Habit, p.21
HABIT, page 21
“Shut up!” I retort. I did think that.
“I’m coming back,” I grumble, ending my call with Theo and pushing his car up to eighty. I get to Biff’s in minutes, most of the spots full now. I end up making my own by the dumpsters, and I fly out of his car and march toward the patio seating where I find Theo, Lily and James. I throw Theo’s keys at his chest, and they deflect off of him and land on the ground.
“Morgan, calm do—”
I shoot him a glare and point, daring him to finish that sentence. He holds up his palms and lets me stomp the rest of the way toward James, who is now standing and bracing himself for me. Undeterred, I press my palms into his chest and shove him back a step. I do it again, and again, hoping one of those times it will make me feel better.
“I went looking for you, asshole!” I shove him again, maybe feeling a little relief.
I make another attempt at him but this time he grabs my wrists and holds them tight against his chest, rendering my upper body helpless. I kick his shin, pissed off at being tethered.
“Oww!” he howls, a slight laugh coming through along with his wince. His grip tightens on my wrists, and I bring my foot back to kick at him again, but he preempts me, holding me out from his body like some wild animal he’s rescued.
“I couldn’t find you!” Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I hate that I can’t wipe them away.
I suck in my lips and try to breathe them away with a long draw of air through my nose. But it only makes them come faster, falling down my cheeks. I shake my head and tuck my chin before my body deflates and I give in to one big sob.
“Morgan, hey . . .” James says, his grip loosening. I no longer want to run away, but I can’t bring myself to collapse into him, either.
I cover my face with my palms and cry a little harder, my body shaking. Everyone sees this, and the silence around me makes everything feel worse.
“Morgan, I was getting you these,” James says.
My stomach squeezes at the sound of his voice and I uncover my eyes to see him holding a bouquet of yellow roses. Half of the twigs of baby’s breath poking out from the sides are snapped and dangling from the stem. My lip trembles as I blubber out a short laugh and take them into my hands, picking away the dead garnish and smelling the yellow blossoms.
“It was the best I could do in a pinch. I made Brooklyn drive me to a gas station, and they dropped me off here.” I don’t miss the fact Brooklyn didn’t stay for this, and I know it’s because I have work to do there.
“They’re not that ugly,” I say, which draws a sweet laugh from his chest.
“You’re such a snob,” he teases, taking measured steps closer to me, inches at a time, until I finally give in and flatten myself against his chest.
“I’m not a snob,” I defend, knowing very well that I am.
“Okay,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “Whatever you say.”
For the last hour, I let life feel normal. We ate burgers and listened to Lily share things about the story she wrote for The Affiliate. I can’t wait to get my own copy in print. There’s something about seeing Anika memorialized that way that feels like closure. It was a beautiful tribute Lily wrote, and the fact she let Brooklyn and me add our own words was special. I don’t think Theo is going to let her give him credit for it, and I love that he doesn’t want her to. Seeing how they are together is inspiring.
The drive back to campus is nothing like the trip to Biff’s. We all talk and laugh in the car, and when the subject of Toby comes up, we are merciless about his lack of talent and class. Lily and Theo slip away when we walk toward our dorms, leaving James and me alone with our new awkward.
“I’d invite you up, but I think Brooklyn is up there and she and I aren’t exactly okay right now,” I admit, sucking in my bottom lip.
“Maybe you should do something about that?” James leans his head to the side and reaches forward, taking my free hand.
I hug my flowers to my chest and smell them just as he reaches toward them with his free hand and prunes away a dead stem.
“They really aren’t that ugly, are they?” he jokes.
A soft laughter brews in my chest and I shake my head.
“You can come hang with me for a while, if you want,” he says, tilting his head the other way, toward his family’s apartment.
“What if your dad is there?” I ask, a sharp pang taking aim at my chest.
James shrugs and looks down at me with soft eyes as he steps in closer.
“I told him he needs to get to know you. And he can’t do that if I don’t bring you around, so . . .”
