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summary: what was supposed to be a private getaway turns into a guys trip. garrett soothes your disappointment by showing you how much fun you can still have.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
♡ the library
♡ the garrett graham roster
tags: a lot of pet names; oral (f!receiving); p in v; kind of choking?; kind of soft dom!garrett but that’s just his vibe; mostly just smut
“No, no, pass me that. G, pass me—“
“Alright! Damn, give me a sec, Tuck.”
A bag of chips crinkles between your shoulders as Garrett passes Tucker the bag from the front seat. A hand appears above the center console to collect them, and the snick of the plastic tearing open sounds somewhere behind you. Three mouths crunch and smack and your patience wears thin as floss. Or thinner than floss. Whatever’s so thin, it’s practically frayed.
Garrett glances at you as you shift, legs angling toward the window and away from him. Your disappointment is palpable, emanating in waves like the heat against the glass you’re staring through.
It was supposed to just be the pair of you. You, Garrett, your family cabin on the Cape and a few days of fun. Except somehow, the guys weaseled their way in. The words parent-free-cabin were uttered in the wrong place at the wrong time, and suddenly a weekend for two became a party.
A rogue knee jolts your chair and brings you out of your thoughts.
“Hey,” Garrett scolds, reaching back to slap Dean upside the head. “Chill out.”
“Sorry, Dad.”
The backseat erupts into slow snickers and Garrett turns back to the road, shaking his head with a huff. His hand moves to your thigh, big and warm and skating firmly over your flesh. He rubs in a small circle before cupping the width of your thigh, fingers slipping between the space where they cross. You can feel him in your periphery, the weight of his unwavering gaze on you. But you’re just not done being annoyed yet.
“Baby,” Garrett murmurs, shaking you gently by the thigh.
You shift further, arms coming to fold over your chest. Garrett sighs, moving his hand back to the wheel.
This was going to be a long drive.
♡♡♡
“Baby, I swear I didn’t know they were serious.”
“You could’ve said no.”
“I did! I—come on, what are you doing?”
He watches you take the bed apart pillow by pillow only to rearrange them in a makeshift Tetris barrier down the center. Your bags were quickly discarded—dropped, more like—by the bedroom door upon your arrival to the cabin, and you made quick work of claiming the master bedroom.
You pat obnoxiously at the pillows until they deflate on impact. Just for good measure.
“You can sleep over there, I’ll sleep over—“
“Hell no, I’m not dividing the bed. Baby, come here.”
Despite his plea, he’s already reaching for you, hand around your hip to steer you into him. You keep your glare focused on his chest, arms limp at your sides as he tips your head up by the chin and crowds in close.
“We can still make the most of it. We’ve still got this room all to ourselves, don’t we?”
His neck bends, knees giving a little to reach your mouth without the usual help of your tiptoes. His mouth is soft, mint-scented from anxious roadtrip gum. His kiss brushes both your lips together, mouth closed, at first refusing his touch. But the affection softens you. Just a little. Your arms slacken at your sides, chest easing in its tightness.
Garrett can see it. The way you’re starting to melt. Layer by layer. Maybe you aren’t even mad anymore. Maybe you just want all the attention the boys were hogging in the car. Maybe you just want to feel like his only priority right now. He likes to make you feel special. He knows you like it, too.
“My pretty girl,” he murmurs, lips skating over your cheek before pressing another gentle kiss to the apple of it.
He trails delicate affections along your jaw, down your neck. He focuses on the spot behind your ear, just underneath it, the juncture where the flesh is tender with nerves. You squirm a little, body finally giving audience. Your hands come to his stomach, fisting the fabric of his t-shirt over hard muscle. Soft little noises escape you, noises Garrett isn’t sure you know you’re making. He sucks at the skin over your throat and chuckles through his nose when your breath catches.
“That feel good?” he hums, the teasing upturn of his voice settling right below your navel.
You nod, swallowing against his mouth. “Mhm.”
Garrett mimics your noise, pulling up only to turn your head by the chin to free the other side of your neck. He mirrors his actions of the previous side, slow kisses and lazy tongues and tight suctions. Your skin is alight, buzzing with heat and attention and want. Your hand slips from his stomach down the front of him, disappearing between your bodies to tug at his buckle.
