Well, Actually

by Mazey Eddings

“Show me how much you want it,” Rylie whispers, gripping my thigh and nudging me to straddle his hips. I position myself over him, the head of his cock brushing my slick entrance. My hips start rocking, just the tip of him in me, and I clench hard, wanting him to fill me fully. Rylie hisses through his teeth. I slide down his thick length slowly, reveling in the stretch, the way every new inch is more delicious than the last. I watch his face as I tease him, the concentrated agony in the set of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils, pupils blown wide and black as he watches me. When I can’t take it anymore, I seat myself fully, flush to his pelvis. Rylie’s groan of need is scraped from his throat, desperate and hungry and ready. His abs flex as he curls up, taking my nipple into his mouth with an insistent pressure, the movement pushing him even deeper so sensation slices through me and I cry out, fisting his hair in my hands and gripping him tighter to me. I may be on top but there’s no doubt who’s in control here. Rylie collapses back against the sheets, and I plant my palms on his chest to keep my balance, nails biting into his flesh. “Look at how perfectly you take me, Eva,” he says, voice revenant, almost slurred, eyes hazed and locked on where we’re joined. His hands frame my hips, fingertips digging into my ass as he grinds me back and forth, a barely there motion that emphasizes how full I am. I squeeze around him. “Fuck,” Rylie grunts, expression shattered. “How are ...

He turns on his side again to face me, propping himself up on his elbow and resting his head in his palm. “I just delivered what was arguably the best oral sex performance of my life and the heckler in the cheap seats calls it weird?”

“No,” he repeats, taking another step. “See, Eva, I’m not recreating last night. Because I’m here. I’m showing up. You, on the other hand, left.” “So what?” I shoot back, acrid hostility burning through my veins, my hands shaking with the need to push him back, hold him close. “Are you looking for a congratulations on figuring out the subway system and wandering to my doorstep? Or did you drive here in your hideous car?” “Stop making fun of my car!” “Then stop driving a car so easy to make fun of!” Rylie stares at me so intensely I have to fight the urge to squirm. The energy shifts between us, becoming alive and crackling with tension. He takes another step toward me. “I’m here to check on you, you contrarian witch. I’m here to see if you’re okay.” “I’m not okay!” I yell, storming to him, closing the space between us so we’re nose to nose. “I haven’t been okay since you waltzed back into my life with this ridiculous publicity stunt. I have not been okay for a damn second of this manufactured bullshit between us that we serve on the internet like a slab of meat to rabid dogs. I’m not okay because you’re making me feel things and I fucking hate it! So stop. Stop pretending. Stop checking on me. Stop, stop, stop and let me get back to being generally miserable in peace.” Our chests clash as we breathe, ragged, sharp intakes that border on panting. Rylie’s eyes look wild, his glasses fogged at the edges from the agitation simmering between us. With considerable effort, he let...

“I’m not done talking to you,” he says against my mouth, dragging his lips to my throat, tracing down to my collarbone. I thread my fingers in his hair, holding him to me. “Can we do the talking later? Maybe tomorrow? We kind of talk a lot as is.” I press my mouth to his temple, nibble at his earlobe. He lets out a hungry moan, burrowing his face against my chest. His hands curl around my hips, fingertips digging in. I hope he leaves a mark.

“I fucking care,” he says, slamming a hand to his chest. “I care more than I can even put into words. I care about you. I care about how you’re feeling. What you’re thinking. What you like. What you hate. How your day was. How you’ll find new and absurd ways to torture me. I care.”

“I … I care about you too,” I whisper, voice a rasp across the charged air between us. He stares at me, devastated like I’ve ripped the heart right from his chest, elated like he couldn’t be happier for me to hold it.

