Authors: Brooke Jaxsen

Shatter (Club Grit Trilogy) (18 page)

“I missed you all day, babe,” he said, running his fingers over the olive green parka with a fur lined hood that he’d bought me at Nordstrom’s before we left, because he wanted to make sure I didn’t get cold. He pressed a hand to my cheek and smiled, before moving the hand to my neck and then, as I started to turn, to the zipper, unzipping the jacket and gently folding it and placing it on a chair. Then, he had me sit up so he could take off the warm gray knit sweater, leaving me in just a thin black burnout shirt and dark indigo jeans, my shoes already on the floor. “You have no idea how gorgeous you are.”

“You’re not half bad yourself,” I teased, taking the scarf from his neck and placing it on top of my jacket, and then, moving my hands straight to his collar, where I started to unbutton his shirt carefully, exposing his chest before pulling him into an embrace, so I could feel his body heat against mine.

“You cold, babe? You need me to warm you up?” he teased, knowing very well the sight of him alone was enough to make me warm while paradoxically sending shivers up my spine.

“No, I’m fine,” I teased back, rolling over onto my stomach and taking a pillow beneath my chin, but Lawrence straddled me from behind, our legs separated only by our denim jeans, and placed his digits on my sides.

“That’s too bad. You’ve got such a nice torso...would be a shame if somebody...tickled it!” he said, and he moved his fingers along my body like spiders. I let out shrieks of laughter, so glad that we had the place to ourselves, and turned over.

“Stop!” I said, looking up at him and biting my lip.

“If you want me to stop, you’re going to have to pay me,” he teased, tickling even harder.

“W-what...w-what can I get a billionaire?” I asked, once he let me have a chance to say the words.

“A kiss would suffice,” he said, but before he could ask for anything else, I propped myself up and looked deeply into his eyes. We touched foreheads, then noses, then eyelashes, before finally pressing our lips together.

This was what I loved: the fact he could be my escape and my release, that he was the thing that took me places but also grounded me, the fact that he and I could share these secret, private, intimate moments together, the ones that weren’t flashy or gaudy, but that were just...memories that were meant to be made, the way we were meant to be with each other.

“What if...I want more than a kiss?” I asked, looking back into his eyes.

“I guess it’s your lucky day, darling, because I do too,” he said, but at the time, I didn’t know there was more to that than he was letting on, as he pulled both of our pants off, so that he was in his loose black silk boxers and I was in my lingerie, all black and made of the finest, breathable cotton. However, my black underwear didn’t have something large and firm poking out of the top.

I pressed my hands to my hips and he pushed my hands up, towards the pillow. “Allow me,” he insisted, and he took the sides of the low cut underwear gently, in his fingers, and shimmied them down, leaving a trail of kisses down my legs as he removed them, ending at my ankles and then tracing a path back up my calves and thighs until he reached my clit, which he pressed on delicately with his fingers, tracing small circles down from my clit to my entrance over and over, back and forth, like the path of a pendulum.

“You’re already so wet for me, Kim,” he said, as if it was still a surprise that I wanted him, that I yearned for him.

“And you’re already so hard for me,” I said back.

“I’d be crazy not to be. I have to make sure I don’t think about you during meetings, the last thing I need is for someone to think I have a boner for anyone,” he said. “Lawrence Lamont is not a sexual harasser.”

“No? Not even for me?” I said sarcastically, with a pout.

“No, you’re the one that harasses me.”

“The hand down my panties is evidence to the contrary.”

“Good thing my hand’s not down your panties,” he teased. He was right, but it didn’t make the joke less stupid.

“Shut up and fuck me already,” I said, taking his hand from my sex and placing his fingers in my mouth so I could taste my own sweetness. He didn’t need to be told twice: he took his boxers off and exposed himself to me for a brief second before entering me. We didn’t need protection now that he’d paid for me to get depo shots every three months, because I was too young for an IUD, and the feeling of him inside of me, skin on skin, was amazing as usual. He was so hot, rock hard and velvet soft at the same time, and we fit together like a hot knife through warm butter.

