Only For Tonight, page 11
“I need more,” I tell him.
“Tell me what you need,” he urges as he fucks me harder and harder. My hand moves up over my head toward the headboard.
“It’s so…” I try to find the words. “I don’t know why it’s so…” My nipples tighten and I move one hand to play with my nipple. “You’re so deep,” I tell him and he doesn’t stop. He puts his hands beside me as he slams into me over and over again. “I’m going to—” I can’t say anything else because his tongue is in my mouth as I come on his cock. Locking my ankles at his back, my nails dig into his ass cheeks.
“I need one more,” he hisses out, “so hurry up.”
“I just went,” I say breathlessly.
“I want another one,” he demands of me and I want to tell him no, but my body is already going to jump off the ledge. “Squeezing the shit out of my cock, baby,” he notes. “I’m almost there,” he grinds between clenched teeth. “Dripping down my balls, baby. Next time, I’m going to fuck you like this and I’m going to want you to swallow my cock so I can paint your mouth.” I don’t tell him that’s what I want also, because my eyes roll in the back of my head as I come like I’ve never come before. I feel it running down onto the bed, over and over I feel myself pulsing on his cock until he slams into me one more time and roars out my name.
He collapses on top of me, his face in my neck. My limp arms wrap him up for a second before he turns us to the side. “Jesus.” His face is still buried in my neck. “I’ve never come so hard in my life.” I smile.
“I think I wet the bed,” I tease him and he just tightens his hold on me.
“Don’t give a shit,” he declares and we just lie here, the two of us, until he slips out of me and gets off the bed. “Shower with me?” he asks, holding out his hand to me.
I slide my hand in his as I get off the bed, his other hand coming up to hold my belly, making my heart throb in my chest, harder than before. “Is that you telling me to shower with you or asking me?” I try and swallow down the lump that is forming in my throat.
“Both.” He pulls me to the shower. “Besides, once I clean you up, I get to paint your mouth.” He smacks my ass as he picks me up and takes me to the shower.
The sound of the doorbell ringing wakes me up the next morning. I feel heat all around me before my eyes flutter open and then the heat goes away from me. The sound of pounding now fills the room. “What is that?” I ask, looking at Jaxon going toward one of the drawers and taking out a pair of shorts. The doorbell now picks up again, ringing one after another. “Is that how delivery people act in California?” I ask him, grabbing the cover and bringing it to me. “And they say New York is busy.”
He laughs at me, and instead of going to see who’s banging, which has started again, he comes over and puts his fist in the bed beside me. “Don’t move from that bed,” he says, kissing my lips. “I wanted to wake you up with my cock this morning.”
“You did that,” I remind him, “at two a.m.”
“That was because you put your ass next to my cock.”
“Guilty of moving in my sleep.” I smile as the ringing starts again. “I’m going to move if you don’t go and answer that door.” He kisses my neck before he walks out of the room and I close my eyes.
“What the fuck?” he yelps and then I hear the voice.
“What the fuck is right, Jaxon.” The sound of a woman’s screeching now fills the house.
“Oh my God,” I whisper to myself as I spring out of bed.
“I’ve been calling and calling all fucking night long!” she shouts, her voice getting louder and louder.
“And you would think if I don’t answer you, that would be a clear sign I don’t want to talk to you,” he retorts as I look around the room and start to gather my clothes. Reaching for my panties that are useless, I toss them to the side as I grab his T-shirt that is right near his built-in shelves. I slip my arm through before slipping the other one in as quietly as I can, hoping he gets rid of her. My heart speeds up in my chest as I reach out my hand to slide it over my head and knock over one of the books on his shelves. The book lands with a thud on the floor as I close my eyes and hope she didn’t hear it.
“Is someone here?” she asks him.
“That’s none of your business, Tiffany. Come back here!” he shouts and I hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs as I look right and left to see if there is anywhere I can hide. I look out of the glass window that faces the ocean and for a split second I contemplate jumping off his balcony. “You cannot just barge into my fucking house and go to my bedroom,” he warns, and when I look at the door, she walks in, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a short crop top.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I say and I want to cringe at myself.
“You are going to leave me for this cheap slut?” She turns and asks Jaxon, who I’ve never seen mad. But one look at him and I would cower in the corner.
He steps in front of her and he looks down at her and I take a step toward him, but stop when I hear his voice. “Get the fuck out of my house.” His voice is ice-cold. I don’t know if I should go to him or not. “This is the last time you come. The next time you even think of showing up, think again. I will not answer the door, I’ll be calling the cops and telling them someone is trespassing. You push it even more, I’ll ask to have a restraining order brought against you. I have all the text messages you’ve sent,” he seethes. “Now get the fuck”—he takes a step toward her—“out of my fucking house.”
“We’re fucking over,” she hisses at him. “I won’t take you back after this.” She glares at me. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she warns me, “before you know it, he’ll move on.”
My stomach lurches up as she storms out of the room. I close my eyes as I hear the door slam shut. “Are you okay?” I feel him next to me.