“You want somethin’?” He chuckles in the same confident fratboy way he did the night you met, when he was so sure of himself and you were so infatuated.
“You.”
Garrett tears himself away from your neck and latches onto your mouth like a lifeline. You love when he’s like this, chasing each of your breaths like they’re the key to his own. He nips at your bottom lip and his hands squeeze your sides, a crushing force against your ribs.
You feel the edge of the bed against the backs of your thighs before you tumble over, flat on your back and reaching greedily for Garrett’s firm biceps. Thankfully, he’s quick to close the gap, one foot on the floor and the other hiked to the bed by the knee against your thigh. He drops down to one forearm, freeing a hand to skate along the outside of your thigh and hook it over his hip.
He feels the softness, the warmth of your skin. His fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, teasing along the band of your underwear.
“Still mad at me?" he asks, dragging his hot, wet mouth down your throat.
Your insides shimmer and wriggle with delight when you force out a soft: "Yes."
Garrett hooks both hands in the waistband of your shorts, yanking them and your panties down in one go, hard enough it feels like rug burn on your thighs. He stands before you now, motioning with one hand to sit up. You push up on your palms, arms lifting to free you of your shirt. He whips it somewhere behind you, shoving and slapping at the pillow divider on the center of the bed behind you.
"Get this shit outta here," he mutters, cupping his hand under the band of your bra to push you up the mattress. "Need a clean workspace."
You giggle, tipping your head to watch him pinch his shirt at the neck and yank it over his head. No matter how many times you've seen him naked, his physique never fails to leave you wanting. The rippled series of sculpted muscle down his stomach, the veins protruding from his forearms, the curves and valleys of biceps well cared for. The reminder of the tattoo between his shoulder blades always comes with equal excitement. To watch the letters disappear between the movements of his back as he works on you, to leave your marks on the words when he's pushing down on you, stretching your legs wide.
"You're thinking dirty thoughts, I can see 'em on your pretty face."
You blink into the present, cheeks warm when you find Garrett's gaze. "Maybe."
Garrett pushes his jeans over his hips, just a pair of grey boxers keeping his cock restrained. A damp patch darkens the fabric and makes you swallow. He quirks one brow, content to stand there as you writhe.
"Care to share them?"
You hum, hands leaving the mattress to trail along your sides. His eyes immediately follow, licking over the exposed surface of your flesh.
“No,” you murmur, voice weakening under the scrutiny of his dark eyes. He watches you unabashedly, free of embarrassment or insecurity. His cock presses harder against his boxers, a near painful hardening. “I don’t think I will.”
Garrett’s gaze flickers to the shy smile pursed on your lips. He chuckles, tongue swiveling over his bottom lip.
His cock bobs free and your resolve fizzles almost immediately. You shift on the bed, thighs parting instinctively. Garrett glances at the movement and snickers. One hand begins to tug at the length of his cock, the other reaching to skate his knuckles down the inside of your right thigh.
“Always open right up for me,” he muses. He trails just his fingertips over your center, ghosting touches that cause your stomach to ripple and your skin to dapple with goosebumps.
Your hips tip up to chase his touch, silently pleading for more of it. But Garrett pretends not to notice, even though he knows your body and its quiet tells like the back of his hand. He rubs small and whispered circles over your clit that make you gasp and only just begin to whine.
“You want somethin’, sweetheart?” He lightens his touch—if it were even possible. You only just feel the presence of his fingers against you.
“Garrett,” you huff, reaching for his arm between your legs.
His chuckle rumbles through him and into you, a deep vibration straight to your core.
“My needy girl,” he coos, eyes set at the apex of your thighs where you need him most. “Tell me what you want.”
“Want you to touch me,” you murmur, guiding his fingers where you want them—need them. He sweeps two fingers over the growing wetness and your hips jerk. “Please.”
Two thick fingers inch in slowly, easing through the tightness of your excitement. His thumb presses to your clit, rubbing over the pulsing bud. You groan, eyes fluttering shut and head burrowing back into the mattress.
“Yes,” you sigh, dumb to the twist of your hips grinding on his hand.
Garrett presses his other hand down on your hip, anchoring you to the mattress. “Stop squirming. Let me make you feel good, baby.”
