don’t want to invite everyone from “La-La Land,” as Becca likes to call it. Just something small and intimate. I hope Stacey pulls through before then. My luck, we’ll marry on the ninth of March and Stacey will wake up on the tenth! If she doesn’t pull through in time for our wedding, I fear it will linger over us like a dark cloud. It will be kept in that damn file women have for when they need fuel during an argument. Completely-out-of-left-field shit that has nothing to do with the conversation at hand. Women are impossible.
This woman—this beautiful, sweet, lovely woman—is so bloody impossible. God, she makes me fucking crazy! She’s just lying there asleep, so peaceful, so beautiful ... with that bum I’m obsessed with. I want her there so badly. It’s the forbidden fruit, and I’m drawn to it more and more every day. It’s because I can’t have it. It’s her one no-fly zone, and it’s driving me mad.
“Sorry, Becca,” I whisper, and pull the covers off of her. She’s on her belly with her left leg bent up. I move it over more so I can fit better and give her an incredibly rude awakening. I enter her—maybe a little too harshly.
“Ugh, Grayson! Jesus, baby,” she complains, but moves her right leg and gets on her knees to allow me full access to her. She’s half asleep, but still willing to please me. God, that’s so hot! And yet, it’s because she’s just as bad as I am. We have an insatiable need for each other. It’s never enough. We’re addicted. I’ve never wanted someone this much or this often in my life. She is my drug of choice, and I am hers. “Better?” she asks as she scrunches her pillow under her.
“Yes, sweetheart.” I grab her hair gently, like a makeshift ponytail, and wrap it around my right hand. My left hand finds her left hip and I grasp tightly. I move inside of her slowly at first—I don’t want to be completely rude. I quicken my pace and harshen the power behind my thrusts. Becca yelps lightly as I yank her head back by her hair. I squeeze her hip harder to help her keep my pace. All I can do is stare at her arse. Oh, how I want her there. I let her hair go when she comes and grasp her shoulder as I slow my pace to welcome my climax. My hands palm her arse cheeks and squeeze hard as I have my last quake. I pull out and slap her bum hard; she yelps. Mmm ... so hot. I rub her bottom to take the sting out.
Becca doesn’t turn into me like she normally would. Instead, she pulls the covers over herself and continues to face the opposite direction. “Too rough, sweetheart?” I rub her back softly.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Sorry, Becca. I got myself all worked up thinking about you—that lovely arse of yours. I’m quite obsessed with it, love.” I kiss her shoulder.
“Grayson, I just want to go to sleep now, please.” Her voice is shaky.
“Becca, I truly am sorry.”
“Yes, Grayson, I know. Please, I want to go to sleep.” She moves away from me. I move closer to her, wrap my arm around her, and pull her to me. She doesn’t fight. Good girl. I close my eyes and sleep finally comes over me.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible, sweetheart.” I give her one final kiss. She’s been a little “off,” and I wish I had controlled myself last night. I tried to make up for it this morning. I was very gentle and very into pleasing her.
“Okay.” Half smile.
“Please, Becca, don’t leave here mad at me. I love you, sweetheart. I’m sorry I got carried away.” Probably about the tenth time I’ve apologized today.
“I’ll be okay. I’m not mad,” she lies. I think I can see her slipping this event into that damn file!
“I won’t do it again.” I can lie, too.
“Grayson, you are getting beyond aggressive. It’s making me feel very uncomfortable in more ways than one. I need you to think about that while we’re apart. Is it worth our relationship to be that rough and ... and ... cold ?” She looks like she’s fighting