You Promised Me Forever by Monica Murphy
His tongue flicks against my clit, ratcheting the tingly sensation that’s a warning my orgasm is coming soon. I lift up a little and start to move my hips, tilting my head down so I can watch him.
And what a sight it is, having Jordan Tuttle lying between my legs. His big hands squeeze my butt, his fingers perilously close to my crack, his lips sucking my clit. Throwing my head back, I close my eyes and rub against him unashamedly, desperate for release, knowing it’s close. Right there, on the horizon. I’m reaching for it. Reaching…
His hand is suddenly there, fingers toying with my clit, searching my folds, slipping inside of me. He curves them, hitting that mysterious spot deep within, and that’s it. I’m coming all over his face, sobbing his name as the tremors rack my body. He keeps going, though, never stopping, and oh my God, another orgasm is there, just behind the first one.
Meaning I’m coming again. I swear tears form in my eyes and I can barely breathe as I beg him to stop.
“Do you really want me to stop?” he asks once I’ve calmed down some. I can’t even look at him right now. It’s like I don’t want to face the one who tortures me the most. “I can make another one happen.” He pinches my clit between his fingers as if to prove his point, making me shudder.
“I don’t know if I can take it.” I’m breathless. I can barely talk. Glancing down, I watch as he gently circles my clit with his tongue, his touch light, his fingers sliding in and out of me slowly.
“You can take it,” he says in that confident way of his before he lays his tongue flat against my clit and drags it up and down.
“Yes,” I whisper, knowing he’s one hundred percent right. I can totally take it.
“Hmm, fuck you taste so good.”
His words make me tingle. The sounds as he basically devours me make my entire body tighten. And then I’m coming for the third time, this one somehow the most powerful orgasm of all. It’s like a slow wave taking me over, taking me down. My entire body is completely focused on the point where his tongue makes contact with my flesh, and I’m shaking. Shivering.
It’s like I have no control over my body anymore.
He grabs hold of my waist and flips me over with ease, not that it was a difficult thing to do, considering I’m a boneless mass of quivering flesh. I lay there, trying to catch my breath, and he’s already inside me, filling me to the hilt. Fucking me hard. He grabs hold of my hands, interlaces our fingers, and lifts our arms above my head. Keeping me pinned as he rams inside of me. Again. Again. And again. Fast. Faster. Until I’m lost to the rhythm and he’s shouting my name, just before he goes completely still, spilling inside of me. I can feel it. Feel his come and—
Wait a minute.
Oh.
My.
God.
We forgot to use a condom.
Again.
“Jordan.” I’m shoving at his shoulders, trying to push him off of me, but that’s impossible. He’s huge. Like a massive wall of solid muscle, and he’s still lost in his own orgasm, his chest covered in sweat, his muscles gleaming in the dim light, making him look like some sort of sex god. I’m not lost to the moment anymore. No, I’m totally awake, no residual effects from the drugging orgasms I had only a few minutes ago effecting me.
Nope, I’m totally, one hundred percent aware we forgot to put the condom on again, and now we just doubled our chances in getting me pregnant.
“What’s wrong?” He’s staring down at me, his brows lowered, his breaths labored. I’m still shoving at his shoulders and he rolls over, slipping out of me, and when we both flip to our sides to face each other, I can feel the semen spill from my body, leaving the inevitable wet spot on the mattress.
“You didn’t wear a condom.” My voice sounds way more accusatory than I meant it to, and I immediately feel bad.
But I shouldn’t feel bad. We’re acting foolish. Irresponsible. What the hell is wrong with us? Is our problem that we’re just too overcome by each other and so we’re acting reckless? That’s the oldest, lamest excuse ever.
“Wait, what? We forgot the condom?” When I grab his hand and bring it to the wet spot between us, he shakes his head and mutters, “Fuck.”
I crawl out of bed and go use the bathroom, remembering advice I read on a Reddit forum once. If you pee, more semen might come out and there’s less chance of you getting pregnant!
Yeah. That sounds like some piss poor advice if you ask me—excuse the pun.
But I’m desperate, so I’ll try anything.
Once I’m finished, I exit the bathroom to find Jordan sitting up in bed, the lamp on the bedside table on, casting the room in harsh light. I blink him into focus, almost disgusted by the fact that he looks so goddamn beautiful sitting there with the white sheet covering him from the waist down, the sweaty sheen on his chest and arms enhancing his muscular build versus making him just look dirty and smelly.
He couldn’t look dirty and smelly if he tried.
He’s got his hands in his hair and when he drops them to look at me, I notice his lips are swollen, his eyes full of unrecognizable emotion. He looks so despondent I can’t help but feel bad.
“I’m sorry,” he says when he spots me standing there in the bathroom’s doorway. “I’m an asshole.”
