You're a Goddess, I'm Blessed
MINORS DNI! dividers by @cafekitsune
pairing: garrett graham x ex!curly!fem!reader synopsis: garrett graham shouldn't be jealous right now. it's only his ex dancing with a random dude. with a very short, very red outfit. with her curly hair following her body as she dances. with a smile on her perfect red lips. yeah, garrett graham shouldn't be jealous, doesn't mean he isn't.
words: 7k+ disclaimer: english is not my first language! warnings: jealous!garrett, angst, SMUT, p in v (unprotected), reader is a baddie if you ask me. no use of Y/N, no body descriptions, the reader is intended as a curly haired person (self-insert ehheehheeh). third person, garrett's pov. spitting, breeding kink, non-con phrases if you squint. slapping. oral (f! receiving), dirty dirty talk. this was not proofread!
chye's corner: this was a request from anon. hopefully, you liked this!!!!! it has been a while since i've written a bigger piece, i apologize. pls consider a reblog, a like, or a comment! thank you for choosing to read my words (((:
chye's grimoire (masterlist) requests are open!
The party was in full swing inside the big house, music thumping hard enough to rattle the windows, colored lights cutting through the dark in flashes of blue and red. Logan had asked to do something low-key for his birthday, but the rush from winning 5 games back to back had made him gullible to Tucker’s persuasion and had accepted his fate. People crowded the living room and spilled out onto the back deck, the air thick with the smell of beer, perfume, and whatever someone was smoking in the corner. Garrett stood near the kitchen island, one hand wrapped around a cold bottle, the other resting low on the blonde’s back as he leaned in close to talk to her.
She was cute, with her short black dress, long legs, easy laugh, and she’d been glued to his side for the last twenty minutes. Garrett gave her the full charm offensive, smiling down at her like she was the only person in the room. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna start thinking you’re trouble,” he said, voice low and teasing, his thumb tracing a slow line along her spine. She laughed, tilting her head so her hair brushed his shoulder, and pressed in a little closer. Garrett let his fingers spread wider on her back, keeping the contact light but obvious. “Seriously though, that story about your roommate? I’m still waiting for the part where you almost got caught.”
The blonde giggled again and launched into another story, her hand coming up to rest on his chest. Garrett nodded along, flashing her that easy grin he knew worked, letting his eyes dip to her mouth for a second before meeting her gaze again. He had done this a million times, leaning in when he talked, letting his hand drift just a little lower on her waist, making her feel like the center of his attention.
But then his eyes drifted across the crowded room, almost on instinct.
And there she was.
She stood near the far wall with Allie, both of them holding drinks. Allie was saying something, gesturing with her free hand, but his ex only half-listened, nodding as she took a slow sip from her glass, maybe her signature gin tonic or something dark and strong. The red velvet top she wore caught the light every time she moved, the asymmetrical cut leaving one shoulder bare, the fabric twisting across her torso and cutting away at the sides to show smooth skin and the dip of her waist. That little silver ring detail on the sleeve glinted when she lifted her drink. Below it, the skirt sat low on her hips, all ruffled layers and sheer panels that barely reached mid-thigh, showing off the curve of her legs and the way the fabric shifted when she shifted her weight. Her curls were big and wild around her face, and even from here Garrett could see the deep red on her lips. She looked good. Too good. The kind of good that made his chest feel tight for a second.
He forced his attention back to the blonde, giving her another smile and a soft laugh at whatever she’d just said. “No way. You actually did that?” His hand stayed on her back, thumb moving in small circles now, keeping the flirty rhythm going even as his eyes kept wanting to slide back across the room.
Then his ex turned her head, like she’d felt the weight of his stare.
Their eyes locked.
Garrett’s stomach dipped. She was looking right at him with her jaw tight, brows pulled in just slightly, lips pressed together in that flat line he knew too well. Angry. She looked angry. Probably because he had his hand on some other girl’s back, flirting like he didn’t have an ounce of shame. Or at least that’s what it looked like from here. The way her gaze flicked, just for a second, to the blonde beside him and then back to his face told him everything he needed to know.
Allie was still talking beside her, oblivious, but his ex didn’t look away. She just stood there with her drink in hand, staring across the party like she was daring him to keep going.
Garrett swallowed, the blonde’s voice turning into background noise again. His hand was still on the girl’s back, still flirting on autopilot with that easy smile, but every part of him was tuned to the girl across the room, the one looking at him like she wanted to set the whole place on fire.
Garrett dragged his eyes back to the blonde and gave her his best easy smile, the one that usually kept girls right where he wanted them. “Upstate, huh? I’ve got family near there. Small world.” His hand stayed on her lower back, thumb tracing slow circles through the thin fabric of her dress as he leaned in a little closer, letting her feel the warmth of him. She laughed and tilted her face up toward his, clearly enjoying the attention. Garrett kept the dance going, another low comment about how good she looked tonight, another brush of his fingers along her spine, but his gaze kept betraying him, sliding across the crowded room every few seconds like it had a mind of its own.
His ex had finished her drink and passed the empty glass to Allie. She was still smiling, softer now, as she turned and wove through the crowd toward a tall guy in a football hoodie. Garrett recognized him, defensive end, name started with a T or something. The guy’s face lit up when he saw her, it was as clear as a day. They hugged quick and easy, like they already knew each other, and then he said something that made her laugh. A minute later the beat dropped heavier, and he nodded toward the packed living room where people were dancing. She glanced once, fast, back in Garrett’s direction. Their eyes met again for half a second. Then she looked away and followed the football player onto the floor.
