Choosing Henley(30)

“So fucking perfect,” he grunts, increasing his pounding rhythm.

“I’m going to come,” I gasp as he applies pressure on my sensitive clit.

He slams into me again, burying himself to the hilt. I scream his name as the most intense orgasm of my life barrels through me, and I hear him shout mine before he collapses on top of me.

We stay like that for a while with his throbbing cock still inside my pussy as it continues to milk the come from him. He’s resting on his elbow so the weight of his muscled body doesn’t crush me, and I let my finger nails tickle over his back. “That was...”

“Amazing,” he finishes for me, and I laugh.

“I’m not even sure that does it justice,” I admit, running my other hand into his dark hair as his head rests on my chest. I can feel him smile more than I can see it before he sits up. When he pulls out of me, I moan at the loss.

“I’ll be right back.” He winks, turning around to walk into his master bathroom.

I don’t miss out on the opportunity to check out his perfect, naked ass. He really is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.

He returns quickly, sans condom, and a wet washcloth in hand. Climbing back onto the bed he starts to clean between my thighs.

“I can do that,” I say softly, reaching for the cloth.

“I want to,” he answers, continuing to wash me.

My eyelids start to get heavy with sleep as he tosses the cloth into a laundry hamper before pulling the covers back. I crawl underneath them, letting my head settle on the pillow as he climbs in behind me. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he drags my body back against his, my back to his front.

“Goodnight, Beatle,” he whispers into my ear.

That’s the second time he’s called me that tonight. I struggle to keep my eyes open as I ask him. “Beatle?”

“You’re my Beatle,” he says back, kissing me lightly on the shoulder.

I usually hate nicknames that have to do with The Beatles, but this one doesn’t bother me. If anything, I actually kind of like it. I am asleep moments later, exhausted from one of the best nights of my life.

That’s why it hurt to leave him there, asleep, in his bed the next morning.

Our night together was amazing, but it was only for one night. I figured he would wake up without me and know what it was.





I TRY TO sleep late on Monday morning to take advantage of my last day off before the salon reopened, but I can’t. I woke up twice in the middle of the night dreaming about Jami, and each time, it was harder to go back to sleep as my brain analyzed everything going on. I know, I know. Typical girl move. Overanalyzing everything. But I couldn’t help it. He is plaguing my head during the day and even at night.


I roll over in bed to grab my phone from the nightstand and can’t help the excited flutter I get when I see his name on the screen. I slide the unlock button, a little eagerly if I’m being honest, and read his message.

Jami – Good morning, beautiful. Come over today?

It’s impossible not to smile like a dork at my phone. He is absolutely relentless. I hover over the typing box for a few seconds when another message comes in.

Jami – It would be a lot easier if you just said yes.

Jami – But I will come over there and get you if you don’t.

I laugh. I don’t think he is kidding about the coming over thing. Not with the way he’s been acting these last few days, and I’ll admit, my resolve is slowly starting to crack.

Me – Okay. What time?

Jami – Whenever you’re ready :)

Me – I have some errands to run this morning. I’ll come over after lunch?

Jami – It’s a date.

I put the phone back on my nightstand without answering and climb out of bed to take a shower. When I walk down the hallway, I note that Peyton is still asleep and Beth’s door is open. Looks like she didn’t come home again last night.

It doesn’t take me long in the shower, but it takes me almost a solid half hour to blow-dry and curl my hair. I tiptoe back down the hall, making sure I don’t wake Peyton. She doesn’t talk about her past very much, but I’ve heard her screaming at night. The first time I heard her, I went running in there, a lacrosse stick in hand. She was sitting up in her bed, covered with sweat and looking absolutely terrified. She wouldn’t talk to me about it, but she did ask if I’d stay until she went back to sleep. We haven’t talked about it much since then, neither of us really being the talk-about-our-feelings type of people.

I change into a pair of jeans and a sweater before going off in search of coffee. While I’m waiting for the fresh pot to brew, the front door opens and in walks Beth.