When You're Mine (MINE #3)
K. Langston
We know what we are,
but know not what we may be.
~ William Shakespeare
“Harder. Fuck me harder.”
“I’m killing it,”
The only thing he was killing was the fire he’d started between my legs twenty minutes ago when he went down on me. Luckily, he knew where my clit was, but he was having trouble finding the rest.
With a frustrated groan I clutched the sheet, grinding my hips backwards. I could feel it, teasing me in the pit of my belly, creeping across my skin in a feverish wake. My breath quickened as the familiar tingling began to awaken every nerve.
Finally.
He found his stride, the fire growing hotter by the second. I shamelessly galloped with him, bucking like a wild animal, chasing the high of my release. A release that would grant me a temporary freedom I’d grown to crave. I felt him tense behind me, fingers pinching my hot skin as he came with several strained grunts. I hung my head. The pressure from below climbing its way back up to the top, tensing my muscles with unused energy. He plopped down onto the bed next to me and pulled off the condom, dropping it to the floor.
Selfish *.
Gathering my clothes, I walked into the bathroom and quickly dressed. All the while, ignoring the screaming need nestled between my thighs. I would have to take care of myself, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough.
It would never be enough.
What would it take to fill this void? I’d f*cked more men than I could count. Even the ones that could make me climb the walls, left me feeling so… empty. When I couldn’t be what one man needed, I became what every man wanted. And what had that given me in return? A handful of memorable orgasms and a whole lot of regret.
A lit cigarette dangled from his curled lips when I walked back into the room. It was the grin that had my panties soaking wet earlier. Now, it was making me nauseous.
Exhaling a plume of smoke, he sunk further into the bed. “We should definitely hook up again.”
Oh, hell no.
Even if I was willing to give a man more than one night, this * would not get that privilege. “Hate to be the one to tell you this, but uh, you missed the mark.”
His cocky grin grew bigger. “You came. I felt it.”
Such a shame. He had no idea what a woman felt like, or even looked like when in the deep throes of an orgasm. That, or he didn’t give a shit. I shifted in place, trying to stomp out the low insistent burn he failed to relieve. “Aside from your tongue, which needs some serious work, you have no business between a woman’s legs.”
At last, the annoying grin disappeared. “I only met you two hours ago. Didn’t take much to get inside you.”
He was right. Two drinks and a few dirty promises was all it took to get me on my hands and knees.
Pathetic.
Without another word, I fled the room, taking with me my last night of regret, and a vow to find another way.
A better way to fill the emptiness inside.
It is always the simple that produces the marvelous.
~Amelia Barr
My head throbbed persistently in my temples and tension mounted at the base of my neck. The pressure was increasing. Twenty-two out of tune children sang loudly five feet from me, fueling the looming ache. Reaching for my bag, I fished out the bottle of pills the doctor had prescribed. I’d been to several doctors and specialists, and still no solid answers. Nothing worked. It had become a weekly hell I suffered whenever my brain felt the need to punish me, which was happening more and more often.
Thankfully, I only had to endure this for thirty more minutes and then I could have a weekend of rest. By the time the bell rang, the pressure had eased considerably. It was a rare occurrence, but sometimes the headaches would back off, inflicting only a mere dull ache for a couple of hours.
That… I could handle.
On the way home, I decided I was brave enough to stop for a bite to eat. I wasn’t up for cooking and sometimes a glass of wine mixed with the medication helped me sleep better.
Walking into the crowded pub, it hit me that it was Friday night. I was about to turn around and leave, opting for a drive through instead, when I heard someone calling me.
“Tabitha.”
I felt him before I saw him. His large hand cupped my elbow gently. However, the electricity in his touch was anything but subtle. Looking up, I found the eyes of a man I’d met only once, a man whose eyes still haunted my dreams. Eyes as fierce as an eagle, but the color of sapphire. Removing his hand from my elbow, I watched with rapt appreciation as he buried it into the pocket of his dress pants. I admired the rest of him. The dark suit was tailor made to fit his lean body perfectly and his sandy blonde hair was longer than the last time I saw him. The way it curled along his neck made my fingers itch to touch it.
“Barrett.”
It had been a year since we met. Maddie, my best friend and former roommate, had brought me along for drinks once, to this very same pub, actually. He smiled and my fluttering heart skipped a beat while a rush of heat flamed between my thighs.
Damn, could he be any hotter?
“I thought that was you.” Blue eyes worked up and down the length of my body, distributing heat from my head to my feet. “I was meeting some clients for drinks, but they cancelled. I was just about to order some dinner. Care to join me?” One hand left the confines of his pocket, gesturing toward his table.