Garrett’s jaw flexed. He forced himself to stay locked on the blonde, asking her another question about her summer plans, chuckling when she answered, even letting his other hand come up to rest lightly on her hip so they were almost facing each other. She was warm and soft against him, still flirting back, still pressing in close. He could do this. He could keep his attention right here.
But on the dance floor, his ex was moving.
The skirt shifted with every sway of her hips, the ruffled layers catching the lights and flashing skin underneath. The velvet top twisted across her torso as she lifted her arms, the cutouts at her waist showing smooth skin every time she rolled her body to the beat. Her curls bounced around her shoulders, wild and free. She looked like she belonged there, confident, a little dangerous, completely at ease in that outfit that somehow made her look even better than he remembered.
Garrett’s grip on the blonde tightened without him meaning to.
The football player stepped in closer, hands settling on her hips as they moved together. Not low enough to be outright disrespectful, but low enough that Garrett’s stomach went tight. The guy’s fingers flexed against the skirt like he was enjoying the feel of her, and she didn’t pull away. She just kept dancing, hips still rolling in that slow, hypnotic rhythm, head tilted back a little as she laughed at whatever he said in her ear.
Garrett’s teeth ground together. He tried harder to focus on the blonde, asked her if she wanted another drink, smiled when she said yes, even brushed his knuckles along her arm like he was still fully in the moment. But every time he blinked he saw those hands on her hips, saw the way the lace moved when she danced, saw the curve of her body under that red velvet top.
The blonde was saying something about joining the dance floor themselves, but Garrett barely caught it. His stare kept drifting back across the room, locked on the way his ex’s hips kept moving, on the easy way she let that guy touch her, on the flash of red every time she turned.
He was supposed to be fine with this. That’s exactly what he had wanted.
Instead his chest burned hotter with every second he watched her dance in that outfit while another guy’s hands stayed right where Garrett’s used to be.
He watched for another thirty seconds, jaw locked so tight it ached. The football guy’s hands stayed on her hips like they belonged there, fingers flexing against the red lace every time she rolled her body to the beat. The skirt shifted with each movement, ruffles catching the lights and flashing smooth skin underneath. The velvet top clung tighter now from the heat of dancing, twisting across her torso and exposing more of her waist every time she lifted her arms. Her curls were starting to stick to the back of her neck, and even from across the floor Garrett could see the way her lips get too close to the guy’s ear. Something hot and ugly twisted low in his chest.
He wasn’t doing this anymore.
Garrett turned back to the blonde, gave her the quickest smile he could manage, and leaned in just enough to be heard over the music. “Hey, I’ll be right back, gotta handle something real quick.” He didn’t wait for an answer. His hand dropped from her waist and he was already moving, cutting through the crowd with single-minded focus, the bass vibrating up through the soles of his boots.
He reached her from behind while she was still dancing, close enough that he could smell the faint trace of her perfume mixed with the warm scent of her skin. The football guy’s hands were still resting on her hips. Garrett’s voice came out low, calm on the surface but edged with steel. “Appreciate it, man, but she’s good. You can take off.”
The guy blinked, looked between them, then lifted his hands and stepped back without argument. Smart. He disappeared into the crowd a second later.
His ex spun around fast, curls whipping across her shoulder, and the second her eyes landed on Garrett her whole face changed. Anger. Sharp and immediate. Her chest was still rising and falling from dancing, the red velvet top clinging to the curve of her breasts, a faint sheen of sweat along her collarbone catching the light. The asymmetrical cut of the top had shifted slightly, exposing more skin at her waist, and the lace skirt sat a little crooked on her hips from the movement, ruffles brushing the tops of her thighs.
“What the fuck, Garrett?” she snapped, voice low but furious, loud enough for only him to hear over the music. She took a half-step back like she needed space, but the crowd was too thick and she bumped into someone behind her. “You just walk over here and, what? Tell him to leave? Are you serious right now?”
Garrett didn’t move back. He stayed close, close enough that he could see the way her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat, close enough to watch the way the velvet fabric stretched across her stomach when she breathed hard. His own pulse was hammering, but he kept his voice even, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I did. Looked like he was getting a little too comfortable with his hands on you.”
She laughed once, short and bitter, and shook her head. The movement made her curls bounce and the lace skirt sway against her thighs. “Oh, that’s rich. You were the one all over that blonde two minutes ago and now you’re over here acting like you have any say in who touches me? Fuck off, Garrett.”
Her eyes were blazing, jaw tight, lips pressed together the same way they had been when she first caught him flirting. She was still breathing fast from dancing, and every inhale made the cutouts in the velvet top shift, showing flashes of warm skin. Garrett’s gaze dropped for half a second before he forced it back up to her face. He could feel the heat coming off her, could see the way her fingers had curled into fists at her sides like she was holding herself back from shoving him.
“I wasn’t the one letting some guy put his hands all over me on the dance floor,” he said, voice dropping lower. “You looked like you were enjoying it.”
She stepped in closer this time, anger making her bold, close enough that the front of her red lace skirt brushed his jeans. The party noise faded into a dull roar around them. “I was dancing. With a friend. You don’t get to show up after months of nothing and start acting like you own me just because you don’t like what you see. You lost that right when you walked away the first time.”
Garrett’s hand twitched at his side. He wanted to reach out, wanted to settle it on the bare skin at her waist where the velvet stopped and the lace began, but he didn’t. Not yet. His eyes flicked down again, catching on the way the skirt hugged the curve of her hips, on the way a single curl had stuck to the damp skin just above her collarbone. When he looked back up, her expression hadn’t softened. If anything, it had gotten sharper. She was pissed. And standing this close in that outfit, still flushed from dancing, still glaring at him like she wanted to set him on fire, she looked better than she had any right to.