I open my eyes, seeing him look down at me, the worry all over his face. I shouldn’t let her words get to me, but they seep in. “I’m going to need a minute,” I answer him honestly before turning and walking into the bathroom, closing the door behind me, my forehead falling forward. “What the fuck did I do?”
thirteen
Jaxon
I watch her walk to the bathroom and hold my breath the whole time. Exhaling once it clicks behind her, I then run my hands through my hair and to the back of my neck before I look up at the ceiling. “What a clusterfuck,” I mumble out with a sigh. This is definitely not how I thought the morning would start. I look at the closed door and I get up and walk to it, stopping halfway. “Ariella,” I say her name softly, not waiting for her to answer me, “I’m going to go down and make you a coffee.”
“Okay.” Her voice comes out soft and I wish the door was open so I could see her. “I’ll be down in a second.”
I start to turn but then look back at the door. “Wait, are you allowed to have coffee?” I ask the closed door. “Is coffee good for the baby?” The worry now fills me. “From what I read online yesterday, when I went down to have a snack and you were resting,” I say to the door, “you should limit your caffeine intake.”
“I only have one coffee a day,” she says and I nod at the still closed door before I inhale deeply before walking out of the room and heading to the front door, locking it before I head to the kitchen. I move around, starting the coffee pot before I open the fridge and then shut it when I hear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Walking out of the kitchen, I see her face and it looks like she’s been crying, and I couldn’t feel more like a piece of shit than I do right now. “Ari,” I say the nickname that I’ve called her a couple times over the years, “I’m so, so sorry. I wish I had other words to say to you, but sadly I don’t.”
“You don’t have to be,” she says, sniffling. “You literally didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I did everything wrong.” I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have opened the door.” I want to kick my own ass for not protecting her. “I never, ever thought she would storm into my house.” The scene plays again in my head when she ran past me, and I was so shocked I didn’t even get a chance to stop her. “You were the only one I’ve been with since our last time,” I tell her as she looks at me. “I haven’t even thought about being with anyone else since. We’ve been over for a while, and even the last couple of weeks that she’s been coming over, nothing, and I mean, nothing has happened. You,” I say softly, “you are the only one I’ve wanted since that night. I never thought she would race up the stairs and go for my bedroom.”
“You poor thing,” she replies with a sad smile, trying to make a joke out of it. “A scorned woman.” She shakes her head. “You should be very afraid of her. Like, lock-up-your-pitchforks-and-gird-your-loins scared.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I think we should talk, don’t you?” She nods her head as I walk over to the counter and see my phone. “Thirty-seven missed texts,” I mumble out as she walks into the living room. “Certifiable.”
“Certifiable would be showing up here in the middle of the night,” Ariella explains, walking toward the glass window. Her hair is wild from sleeping on it wet, as well as my hands holding her head while I fucked her face at two o’clock this morning. “Showing up in the morning is premeditation.” She turns to look at me from the side and tries to hide her smile. “I’d check to make sure your tires aren’t slashed or you have ‘cheater’ either spray-painted on your car or keyed into the side of your car.” My eyes widen.
“It’s a good thing that I park my car in the garage,” I mumble.
“Well, she can always be lurking in the bushes waiting for you to slip up.” She rolls her lips together. “I would think twice about starting the car. She could have put sugar in your gas tank.”
“Why is it that you make me laugh all the fucking time?” I ask her and she shrugs. “Two seconds ago, I was seething and now it’s like I forgot why I was so mad.” She looks over at me. “Almost, that is.”
“Almost.” She rolls her eyes. “Why is it that no one likes to hear that word? Or the word ‘maybe.’ Like if someone says maybe, chances are it’s a no.” I see that she usually just randomly talks when she’s nervous. “It’s as bad as ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’” She folds her arms over her chest. “When we all know it’s never them and always you.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.” I look down at my phone, going to her number and blocking it. “She called my mother to tell her about you when you showed up here two days ago.”
Ariella gasps. “Your mother knows about…” She reaches out to grab my arm. “Does your father?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Neither of them do. She just said that she caught me in bed with someone.” I smirk. “I mean, she got the days wrong but still.”
“So she called your mother,” she asks me, her voice filled with astonishment, “to tell on you?”
“Yeah.” I laugh at how absurd it is. “I guess she did.”
“What did your mother say?”
“That she didn’t want to meet any other girlfriend I met unless it was a for-sure thing,” I tell her and then I look in her eyes. “Let me order you something to eat and then we can talk.”
“Order me something to eat?” She looks into the kitchen toward the fridge. “Do you not have eggs, toast, and bacon?” Her eyes go big. “Or stuff to make pancakes? We can do breakfast tacos, using the pancakes as the tortilla.” She lets go of my arm.
“I don’t even know what that is.” I look at her as she walks into the kitchen and looks at me.
“Do you have pancake mix?” she asks me and I shrug.
“I usually eat at the rink, and not for nothing, Ari, pancakes aren’t really—” Her eyes come to a stop on mine in slits, and I stop talking immediately.