Sighing, I walk over to him and climb into bed. “You’re not an asshole,” I tell him as I slip between the sheets.
“It was totally careless of me, not to use a condom.” He slips his arm around my shoulders and hauls me in close, so I’m plastered to his side.
“We didn’t use one in the shower either,” I tell him quietly, resting my hand on the center of his chest. His heart is beating so fast. I smooth my fingers back and forth, wishing I could calm him down.
“Shit,” he mumbles, turning his head so our gazes meet. “I’m sorry.”
I lift up to kiss him. “Don’t apologize. It’s both our faults.”
We’re quiet for a while, the both of us overthinking everything, I’m sure. I know I am. The curtains are still open, letting in light from outside, and my eyes start to get heavy. Maybe we could take a nap. This day has been so totally overwhelming, in both the best and scariest possible way…
“Would it be such a bad thing, though?”
Jordan’s deep, rumbly voice wakes me up, and I blink up at the ceiling, confused. “What would be a bad thing?”
“You getting…” His voice drifts and he pauses for a moment before he spits out the word. “Pregnant.”
I pull away from him and sit up, shocked awake by what he’s saying. “Are you serious right now?”
He sits up too, leaning against the headboard. “I don’t know. You’re acting like what I’m suggesting is the end of the world.”
“Because maybe it would be the end of the world! We only just walked back into each other’s lives. Having a baby because of unprotected sex won’t solve whatever problems that might arise.” I can’t even believe he’d think it might be a positive thing—having a baby together. I mean…
Okay, I dreamed of having babies with him when we were younger. Because I was a romantic teen who wanted to give Jordan Tuttle my whole entire world.
Plus, the possibility of me getting pregnant? I can’t help but think of stupid Harvey Price and his views on opportunistic females who are only looking to earn a payout upon having a famous football player’s baby.
I know Jordan told me not to worry about Harvey, but I can’t help it. That’s the first thing he’d assume if I became pregnant. That’s what everyone would think of me, because everyone would know. The news would hit the internet, all the gossip sites, ESPN, everywhere. It would suck.
It would suck bad.
“You already think we’ll have problems?” He sounds hurt.
“All relationships have problems, Jordan. We’re not an exception. And we’re definitely not perfect,” I point out.
“But you know we’re pretty perfect together.” He rests his fingers against my lips before I can protest. Drops them w
Wow. I always assumed that, but to hear him say it…I believe that’s the most brutally honest Jordan has ever been with me.
“I invited you to my game, fully prepared to diss you afterward. I figured you’d bring a friend with you when I offered up two tickets, but no. You actually brought that guy. Cade.” He spits his name out, like it’s a dirty word.
“Jordan. You told me to bring him,” I point out, and he waves a hand, dismissing my words.
“I know. Like an idiot. Seeing you with him, I was consumed with jealousy. I wanted to kill him. I didn’t like how he stood next to you. Or when he touched you. It pissed me off. He pissed me off,” Jordan explains.
“Did I piss you off?” I ask quietly, surprised by the anger in his voice.
“No. Never. I took one look at you and realized you were even more beautiful than the last time I saw you. I just wanted to steal you away from him. That’s the moment when I realized.” He hesitates, his gaze lifting to mine. “I wasn’t over you, not even close. I’ve never been over you. Spending these last few weeks together has been so incredibly easy, Mandy. It proved to me that we belong together.”
His new, more heartfelt admission makes my head spin. And my heart hurt. But in a good way. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
We watch each other for a moment before he murmurs, “You know exactly what to say.”
Emotion threatens to choke me and I shake my head, feeling helpless. “I already told you that I’m not over you. Is that what you want to hear?”
I feel like I’m about to fall apart, yet he’s sitting there grinning at me. And Jordan Tuttle rarely grins, trust me on this one. “That works, yeah.”
“What else do you want me to say? Do you want me to admit that I’d love to have a baby with you, but the thought of actually having a baby scares the shit out of me?”
His eyes grow darker, reminding me of that look he gets when he wants me.
Uh oh.
“A baby scares the shit out of me too,” he says, scooting closer. “But if it happens, we can figure it out. Together.”
“What if it doesn’t happen?” I ask warily, watching as he shifts even closer. He’s within touching distance. Neither of us reach for each other yet.
“Then we’ll still be together and have kids later. When the timing’s right.”
When the timing’s right. That sounds…
Perfect.
But even if the timing is wrong, it would still be perfect.
As long as I was with Jordan.
“Preferably after we get married, I guess,” he continues, dropping the words get married like the most casual of bombs.
My jaw falls open and I tug the sheet up when I realize I’m sitting here with my breasts on full display and he’s talking about actually marrying me. If he’s for real, I don’t want to remember how I was naked when he proposed to me. What is this life anyway?
