The bed shakes, and he only seems to pick up speed. It makes me feel powerful that he can’t get enough of me.
“Fuck. So fucking good, Jo.”
I didn’t know I’d like it rough, but damn. I do. My clit continues to throb as it rubs against rumpled sheets. Fuck. It’s almost too much, but I find myself wanting more.
“Grant… oh shit…” I can’t stop it. “I’m going to come again.”
“Fuck yes. Give it to me.” His voice is deep. Raspy and feral.
That’s all it takes as I go over again. My vision is covered in black spots as I’m tossed into oblivion. The bed never stops. Grant is not slowing down.
“Well, good morning. Fuck this is hot.” Clay says lazily. I manage one eye to focus on him, and I watch in fascination as he strokes himself.
“Jo! Fuck!” Thrust. “Fuck!” Thrust. “Fuck!”
Grant jerks behind me, staggering, and finally lets go.
“Grant! Jo!” I hear Clay in the distance as he comes with Grant.
My mind and body melting into the bed, sated and tired. I feel lips kissing my back, hands massaging my body as sleep pulls me under.
“Thank you.” Grants words are whispered before I’m out.
18
Jolee
Clay carries me out to the living room with Grant right behind us. My legs won’t be functional for days. Blankets and pillows are scattered across the middle of the living room floor. It looks cozy.
To be honest, I never wanted to leave their bed, but this is nice too. I am a little sore. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s a reminder of what and who I’ve had inside of me.
Will I ever be the same? Why does this seem so monumental in my life right now?
“Hey, you good?”
“More than.” I cuddle into Clay’s chest. Warm and comforting. Still partially dazed by my orgasms.
“We need to talk about what I’ve found out. I was a bit distracted when I came home last night.”
“I don’t think anyone is complaining, especially not me. But talking about my dead fiancé and his crazy mother might ruin the mood.”
“I know, but, Jo, it’s not good.”
Shit.
“Better get this over with then. What did you learn?”
“Sherry is dead.”
Dead? That has me pausing, and I lift my head to look at Clay.
No.
I refuse to believe it. There’s no way.
"What? She can't be. She’s the only person who has ever sent me anything, and the only person who felt that I killed her son. Trust me, I know who was yelling in my face before I moved.”
“Jo, you didn’t kill her son. It was a car accident, and you weren’t even there, from what I read about him.”