You blink your eyes open slowly, nodding your compliance with shallow breaths. Garrett tips his chin down, nodding back curtly. He’s got that look in his eye—the one that means he’s laser-focused. The one that means he’ll do whatever it takes to unravel you, and you’ve never been in safer hands.
Garrett sweeps his other hand up your thigh, bending to press his mouth to your knee. His fingers continue to work between your thighs, pumping deep, curling in that soft and tender spot that makes you ache. A trail of kisses journey down your right leg, and when he can’t reach as he stands, Garrett sinks to his knees beside the bed.
Heels braced on his shoulder blades, Garrett repeats the path of kisses on your left leg, fingers quickening their pace inside you. Your eyes pinch shut, hands reaching for the softness of his dark curls. You scrunch them in your fists, low whines and cries pulled from your throat on their own accord.
His fingers are gone for a split second before they’re replaced with something hot and wet—his mouth, latching onto your clit and sucking tight. Your back arches off the bed, a sharp and elated gasp cutting through the room. Garrett moans against your core, spurred by the tightness of your fists in his hair and the squeeze of your thighs on either side of his head.
His palms are wide and callused when they encompass your thighs, squeezing the meat of them enough to leave little kisses of remembrance as he sets a hungry pace on your pussy. Alternating between a tight latch and a loll of his tongue, dipping into your entrance and slipping along your clit.
“Fuck, Garrett,” you hiccup.
He feels your thighs begin to vibrate against his ears, squeezing a little tighter. He feels like he’s suffocating, like he might die right here—and it’ll be worth it. Your face has a glow when you’re like this, all flushed cheeks and dewy skin, swollen lips from biting away your sounds. If he had his hands free, he’d tug your lip away with his thumb, demand you let all your noises run free.
But he’s got a job to finish. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you cum.
His groans reverberate through you as he roughens up, a sloppy push and pull between his prodding tongue and tight mouth. He scrapes his teeth just gently over your sore and swollen clit and you squeal, toes curling and heels digging into his back. The grip you have on his hair might leave him damn near bald, but fuck does he love to see that look on your face.
He licks whatever you give him, scooping his tongue inside your fluttering hole. He kisses your clit gently, hands kneading your thighs to soothe their shaking. Your fingers slacken in his hair, stroking through his curls in an unsteady, calming rhythm. He knows you’re bringing yourself down, too, even in your attempt to coax him.
Garrett perches his chin on your thigh, smoothing small circles with his fingers on your hipbone. Your breaths are still unsteady, but they’re whole, complete transactions of inhales and exhales. The gorgeous glow clings to your pretty face.
He hums, a sideways smile on his shiny mouth. You breathe a laugh, thumb swiping his cheekbone.
“Okay,” you sigh. “You’re forgiven.”
Garrett furrows his brows in faux confusion. “Oh, did you think we were done?”
That cute little lip bite to conceal a smile is enough to get him on his feet again. He presses his thumb into your chin, pulling your lip free and baring your mouth. He swallows you, tasting sweet and salty with sex. Small pips of sounds echo off the back of his throat as he kisses you with clear possession. Even if you were entirely alone in a room, Garrett always kissed you like he had something to prove. Like someone was watching, questioning his love for you.
He pulls from your mouth with a wet pop. “Fuck, turn over. Come on, baby.”
He pats your hip with a dull smack and pushes off the bed. You flip over instantly, eager and bouncy. Garrett plucks the hook on your bra first, pushing the straps down your arms.
His mouth meets your bare shoulder, body bent to cup against yours, chest to back and skin to skin. His hand paws at your breast to knead and squeeze, pinching at your nipple enough to sting. You gasp, head resting back against his temple. He kisses what he can reach, the corner of your mouth and along your sticky cheek.
“You want me, honey?”
Your nod is quick and dizzy. Garrett shakes his head, a gravely hum of distaste rumbling in his throat.
“No, no. Do you want me?”
“Yes, Garrett.”
You hold your breath in the pause that follows, lightheaded and waiting. Garrett responds by slipping his hand between your bodies, guiding the head of his cock over the wetness between your thighs. He prods at your entrance once, twice, just barely breaching past resistance.
You whine, hips rocking back against him. “Garrettt.”
His laughter is sharp and throaty in your ear, shuddering up your spine. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you what you want, baby.”