Garrett didn’t back down. His voice stayed low, rough around the edges. “Maybe I don’t like watching some other guy’s hands on you while you’re wearing that.”
Her eyes narrowed. The music pulsed around them, bodies moving on all sides, but the space between them felt like it had shrunk to nothing. Garrett held her stare. Her chest was still rising and falling fast from the dancing and the anger, the red velvet top stretched tight across her breasts, the cutouts at her waist flashing warm skin every time she took a sharp breath. A single curl had stuck to the damp spot just below her collarbone, and Garrett’s eyes kept catching on it before he forced them back to her face.
“You don’t get to act like this,” she said, voice low and tight, stepping even closer so the ruffled edge of her lace skirt brushed his thigh. “You don’t own me.” Her eyes were blazing, lips parted around the words, the deep red lipstick slightly smudged from the heat of the room. The lace skirt shifted with every angry shift of her weight, the sheer panels catching the flashing lights and showing the curve of her hips underneath. Garrett’s jaw flexed. He could smell her perfume stronger now, mixed with the faint salt of her skin, and it was doing dangerous things to his focus.
His gaze dropped again, couldn’t help it, tracing the way the velvet twisted across her torso, the way the asymmetrical cut left one shoulder bare and the silver ring on the sleeve glinted when she gestured. “You knew exactly what you were doing wearing that outfit tonight.”
She let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, curls bouncing as she shook her head. “Oh my god. You’re actually jealous. Grow up.”
Before Garrett could answer, a hand touched his arm from the side. The blonde had pushed through the crowd, her short black dress catching the lights as she stepped up beside him. She smiled, but it was tighter now, her eyes flicking between Garrett and the girl in red with clear confusion. “Hey… everything okay? You said you’d be right back and then you just disappeared.” Her hand stayed on his forearm, fingers light but possessive in their own way. “Who’s this?”
His ex’s gaze snapped to the blonde like a whip. The anger on her face sharpened into something colder, harder. Her shoulders went rigid, the velvet top pulling tighter across her chest with the sudden inhale. For a split second her eyes dropped to where the blonde’s hand rested on Garrett’s arm, then flicked back up, blazing. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, loud enough for both of them to hear. She took one step back, then another, the red lace skirt swaying hard against her thighs with the movement. “Perfect. Have fun.”
She turned on her heel before Garrett could say a word.
The crowd parted just enough for him to watch her walk away. She didn’t look back. Her posture was stiff with fury, one hand coming up to shove a curl out of her face as she headed toward the hallway that led to the back door. Garrett stood frozen for half a second, the blonde still talking beside him, her voice fading into static. His pulse was roaring in his ears. The image of her burned behind his eyes.
Then he was moving. He pulled his arm gently but firmly out of the blonde’s grip. “Sorry,” he said, already stepping away. “I have to go.”
He didn’t wait for her answer. He pushed through the crowd after the flash of red, the bass still vibrating up through the floor, the lights strobing across the room. His ex was already halfway down the hallway, one hand on the doorframe, disappearing outside, the lace skirt still shifting with every angry step.
Garrett pushed through the last of the crowd and stepped out onto the back porch, the screen door slapping shut behind him. The night air hit cooler than inside, carrying the faint smell of grass and someone’s cigarette from the far end of the yard. String lights were strung along the railing, casting a soft yellow glow over the wooden boards. Most of the party was still inside, so it was quieter out here, just the muffled bass thumping through the walls and a couple people talking low near the steps.
She was already at the far end of the porch, one hand braced on the railing, the other pushing a curl out of her face. The cutouts at her waist showing skin that looked even warmer in the porch light. When she heard the door, she spun around. “You have no fucking right,” she started, voice already sharp and climbing. “None. You spent the whole night with your hands on that girl, smiling at her like she was the best thing you’d seen all year, and then the second I try to have one good night you decide you get to walk over and play possessive ex? Like I’m not allowed to let someone else touch me without you throwing a tantrum in the middle of the party?” She stepped forward hard, then paced a few feet to the side before turning back, gesturing with both hands like she couldn’t contain the rage. The silver ring on her sleeve flashed every time she moved.
“I felt like shit in there. You made me feel like shit. Everyone saw you ditch that blonde and come after me like some jealous asshole. Do you know how embarrassing that was? I was finally having fun. I was finally not thinking about you for five goddamn minutes and you ruined it. You always do this. You only notice me when I’m not paying attention to you anymore. The second I look like I might be okay without you, suddenly you remember I exist.”
Her voice kept rising, words spilling out faster and meaner. “And that guy? He was harmless. He was just dancing. But you couldn’t stand it. Nooooo. You couldn’t stand seeing someone else want what you threw away. So you had to come over and make it about you again. Like always. Like the whole world is supposed to stop because Garrett Graham decided he’s jealous tonight. I was wearing this for me. Not for you. Not so you could stare at me like you still have any claim on anything. You lost that. You gave it up. And now you’re out here acting like I’m the one who did something wrong because I let someone else put their hands on me for thirty seconds.”
She was breathing hard now, curls sticking to the side of her neck. Garrett tried to speak. He really tried. But his eyes kept dropping.
Her mouth.
It was moving nonstop, sharp and furious, the deep red lipstick worn at the center from how hard she was talking. Her bottom lip kept catching the light when she got louder, fuller and angrier, shaping every bitter word. He watched the way it curled around “embarrassing,” the way it pressed tight after “threw away,” the faint smudge at the corner that made it look even more dangerous. He dragged his gaze back up to her eyes for half a second, then it fell again.
