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“Calm down! It’s a little pre-sex bump. It feels amazin'. You wanna try? It’s so fuckin’ good, I’m tellin’ you.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. You know, maybe we should just call it a night,” she said, tossing her hands up and making her way towards her bedroom.
Following her, he grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. She noticed his pupils were beyond dilated. “Hey. I’m under mad stress lately. The tiniest bit takes some of the edge off, OK? I know what I’m doing. I’ve done it before, and I’ve never gotten addicted. I wouldn’t lie to you, Amara. Come on, you really gonna send me home right now?” he asked, pressing her firmly against the wall. He reached for her hands, which were down at her sides, and ripped them up over her head, pinning her wrists there. His lips hovered in front of hers. “I mean, I can go home if you want.”
She moved her lips forward, but he pulled back, tightening his grip on her wrists as he felt her trying to move them. “Ty,” she whispered, as one hand stayed on her wrists while the other slid down the front of her body, stopping at the waist of her pants. He slipped a finger between the fabric and her skin, running it back and forth slowly as she tilted her head back and exhaled.
“What?” he asked. “Somethin’ you want me to do?” He twisted his hand around so his palm was against her skin and shoved it down the front of her pants. Parting her legs instinctively for him, she felt him start to rub her through her underwear. “Why are you so wet for me, huh?” he whispered into her ear as he snaked his middle finger under her thong and pushed it inside her as far as it would go, curled it, and began rocking his hand back and forth.
“Shit,” she whimpered, as he fingered her against the wall, her hands still pinned above her head.
He let go of her hands and removed his other hand from her, and she immediately went for his pants. “You missed it, didn’t you?” he asked, as she flipped him around so his back was against the wall. She yanked his sweatpants down to his ankles and dropped to her knees in front of him, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and slowly licking her way down from the tip, teasing him. “Fuck,” he moaned, pressing his head back against the wall and running his fingers through her hair.
He let her lick up and down it for a little while, and as soon as she started to suck it, he pulled her away by her hair. “Get up,” he instructed her, as he pulled his pants back up and she did as she was told. He reached for her hand and led her down the hallway, opening the door to Ryan’s bedroom.
“Uh, wrong room, Ty,” she told him, trying to move him away from the door, but he fought it.
“Nah. It’s definitely the right room.”
“No,” she said, yanking her hand away and shaking her head. “No way!”
“Yes way. Come on, let me fuck you in his bed. You know how many times I’ve jerked off thinkin' about this?”
“Well, keep it in the spank bank then, because it’s not happening.”
“Please, babe?” he begged, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning in to kiss her. At the same time, he quickly backed her up into Ryan’s bedroom and shut the door behind them, leaving them in pitch dark.
Her other senses heightened by the loss of sight, she inhaled deeply, picking up on Ryan’s scent as if he was standing right there next to them.
It's That Obvious, Eh? (30)
She reached over to the wall for the light switch as they kissed, flipping it up. “Why do you wanna be in here?” she asked, breaking the kiss with Tyler and looking around at the room in which she’d spent countless nights. “It’s kinda fucked up.”
“I have my reasons.”
She noticed his nose bleeding a little, so she went over to Ryan’s dresser and grabbed a tissue from the box, next to which was a framed picture of Ryan, Tyler, and her.
Osi had taken it the night of the wedding, before the threesome. In it, her arm was around Ryan, and she was kissing him on the cheek. Tyler had photobombed them by sneaking in and kissing him on his other cheek. Ryan’s eyes were closed, and he had a huge smile across his face, mid-laugh, amused by Tyler’s shenanigans.
Truth be told, it was a God-awful picture. There were so many other beautiful pictures of her and Ryan that he could’ve framed, but he’d chosen this one. She’d asked him about it the night they went to watch Ty’s NHL debut, as she’d come in to borrow one of his hoodies to wear to the game.
“Why the hell did you frame that picture?” she said, picking it up and examining it. “It’s so bad.”
“Because,” he said, loading his wallet and phone into the pockets of his jeans. “It’s the last time I remember being happy.”
She tipped it face down, heading over to Tyler, and wiping his nose with the tissue.
“Oh, shit. My bad,” he said, grabbing it from her, finishing the job, and tossing it into a nearby trashcan. “My girl’s always got my back,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her to the edge of Ryan’s bed. “Now sit down,” he ordered.
She sat, eyes locked with his.
“Clothes off.”
Grabbing the hem of her shirt, she tore it over her head and tossed it onto the floor. She immediately moved to her pants, getting them undone and lying back on the bed as she wiggled them off and tossed them at Tyler’s feet.
“Bra.”
She sat up and unhooked her bra, slipping it over her shoulders and dropping it onto the bed.