You blow a slow breath between your lips as he inches in, full and deep until he’s flush against your ass and pulsing between your walls, squeezing him tightly. You drop your head with a satisfied sigh, almost content to just rest like this. The size of him is a comforting, blissful stretch.
Garrett hooks his arm around your neck, fitting your head in the crook of his elbow. Now lifted upright, Garrett brings his mouth back against your cheek and slowly tilts his hips. Your breaths rasp against the corded muscle of his forearm, firm and hot and biteable under your chin.
“Fuck, feel so good,” he grits into your ear. “Atta girl, takin’ me so good, baby.”
Your eyes flutter shut as he sets a slow and steady pace. The drag of his cock pulls and prods on the spot you need it most, where your ache for him beats a bright and needy pulse. You lift one hand up to meet his arm around your neck, nails piercing the hot flesh there. He grunts, shifting to grind a little deeper, the flesh of his chest slickening against your back. He shifts his hips, grinding a little deeper, fucking a little harder. The sharp slap of skin fills the room, soon paired with your squeaky yelp. You rise to your knees, clinging to and relying on his hold around your neck to keep you stable.
He holds you steady, even as his own body begins to quake, his free hand journeying down your stomach to circle at your clit. The noise you release is anguished, agonized, full of want and wet tears. It spurs him on, thrusts more like jolts to keep his cock deeply lodged inside you. He knows you’re close, knows you’re already sensitive from his mouth. He wishes he could see the way your eyes grow wet, hopes he can feel a tear slip down your cheek so he can kiss it away.
You’re seeing spots, head swollen with a mystified haze. Garrett’s teeth scrape over the sticky apple of your cheek as he humps a little harder. He kisses the dull sting with full lips.
“Think they can hear you out there? Crying so pretty for me, baby.”
You sink your teeth into your lip to muffle another cry, a syrupy tingle gathering so deep in your belly that it feels like he’s scooping your insides out. Garrett kisses you again, swift and wet.
“Hope they can,” he grunts, and you jump with a choked cry when he rears back to slap the side of your asscheek. “Hope everyone hears what a mess you are for me.”
You nod back, delirious and dumb. His fingers are back on your clit then, pulling a string of aimless babbles from your mouth as the world blackens around you. He moves his fingers in a dizzying pace, and paired with the stretch of his cock, it’s a surefire way to make you cum.
“Let go for me, baby,” he murmurs, breath hot and heavy against your face. “Lemme feel it.”
He gives you no choice, really. His fingers continue to dance on your clit and his cock continues to fill you to the brim, and it’s as he squishes his mouth against her cheek and murmurs a string of ‘good girl’s in your ear that you tumble headfirst over the edge.
He crowds you into the bed, forearm moved from your neck to your shoulder blades where he presses you firm into the mattress. It muffles all the over-pleasured cries shrieked from your mouth as Garrett fucks you through your orgasm. Fits of trembles wash over you in waves, shuddering your whole body in his hold. He keeps hold of your hip to bring your ass to meet his thrusts, angled over your body to pin you down.
“Fuck,” he hisses, slowing down as his thighs begin to quake, his calves cramping. “Want me to fill you up, baby?”
You nod deliriously, fully weeping now. Garrett doesn’t waste a second, and it’s as a trail of warmth fills you up that he collapses over your back.
“Shit,” he pants, hands gentle and soothing on your sides.
You sniffle, the bed wet with drool and tears beneath you. “Shit indeed.”
He chuckles, turning his head to press a kiss to your damp back. You wriggle, desperate for the taste of his mouth again. His arms tremble when he pushes up on his palms to tip his head over your shoulder. Your kiss is warm and salty and sweet.
Garrett presses your heads together and smiles. “My girl.”
A flush bites at your cheeks, a small smile playing on your mouth.
But a sharp rap on the door and a voice on the other side breaks through the daze.
“We could indeed hear all of that,” Dean announces.
Garrett snatches a pillow from behind him and throws it toward the door. “Fuck off, freak.”
Dean scuttles away in a fit of snickers. Garrett huffs, looking back down at you with a sideways smile.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Sam Clafflin and Lily Collins starred in an absolute masterpiece romcom, Love Rosie (2014) that romcoms of today could never recreate. Chemistry was unmatched. One of Lily Collins’ best performances, might I say. Pls come back to romcoms that aren’t just Emily in Paris, Lily!
