tongue. It delves inside, sliding past my teeth, exploring, seeking out everything about me as if I am his to discover.
Forget what I said about him being a gentleman. Gentlemen don’t kiss the way Jon Priestly does.
It makes me want more. Much more. I arch into him. He presses into me.
Oh. Yeah.
It’s obvious he wants more, too.
He continues this relentless assault on me with just his mouth, kissing my jaw, my earlobes, my neck. Goosebumps and friends of goosebumps spring up along my skin.
I lift my arms to slide them around his neck, but he stops me. Instead, he takes my hands, threads his fingers into mine, and pins me against the wall like a crime scene outline figure.
Something sounds in the back of my head. An alarm?
I stiffen. He keeps kissing me.
I’m suddenly underwater, kicking my arms and legs, but going nowhere. I need to breathe, but I can’t. I’m in over my head. Stuck. Trapped.
My fingers tighten their grip on his. Pinned to the wall like this, my wrists suddenly start to ache. My nails turn clawlike as they dig into the backs of his hands.
Jon lifts his head. “Are you okay, Ivy?”
I don’t answer, because I’m not sure.
“Cuz if you’re not, we can stop. It’s no big deal.”
The butterflies in my stomach are now piranhas, and I feel as though I might get sick. I breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
He releases my hands. I rub my wrists, even though that’s not where he’s been touching me.
“Ivy?”
My lips feel swollen as I blink his face into focus. He’s frowning and his eyes are boring into mine, but he doesn’t make a move to grab me again. I test him and push on his chest. He backs up a step, putting more than a foot of space between us, and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“I’m sorry if I… Do you want to go back out there?”
I’m standing here, my hands still on his chest, but he’s not touching me. He’s letting me go. I can leave if I want to.
I look at him again. I mean, really look at him.
Like I said before, Jon isn’t the kind of guy I’m normally attracted to. Gauges in his earlobes. Unruly dark hair hanging over one eye. His face hasn’t seen a razor in days, and he’s probably got more tattoos and piercings elsewhere on his body that I can’t see. However, and this is a big however , anyone with a vagina, and some with penises, would agree that he’s totally hot.
So you see, it’s okay that he’s not really my type. I’m not looking to fall in love or start anything long-term. I just want a temporary bandage. Someone to help shrink the mess inside me until I can figure out how to do it on my own.
Besides, it’s my birthday, I’m buzzed, and I deserve a little fun. I’m trying to forget all that heavy shit anyway. It doesn’t exist in the new world I’m trying to create for myself.
I take a step toward him, then another and another. Until he’s the one pressed against the wall and I’m the one caging him in. Which makes me the one in control.
At first he looks a little surprised. Not pissed-off surprised, but the kind of surprised you feel when you open a present that’s not what you expect but is still really cool. He grins and there’s a mischievous gleam in his eye. He seems totally fine with the power reversal.
I relax and let my body take over.
I’m not sure how long we kiss back there, but somehow we end up on the dance floor. His hands are on my hips and my arms are above my head. I’m laughing. He’s laughing. Then he’s turning me around. Back at his table, he pulls me onto his lap and I smear frosting on his lips from one of my birthday cupcakes. Then I kiss it off.
I want him to come home with me, and I tell him so. I’m not ready for this night to be over.
He cups my jaw and whispers in my ear. “I want you, Ivy. So fucking bad. But you need to be completely sober, because afterward, when you’re lying there in the dark, I want you to know it was your choice. Your decision. No one else’s.”
I literally melt
Forget what I said about him being a gentleman. Gentlemen don’t kiss the way Jon Priestly does.
It makes me want more. Much more. I arch into him. He presses into me.
Oh. Yeah.
It’s obvious he wants more, too.
He continues this relentless assault on me with just his mouth, kissing my jaw, my earlobes, my neck. Goosebumps and friends of goosebumps spring up along my skin.
I lift my arms to slide them around his neck, but he stops me. Instead, he takes my hands, threads his fingers into mine, and pins me against the wall like a crime scene outline figure.
Something sounds in the back of my head. An alarm?
I stiffen. He keeps kissing me.
I’m suddenly underwater, kicking my arms and legs, but going nowhere. I need to breathe, but I can’t. I’m in over my head. Stuck. Trapped.
My fingers tighten their grip on his. Pinned to the wall like this, my wrists suddenly start to ache. My nails turn clawlike as they dig into the backs of his hands.
Jon lifts his head. “Are you okay, Ivy?”
I don’t answer, because I’m not sure.
“Cuz if you’re not, we can stop. It’s no big deal.”
The butterflies in my stomach are now piranhas, and I feel as though I might get sick. I breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
He releases my hands. I rub my wrists, even though that’s not where he’s been touching me.
“Ivy?”
My lips feel swollen as I blink his face into focus. He’s frowning and his eyes are boring into mine, but he doesn’t make a move to grab me again. I test him and push on his chest. He backs up a step, putting more than a foot of space between us, and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“I’m sorry if I… Do you want to go back out there?”
I’m standing here, my hands still on his chest, but he’s not touching me. He’s letting me go. I can leave if I want to.
I look at him again. I mean, really look at him.
Like I said before, Jon isn’t the kind of guy I’m normally attracted to. Gauges in his earlobes. Unruly dark hair hanging over one eye. His face hasn’t seen a razor in days, and he’s probably got more tattoos and piercings elsewhere on his body that I can’t see. However, and this is a big however , anyone with a vagina, and some with penises, would agree that he’s totally hot.
So you see, it’s okay that he’s not really my type. I’m not looking to fall in love or start anything long-term. I just want a temporary bandage. Someone to help shrink the mess inside me until I can figure out how to do it on my own.
Besides, it’s my birthday, I’m buzzed, and I deserve a little fun. I’m trying to forget all that heavy shit anyway. It doesn’t exist in the new world I’m trying to create for myself.
I take a step toward him, then another and another. Until he’s the one pressed against the wall and I’m the one caging him in. Which makes me the one in control.
At first he looks a little surprised. Not pissed-off surprised, but the kind of surprised you feel when you open a present that’s not what you expect but is still really cool. He grins and there’s a mischievous gleam in his eye. He seems totally fine with the power reversal.
I relax and let my body take over.
I’m not sure how long we kiss back there, but somehow we end up on the dance floor. His hands are on my hips and my arms are above my head. I’m laughing. He’s laughing. Then he’s turning me around. Back at his table, he pulls me onto his lap and I smear frosting on his lips from one of my birthday cupcakes. Then I kiss it off.
I want him to come home with me, and I tell him so. I’m not ready for this night to be over.
He cups my jaw and whispers in my ear. “I want you, Ivy. So fucking bad. But you need to be completely sober, because afterward, when you’re lying there in the dark, I want you to know it was your choice. Your decision. No one else’s.”
I literally melt
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