Text Me by K. J. Reed Page A

or want softness. He needed release, he needed some way to let go of the
frustration, the feeling of hopelessness.
    He needed control. And she wanted to be the one to give it
to him.
    Trav took a few steps forward then stopped in front of her.
“Last chance.”
    Ariel smiled slightly. “Do your worst.”
    Without warning, he picked her up and tossed her on the bed,
stomach first. Before she could twist around, he dragged her hands from her
sides to the headboard, wrapping her fingers around the wooden post.
    “You hold on, and you don’t let go,” he whispered, his voice
rough.
    She gripped the bar like her life depended on it. She knew
he wasn’t completely himself and the thought brought a flash of excitement
mingled with a pinch of fear. His hands slid over her belly and she sucked in,
rounding her back in surprise.
    “Don’t move away from me.” He undid the button to her jeans,
slid the zipper down. “Don’t ever do that.” The air was cool on her butt and
thighs as he scraped her jeans and panties down her legs. She waited for him to
help her lift her knees, remove the clothing completely, but he didn’t.
    He nudged her knees apart but they only went so far with the
denim still wrapped around her. The mattress dipped and shifted as she heard
his clothing rustle. She caught the sight of his jeans land in a heap on the
floor out of the corner of her eye.
    “He gets to take his off,” she muttered, then sucked in a
breath when he gave her a light slap on the behind.
    “Quiet.”
    She heard a rip, saw the empty foil wrapper hit the bedside
table, then his hands were between her thighs, fingers pushing in deep. There
was no loving, soft caress, no gentle warmth. It was sex, plain and simple, a
race to the release, to the healing.
    His thumb brushed her clit and she moaned. But it was a
fleeting touch and he pulled his hand away and positioned his cock at her
entrance. She arched her back to give him a better angle, but even still, with
her legs so close together, he was limited in how far he could push. The
friction, though…oh God. She could feel every delicious pull, every scrape as
he thrust in and out.
    His fingers wove through her hair, tugging at her scalp. Not
gently, but almost as a check, as a reminder that for that moment, he was
running the show. He panted her name, though, and she knew this wasn’t a
mindless fuck. It wasn’t just anyone that could be helping him, leading him to
the release he needed, the relief. It was her.
    He shouted her name, drove in so hard she almost knocked her
forehead against the headboard, and draped his body over hers as he climaxed.
Almost as an afterthought, he reached down and brushed his fingers against her
clit while she held his body weight. It didn’t take long for her to join him.
    Exhausted from holding up their combined weight, she drooped
to the side. Trav slid off and landed on the bed, she followed, her back to his
chest. After a few moments, he got up and headed to the bathroom, returning
quickly. He crawled onto the bed beside her and she rolled flat on her back.
Not the easiest move when her jeans were still around her knees.
    He stared at her a minute. “I won’t apologize for that.”
    “Didn’t ask you to.”
    “I’m sorry you had to see that scene with my father though. He’s a mean ol’ bastard, and if I had my way I’d have nothing
to do with him the rest of my life. But it was my best shot at finding any
leads on Sarah, since nothing else worked.”
    She nodded. “I understand.”
    Trav took one of her hands in his, toyed with her fingers.
“Do you honestly believe me about the texts? That it was just all one big,
weird coincidence?”
    She nodded again.
    He blew out a gust of breath. “You have no idea how relieved
that—”
    “Why did you tell your dad you were moving here?”
    The question was past her lips before she could stop it. She
screwed her eyes shut and wanted to melt into a puddle of mortification at