Anyway. They used to post stills from the movie on the anniversary of its premiere date. Like. For years. They called each other by their character names in the comments. (“My Rosie” or “my Alex”) and then. They unfollowed each other somewhere along the lines. Never speak of each other.
I guess not that strange considering they were coworkers over 10 years ago, but something that still intrigues me
summary: what was supposed to be a private getaway turns into a guys trip. garrett soothes your disappointment by showing you how much fun you can still have.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
♡ the library
♡ the garrett graham roster
tags: a lot of pet names; oral (f!receiving); p in v; kind of choking?; kind of soft dom!garrett but that’s just his vibe; mostly just smut
“No, no, pass me that. G, pass me—“
“Alright! Damn, give me a sec, Tuck.”
A bag of chips crinkles between your shoulders as Garrett passes Tucker the bag from the front seat. A hand appears above the center console to collect them, and the snick of the plastic tearing open sounds somewhere behind you. Three mouths crunch and smack and your patience wears thin as floss. Or thinner than floss. Whatever’s so thin, it’s practically frayed.
Garrett glances at you as you shift, legs angling toward the window and away from him. Your disappointment is palpable, emanating in waves like the heat against the glass you’re staring through.
It was supposed to just be the pair of you. You, Garrett, your family cabin on the Cape and a few days of fun. Except somehow, the guys weaseled their way in. The words parent-free-cabin were uttered in the wrong place at the wrong time, and suddenly a weekend for two became a party.
A rogue knee jolts your chair and brings you out of your thoughts.
“Hey,” Garrett scolds, reaching back to slap Dean upside the head. “Chill out.”
“Sorry, Dad.”
The backseat erupts into slow snickers and Garrett turns back to the road, shaking his head with a huff. His hand moves to your thigh, big and warm and skating firmly over your flesh. He rubs in a small circle before cupping the width of your thigh, fingers slipping between the space where they cross. You can feel him in your periphery, the weight of his unwavering gaze on you. But you’re just not done being annoyed yet.
“Baby,” Garrett murmurs, shaking you gently by the thigh.
You shift further, arms coming to fold over your chest. Garrett sighs, moving his hand back to the wheel.
This was going to be a long drive.
♡♡♡
“Baby, I swear I didn’t know they were serious.”
“You could’ve said no.”
“I did! I—come on, what are you doing?”
He watches you take the bed apart pillow by pillow only to rearrange them in a makeshift Tetris barrier down the center. Your bags were quickly discarded—dropped, more like—by the bedroom door upon your arrival to the cabin, and you made quick work of claiming the master bedroom.
You pat obnoxiously at the pillows until they deflate on impact. Just for good measure.
“You can sleep over there, I’ll sleep over—“
“Hell no, I’m not dividing the bed. Baby, come here.”
Despite his plea, he’s already reaching for you, hand around your hip to steer you into him. You keep your glare focused on his chest, arms limp at your sides as he tips your head up by the chin and crowds in close.
“We can still make the most of it. We’ve still got this room all to ourselves, don’t we?”
His neck bends, knees giving a little to reach your mouth without the usual help of your tiptoes. His mouth is soft, mint-scented from anxious roadtrip gum. His kiss brushes both your lips together, mouth closed, at first refusing his touch. But the affection softens you. Just a little. Your arms slacken at your sides, chest easing in its tightness.
Garrett can see it. The way you’re starting to melt. Layer by layer. Maybe you aren’t even mad anymore. Maybe you just want all the attention the boys were hogging in the car. Maybe you just want to feel like his only priority right now. He likes to make you feel special. He knows you like it, too.
“My pretty girl,” he murmurs, lips skating over your cheek before pressing another gentle kiss to the apple of it.
He trails delicate affections along your jaw, down your neck. He focuses on the spot behind your ear, just underneath it, the juncture where the flesh is tender with nerves. You squirm a little, body finally giving audience. Your hands come to his stomach, fisting the fabric of his t-shirt over hard muscle. Soft little noises escape you, noises Garrett isn’t sure you know you’re making. He sucks at the skin over your throat and chuckles through his nose when your breath catches.
“That feel good?” he hums, the teasing upturn of his voice settling right below your navel.
You nod, swallowing against his mouth. “Mhm.”