“We argue a lot,” I say, trying to pop holes in every bubble that’s lifting me higher and higher to the clouds. “You said it yourself, I’m headstrong and contrarian and I’m not sure I can change much of that.” Rylie’s smile is so bright it makes my eyes water. Tears slip down my cheeks, and he lets out a soft chuckle as he brushes them away with his thumbs. “Kitten, I’d rather spend every day getting in a pointless argument with you for sport than be bored and complacent with anyone else.” “I’m also pretty mean,” I say, more adamant this time. I need him to see it all, every flaw. I need him to not let me feel this much for him, then leave me when he realizes I won’t change. “I don’t bring much to the table besides a bad attitude and incredible style.”

I want you contrarian and difficult and keeping me on my toes. I want your sour moods just as much as I want your sunny ones. I’m not asking you to change. You can call me any name you want, as long as I can call you mine.”

Rylie props himself up on one palm, grabbing both my wrists in his other hand and pinning them above my head. He wraps my fingers around the cool metal bar of my end table. “Hold on to this for me, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, voice like velvet. I grip the bar with everything I have. Rylie tries to hide his chuckle, and I glare at him but his smile doesn’t flicker. He reaches behind himself, dragging his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. My arms flinch with the need to touch him, but he shoots me a warning glance, eyes dragging from my flushed face to the grip of my hands. “Good girl.” With a lazy assuredness, he repositions himself on his knees between my legs, my body prone beneath him, and he flicks the buttons of his jeans free. He pushes them down his thighs, his cock springing out, and he grips the shaft, giving himself a few slow strokes as his gaze drags over me. Rylie’s never been a person I would describe as self-possessed, but right now, he’s a man undone, hair a mess, glasses crooked, my bites marks on his neck, his expression delightfully ruined. Seeing him like this sends a surge of need through me, and I clench against the painful emptiness between my legs, hips jerking up toward his. Rylie catches my thigh, then grips the silk of my shorts, pulling them tightly between the lips of my pussy. It creates just a hint of friction, and I groan, pelvis working even harder to find relief. He lets out a low growl, fist moving faster as he str...

“Give me more, gorgeous,” Rylie coaxes against my mouth. I try to shake my head but I lack the energy for even that. He looks down at me. “I know you can fucking take it.” I manage to arch up into him, breathing a yes against his mouth, the need for him to fill me outweighing post-orgasm peace.

Reaching between us but never breaking the kiss, he positions himself against my entrance. He drags the head of his cock up and down, luxuriating in the wetness between my thighs. I start wiggling, needing more, needing to feel all of him. “Stay still for me, sweetheart,” he commands against my mouth. My body tenses as I try, the violent strike of my heartbeat making me flinch and twitch. “I love seeing you try so hard to be so good,” he praises in a low rumble, rewarding me with a deep surge of his hips. I throw my head back, nails clawing at his chest, swearing as he hits that perfect spot. With a labored grunt, Rylie retreats, only to fill me up again with a demanding thrust. My body inches across the couch as he fucks me, and without breaking his unsparing rhythm, he cradles the top of my head with his hand right before it jams against the armrest. Taking half a second to reposition, he lifts my shoulders so I’m slightly propped up. I’m overwhelmed by the sight of his body over me, in me. The tension in his arms as he holds himself up, the clench of his jaw, the brush of his chest against mine as he drags himself out of me again. Rylie’s breath is ragged, lips wet and parted, color high on his cheeks. His eyes lock with mine for a beat, and the intensity, the need, has me clenching tightly around him. His pupils eclipse his irises, nostrils flaring. He reaches for me, fingers dragging down my cheek and then gently gripping my chin. He carefully tilts my head down so my...

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for me to say something too honest and him to run away screaming, for that subtle glaze of boredom to creep into his eyes when we talk, but he hasn’t stopped staring at me like I’m a comet he’s been chasing.

“Did you hear that Ray is doing the catering for Lilith’s fundraiser?” Rylie asks, brightening the gloomy Saturday morning by bringing me coffee in bed. I could weep and/or gobble his dick like Kirby right here and now.