“You’re so wet, Kim,” he groaned.

“You’ve already said that,” I said using a sarcastic tone so he knew I wasn’t really being critical, just being difficult for him. By now, he knew all the little games I played, and he knew how to counter them too. He could keep up with me, in and out of the bedroom, and our relationship had stayed fresh and spicy.

“Shut up and kiss me already,” he said, and I reached up to do so, but he pressed my shoulders down and only teased me with the possibility of a kiss, not with a proper kiss at all, making me work to get to his lips, making me squirm and struggle while he held me down fast, and kept thrusting into me like a machine, his thighs under mine, my legs pressed up against his torso, even as his hands kept me pinned.

“I said kiss me already,” he teased again, whispering it into my ear like it was a secret and not a demand, before brushing his lips over mine and pulling away, mere quarters of inches away, bobbing back and forth and not letting me have any relief.

“I’m trying, you’re making it awfully damn hard,” I said with a frown as I strained against his arms to join our lips.

“Am I?” he asked, as if in some weird parallel universe, pressing my shoulders down was supposed to make it easier for me to kiss him and not harder.

“Yes, you are!”

“I’ll trade you. Let me take off your bra, and you’ll get a kiss,” he said with a boyish lilt.

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“Okay,” I said, and rolled my eyes. He gave my ass a small spank, releasing my shoulders, and then letting me sit up a little as he kept his dick hard and inside of me, while he unhooked my bra and I let him take it off me.

“Thanks,” he said, but when I went to kiss his lips, he instead pushed me back down and kissed my breasts instead, first one, then the other, then my cleavage.

“Are you fucking serious?” I shouted, but he clasped a hand over my mouth. I frowned and he took it off and kissed me on the lips, properly this time.

“I’m sorry! I thought it would be funny,” he said.

“Well, it was,” I said, with a smile. “But you can’t give me an orgasm with your sense of humor.”

“Oh, babe, I know,” he promised, and he took his right hand and pressed my clit again, pressing in the shape of the letter V, over and over, around the underside of the clitoris, the way he knew I couldn’t resist, and my tone changed, becoming high pitched as he kept repeating the motion over and over, the same way each time as he kept thrusting in and out of me.

“You like that?” he asked, knowing damn well what he could do with my body and the way that he could make me feel things, physically, that no other man had made me feel before. His body, firm and toned, even for a man no longer in his mid twenties, was able of doing things to me I had never dreamed possible, his hands skilled and both willing and able to give me pure delight by force.

“Y-yes,” I stammered, my voice breathy as I started to feel my body moving on its own, inside and out.

“Good, I’m glad,” he said, and although our words changed, what he was doing to me didn’t, even as my body did. He kept doing what was working, knowing how to get me off because he actually gave a damn about my pleasure.

“Did you miss me today?” I asked, knowing the answer.

Or at least, I thought I did. “I missed this ass,” he growled, taking my ass with his free hand and giving it a squeeze. “And these tits,” he continued, grabbing my breasts hard. I squirmed and arched my back but he didn’t slip out of me, continuing to thrust in and out while tracing the shapes on my clit he knew I liked best. “You’re so wet, Kim, I know you missed this dick.”

“I missed you too, honey,” I said, rolling my eyes, and, with my arms now free, pulling him close to me, deeper inside of me as our chests met and his body warmed mine. To think, Lawrence and I had gotten so far in our relationship that we were traveling the world together, with these miniature romantic getaways, was surreal. I’d been wrong about him and how he felt about me, and although sometimes, Lawrence and I didn’t like to talk about that, about our feelings, it was evident to anyone that saw us together that we cared about each other deeply and that we were truly and forever in love.

