Fall Into You (Morally Gray, #2)

by J.T. Geissinger

Mostly it is loss which teaches us about the worth of things. ~ Arthur Schopenhauer

“I am having a good time,” I lie brightly. “That dance club we just left was so fun.” She squeezes my elbow. “Maybe you should tell that to your face. That smile is tragic. Stop thinking about the twatwaffle.” Hearing her nickname for my ex, I wince. “Please don’t call him that.” “He deserves to be called a lot worse. Stop defending him. And every time you miss him, just remember there are plenty of fish in the sea.” “You know what else there’s plenty of in the sea? Trash.” “Listen, the only way to get over a man is to get under a new one. That’ll fix things.”

Her smile is small and cool, as if she’s bored already. She catches me looking at her but quickly glances away. When she glances back again, I stare straight at her and lick my lips. She raises her brows. Then she tosses her hair over her shoulder, lifts her chin, and looks away, dismissing me. Smart girl. She knows a monster when she sees one.

We stare at each other in another tense silence. Only this time, I can smell his cologne. Spice, musk, something woodsy. Sexy and expensive. I can also see the color of his eyes, a fathomless dark blue that could be beautiful if it wasn’t for their hardness.

“And here I thought Chelsea was the trash talker. We’re not even two minutes into the conversation, and you’ve already called my ex a clown and an idiot.” “That’s being generous. Because any man who’d let a woman like you go is nothing but a little bitch.” Captivated by this strange person and his even stranger manner of speech, I angle my body toward his and focus my attention on him more fully. “You don’t know me. I could be the bitch. Maybe I drove him away by being too needy.” He shakes his head, a sharp motion that makes a lock of dark hair fall out of place. It settles onto his forehead, boyishly charming. “There’s no such thing as too needy. The wrong person will never be able to meet your needs. Stop giving people grace who make you feel like you’re the problem. And stop holding on to who he pretended to be. He lied.” Our gazes clash but hold. A frisson of electricity passes between us, supercharging the air.

“I’d bet my house your clown of an ex seemed like the most well-adjusted man you’d ever met…at first. Then eventually the mask fell off, and you saw the monster underneath.” It’s like he read a script of my entire relationship with Chet. The accuracy of all his assumptions is unnerving. But only because it makes me feel so naked. So seen. A feeling I haven’t enjoyed in a very long time. “Yes. But he never regarded himself like that. It takes a man with a good heart to recognize when he’s the monster in someone else’s story. The courage it takes to break his own heart to save another’s proves he’s not really a monster. He’s a hero. He just wants to think of himself as the bad guy so he never gets hurt again.”

Many months later, after both our hearts are battered and bloodied, after all our tears have been shed and we’re strangers once again, I’ll look back on this moment and realize I was already lost.

Many months later, I’ll look back on this moment and realize I never had a chance. I was a goner the second she sat down next to me and smiled.

Opening my eyes, I look down at her. She slides my cock out of her mouth and smiles. “Sorry. Just gloating.” “Don’t make me spank you for disobedience.” A thrill in her voice, she asks, “Is that something we can do?” “If you want to, of course.” “God, it’s like I hit the lottery,” she murmurs, looking dazed. I cup her chin in my hand and say firmly, “I’m the one who hit the lottery. You’re perfect. Thank you for tonight. Now get that cock back in your mouth and keep sucking until I tell you to stop.” “Not to push this too far, but would it be weird if I call you Daddy?” “I don’t have a Daddy kink, but if you want to, then sure.” She thinks for a moment. “I don’t have a Daddy kink, either, but I’m picturing Chelsea’s face if I tell her I called you that all night. She’d faint.”

It’s euphoria. Without warning, he grabs me by my armpits, lifts me and tosses me onto the bed, and growls, “On your hands and knees, beautiful.” I roll over and scramble into position so fast, it’s a miracle I don’t sprain something. I hear foil rip. Then strong hands close around my hips, gripping them hard. Cole shoves his erection inside me, pulling me back against his body at the same time he thrusts forward. I groan in pure pleasure. He must enjoy that, because he starts to fuck me hard and deep, grunting in satisfaction. Then he slides a hand around and between my legs, finding my throbbing clit and pinching it. “So slippery,” he whispers as I moan. “Slippery and swollen. You feel so good, baby. This pretty wet cunt is so perfect, I’m gonna fuck it all night long.”

She props her hands on my chest, which is good because it distracts me from the ache inside it. She leans down and kisses me. Against my mouth, she whispers, “Okay, cowboy. Giddyup.” She arches back, giving me a beautiful view of her body. Full tits, soft belly, curved hips. Dark hair flowing around gleaming shoulders. Then she curls her hand around my dick and guides me inside her with a wicked grin.

Her voice low and soft and her eyes shining, she says, “How about this? Tell me a story. Make one up.” I frown. “About myself?” “No, about us. Like if we met in another life, in some normal way people do. If we were introduced through mutual friends, something like that.” I answer without thinking. “I’d never allow the kind of friends I have to be around you.”