I’ve nearly finished my coffee before I realize how unsettlingly quiet Rylie’s gone, and I glance at him. He’s stare into his mug, a mild blush kissing his cheeks. “What are you thinking about?” I squeeze the sensitive spot above his knee, making him giggle. He bats my hand away, working to keep his coffee from spilling. I put my mug down and settle against the pillows with an expectant look. He opens his mouth to say something, then slams it shut, shaking his head. “None of your business.” I use my toe to tickle his side this time, and he grabs my ankle, haphazardly dropping his coffee to the bedside table before pulling me to him, making me shriek, nails scrabbling against the sheets. He pins my thrashing body down, hovering over me with a sheepish grin. “Fine. You win.” “I always do.” He nips at my collarbone before continuing, “I was trying to think of a cute way to ask you to be my date to the fundraiser, you surly menace. You ruined the surprise. Are you happy?” “Kind of,” I croon before sliding my arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss him. “You’re an enemy of the state,” he says against my mouth. “What state?” “The state of my mental health.”

I let out an exaggerated groan against his mouth, pressing myself closer to him, closer to the man who can make me feel so good I almost forget feeling terrible is possible.

He shifts us, rolling me beneath him, his hands making quick work removing my shirt then his own. “Stunning,” he whispers, expression dazed as he soaks me in like it’s the first time he’s seeing me. A pang of affection slices through my chest, and I pull him down to me again. I want to escape from it all. Rylie kisses my neck, traces my collarbones with his tongue. He touches me in all the ways he knows I like while whispering words of encouragement into my ear. And I work to lose myself in it. But emotions are tight in my chest, sealing up my throat, making it feel impossible to breathe. My skull fills with a heavy tension, a cloud of gas that has the room spinning in a way that’s far from enjoyable. I cover my face with my arm, moaning into the crux of my elbow in a way I hope fools him. Rylie’s fingers play between my legs, and he feels the growing wetness, bringing it to his lips with a luxurious pull. He positions himself at my entrance, forgoing the condom like we have since we confirmed recent tests were negative. He presses into me with a smooth glide, and I wrap my legs around his hips like I can keep him there forever. Rylie sets a slow, lazy rhythm, savoring the drag of every inch against me. I’m whimpering, nearly crying from the combination of how good he feels, how tenderly he’s loving me, and how terrified I am that I’ve ruined everything I’ve worked for. My movements are sharp and jerky, every nerve too on edge to fully enjoy the thrill of his touch and ins...

“You think I’m smart?” I whisper, voice a timid husk. Rylie tilts his head, giving me a teasing smile. “Easily top five smartest people I’ve ever met.” “Who are the other four?” Rylie laughs so hard the bed shakes, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “Mean you. Sarcastic you. Sweet you. Vulnerable you,” he says, dipping his head to brush his nose against mine. “Sexy you is number six because she’s often rendered speechless by my superb lovemaking.” “I just threw up in my mouth.” “Our pillow talk always does wonders for my self-esteem.”

Rylie’s hard again between my legs, and I want him so badly my teeth ache. I push at his shoulder so he’ll get on his back with me on top of him, but he resists, framing my face with his hands until I look at him. He stares at me, those gunpowder eyes destroying me all over. “You’re so fucking lovely, Eva,” he says, before sealing his mouth over mine. And I feel that word, lovely, through every moment of his deep, sensual kiss. I feel it in the way he holds me, the way he caresses me, the hungry moan he makes as I grab at him, desperate for whatever pieces I can have. He unravels me, seam by seam, until I’m nothing but a mess of loose ends and frayed edges and he cherishes me like I’m sacred.

“Oh, nothing…” I say wistfully, giving him a coy smile. “Tell me,” he says, ducking his head and nibbling at my throat. When I hum in approval, he drags his stubble against the area, tearing a gasp from me. My nipples harden at the next rasp.