She didn’t notice. She was too far gone, too angry to see where he was looking. “You don’t get to do this to me,” she kept going, voice cracking at the edges from how worked up she was, “You don’t get to ignore me for months and then decide tonight is the night you remember how to feel something. I was fine. I was actually starting to feel like myself again. And you had to come in and ruin it because your ego couldn’t handle seeing me happy without you. That’s what this is. That’s all this is. Your fucking ego.”
Garrett’s hands were clenched so tight his knuckles ached. He took a step closer without realizing it. Then another. His eyes stayed locked on her mouth, on the way it moved, on the shape of it when she was this pissed, on how red and full it looked under the string lights. Every word she said made it harder to think. Harder to breathe. The anger in her voice, the way her lips formed the words, the way they parted and pressed and curled… it was all he could see. She was still ranting, still gesturing, still pouring out everything she’d been holding in, saying something about how selfish he was when he finally snapped.
He closed the last bit of space between them, one hand sliding around her waist right where the velvet ended and warm skin began. His other hand caught the back of her neck, fingers sinking into her curls. And then he kissed her.
Hard.
His mouth crashed against hers, cutting her off mid-sentence. He kissed her like he’d been holding it back since the moment their eyes met across the party. Like every second of watching her in that red outfit, every second of her angry mouth moving, had finally broken him. His grip on her waist tightened, pulling her flush against him as the lace skirt brushed his legs. He didn’t ease up. He kissed her deeper, like he needed to shut her up and taste her anger all at once.
Her hands fisted in the front of his shirt as she shoved up onto her toes, mouth moving against his with the same furious energy she’d been ranting with seconds ago. Garrett made a low sound in his throat and slid both hands into her curls, fingers sinking deep, tugging just enough to tilt her head back so he could kiss her deeper. Her mouth tasted like cherry lipstick and whatever she’d been drinking, and he couldn’t get enough. The red velvet top pressed tight against his chest as she leaned into him, the lace skirt brushing his thighs every time she shifted.
Then she ripped her mouth away. The slap came fast and sharp, cracking across his cheek before he could even process it. His head snapped slightly to the side from the force of it. The sting bloomed hot across his skin. Garrett’s eyes flicked back to her. He licked his lips slowly, tasting the faint trace of her lipstick and the heat she’d left behind. His cheek burned. His pulse was roaring.
She was breathing hard, eyes blazing, curls wild around her face. For one charged second she just stared at him like she couldn’t believe she’d done it. Then she grabbed the front of his shirt again, yanked his head back toward her, and kissed him.
This time there was nothing hesitant about it.
Garrett groaned into her mouth and walked her backward off the porch steps without breaking the kiss. His hands stayed buried in her hair, guiding her as they stumbled down the short path toward the street. The music from the party was nothing but a distant thump now. All he could focus on was the way her mouth moved against his, angry and desperate and so fucking good.
His car was parked at the curb. He pressed her back against the driver’s side door. The metal was cool against her bare shoulder blades, a sharp contrast to the heat of her skin. She made a small sound against his lips but didn’t pull away. Instead her hands slid up into his hair, nails scraping his scalp as she kissed him harder. Garrett’s hands dropped to her waist, then lower, gripping the backs of her thighs through the lace skirt. He lifted her easily and she went with it, hooking one leg high around his hip. The red lace rode up as her leg locked around him, the ruffled fabric bunching between them. He pressed in closer, hips pinning her to the car door, the hard line of his body flush against hers.
“Fuck you,” she muttered against his mouth between kisses, voice still shaking with anger.
She kissed him like she was still furious, like every bite of her teeth and every drag of her tongue was both punishment and permission. Garrett’s hand slid up her bare thigh under the lace, fingers digging in as he rocked against her. The velvet top twisted under his other hand where he gripped her waist, the cutouts exposing more skin for him to touch. Her curls were tangled around his fingers, wild and soft and impossible to let go of.
He kissed her deeper, rougher, swallowing the angry little sounds she made. The car door was cold at her back but she was burning everywhere they touched, her leg tight around his waist, her mouth hot and demanding against his, the red outfit shifting and riding up between them with every movement.
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” she said, even as her hands tightened in his hair and she pulled him back in. “It doesn’t change anything.”
Garrett’s mouth crashed back onto hers, rough and desperate, one hand sliding up her bare thigh under the lace while the other kept her leg locked around his waist. He pressed her harder against the car, the metal creaking faintly behind her back as he kissed her like he was trying to shut her up and answer her all at once.
A low whistle cut through the air.
“Well, well,” Dean’s voice drawled from the porch steps, amused and way too loud. “Look at this. Thought you two were done with each other?”
Garrett pulled back just enough to glare over his shoulder. Dean was leaning against the railing, beer in hand, grinning like an idiot. “Dean,” Garrett said, voice flat and cold. “Fuck off.”
Dean raised both hands in mock surrender, still smirking. “Hey, I’m just saying. If you’re gonna fuck your ex against your car, maybe take it inside? Some of us are trying to party without the free porn.”
Garrett turned back to her. He took her hand, and started walking toward the side of the house. She followed without pulling away, the red lace skirt brushing against her thighs with every step. He couldn’t stop touching her. His free hand slid to the small of her back, fingers spreading wide over the bare skin where the velvet top ended. Then it moved higher, tracing the edge of one of the cutouts, brushing along her waist as they walked.
Halfway across the lawn he stopped, turned her toward him, and kissed the side of her neck, right below her ear. His hand stayed on her waist, thumb stroking the warm skin there like he physically couldn’t make himself let go. She inhaled sharply but didn’t push him away.