The feeling of Lawrence inside of me, his thick shaft filling me from my G spot to my entrance, over and over, like the crashing waves against the shore almost outside our window, was so steady that it was hypnotic, putting both mind and body under a trance, as if he was whispering to me, over and over, to relax, to relax. With Lawrence both inside of me and playing with the outside of me, my mind was blank, the only feelings flowing through me being those of pure ecstasy. “Faster,” I asked, not begged, although it must have sounded that way. “Harder.”

He did both, and perfectly, reaching up a hand to take mine, to feel my grip tighten as I exploded around him at the same time he let loose his cum inside of me, and we became one, the way that we did every night (and many afternoons like this...and mornings, and nooners) together. I lay there, nuzzling with Lawrence, until I broke the silence when I realized something. “Lawrence?”

“Yeah?” he said, turning to give me a kiss on my forehead, a kiss I didn’t have to work for or beg for or be teased by the potential of, the kind of kiss that didn’t need announcing, the kiss that just announced itself.

I wiggled my feet and he looked. “We forgot to take off our socks.”

We took a shower, got changed, and walked outside, not to the garden, but to a beach just five minute’s walk from the inn, a beach where rain was normal and expected. We hadn’t been on a rainy beach since that day in June, after finals and before graduation, and so much had changed: we were living together, making plans for my future, figuring out what we wanted from each other, and actually dealing with real, adult problems like real adults. He’d been patient, and I’d been mature, but most importantly, we’d been loving, to one another, and understanding, of one another.

The rain was expected...but I didn’t expect for him to get down on one knee, his designer jeans in the wet sand, and pull out a small box from a plastic baggie in his jacket pocket. I didn’t expect for it to be small and robin’s egg blue with silver trim, and I didn’t expect for it to contain a perfect loop of white gold, without any flaws, the kind of ring that I could trace my fingers around for hours if it wasn’t for one little thing.

Or really, more accurately, one big thing. One big, shiny, expensive, unexpected, but totally amazing thing: a single large diamond, not white or pink or chocolate, but a gray-blue the same color as Lawrence’s eyes, and just as easily able to change color, even in the low light, as it reflected everything from the sky to the ocean to the tears streaming down my face.

“Kim Lee, I know that things haven’t been perfect. You and I have something that’s worth fixing, something that’s worth building, something that’s worth us. You’re the only woman I’ve ever felt this way about, I swear, and I don’t want to be known as the bachelor billionaire anymore. I know that it could take a long time to forgive me for what’s gone on, and, let’s be honest...to forgive yourself. But how does forever sound?” he asked.

“L-Lawrence, w-what are you saying?” I asked in kind, stuttering not because of the cold or the wet but because I didn’t know if this was real life or a dream.

“Kim Lee, will you take me, Lawrence Lamont, to be your fiancé, and, eventually, your husband? I promise to spend the rest of my days earning your trust, your love, and your happiness.”

“Of course, Lawrence!” I almost yelled out loud, and as he slipped the ring onto my finger before rising to kiss me, I knew that I’d given the right answer, and that my feelings for Lawrence would change, just as I’d changed over the past year: for the better.

Playlist:

S
hatter was the hardest of the trilogy to write. It makes sense it has the hardest, most emotional of all the playlists in the trilogy. Some of these songs are more contemporary than others, and there’s definitely a huge influence from the realms of rap and rock.

“99 Problems” – Jay Z

“Applause” – Lady Gaga

“Artist in the Ambulance” - Thrice

“Better Than I Know Myself” – Adam Lambert

“Boom Boom Pow” – The Black Eyed Peas

“Brave” – Sara Bareilles

“Come And Get It” – Selena Gomez

“Criminal” – Britney Spears

“Fuckin’ Problems” – A$AP Rocky, Drake, 2Chainz

“Hall of Fame” – The Script, Will.i.am

“Hustler Girl” – Lil Mama, Mitch, A Dot, Shawn Marvel

“I Gotta Feeling” – The Black Eyed Peas