Have a great day, kitten <3 I snort as I type back: Don’t tell me what to do <3

“And this is your final decision for what you’re wearing?” I ask in a falsely delicate voice. Rylie’s eyes narrow, smile growing. “Yeah. Why?” “You know the Duolingo owl?” “… Yes?” I give him a pointed look up and down, then shrug. “Just saying.” I’m drowning in lust but I’d never go easy on him. Rylie stares at me, then shakes his head, a suppressed laugh chopping up his voice. “You’re such a little pill.” “It’s just an observation!” I whine, wrapping my arms around his trim waist. He pretends to push me away, but I hold on tighter, the low roughness of his chuckles vibrating against my cheek. He gives up and hugs me back. “Maybe I should download the app,” he says, smacking my ass. “Learn how to say Eva Kitt needs an exorcism, in multiple languages.” I pull away, biting my lip as I shrug. “You already stole his look. Might as well steal his lines.” “Or I feel like my girlfriend lacks a healthy fear of God, please help me.”

“You can put your arm around me,” I say primly, hoping to regain even an ounce of control as I straighten his clothes too. “But that’s all.” I slide my hand against the slight bulge in his pants as I smooth his shirt, making him hiss out a breath. His jaw tightens as I smile sweetly up at him. “Or we forget this entire thing and go back up to our room and you put your thighs around my ears for the rest of the night,” he offers smoothly. My entire body flushes hot, pinpricks of pleasure radiating through me. I somehow keep my expression neutral. “But we must think about the youths,” I say, gesturing toward the noise of the event. Rylie scrunches his nose. “Must we?” I nod solemnly, smoothing the silk of my top. “But I’ll make you a deal,” I whisper. “Be a good boy tonight and I’ll let you beg your way between my legs later.” Patting his cheek, I try to step around him toward the banquet hall.

“Seriously, though. Feeling useless and directionless and like you aren’t keeping up is kind of the entire point of your twenties. Everything is ass all the time and all we can do is lean on each other through it, not compare ourselves moment to moment.” “That was very live, love, laugh of you,” I say through a thick throat. Ray smiles.

I slap a hand over my mouth to hide my scream as a link comes through for a playlist titled “M0n$teR FuqKing.” The only song is “Monster Mash” … added sixty-nine times. I have to bite down hard on my tongue so I don’t alarm anyone with the quiet laughter making my entire body shake. I do a quick Google search of the song’s lyrics—because I am a normal person and don’t have them all committed to memory—then fire back with: you can come to the master bedroom where the vampires feast [on this pussy] Rylie’s reply is obnoxiously fast: Eva, please. We’re at a charity event for children. That’s so inappropriate.

With something almost like worship, Rylie kisses my throbbing, pulsing center through the aftershocks, nuzzling his cheek against my thigh as I slump against the bathroom mirror, boneless and satisfied to an unholy degree. He kisses his way up my leg, then arm, neck, jaw, until he’s sipping at my lips with gently coaxing kisses. “Let me take care of you,” I say, somehow finding the strength in my woozy state to reach for him. I don’t miss the fresh flush of pink across Rylie’s cheeks. “That’s okay, Kitten,” he whispers, intercepting my hand and lacing our fingers together. He lifts my arm so it’s wrapped around the back of his neck. I frown at him, old insecurities of past relationships dying hard. Does he … Did he just give me one of the best orgasms of my life and not want me enough to get off himself? Rylie must read some of the panic in my face, because his eyes flash wide, his mouth crashing against mine in a messy, dirty kiss like he wants to embed his need on my skin. “Believe me, I always fucking want you,” he rasps against my lips. “So have me,” I say, voice wobbly. He pulls back an inch, dropping his forehead to mine and closing his eyes. He lets out a rough, sheepish chuckle. “I, uh, wanted you a little too much during all that.” I blink at him for a moment, our eyes so close together mine cross as I try to process what he said. With a start, I rear back, focus bouncing with delight to his crotch, the outline of his softening erection still visible in his fitted...

I am a woman in STEM only in the sexy, tenacious, emotionally malicious sense.