I exhale, my lungs opening to take in more air than I think I have in four days.
“You want him to get to know me?” I say.
He nods.
“I do,” he says, dropping his lips to mine for a soft, gentle kiss. “And he owes you an apology. As do I,” he adds.
I lift my flowers up between us.
“Pretty sure you’re covered. Yellow means you’re sorry,” I say.
“I know,” he smirks. “I read the cheat sheet at the Kwik Trip.
I huff out a quick laugh and hug my flowers tighter. They get less ugly by the minute.
“Come on,” he says, tugging my hand toward him, urging me to follow him to his apartment. “And don’t worry. My dad is with the coaching staff all night. They’ll be late.”
I nod and we walk together to his door. The windows are dark except for a dim light filtering through the front blinds. He unlocks the door to an empty space, the only light on is the one above the sink. I stare at it for a moment as we come inside and remember making popcorn at that counter for the Wallace girls when I babysat them.
“Your mom isn’t here,” I note.
He shakes his head.
“She said she might be out late. It’s girls’ night with my great aunts. Those ladies are twenty years older than my mom, but they can drink like frat boys,” he jokes.
My mouth tightens into a smile at that thought.
“I wish I had family like yours,” I admit.
“You should meet them,” he says over his shoulder as he heads toward the hallway and his room. “They’d probably get you drunk too.”
“Be right back,” he adds as he disappears down the hall. I hover around his kitchen table and turn in a slow circle, examining the space. This place has always felt so safe for me, and it does now too.
I turn to face the hallway again, seeing a faint light come through James’s cracked door and the occasional shadow of his movement. No longer wanting to be alone, I steal my way down the hallway until I reach his door. I push it open cautiously, without him hearing me at first as he’s slipping his sweatshirt and T-shirt from his body. He reaches down and picks up a clean long-sleeved tee shirt from the chair by his bed and turns before putting it on. He stops with his hands barely inside when he sees me and drops it to the floor before letting his eyes rake over me. His jeans are low on his hips, his abs defined, and the black band of his underwear taut against his stomach. I lick my lips at the sight of the V that forms on either side.
I bring my gaze up to meet his and work my shoes from my feet without breaking our connection. His chest flexes with his breath, which grows more rapid by the second. I lift the sweatshirt I stole from one of the linemen last year over my head and toss it to the floor then follow it with the black baby tee I am wearing underneath.
The one thing I indulge in always, no matter how sad or hopeless I may feel, is dressing in a nice bra and panty set. I was given a lot of nice things from a sponsor when I was a freshman, and it made it impossible to ever wear anything that didn’t make me feel beautiful underneath. Of course, my body has grown to fill things out differently, and now I don’t just feel beautiful in the black satin and lace from Fleur du Mal, but I feel powerful.
“You know, boys have these schoolgirl fantasies . . .” James begins, his hands wringing at his sides as his eyes haze and focus on my breasts. The demi-cup bra covers half of my nipples, which are hard as diamonds.
“Girls have those fantasies, too,” I say, inching toward him.
He keeps his hands to his sides as I close in, letting me press a hand above his belly button and slowly paint my fingers lower to the button on his jeans. I look up into his hooded eyes. He’s biting his fat bottom lip, his breathing measured.
I pull the button free and drag the zipper down without looking. His eyes dip, his attention on my touch. His body trembles, but before I move again, he grabs my wrists and holds me still, forcing his gaze up to meet mine. His eyes are full of want and conflict and something else I can’t quite read.
“Is this . . . okay?” My heart begins to pound.
A nervous laugh dashes from James’s mouth and he nods.
“Yeah, Morgan. This is very okay. I wanted to tell you first, though . . . this thing with me and you? This isn’t some hookup for me. I don’t see you like that, I mean. I see you like long-term. Like the big G word.”
My mouth slips into a crooked smile and I arch a brow.
“Girlfriend, Morgan. Girlfriend,” he breathes out, play rolling his eyes.
