Method(81)

Mila



The following night, I’m unloading my groceries while I mentally prepare myself for my mother’s arrival and uncork some red. I need that calm before she comes in with her version of the inquisition. It had been too long since we’d had dinner together, mostly due to avoidance on Lucas’s part. It was only fair. She’d terrorized him the first time I brought him home which had instigated the most spectacular fight in our relationship.

After draining myself on the floor in front of my door. I vow to myself that I will never date men again. My dismantled heart agrees it’s reasonable. Furious, I draw myself from the hardwood in a rage storming through the cottage happy to again exchange pain for renewed anger. I go to his drawer and gather his shit before taking his shaving cream and gel from the medicine cabinet. Still hiccupping, I open my front door and hurl it out only to hear an “oomph.” Looking into the dark porch, I see Lucas with his hands held up in surrender rising to his feet from the ground.

Anger pours from my every limb as I flip on the light. “Leave,” I say, swallowing more tears. “Leave.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. And I’ve never, ever thought of you the way you see yourself. Trust me, you are the only one who has shed light on what a dumbass you are.”

“You’re right, it’s my issue.”

“Glad that’s settled,” I point at his truck behind him, “leave.”

“Mila, I can’t. I was driving for mere minutes before I realized what a fucking idiot I truly am. I just…I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough, Hollywood. You don’t get to play ping-pong with my heart. No one does.”

His lips curl up as if he’s fighting a smile, and eventually, it wins.

“You’re seriously smiling at me right now?” I’m seconds away from ripping him to shreds.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re mad, really mad.” Something in my eyes must have shifted to crazy town because his smile drops. “Which isn’t funny.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he says softly, his smile making a maddening appearance. “You love me. I felt it in every tear that dropped from your beautiful face. You don’t want to let go any more than I do. I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough.” I turn to shut the door, and he catches it. “That’s not all my stuff.”

“How do you know, you haven’t even looked at all I’ve tossed.”

“Well, I have more.”

“Fine,” I say, letting go of the handle and taking a step back. “Then see to it, Romeo, and get the hell out!”

He opens the door further and leans down to whisper to me, “You don’t mean that.”

“Just get your stuff and go.” He heads toward my kitchen, and I’m hot on his heels.

“You don’t have anything in there.”

“Actually, I do,” he says, walking over to my coffee canister and lifting the lid.

“Seriously? You’re going to take the coffee?”

“No, this,” he says, pulling a box from the container and shoving it into his pocket. Jaw slack, I stand in the middle of the kitchen as more tears fall. He watches me for several seconds before brushing past me and grabbing my hand. “Come on.”

“What?”

“I want to show you something.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Mila—”

I rip my hand out of his grip. “Leave and don’t come back. I mean it!”

“That’s it,” he snaps, pinning me to the wall, his eyes hellfire and jaw set. I’m helpless in the hold he tightens on my wrists as he challenges me.

“You’re going to hear me out.”

“Save it. Let go.”

His eyes flare. “Never.”

“I’ll never forgive you.”

“Yes, you will.”

He presses in, so I’m forced to look up at him. “I fucked up. I’m allowed to fuck up once in a while and be forgiven. That’s how it works. Same goes for you. This isn’t over, so fucking far from it. Take a good look, baby, I’m the one who owns your lips, your pussy, and your immaculate heart. I am the last man standing.”

I don’t know what comes over me, but I bite him.

I bite him.

And then we’re doing something resembling kissing, I’m sucking his tongue, and he’s gripping my hair. We’re ripping off each other’s clothes like it’s our job. In a blink, I’m naked on my counter, and he’s licking me furiously between my legs while I rip at his hair. Neither of us is backing down. I come on his tongue, and in the next breath, I’m on my knees sucking his cock, licking his thick head before he fucks my mouth. Then I’m pulled up by my arms, my hands flattened by his on the counter while he slams into me from behind so hard both our legs nearly give out. I come again. He stretches my ass with his fingers, pounding into me, and I come again. I ride him backward on my hard tiles, I come again. And then I’m resting on his thighs watching his thick cock go in and out of me, our foreheads bent because we can’t tear our eyes away. I come again. It’s the best sex of my life, and just when I think it can’t get any better, he reaches for me, not in the way that hurts, in the way that heals. Our mouths collide in a kiss that finishes me for all others. It’s so profound, it leaves me raw. He buries himself when he comes, wringing out his pleasure with my name on his lips. Sated, we sit in a tangled sweaty heap on the floor until he pulls away and presses a finger to his lip.