They slipped in through the side door, bypassing the loudest part of the party. The bass from inside thumped through the walls as they moved down the short hallway. Garrett’s hand never left her. It slid from her waist to her hip, fingers hooking lightly in the lace skirt for a second before moving back up, brushing the underside of her breast through the velvet. He leaned in again and kissed the curve of her neck, slower this time, mouth open against her skin as they reached the stairs.
She was still tense with anger, shoulders tight, but she kept walking with him, curls brushing his shoulder every time she turned her head slightly. At the top of the stairs he pulled her in again, mouth finding the spot just behind her ear, kissing it once, then again, while his hand slid under the hem of the velvet top to rest against bare skin at her lower back.
By the time they reached his bedroom door, he had her backed against it. His hand was still on her waist, fingers flexing like he needed the contact. He kissed her neck again, then lower, along the line where velvet met skin. She made a quiet, frustrated sound but didn’t stop him.
He pushed the door open behind her and walked her inside, one hand never leaving her body. The second the door clicked shut he had her against it again, mouth on her neck, hands roaming, one in her curls, the other sliding down to grip her hip through the lace skirt, pulling her closer like he still couldn’t get enough of touching her.
She was still mad. He could feel it in the way her fingers dug into his shoulders, in the sharp little breaths she took every time his mouth found a new spot on her neck. But she wasn’t telling him to stop.
And Garrett couldn’t make his hands stay still. Not even for a second.
“This doesn’t fix what you did,” she said quietly, voice tight. But she didn’t push him away.
“I know,” Garrett murmured against her skin. He kissed lower, along the curve of her neck, then the sharp line of her collarbone where the velvet dipped. “Let me try anyway.”
His hands moved to the hem of the top. He lifted it slowly, eyes flicking up to hers for permission she didn’t give with words, just a sharp breath and the way she raised her arms. He peeled the red velvet upward, revealing smooth skin inch by inch. The fabric caught for a second on her breasts before sliding over her head and dropping to the floor. His mouth followed the path it left behind, kissing the center of her chest, then lower, across the soft skin of her stomach. Every new inch of her he uncovered, he touched. His palms skimmed up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts before his mouth replaced them, kissing there too, slow and deliberate.
She made a frustrated sound, one hand sliding into his hair and tugging, not gentle. “Do you think I am pathetic for letting you do this?”
“No,” he answered honestly, voice low against her skin. He dropped to his knees in front of her, hands sliding down to the waistband of the red skirt. “You’re a goddess, I’m blessed.”
He hooked his fingers into the skirt and tugged it down slowly, letting it pool at her ankles, together with her panties. His mouth followed, kissing the newly exposed skin of her hips, then the inside of one thigh as he helped her step out of the skirt. His hands stayed on her legs the entire time, sliding up the backs of her calves, then higher, gripping her thighs like he needed the anchor. He kissed the front of one hip, then the other, then lower, open-mouthed against the soft skin just above where the lace had been.
She was breathing harder now, still angry but not stopping him. Her fingers stayed tight in his hair.
“You’re still an asshole,” she muttered, voice rough.
“I know,” Garrett said again, quieter this time. He rose back up slowly, hands never leaving her body, one sliding up the back of her thigh, the other tracing the curve of her waist as he stood. He kissed her neck again, then her shoulder, then the center of her chest, worshipping every inch he could reach. His mouth moved lower again, across her stomach, slow and reverent, like he was trying to memorize her with his lips.
His hands followed everywhere his mouth went, palms skimming her sides, fingers brushing the undersides of her breasts, then down again to grip her hips. He couldn’t stop touching her. Every time he tried to focus on one spot, his hands wandered to another… to the dip of her waist, the smooth skin of her back, the soft flesh of her thigh.
Garrett kissed her once more, then sank back down to his knees in front of her. His hands slid up the backs of her thighs, gripping firmly as he looked up at her. She was still flushed, still breathing hard, still looking at him like she hadn’t decided whether she wanted to shove him away or pull him closer.
He didn’t wait for permission.
He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, spreading her open, and dragged his tongue slowly through her folds. She tasted exactly how he remembered, sweet and slick and so fucking good it made his cock throb in his jeans. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he licked her again, slower this time, savoring it.
“Fuck,” he muttered against her, voice rough. “I missed this. Missed how wet you get for me.” Her hand immediately fisted in his hair, tight and unforgiving. He didn’t mind. He wanted the sting. He licked her again, firmer now, circling her clit with the flat of his tongue before sucking it gently between his lips.
“You can stay mad at me,” he said between slow, deliberate licks, voice low and filthy. “Hate me all you want. Just let me eat this pretty pussy until you come on my tongue.”
She made a sharp, angry sound above him, hips twitching despite herself. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling hard. “Shut up,” she breathed, but there was no real heat behind it anymore, just frustration and want.
Garrett smiled against her, then dragged his tongue lower, fucking it inside her once before moving back up to her clit. He kept one hand gripping her thigh, holding her open, while the other slid up to palm her ass, pulling her closer to his mouth. “You’re dripping,” he growled, licking her slow and filthy. “So fucking wet and you’re still trying to act like you don’t want this. Like you don’t want me on my knees for you.”
He sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked, tongue flicking fast and relentless. Her leg over his shoulder trembled. He could feel how close she already was, could taste how much her body wanted this even if her head was still fighting it.
“Come on,” he muttered against her, voice muffled and rough. “Be mad at me all night if you want. Just come on my fucking tongue first. Let me taste how sorry I am.”
His hand on her ass tightened as he pulled her harder against his mouth, licking and sucking like he was trying to devour every inch of her. He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. He just kept eating her like he had something to prove, tongue working her clit in tight, filthy circles while two fingers slid inside her without warning, curling deep.
