Bad Cruz(51)

“Uhm. Oh. Kay.” I giggled.

He stopped, about to pull away from me, no doubt to ask if I was okay with what was going on. I was. Not only was I okay, but I was also morbidly curious. I jerked him back into my center, burying his beautiful face between my thighs.

“How do you like it?” He nuzzled his nose into me. Like, straight up into that part of me.

There was a menu?

“Surprise me.”

He used his thumbs to pry me open, then licked me from my butt crack to my clit. I let out a happy sigh, holding onto his head and making sure he didn’t go anywhere.

I watched acutely as he began licking me there, enjoying every drop of my arousal, making noises as he used my desire to coat my clit and suck on it.

That was when I began suspecting I was going to faint. The pleasure was so intense, so heightened, every muscle in my body clenched in expectation of what was about to come (pardon the pun).

“You’re so tight.” Cruz used his index and middle fingers to penetrate me while he worked on my clit.

Well, I practically am a virgin, if you disregard the day Bear was conceived!

Luckily, even though I was drunk, I still had some basic verbal filters in place.

My orgasm felt different to all the ones I gave myself. I knew that before it even hit me.

First, because I couldn’t control my limbs at all. They basically turned to that thing that happens to your Frappuccino after you leave it in the sun for half a day.

Second, because I arched and arrowed like I was ready to shoot myself straight into another continent.

Third, because the wave of shivers rolling over me drowned me to the outside world, and for a moment, it was just me, sailing on a cloud.

Best.

Climax.

Ever.

The cloud popped under me and brought me back to planet Earth when the musky scent of my sex invaded my lips as Cruz kissed me, fumbling with his belt to set his willy free.

That’s when I pushed him away, shaking my head violently.

“No. No way. No way.”

“Why not? Are you okay?”

He stood in front of me, panting, his hand still on his buckle. His chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his heartbeat. His hair was a mess—my doing. I loved that his lips were red and swollen from pleasuring me.

…but not enough to screw up my life and officially become Fairhope’s running joke. “I’m okay…”

“I’m clear.” He pointed at himself. “I make it a point to check every three months.”

“I’m not on the pill.”

“I’ll pull out.”

I gave him a double-gross look, pushing my dress down. It was hard to be taken seriously when my vag was still making eye contact with his erection through his jeans.

“Are you kidding me? That’s the one thing they warned us about in sex ed. And I didn’t listen. Spoiler alert: the pull-out method is not a bulletproof plan!”

“Actually,” Cruz’s mouth pulled into a devilish smirk, “if withdrawal is done correctly, the pull-out method is ninety-six percent effective. Not that I’ve been testing it on anyone else.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t be testing it on me, either.” I gave him another push, feeling sober all of a sudden. “I don’t do sex, mister.”

“You mean, in general or with me?”

“I mean in general. Can’t take any chances.”

A low, gravelly chuckle escaped him. “Never.” His smile was perfect, his straight, white teeth gleaming.

“Never.”

“That’s ridiculous. If that were true, it means you’ve never had sex after having Bear.”

I knotted my arms over my chest, my lips turning downward in a wince.

His eyed widened. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Tennessee, you… you can prevent pregnancy these days.”

“Agreed. And I do so in the most effective way of all. One-hundred percent effectiveness, actually, if you exclude Virgin Mary, and versions vary on what happened to her—I. Don’t. Have. Sex. And I especially—especially”—I unknotted my arms to point a finger to the ceiling as I continued my righteous speech—“am not having sex with a man who has already sexually assaulted me.”

“Sexually assaulted? You?” he spat out, his eyes flaring in alarm. “You played with my dick while I was discussing the Panthers not even an hour ago.”

“I meant the time I throat-punched you. Don’t act like you forgot about that.”

“You thought I was assaulting you?” To be fair, he did look horrified.

I guess it was time I revisited that day.

Buckle up, gang.





Okay. So about that context…

I kind of, sort of, throat-punched Fairhope’s MVP back in the day.

When I was twenty-four and Cruz was…what? Twenty-six? And had just come back to town from med school.

There were a few different ways to tell this story, but the main facts remained as follows:

I’d just gotten my job at Jerry & Sons. Before that, I had to clean houses and mow lawns all over town to pay for Bear’s school tuition, swimming lessons, judo practices, and, you know, general life.



Cruz was in his prime. He was so sought-after, the folks from The Bachelor had given him a call to see if he wanted to audition. He’d just purchased his first house, before he’d even started practicing medicine. A stunning, lime-washed colonial with six white columns, black shutters, and rosebushes at the entrance. It looked like Barbie’s Dreamhouse and had been occupied by a glamorous ex-model and a baseball player before they retired to Florida. Growing up, I’d fantasized about buying it for myself and my family with the hypothetical money I was going to make becoming a Hollywood actress (despite the fact I didn’t have one acting bone in my body and largely didn’t think I’d be any good at it). Now, it belonged to that tool bag.