Garrett mimics your noise, pulling up only to turn your head by the chin to free the other side of your neck. He mirrors his actions of the previous side, slow kisses and lazy tongues and tight suctions. Your skin is alight, buzzing with heat and attention and want. Your hand slips from his stomach down the front of him, disappearing between your bodies to tug at his buckle.
“You want somethin’?” He chuckles in the same confident fratboy way he did the night you met, when he was so sure of himself and you were so infatuated.
“You.”
Garrett tears himself away from your neck and latches onto your mouth like a lifeline. You love when he’s like this, chasing each of your breaths like they’re the key to his own. He nips at your bottom lip and his hands squeeze your sides, a crushing force against your ribs.
You feel the edge of the bed against the backs of your thighs before you tumble over, flat on your back and reaching greedily for Garrett’s firm biceps. Thankfully, he’s quick to close the gap, one foot on the floor and the other hiked to the bed by the knee against your thigh. He drops down to one forearm, freeing a hand to skate along the outside of your thigh and hook it over his hip.
He feels the softness, the warmth of your skin. His fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, teasing along the band of your underwear.
“Still mad at me?" he asks, dragging his hot, wet mouth down your throat.
Your insides shimmer and wriggle with delight when you force out a soft: "Yes."
Garrett hooks both hands in the waistband of your shorts, yanking them and your panties down in one go, hard enough it feels like rug burn on your thighs. He stands before you now, motioning with one hand to sit up. You push up on your palms, arms lifting to free you of your shirt. He whips it somewhere behind you, shoving and slapping at the pillow divider on the center of the bed behind you.
"Get this shit outta here," he mutters, cupping his hand under the band of your bra to push you up the mattress. "Need a clean workspace."
You giggle, tipping your head to watch him pinch his shirt at the neck and yank it over his head. No matter how many times you've seen him naked, his physique never fails to leave you wanting. The rippled series of sculpted muscle down his stomach, the veins protruding from his forearms, the curves and valleys of biceps well cared for. The reminder of the tattoo between his shoulder blades always comes with equal excitement. To watch the letters disappear between the movements of his back as he works on you, to leave your marks on the words when he's pushing down on you, stretching your legs wide.
"You're thinking dirty thoughts, I can see 'em on your pretty face."
You blink into the present, cheeks warm when you find Garrett's gaze. "Maybe."
Garrett pushes his jeans over his hips, just a pair of grey boxers keeping his cock restrained. A damp patch darkens the fabric and makes you swallow. He quirks one brow, content to stand there as you writhe.
"Care to share them?"
You hum, hands leaving the mattress to trail along your sides. His eyes immediately follow, licking over the exposed surface of your flesh.
“No,” you murmur, voice weakening under the scrutiny of his dark eyes. He watches you unabashedly, free of embarrassment or insecurity. His cock presses harder against his boxers, a near painful hardening. “I don’t think I will.”
Garrett’s gaze flickers to the shy smile pursed on your lips. He chuckles, tongue swiveling over his bottom lip.
His cock bobs free and your resolve fizzles almost immediately. You shift on the bed, thighs parting instinctively. Garrett glances at the movement and snickers. One hand begins to tug at the length of his cock, the other reaching to skate his knuckles down the inside of your right thigh.
“Always open right up for me,” he muses. He trails just his fingertips over your center, ghosting touches that cause your stomach to ripple and your skin to dapple with goosebumps.
Your hips tip up to chase his touch, silently pleading for more of it. But Garrett pretends not to notice, even though he knows your body and its quiet tells like the back of his hand. He rubs small and whispered circles over your clit that make you gasp and only just begin to whine.
“You want somethin’, sweetheart?” He lightens his touch—if it were even possible. You only just feel the presence of his fingers against you.
“Garrett,” you huff, reaching for his arm between your legs.
His chuckle rumbles through him and into you, a deep vibration straight to your core.
“My needy girl,” he coos, eyes set at the apex of your thighs where you need him most. “Tell me what you want.”
“Want you to touch me,” you murmur, guiding his fingers where you want them—need them. He sweeps two fingers over the growing wetness and your hips jerk. “Please.”
Two thick fingers inch in slowly, easing through the tightness of your excitement. His thumb presses to your clit, rubbing over the pulsing bud. You groan, eyes fluttering shut and head burrowing back into the mattress.
