Page 81 of Say it Ain’t So

“Let me help,” she said again, crawling onto the bed between my thighs. Then she pulled the head into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked.

There wasn’t enough energy in my body to lift my hands and reach for her. I wanted to tangle my hands in her hair. I wanted to shove my goddamn cock down her throat while she stroked my balls and squeezed my ass.

I wanted to pull her body up mine and erase the distance between us, sinking into her beautiful pussy and feeling her strangle me as she came.

All I could do was lay there and watch. As she stroked my length and sucked and kissed. As she held my balls and the gap at the neck of her shirt fell until I could see more than a hint of her breasts.

The purple lace of her bra was another reminder of what I couldn’t do. There was no stripping her out of her clothes, no sucking on her clit until she was bucking beneath me like the night we first met.

My inability to take care of her ate at me even as she sucked my dick. I hated that all I could do was lay there. That I was getting the pleasure and couldn’t even enjoy it the way I should. It wasn’t until Joss spread her fingers out on my thigh and slid her hand under my hip that my brain was able to focus on something other than my thoughts.

Joss took a handful of my ass and squeezed. She shoved my cock down her throat and swallowed against me, causing any thoughts I might have had left in my head to fly away.

Holy fuck.

This woman and her mouth.

My spine started to tingle. My balls pulled up. And as she swallowed and squeezed and sucked my dick, lightning spread through my body, up my spine, through my brain, until my eyes were rolling back in my head, and I was pretty sure I’d died and gone to heaven. I came down her throat, shooting hot streams of cum into her mouth. Weeks’ worth of pain and stress and worry left my body as I floated through the clouds and off into space.

I didn’t need help.

But hot damn. I needed my Joss.

24

JOSS

Chicago was beautiful in the spring, and spring was trying to come in with a desperation I felt deep in my soul. The sun was shining, the snow was nearly melted, and little birds flitted through the air. It was my favorite season, full of rebirth and growth and beauty.

A direct contradiction to how I was feeling inside.

In the front seat of my car, tears fell from my eyes, and the wad of tissues in the seat beside me was growing. My shoulders had crept toward my ears while I was at work, and I was having a hard time getting them to lower themselves back where they belonged.

Gripping a little brown rock in my left palm, I closed my eyes, more tears streaming down my cheeks. I took three deep breaths and, with a lightness I was trying hard to feel, I spoke aloud again. “I am worthy of feeling safe and secure. My past does not define my future. I am calm and relaxed, and I can overcome any obstacle.”

I visualized myself getting out of my car and walking up to Rylan’s apartment. He would be there, smiling. His leg was still in the brace, but he was on his feet. He’d hobble forward on his crutches and pull me into his arms. He’d tell me he loved me, and I’d tell him I was madly in love with him. And this heaviness that had been hovering over me since Jen and Vinny told me he was shot would finally lift and float away.

With my eyes still closed, I envisioned the smoky quartz in my palm absorbing my intention. A little bit of that heaviness was gone by the time I opened my eyes.

I still didn’t want to go inside.

Regardless, I pushed myself out of my car and forced myself into the elevator and to the door of Rylan’s apartment. I took a deep breath, squeezing the stone in my palm before I tucked it into my pocket and went inside.

Rylan wasn’t standing there, waiting. I dropped my purse to the floor by the door and looked around. Everything was exactly as I’d left it this morning—the blinds open, food set out on the counter so he could easily wheel himself out of his bedroom and make himself lunch. Even the donuts I’d brought for breakfast sat in the box where I’d left them.

He hadn’t touched a thing, and my mind raced with worries as I rushed down the hallway to his bedroom.

He was on his back on the bed, his injured leg lifted with his knee bent. His eyes were squeezed shut, his fists clenched in the blankets at his side as he straightened, then bent his knee again. With a pained cry, he dropped his leg slowly to the mattress. One hand stretched out, grabbing a packet of papers at his side. He pulled it to his face, turning slightly before he caught a glimpse of me at the door.

“Joss.” He tossed the papers to the floor on the other side of the bed and struggled to sit up.

“Let me help.” I dashed to him, ready to help him, only for him to jerk away.

“I can get up myself!”

I stumbled backward, feeling like I was slapped, even though we hadn’t touched. Pressing my lips together to keep them from trembling, I stepped to the side, watching as he struggled and got angrier and angrier with each passing second. My gaze darted around the room, falling upon the papers he’d thrown. I bent to reach for them, knowing he hated when I watched him when he was like this.

The papers were from the hospital he’d been at down in Kansas City, full of information about his discharge, his follow ups, and the steps he was supposed to take for a full recovery.