“If you say healthy, Jaxon”—she glares at me—“I’m going to…” I hold up my hand.
“I was going to say something I eat,” I reply instead of saying they are not healthy. “But I think my sister bought some mix when she was here the last time.” I walk to the kitchen and open up the cupboard, pulling out the drawer that she deemed hers when she was here the last time. It’s filled with crackers and some cookies and then at the back is the box.
“Here.” I hand her the box.
“Do you have syrup?” she asks me and I look at her, picking up the one that is sugar-free. Her nose scrunches up as if she just saw the most disgusting thing she could ever see.
She holds up her hand. “Order me pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sausage.” She shakes her head.
“See that?” I point at her. “That I can do.” I pull up the app to order food and look up at her. “Regular pancakes or do you want chocolate chip?” She looks up at the ceiling, contemplating her answer, and I take in how beautiful she is.
“Buttermilk,” she answers, and I nod putting in the order.
“Thirty minutes,” I tell her and she nods, walking over to the couch and sitting in the corner, curling her feet under her.
“What did you order?”
“I’m not telling you.” I shake my head, sitting next to her on the couch, putting my arm around her legs, and bringing her into my side.
“Is that because it’s healthy?”
“It’s not that healthy,” I defend myself.
“What is it?” She puts her hand on my arm and I feel somewhat settled just by one touch.
“Mushroom, spinach, and pepper omelet,” I say and her face grimaces. “The whole egg and not just egg whites.”
“Whoa,” she teases, “living on the edge.” I throw my head back and laugh at the same time she leans forward and kisses my neck. “I love the sound of your laugh,” she whispers in my ear before sitting back in her corner. “Now, we should talk before the food gets here.”
“Let’s do that,” I agree, not sure how to start, but one look from Ariella and I know she’s about to start it.
“How are you feeling?” She puts her elbow on the back of the couch and leans her head on her fisted hand.
“A little freaked out,” I confess to her, and she nods with a sad smile on her face. “It’s not like we were together and this was the next step. I mean, it’s not like this was planned or anything. It’s just like we had this amazing fucking night and then we parted ways and then six weeks later it’s like hi…” I lift my hand to wave at her. “Hello, I’m pregnant.”
“I get it,” she admits to me. “I spent a good two days in shock myself.”
“How did you find out?” I ask her, wanting to know everything she has been up to in the past six weeks .
“I had coffee one morning,” she starts to tell me the story, she laughs when she tells me about ordering pregnancy tests from an app, “and well, then nine tests later there was no mistake. I got a plus sign, two lines, and then one that literally said pregnant in the middle of it.”
“I’m sorry you went through that alone.” I rub my hand up and down her leg, before draping it over her.
“I kept them all in the bathroom on the sink in a cup.” She smiles and then laughs. “Every single time I went to the bathroom and then would wash my hands, I would look at them to see if maybe they changed.” She makes a joke of it. “Spoiler alert, they didn’t.”
I look at her looking at me. “My birth mother used me as a bargaining chip with my father,” I start to say, and for the first time in my life, I open up to someone about my childhood. I mean, it’s not really a secret, everyone close to me knows. I’m pretty sure even Ariella knows from the gossip over the years, but I’ve never, ever said it out loud or admitted it to someone.
“I don’t know how she felt when she had me, but I know as the years went on and my father started to fall out of love with her, I was the carrot she used to dangle in front of my father.” She puts her hand on my arm, rubbing it up and down before sliding her fingers through mine. “I was too young to know what she was doing, but when I got old enough, I knew it was not right. When my father was home, it was always me and him. It would be him who would take me to hockey practice and to the games. We would watch television together and she would never be around. They even had separate bedrooms, that should have been my first clue.”
I shake my head as she squeezes my hand softly. “When he wasn’t there and it was just me and her and she didn’t have an audience, she would barely speak to me. I was sent off to watch television or play on my iPad or, better yet, I was ushered off to my best friend’s house. But the minute my father was back, she was loving and pretending she gave a shit.”
“Jaxon,” she says softly, the hand that was holding up her head now reaching around my neck.
“When my father was home, it was the best. They never did things with me together. It was always me and my dad. I didn’t even care that she wasn’t around. I just knew that with my dad, he would take care of me. It’s strange, I can’t explain it, but I knew he loved me more than he loved himself. That’s the kind of dad I want to be.” I turn my hand over to hold hers. “When I said I was in this, I meant I was in this.” I bring our hands to my mouth, kissing her hand. “I’m not as smart as my dad”—I smile at her—“but whatever I have, I’m going to give to you and our child.”
“My mom,” she starts to say. “Candace,” she says her name, “she’s not really my mom. I mean she’s my mother, there is no mistaking that. But she didn’t give birth to me. My mother died in childbirth.” My mouth opens in shock. “Yeah, but no one knows. I mean, people know but it’s not like it’s a big deal. I’ve never in my life felt she loved me any less than she loved my sister and brother. Not one day did I ever feel like she favored them over me.”