“That’s it,” he rasped when her hips started rocking against his face. “Fuck my tongue. Take what you need. I’m not stopping until you come for me.”
His hands couldn’t stay still. One gripped the back of her thigh hard, fingers digging into soft skin, holding her leg higher over his shoulder so he could get deeper. The other slid up the back of her other leg, palming her ass and pulling her closer to his mouth like he wanted to bury his face in her. His thumb stroked slow circles against the curve of her ass while his tongue worked her clit in tight, relentless strokes.
She made a sharp, frustrated sound above him, her hand fisting tighter in his hair, pulling hard enough to sting. He didn’t stop. If anything, it made him hungrier. He slid two fingers inside her without warning, curling them deep as he sucked on her clit again. Her hips jerked against his face despite herself. He could feel the way her thighs trembled on either side of his head, the way her stomach fluttered every time he licked her just right. He kept his mouth sealed over her clit, tongue flicking fast and filthy while his fingers pumped into her, curling against that spot inside that always made her lose it. He didn’t ease up. His hand on her ass squeezed tighter, pulling her forward so she was practically riding his face. His tongue never stopped moving, licking, sucking, circling, while his fingers worked her in steady, deep strokes.
Garrett felt the exact moment she stopped fighting it.
Her hips rolled forward once, hesitant at first, then again, harder. She started riding his fingers in slow, deliberate strokes, fucking herself on them while his mouth stayed sealed over her clit. The wet sound of it filled the quiet room, filthy and perfect. His fingers were soaked, sliding in and out of her easily as she moved, her walls clenching tight around them every time she sank down.
“That’s it,” he groaned against her, voice low and wrecked. “Ride my fucking fingers. Just like that. Use me.”
He curled them deeper on the next thrust, angling them so they dragged against that spot inside her with every roll of her hips. His tongue never let up, licking and sucking her clit in time with the way she moved, matching her rhythm. His free hand stayed locked on her ass, gripping hard, guiding her, pulling her down onto his fingers and mouth like he wanted her to take everything.
Her hips moved faster now, chasing it. Every time she sank down, his fingers disappeared inside her to the knuckle, and every time she lifted up, they glistened with how wet she was. He could feel her thighs shaking on either side of his head. Her hand was still fisted tight in his hair, tugging hard every time his tongue flicked her clit just right.
Garrett moaned into her, the sound vibrating against her sensitive flesh. He added a third finger without warning, stretching her, and she made a sharp, broken sound above him. He didn’t slow down. His mouth worked her relentlessly while his fingers pumped up into her every time she rode down.
“Come on,” he muttered against her, voice rough and filthy between licks. “Ride them harder. Fuck yourself on my hand while I eat this pussy. You’re so close, I can feel it. You’re clenching so fucking tight around my fingers.” He sucked her clit between his lips again and flicked his tongue fast, relentless, while his fingers curled and thrust in time with her movements. His other hand slid up her back, then down again, gripping her ass and pulling her harder against his face like he couldn’t get enough of her. “Give it to me,” he growled.
Her thighs started shaking hard around his head. Her hips stuttered, losing rhythm for a second before she ground down hard onto his fingers and mouth like she couldn’t help it. A broken, angry sound tore out of her throat as her walls clamped down tight around his fingers, pulsing hard.
He groaned against her clit, voice low and filthy. “Come for me. Fuck, just like that, mama. Come all over my tongue.”
He didn’t let up. He kept his fingers buried deep inside her, curling them against that spot with every clench, while his tongue licked her through it, slow, firm strokes that dragged out every wave. Her hips jerked against his face as she came, riding it out, and he held her there with both hands, one gripping her ass tight, the other still working his fingers inside her.
She was so fucking wet it coated his chin, his wrist, dripping down his hand. He moaned into her like he was the one coming, tongue never stopping as he licked up everything she gave him.
“Goddamn,” he rasped between licks, voice wrecked. “You’re squeezing my fingers so fucking tight. Look at you, soooo mad at me and coming all over my face anyway.”
Her body kept trembling through the aftershocks, thighs quivering against his shoulders. He slowed his fingers but didn’t pull them out, keeping them buried deep as he licked her softer now with gentle strokes over her sensitive clit while she rode out the last pulses. His hand on her ass stayed firm, holding her steady against his mouth like he wasn’t ready to let her go yet.
When her hips finally stopped moving and her breathing turned ragged, he pulled his fingers out slowly and dragged his tongue through her one last time, tasting her release. Then he kissed the inside of her thigh, open-mouthed and lingering, before resting his forehead against her stomach for a second, still breathing hard. His hands didn’t leave her body. One stayed on her ass, the other sliding up the back of her thigh in slow, possessive strokes.
“Still pissed at me?” he asked roughly against her skin, voice low and hoarse. He kissed her stomach, then lower again, like he couldn’t stop. “Or did that take the edge off?"
“Get up,” she muttered, voice rough.
He rose to his feet. The second he was standing, she was on him.
Her hands went straight to the hem of his shirt, yanking it up and over his head with quick, impatient movements. She tossed it somewhere behind her without looking. Her palms slid down his chest, nails dragging lightly over his skin as she reached for his belt. She undid it with sharp tugs, then popped the button of his jeans and shoved them down along with his briefs in one rough motion.
While her hands worked, she looked up at him, eyes still sharp with anger.
“You don’t deserve my mouth on your cock,” she said flatly, voice low and cutting. “Not after what you pulled tonight.”
Garrett’s jaw flexed. He didn’t argue. His hands found her waist automatically, thumbs stroking over her bare skin as she stripped him.“Yeah,” he said quietly, voice rough. “I know that.”