“Ohhhh,” I say, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the divot in his throat before slowly nipping my way to his jaw. He turns into my kiss until our mouths meet and his lips cover mine, his tongue probing my mouth and his teeth grazing along my bottom lip as he pulls away.
“What I’m saying, or trying to say,” he continues. I step up on my toes to kiss his mouth again, mostly to tease him. He laughs through our touch then brings a hand up to press two fingers to my lips.
“Damn it, let me talk,” he protests. His mouth shifts from smile to letting out a trembling, nervous breath. “Morgan, I’m . . . I’m falling for you. I’m falling in love with you. And I have no intention of sneaking around and ignoring you in front of my father or any of that. I have every intention of beating the shit out of anyone who is mean to you. Or looks at you like you’re theirs. Or . . .”
I pull his hand away from his mouth.
“I’m falling for you too. In love with you. And I’m shit at trust and come with loads of daddy issues. But if you can get past that, I think you and I might end up being pretty great for each other.”
James stops breathing for a beat, his eyes locked on mine as his head falls to the side a tick.
“I think so, too.”
His hands move to my arms, drawing feather-like lines up them to my shoulders where he flirts with the strap of my bra. I give him a coy smile and move my hands back down his chest and stomach until stopping at the band of his underwear.
“I’m okay sneaking around this once, though. How about you?” I ask.
“Oh, fuck yes,” he breathes out.
My hand slides into his underwear and I find his hard cock waiting to be touched. It flexes in my palm when I wrap my fingers around it and his head falls back with his groan. I stroke him a few times, teasing the tip of his dick with my thumb before pushing his pants down enough to pull him out completely.
He brings his gaze back to me, his thumbs hooking in my straps again and tugging my bra down my shoulders and chest while I work him with my hand. My breasts fall out of the small lace shelf holding them up and James moves a hand to my back to unclasp the bra and free them completely. In a single swift movement, he braces the arch in my back and lifts me as he dips his head and sucks my hard nipple, his tongue swirling around the tender tip as he coaxes me backward until my legs hit the foot of his bed. He pushes me back and I fall into his mattress, letting my hands cling to the blanket beneath me as I bring my feet up.
James grips his cock in his hand, stroking it as he looks down on me as I squirm, feeling my center get wetter at the sight of him standing above me so dominantly. He steps out of his jeans and underwear then grabs his length again while running a hand from my knee down the inside of my thigh until his thumb finds my swollen middle. I writhe at the touch, needing the relief as he presses his thumb against me.
“You are very wet, aren’t you?” he asks.
I nod, a small cry leaving my lips. He presses his thumb against me again, stroking up and down a few times, only pushing me more into desperation. I move my thumbs to the waist of my skirt and work it down my hips, hooking the top of my tights as I do. I lift my hips and James tugs the material down my legs until it’s a pile on the floor with the rest of our clothes. I’m in nothing but a black lace thong, but when I bring my hands to slip it away, James covers them with his palm and shakes his head.
“Leave those,” he says.
Cock in hand, he rests a knee on his bed between my legs, bringing his mouth to my aching breasts to kiss each of them again. He suckles my hard tips so hard that they feel raw, then he soothes them by pressing his tongue against them and blowing the air cool on my sensitive skin.
I scoot back wanting him to have more room to be closer to me—to touch me. When my head rests on his pillow, he completely covers me with his body, one arm holding his weight up by my head as the other holds his length and guides the tip to rub along the soaking wet lace between my legs.
“Ahhh,” I cry, quickly biting my knuckle to muffle my sound.
James sits up on his knees at my sound, grabbing my legs and dragging me toward him. He licks his thumb, then runs it along the tight lace strip that cuts into my swollen pussy. His thumb teases my center to the brink before he abruptly stops and steps back from the bed, leaving me there so needy and wanting him so fucking bad.
“Where are you going?” I pant.
He chuckles then moves to the drawer beside his bed, pulling out a condom and tearing the package open with his teeth.
