He reaches behind my neck and pulls my face close to his as I position him at my entrance, and he kisses me deeply as he slides inside of me slowly. He doesn’t fuck me fast and hard today, but takes my breath away nonetheless. His thrusts are shallow at first as his tongue dances with mine. His fingers pinch my right nipple and when I moan into his mouth, he begins to move a little faster, a little deeper, his girth stretching me to invite him in fully. My hips tip just slightly, meeting his thrusts, which become harder, but still languid, and I reach around his neck to maintain balance. He pulls away from the kiss tentatively, his dick still sliding in and out of me as he meets my gaze, and it’s a lot, too much. I kiss him again so that I don’t have to look into his eyes and try to decipher what’s there and what’s not. So that I don’t have to have my heart broken again just yet, not by him, not by anyone. So that I don’t have to end this in fear of that, and when I deepen the kiss with a gasp because I’m coming again, he fucks me even harder.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jo
“We’re going to a party tonight.”
“Another pre-med frat party?”
“No. A regular frat party.” Misty laughs in my ears. I have earphones on while I clean up the bar for the night shift.
“I work until ten.”
“That’s fine. I’ll pick you up at eleven-thirty. Don’t worry, we’ll Uber.”
“Is it a Duke party?”
“Actually, it’s on your side of town.” She laughs. “Dylan invited me, which means Bobby will be there.”
“Which means you’re playing with fire because when Mitch finds out he’s going to have a cow.” I smile as I say the words because my sister doesn’t care if Mitch has a cow or a herd, she’ll do what she wants just the same.
“Mitch and I are history, Jo. Over. Period. Besides, Dylan and I are super casual. I’m not getting involved with another baseball player.”
“True.” I bite my lip. I still haven’t told her about Jagger and I don’t think I’m quite ready to yet. “So where’s the party? By my house?”
“Like two blocks away, but we’re wearing heels and short dresses so we’re not walking.”
“What?” I stop wiping the counter. “You picked out my outfit?”
“Dude, yes. I don’t want you wearing skinnies and a band T-shirt yet again.”
I keep frowning, but I understand what my sister’s getting at, so I don’t even comment. I don’t mind dressing up. I think of Jagger and wonder whether or not I should tell him about the party, maybe invite him? No. I shake my head. This is casual. Inviting him to a party feels like I’m expecting more and I don’t want to come off as the girl who falls for the guy just because she had amazing sex with him twice. This is yet another reason I should tell my sister what’s happening. I sigh heavily.
“What?” Misty’s distracted. “If you want to wear a damn band T-shirt, fine, but you have to at least wear a skirt.”
“No.” I laugh half-heartedly. “It’s not about that. I’ll wear a dress. I just . . . I have to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
“I hooked up with Jagger,” I whisper, looking around as if I’m not completely alone at the bar. The kitchen people are here, but they never come out front.
“What?” she asks loudly. “Wait. What? When?”
“It’s happened twice.” I bite my lip.
“And?”
“And what?”
“How was it?”
“Good. Really good. Better than good.” I stand up straight, catching myself before I say anything else that makes me sound like I’m falling for him. “But it’s casual. We both agreed.”
“Well, yeah, it’s casual. Jagger doesn’t even date.” She laughs, then stops. “Does he?”
“Apparently not.”
“Are you feeling okay about it?”
“I am.” I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Shocking, right?”
“Not shocking. That’s what happens when you decide to take matters into your own hands and do what men have been doing for centuries. Have fun with it. Don’t get invested.”
“I’m doing that.”
“So you’re allowed to see other people since it’s casual and all? Have you spoken about that?”
“Yeah. He says he doesn’t care if I date.”
“Okay, good because Dylan just texted saying that Bobby’s coming with, so it’ll be a very casual double date.”
“That’s fine. I guess.” I put the used cloth in the bucket where all the dirty rags go, take out a clean one, and walk toward the door, unlocking it and pulling the cute Sangria sign my aunt drew for it. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.”
“Be ready by eleven-thirty!”
“I will.”
My shift is slow. Normally on weekends it picks up, but for some odd reason there are only five tables here tonight, all drinking beer and watching a Tottenham soccer match. I know this because I had to look for the television channel while they yelled for me to stop when I found it. They’re nice though, so there’s that. Marissa gets to the bar at nine and makes a face when she sees how dead it is.