She didn’t reply. She just pushed at his chest until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He let her guide him down, sitting first before she climbed over him, straddling his lap. The second she was on top, his hands were everywhere again, sliding up her bare back, gripping her hips, then moving higher to cup her breasts as she settled over him.
She braced her hands on his chest and looked down at him, curls falling around her face, still flushed and breathing hard. His cock was hard and trapped between them, pressed against her slick heat, but she didn’t move yet. She just stared at him for a second, like she was deciding what she wanted to do with him.
Garrett’s hands kept moving. One slid down to grip her ass, squeezing, while the other traced up her spine and into her hair. He couldn’t stop touching her. Even now, with her on top and still clearly pissed, his palms kept roaming like he needed the contact to stay sane.
She rolled her hips once dragging her wetness along the length of his cock. A low groan rumbled out of his chest. “You did not tell me if you’re still mad" he asked, voice low and hoarse as his hands tightened on her.
She didn’t answer with words. She just leaned down, kissed him hard, and rolled her hips again. Garrett let her roll her hips once more, feeling the wet heat of her drag along his cock, but the second she started to move again he snapped.
In one fluid motion he gripped her waist tight, flipped them hard, and pinned her beneath him on the bed. The mattress dipped under their weight as her back hit the sheets. Her curls fanned out across the pillow, wild and dark against the white. He followed her down immediately, settling between her spread thighs, one hand braced beside her head while the other slid under her knee and hiked her leg up high around his hip.
He didn’t give her time to catch her breath.
He reached between them, gripped his cock, and dragged the head through her slick folds once, slow, deliberate,nbefore pushing inside in one deep, steady thrust. Her body stretched around him, hot and tight and so fucking wet it made his jaw clench. He bottomed out with a low groan, hips flush against hers, buried to the hilt. “Fuck,” he gritted out, forehead dropping to hers for a second. “You feel so good.”
He didn’t wait. He pulled back and drove into her again, harder this time, setting a deep, relentless rhythm right from the start. His hand stayed under her thigh, keeping her leg hooked high around him so he could fuck her deeper. The other hand slid up her body, gripping her waist, then higher to palm her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple as he moved.
He couldn’t stop touching her. Even as he fucked her, his hands kept roaming, sliding down to grip her hip hard enough to leave marks, then back up to tangle in her curls, tugging her head back so he could kiss her neck, her collarbone, the curve of her jaw. Every thrust pushed her up the bed slightly, the headboard knocking softly against the wall.
She was still glaring up at him, eyes sharp with anger even as her body arched beneath him. Her nails dug into his back, dragging down hard enough to sting.
Garrett groaned at the pain and fucked her harder, hips snapping forward in deep, punishing strokes. The wet sound of him driving into her filled the room, filthy and loud. He could feel how soaked she still was from coming on his tongue, how easily he slid in and out of her.
“You’re still so fucking wet,” he rasped against her ear, voice low and rough. “Came all over my face and you’re still dripping for me.” He thrust deep and stayed there for a second, grinding against her clit. “Keep looking at me like that. Keep being mad. You know what? I don’t care. I’m still gonna fuck you until you can’t think straight.”
Garrett kept her pinned beneath him, one hand gripping the back of her thigh and holding her leg high and open while he fucked into her in deep, heavy strokes. The wet slap of skin filled the room with every thrust. He could feel how tight she still was around him, how she clenched every time he bottomed out.
She was glaring up at him, but her mouth was open, breath coming in sharp gasps. Her hands were on his back, nails digging in hard.
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” she bit out between thrusts, voice strained but sharp. “You don’t get to just flip me over and take whatever you want after what you did.”
Garrett’s jaw flexed. He drove into her harder, grinding deep before pulling back and slamming forward again. His hand slid up from her thigh to wrap around her throat, not squeezing, just holding, thumb stroking the side of her neck. “Yeah?” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Then why’s this pussy so fucking wet for me? Why are you letting me stretch you open like this if you’re still so mad?”
She made a frustrated sound and tried to glare harder, but her hips lifted to meet his next thrust anyway. Her curls were spread across the pillow, sticking to the sweat on her neck. He leaned down and kissed her hard, then pulled back just enough to look at her.
“I’m gonna fill you up,” he muttered against her mouth, hips never slowing. “Gonna breed this tight little cunt until it’s dripping with me. You want that? Want me to fuck a load so deep in you that you feel it for days?”
Her eyes flashed with fresh anger even as her walls fluttered around him. She grabbed his jaw, fingers digging in. “Don’t you fucking dare come inside me like you own me,” she snapped, but her voice cracked on the last word when he hit a particularly deep angle. “You don’t get to do that.”
Garrett’s eyes darkened. He shifted his weight, pressing her deeper into the mattress as he fucked her harder, the bed creaking beneath them. His hand left her throat and slid into her hair instead, gripping tight. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.
She hesitated for half a second, still glaring, but she parted her lips anyway. He leaned in close, spat directly into her mouth, then kissed her before she could say anything, tongue pushing past her lips like he was claiming that too. When he pulled back, a thin string of spit connected them for a second before it broke. He kept thrusting, deep and relentless, one hand still tangled in her curls while the other slid down to rub tight circles over her clit.
“Keep talking, mama” he growled. “Tell me how much you hate me while I’m buried in you. While I’m about to pump you full.” His hips snapped forward harder. “I’m not pulling out. You’re gonna take every drop.”
She made another angry sound, but her body was arching into him now, chasing every thrust. Her leg hooked higher around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Selfish prick,” she breathed, voice shaky with pleasure and rage. “You don’t deserve to come in me.”