“Yes,” you sigh, dumb to the twist of your hips grinding on his hand.
Garrett presses his other hand down on your hip, anchoring you to the mattress. “Stop squirming. Let me make you feel good, baby.”
You blink your eyes open slowly, nodding your compliance with shallow breaths. Garrett tips his chin down, nodding back curtly. He’s got that look in his eye—the one that means he’s laser-focused. The one that means he’ll do whatever it takes to unravel you, and you’ve never been in safer hands.
Garrett sweeps his other hand up your thigh, bending to press his mouth to your knee. His fingers continue to work between your thighs, pumping deep, curling in that soft and tender spot that makes you ache. A trail of kisses journey down your right leg, and when he can’t reach as he stands, Garrett sinks to his knees beside the bed.
Heels braced on his shoulder blades, Garrett repeats the path of kisses on your left leg, fingers quickening their pace inside you. Your eyes pinch shut, hands reaching for the softness of his dark curls. You scrunch them in your fists, low whines and cries pulled from your throat on their own accord.
His fingers are gone for a split second before they’re replaced with something hot and wet—his mouth, latching onto your clit and sucking tight. Your back arches off the bed, a sharp and elated gasp cutting through the room. Garrett moans against your core, spurred by the tightness of your fists in his hair and the squeeze of your thighs on either side of his head.
His palms are wide and callused when they encompass your thighs, squeezing the meat of them enough to leave little kisses of remembrance as he sets a hungry pace on your pussy. Alternating between a tight latch and a loll of his tongue, dipping into your entrance and slipping along your clit.
“Fuck, Garrett,” you hiccup.
He feels your thighs begin to vibrate against his ears, squeezing a little tighter. He feels like he’s suffocating, like he might die right here—and it’ll be worth it. Your face has a glow when you’re like this, all flushed cheeks and dewy skin, swollen lips from biting away your sounds. If he had his hands free, he’d tug your lip away with his thumb, demand you let all your noises run free.
But he’s got a job to finish. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you cum.
His groans reverberate through you as he roughens up, a sloppy push and pull between his prodding tongue and tight mouth. He scrapes his teeth just gently over your sore and swollen clit and you squeal, toes curling and heels digging into his back. The grip you have on his hair might leave him damn near bald, but fuck does he love to see that look on your face.
He licks whatever you give him, scooping his tongue inside your fluttering hole. He kisses your clit gently, hands kneading your thighs to soothe their shaking. Your fingers slacken in his hair, stroking through his curls in an unsteady, calming rhythm. He knows you’re bringing yourself down, too, even in your attempt to coax him.
Garrett perches his chin on your thigh, smoothing small circles with his fingers on your hipbone. Your breaths are still unsteady, but they’re whole, complete transactions of inhales and exhales. The gorgeous glow clings to your pretty face.
He hums, a sideways smile on his shiny mouth. You breathe a laugh, thumb swiping his cheekbone.
“Okay,” you sigh. “You’re forgiven.”
Garrett furrows his brows in faux confusion. “Oh, did you think we were done?”
That cute little lip bite to conceal a smile is enough to get him on his feet again. He presses his thumb into your chin, pulling your lip free and baring your mouth. He swallows you, tasting sweet and salty with sex. Small pips of sounds echo off the back of his throat as he kisses you with clear possession. Even if you were entirely alone in a room, Garrett always kissed you like he had something to prove. Like someone was watching, questioning his love for you.
He pulls from your mouth with a wet pop. “Fuck, turn over. Come on, baby.”
He pats your hip with a dull smack and pushes off the bed. You flip over instantly, eager and bouncy. Garrett plucks the hook on your bra first, pushing the straps down your arms.
His mouth meets your bare shoulder, body bent to cup against yours, chest to back and skin to skin. His hand paws at your breast to knead and squeeze, pinching at your nipple enough to sting. You gasp, head resting back against his temple. He kisses what he can reach, the corner of your mouth and along your sticky cheek.
“You want me, honey?”
Your nod is quick and dizzy. Garrett shakes his head, a gravely hum of distaste rumbling in his throat.
“No, no. Do you want me?”
“Yes, Garrett.”
You hold your breath in the pause that follows, lightheaded and waiting. Garrett responds by slipping his hand between your bodies, guiding the head of his cock over the wetness between your thighs. He prods at your entrance once, twice, just barely breaching past resistance.