“Oh,” I sigh, my hips rocking as if he’s already in me. I’m so close to coming that I know when he touches me again I’m going to fall apart. I press my own hand on my stomach and slowly inch it lower as he strokes himself, then works the condom on.
“I’m going to watch for a minute, if that’s okay?” he asks, his eyes intensely focused on my hand that is moving lower still.
I bite my lip and curl my toes just as my index finger slides against my own slick skin. My center throbs, vibrating from the touch, and I arch my back and squeeze my eyes shut as I continue to pleasure myself in front of him.
“Fuck that’s hot, Morgan. Fuck, that’s so . . .” His voice falls away, which only drives me wilder, imagining him worked up at seeing me. I look down to where he stands, stroking himself slowly as his eyes burn into me. I slip my finger underneath the center strip of my panties and push the tip inside, crying out and wishing it was him there.
“Yeah, I need to be inside of you now. Are you ready?” he asks, moving between my knees me and spreading my legs wider.
I nod but keep stroking myself, liking both the way it feels and what it seems to be doing to him. Within seconds, his thumb is working me as well. His fingers thread into mine as our joined hands rub my wet center and work to open me up for what’s coming. I leave him to do the work and grab at the blanket again, taking fists full as he tugs my panties to the side and moves forward, pressing the tip of his cock into my entrance.
My eyes flutter closed and my back arches at the sensation of him stretching me. He pushes in slowly, letting me accept him and get used to the feel of his hardness inside. He rocks his hips slowly at first until I move mine with him, pressing up as he pushes in, wanting to take him deeper and harder.
He grunts with every thrust until he’s pounding me so hard that my tits shake with the movement. He leans down and takes one in his mouth as his hips swivel and punish me in new angles that coax my orgasm to the brink. Unable to hang on for much longer, my hands leave the bed and grip at his hips, urging him into me faster and harder until I feel it build.
“Morgan.” He hums my name into my ear.
I whimper, my hushed cries trembling with the unrelenting waves of pleasure that burst between my legs. My hips rock into his as he swells inside of me and buries his mouth in the crook of my neck, groaning with his own orgasm as he thrusts a few more times until he’s completely empty.
He collapses on top of me but rolls me so I’m lying on him as he swells inside of me still. I’ve never been able to come from fucking. I’ve only had sex with two guys, and both were boys. James fills me in a way I never would have imagined, but more than that, my body is at ease under his control. I trust him. I want him to please me. I want to please him. I want to love him. And I think, maybe, I already do.
Chapter 20
James
I think maybe it’s hard for a guy to hide when he’s having sex. The smile is undeniable. I’ve been grinning like a fool since I felt what it was like to be inside of Morgan Bentley. She’s the sexiest creature I’ve ever seen, and I’m not sure how many sets of lingerie she has, but I intend to see them all. So far, the black set she wore that first night is my favorite. Maybe I’m simply sentimental.
I’m smiling over more than getting laid, however. It’s a different kind of happiness. It’s a complete sort of feeling that I have with her. I insisted my parents have her over for dinner the night after we . . . made up. And by the end of the meal, she had my father in stitches with her quick wit and charm. I think he might also be a little afraid of her, which my mother likes.
The unthinkable happened too. My father uttered the words I’m sorry in earnest. Morgan had every right to drag that moment out, but I think the entire history of it embarrassed her. Her image is a source of conflict. It breaks me because she’s such a special person. But she’s been so inundated by criticism and assumptions and judgement, She’s lost sight of the good that can come from the power she wields.
Morgan makes people fall in love with her.
My parents were taken with her enough that they didn’t question me being out late after. And I was glad I made an extra key for Theo’s stupid party lair. Seeing Morgan spread out on that desk in our secret office was a whole other level of fantasy for me. Still, though, I like it best when she’s in my bed. I imagine her being there in the morning, and when I wake up throughout the night. I could get used to seeing her always. Everywhere.
