite brushes and set out my newest range of reds.
Checking my emails, I noticed there was a new one from Nadira.
SUBJECT: LAST TUESDAY.
How did it go?
—Dira
SUBJECT: RE: LAST TUESDAY.
It didn’t. I didn’t show up.
—C. Taylor
CEO and Founder, Rosy-gan Cafes & Galleries
I BRACED MYSELF FOR a “Why the hell not?” message, but I didn’t need to explain myself.
The morning I was supposed to meet Grayson, I felt dread and anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I’d written all the things I wanted to say, and most of those things were a mix of “You’re a douchebag,” “I never want to see you again,” and “I can’t believe I’m even speaking to you after what you did to me.”
I’d managed to get dressed and make it halfway to the cafe, but I broke down in tears in the middle of Fifth Avenue, so I returned home and hoped he wouldn’t show up at my place. I hoped he would get the message and do his best to move on like I had.
Nadira’s name popped onto my screen via phone call and I hit the speaker button.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Don’t ‘good morning’ me.” Her voice was terse. “Why didn’t you show up to meet him, Charlotte?”
“I told you,” I said. “I’ll never forgive him for what he did, so there’s no point in catching up or rehashing old memories. I’m over him.”
“You’re over him?”
“Beyond over him.” I slumped in a chair. “I mean, he’s still attractive and sexy to me, but there are no feelings there. I wish I’d known he was going to be at the reunion, though. I would’ve never showed up.”
She sighed. “I told him you were going to be there.”
“What?”
“I didn’t stutter.”
“Nadira, you know what he did.” I felt my blood boiling. “How could you do something like that to me?”
She didn’t answer.
“You know how much pain he caused me. How he literally dropped me like some type of used toy at the end of our relationship. Yet, you told him I was going to be there? I can’t believe my so-called best friend would—”
“Shut the hell up, Charlotte.” She interrupted me, sounding as if she’d been wanting to say those words to me for a long time. “Just shut up.”
Silence.
“I told him you were coming because I think the two of you need to talk,” she said. “Because seven years have gone by and all you’ve done is live in the shadows of a relationship that was probably one of the best things that ever happened to you.”
“Yes, being treated like crap at the end was definitely one of the best things that ever happened to me.”
“Do you know that he’s called me six times a year since you broke up just to ask if I’ve heard anything from you?” she asked. “That he begged me, time and time again, for your fake overseas address because he wanted to find you?”
I was silent. In the years since college, Nadira had never mentioned Grayson in any of our correspondence.
“So, yes.” She continued. “Yes, I told him you would be there. I did it in hopes that you would finally get over yourself and maybe get some much-deserved closure. As much as you like to lie to yourself, you are not over him. If you ask me, you never will be.”
“I didn’t ask you.” Tears were falling down my face. “I didn’t ask you anything because you’re beyond wrong on this.”
“Am I?” She scoffed. “Why do you think all of your relationships end in failure before they can even begin?”
“Because I have an affinity for douchebags.”
“Or you can’t help but compare everyone to the man you’re still in love with,” she said. “Why do you think your latest art collection is doing better than anything you’ve ever done?”
“Because it’s my best work.”
“You don’t think the fact that it’s inspired by your colleg
e years has anything to do with it?”
“Nothing at all.” I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t going to let her change the subject. “Nadira, I can’t believe—”
“Especially the picture of that couple kissing in the middle of a football field,” she said, not stopping. “I really like that one.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“That may not, but Rosy-gan Cafes & Galleries does.”
“Excuse me?”
“Who the hell do you think you’re fooling, Charlotte?” She sounded exasperated. “You couldn’t bring yourself to name your business under your own name because you knew he would find you.”
“That’s not true.” It was more than true.
“And if you think for one minute that I never figured out that the name ‘Rosy-gan’ is a goddamn anagram for Grayson, you’re in even more denial than I thought.”
I hung up in her face and tossed my phone across the room.
CHARLOTTE: NOW
Present Day
New York City
“I’M COMING, I’M COMING!” I stumbled down the steps the following morning, thanking the universe that my weekly wine delivery was early. I made sure my bathrobe was tied tightly and opened the door, expecting to see a delivery man, but it was Grayson. A beautiful ‘I look perfect even in sweatpants and a white T-shirt’ Grayson.
I tried to slam the door in his face, but he wedged his foot between the doorframe.
“You didn’t show up for our meeting on Tuesday,” he said.
“I’m aware.”
“Did you forget?” He narrowed his eyes at me.
“Nope.” I shrugged. “I decided you weren’t worth my time.”
He glared at me, saying nothing. He moved his foot from the doorframe, but instead of leaving he pushed his way inside, backing me into my hallway.
“I waited for you for six hours,” he said, his voice terse. “Six. Hours.”
“Did you get a chance to drink any of the coffee?”