“Get off me, Crowe,” I demanded, squirming underneath him.
“Stop fightin’, Jules.”
“Get off me!”
“Stop fighting!” His voice had risen. I’d never heard his raised voice and my body froze at his tone.
“Don’t yell at me,” I whispered, feeling that weight in my chest again, knowing he was that angry with me and I hated that too.
It felt like these days I was always on the verge of crying and I couldn’t remember the last time I cried.
What was up with that?
He talked over my secondary freak out, further fuelling the fire of my first. “For Christ’s sake, I’m givin’ you what you want. I don’t know what’s in your f**kin’ head, you don’t even know what’s in your f**kin’ head. Until you’re ready to sort it out, it’s gonna stay f**ked up and I know enough to know there isn’t a f**kin’ thing I can do about it. So you want this to end, it ends. But tonight is mine. You want to f**k it up further, keep fightin’ me but I’m gonna have you fightin’ or sweet. I don’t care. But Jules, I’m tellin’ you, I’d rather it be sweet.”
I didn’t know what to say to that so I didn’t say anything. I just stayed silent.
He watched me for awhile then he said, “I’d be happy with fightin’ too. If what happened ten minutes ago is any indication, maybe I’d rather it be fightin’.”
I didn’t know if he was joking or being serious.
I decided to go with joking. “Stop joking,” I said quietly.
“I wasn’t joking.”
Okay then, he wasn’t joking.
That got a belly flutter.
“Well, I’ve decided to be sweet,” I said, just to be contrary.
He grinned and his grin was so at the ready it made me wonder if he’d used reverse psychology on me. Then his face came down and disappeared in my neck and I felt his lips there.
The belly flutter escalated to Grade Two.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I told the ceiling, “I’m going back to fighting.”
His hands went down my sides to my hips, he lifted them and then, I kid you not, he slid inside me slowly, gently but I could feel he was again rock hard.
My breath went out in a rush at the surprise of it and the fact that I moved from a Grade Two to a Grade Six in about three seconds.
“Vance,” I said softly and his lips moved from my neck to my mouth.
“That’s it, beautiful. Every time I slide inside you, I want you to say my name,” he muttered there.
He’d started moving and I started moving with him.
“I thought it was every time I came,” I whispered and his hands moved on me, a thumb sliding across my nipple as my hands roamed his back.
“I want you to say it then too.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I like it.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know why. It doesn’t matter why. I just do.”