You whine, hips rocking back against him. “Garrettt.”
His laughter is sharp and throaty in your ear, shuddering up your spine. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you what you want, baby.”
You blow a slow breath between your lips as he inches in, full and deep until he’s flush against your ass and pulsing between your walls, squeezing him tightly. You drop your head with a satisfied sigh, almost content to just rest like this. The size of him is a comforting, blissful stretch.
Garrett hooks his arm around your neck, fitting your head in the crook of his elbow. Now lifted upright, Garrett brings his mouth back against your cheek and slowly tilts his hips. Your breaths rasp against the corded muscle of his forearm, firm and hot and biteable under your chin.
“Fuck, feel so good,” he grits into your ear. “Atta girl, takin’ me so good, baby.”
Your eyes flutter shut as he sets a slow and steady pace. The drag of his cock pulls and prods on the spot you need it most, where your ache for him beats a bright and needy pulse. You lift one hand up to meet his arm around your neck, nails piercing the hot flesh there. He grunts, shifting to grind a little deeper, the flesh of his chest slickening against your back. He shifts his hips, grinding a little deeper, fucking a little harder. The sharp slap of skin fills the room, soon paired with your squeaky yelp. You rise to your knees, clinging to and relying on his hold around your neck to keep you stable.
He holds you steady, even as his own body begins to quake, his free hand journeying down your stomach to circle at your clit. The noise you release is anguished, agonized, full of want and wet tears. It spurs him on, thrusts more like jolts to keep his cock deeply lodged inside you. He knows you’re close, knows you’re already sensitive from his mouth. He wishes he could see the way your eyes grow wet, hopes he can feel a tear slip down your cheek so he can kiss it away.
You’re seeing spots, head swollen with a mystified haze. Garrett’s teeth scrape over the sticky apple of your cheek as he humps a little harder. He kisses the dull sting with full lips.
“Think they can hear you out there? Crying so pretty for me, baby.”
You sink your teeth into your lip to muffle another cry, a syrupy tingle gathering so deep in your belly that it feels like he’s scooping your insides out. Garrett kisses you again, swift and wet.
“Hope they can,” he grunts, and you jump with a choked cry when he rears back to slap the side of your asscheek. “Hope everyone hears what a mess you are for me.”
You nod back, delirious and dumb. His fingers are back on your clit then, pulling a string of aimless babbles from your mouth as the world blackens around you. He moves his fingers in a dizzying pace, and paired with the stretch of his cock, it’s a surefire way to make you cum.
“Let go for me, baby,” he murmurs, breath hot and heavy against your face. “Lemme feel it.”
He gives you no choice, really. His fingers continue to dance on your clit and his cock continues to fill you to the brim, and it’s as he squishes his mouth against her cheek and murmurs a string of ‘good girl’s in your ear that you tumble headfirst over the edge.
He crowds you into the bed, forearm moved from your neck to your shoulder blades where he presses you firm into the mattress. It muffles all the over-pleasured cries shrieked from your mouth as Garrett fucks you through your orgasm. Fits of trembles wash over you in waves, shuddering your whole body in his hold. He keeps hold of your hip to bring your ass to meet his thrusts, angled over your body to pin you down.
“Fuck,” he hisses, slowing down as his thighs begin to quake, his calves cramping. “Want me to fill you up, baby?”
You nod deliriously, fully weeping now. Garrett doesn’t waste a second, and it’s as a trail of warmth fills you up that he collapses over your back.
“Shit,” he pants, hands gentle and soothing on your sides.
You sniffle, the bed wet with drool and tears beneath you. “Shit indeed.”
He chuckles, turning his head to press a kiss to your damp back. You wriggle, desperate for the taste of his mouth again. His arms tremble when he pushes up on his palms to tip his head over your shoulder. Your kiss is warm and salty and sweet.
Garrett presses your heads together and smiles. “My girl.”
A flush bites at your cheeks, a small smile playing on your mouth.
But a sharp rap on the door and a voice on the other side breaks through the daze.
“We could indeed hear all of that,” Dean announces.
Garrett snatches a pillow from behind him and throws it toward the door. “Fuck off, freak.”
Dean scuttles away in a fit of snickers. Garrett huffs, looking back down at you with a sideways smile.
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