Garrett groaned low and fucked her even harder, sweat-slick skin sliding against hers. His hand in her hair tightened as he leaned down again, mouth brushing her ear. “Too bad,” he rasped. “Because I’m gonna breed this pussy anyway. And you’re gonna come while I do it.”
Her body went loose beneath him in the best way, hips lifting to meet every thrust, thighs spreading wider around his waist, back arching off the bed as she took him deeper. The angry tension in her muscles melted into something raw and desperate. Her nails stopped just digging and started clawing down his back in long, hard lines. A broken moan tore out of her throat, louder than before, and her head tipped back against the pillow, curls spilling everywhere.
“That’s it,” Garrett growled, voice thick and filthy as he fucked into her harder. “Let go. Stop fighting it. Let me fuck this pussy the way it needs.”
He shifted his angle, driving deeper, the head of his cock dragging against that spot inside her with every stroke. The wet, obscene sound of him pounding into her filled the room, skin slapping, her slick coating his cock and dripping down between them. He could feel how soaked she was, how her walls fluttered and clenched around him every time he bottomed out.
His hand slid between them, thumb rubbing tight, fast circles over her swollen clit while h e kept thrusting. The other stayed tangled in her hair, holding her head back so he could watch her face as she started to lose it. “I’m gonna breed you,” he rasped, low and rough against her ear. “Gonna fill this tight cunt up until it’s overflowing. Pump you so full of cum you’ll feel it leaking out of you for hours. You want that? Want me to breed this pussy?”
She made a choked, angry sound that turned into a moan halfway through. Her legs locked higher around his waist, heels digging into the backs of his thighs as she pulled him in deeper. Her hips were moving on their own now, rolling up to meet every brutal thrust.
“Fuck, Garrett…” she gasped, voice breaking. Her hands gripped his shoulders hard, nails biting into skin. “You’re such a, ah, fucking bastard…”
Her whole body started to shake. Her mouth fell open on a silent cry before a loud, broken moan ripped out of her. Her walls clamped down around him in hard, pulsing waves as she came, thighs trembling, back arching sharply, hips jerking uncontrollably beneath him. Wetness flooded around his cock, soaking him as she rode out the orgasm, still grinding up against him like she couldn’t stop. Garrett groaned low and filthy, fucking her straight through it without slowing down. His hand stayed between them, working her clit as she clenched and fluttered around him.
Garrett’s thrusts turned shorter and rougher as he got closer, his cock swelling inside her. He could feel the pressure building fast at the base of his spine, his balls drawing tight. Every time he bottomed out, her soaked pussy gripped him like a fist, wet and hot and pulsing from her orgasm.
He knew he shouldn’t come inside her.
She’d been furious with him all night. She’d told him he didn’t deserve her mouth, and even though she’d let him fuck her, even though she’d come hard on his tongue and then on his cock, he still remembered the anger in her voice when she said he didn’t get to have all of her. Out of respect, he started to pull back.
His hips drew back slowly, cock sliding halfway out of her, glistening and dripping with her slick. He was right there, one more thrust and he’d be coming.
But she didn’t let him go.
Her legs snapped tighter around his waist in an instant, strong and unyielding. Her heels dug hard into the backs of his thighs as she yanked him forward, forcing his cock back inside her to the hilt in one rough pull. At the same time her hands slid down to his ass, fingers digging in deep as she held him there, refusing to let him pull out.
Garrett groaned, low and broken, forehead dropping against hers.
“Fuck, I’m about to come,” he rasped, voice strained. His hips jerked once, like he was still trying to be good, but she kept him locked deep. “I’m gonna pull out.”
“Don’t" she cut in, voice shaky but firm, almost angry. Her nails bit harder into his ass as she rolled her hips up, grinding him deeper. “I want it. Don’t pull out.”
Garrett’s control snapped.
He slammed back into her hard, burying himself to the root with a filthy, wet sound. Her pussy was so fucking wet, soaked from her orgasm and his pre-cum, creamy and messy around his cock every time he moved. He could feel it coating his balls, dripping down between them as he started fucking her again in short, desperate thrusts. “Shit, you’re really keeping me in,” he groaned against her neck, voice rough and filthy. “You don’t want me to leave, don’t you?”
She made a frustrated, desperate sound and pulled him in even harder with her legs and hands, forcing him as deep as he could go. “Just come,” she gasped, voice breaking as he fucked into her. “I want you to fill me up.”
Garrett’s rhythm turned frantic. He drove into her hard and deep, the wet slap of skin loud and obscene. He could feel every inch of her, the way her walls fluttered and clenched around him, the way her slick coated every inch of his cock, making everything messy and loud. His hand slid under her ass, gripping hard and angling her so he could pound into her even deeper.
“Yeah,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Gonna fill this tight cunt up. Gonna take every drop like a good girl even though you hate me right now?”
“Yes,” she moaned, legs locked tight, hips jerking up to meet every thrust. “Do it. Come in me. I want it, I want all of it.”
Garrett buried himself as deep as he could go and came with a low, guttural groan. His cock pulsed hard inside her, thick ropes of cum flooding her in heavy spurts. He kept grinding through it, shallow and desperate, pushing every drop as far as he could while her walls milked him. The mess was obscene, his cum mixing with hers, leaking out around his cock and dripping down her ass every time he moved.
He didn’t pull out.
Even as the last waves hit him, he stayed buried deep, breathing hard against her neck, one hand still gripping her ass while the other slid up to tangle in her curls again. His hips gave one last slow, possessive roll, pushing the cum deeper inside her. "Go on a date with me?"