“After we get married?”
He nods. “Married.”
“You want to marry me?”
“Pretty sure I’ve wanted to marry you since I was thirteen.”
I scoff. “Impossible.”
He grabs hold of me out of nowhere, showing off those quick reflexes he usually saves for the football field. I’m pinned beneath him, my head on the pillow, his hands around my wrists, holding them against the mattress, his legs straddling my hips. I can feel his erection pressed against me and I silently marvel at his stamina.
Luckily enough, the man never, ever seems to stop wanting me.
“Why are you being so difficult?” he asks just before he dips his head and delivers a too-quick kiss to my lips.
“I’m trying to tell you how I feel,” I say, squirming beneath him. He’s heavy, but I love feeling him on top of me. I actually crave the weight of him pressing me into the mattress.
Always.
“I’m trying to do the same thing. But then you start snorting at me or whatever and saying my feelings are impossible.” He thrusts against me, nice and slow. A total tease. “You’re kind of rude.”
“You’re rude for making me lay in the wet spot,” I say with a sniff.
His eyes grow dim. “I am rude for forgetting the condom.”
“Stop worrying about the condom.” I blink up at him, my mood turning serious. “You’re clean right?”
“Yeah.” He nods, his gaze dropping to my lips, lingering there. “Totally clean. I get tested every six months.”
He dips his head, kissing me before I answer him, “I’m clean too.”
“Good.” He kisses me again. “Now that we got that out of the way, I need to ask you a question.”
“What?”
“Will you marry me?”
I touch his face, my fingers sliding down his cheek. My chest is tight. I’m afraid I might burst into tears. “Yes,” I whisper.
Jordan grins. “I knew you’d say yes.”
“So arrogant.” He tries to kiss me yet again but I turn my head. “You just asked me to marry you. Now we have things to do.”
“Like what?” He dips his head, his mouth resting at the spot where my shoulder meets my neck.
Ugh. I can’t think when he kisses me like that. “We’ll need to find somewhere to have the ceremony. And all the other things that come with it, like a reception. Weddings don’t plan themselves.”
“Can’t we just run away somewhere and get hitched? I vote for a tropical location.” He’s running his mouth up and down my throat, hot, damp kisses that are making me melt.
“Won’t your parents be angry?”
“Fuck ’em.” His voice is muffled against my neck. “I don’t care what they think.”
“My mom wants me to have a big wedding,” I confess. “I’m her only daughter. She’s always wanted to see me walk down the aisle in a white wedding gown.”
Jordan lifts away from my neck, his tender gaze meeting mine. “What do you want? Elope, or a big ceremony? Whatever you want, we’ll do.” He smiles. “I’d like to see you walk down the aisle in a wedding gown too.”
I blink up at him, fighting the tears that threaten to spill. “Are you being serious right now? Are we really talking about wedding plans?”
He doesn’t say anything. Just nods his answer.
“But we’ve only been back together for a couple of weeks. Maybe a month? That’s not long enough—”
He presses his index finger against my lips, silencing me. He’s always pulling this trick. But I guess I’m always trying to talk over him too, so I guess I deserve it.
“I already said this, but I’ll say it again.” Jordan removes his finger from my mouth and says, “We’ve been apart for the last six years, Mandy, yet I knew the moment I laid eyes on you again after my shitty game that I was still in love with you. Isn’t that long enough?”
Oh God, he busted out the word love again. It’s kind of unbelievable that he’s still in love with me.
And I’m still in love with him.
“Jordan.” My chest hurts. I’m so going to cry.
“I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. So yes. I want to marry you. And if by some miracle you’re pregnant, then fucking fantastic. I think we’ll make great parents. We might not be ready, but we’ll have each other, so we’ll be fine. We’ll be better than fine. And if you’re not pregnant, then so be it. We’ll have lots of fun practicing with all the amazing sex we’ll have until you actually are pregnant,” he continues, his voice fierce, his eyes blazing with determination. And love.
So much love.
Yep, here come the tears.
“I want at least four kids, oka
Funny, since I feel like I am breaking apart, but in the best possible way. All because of his sweet declarations.
“Four?” I gasp, the tears now coming in full force. “That’s so many.”
“Yeah, well, I love you so goddamned much, I want everyone to know it. And if we can show our love for each other by having a bunch of kids, then that’s awesome.” He leans in, so close our noses touch. “You do love me, right, Mandy?”
This time it’s my turn to nod as my answer. I’m too busy trying to control my sobs to actually say anything.
God, this man. How did I get so lucky to have him come back into my life?
“I need to hear you say the words,” he whispers, and I close my eyes when he slips inside of me, connecting us. Forging us together as one.
I sniff, blink my tears away when I open my eyes to find him watching me, his face in mine. “I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so much, Jordan Tuttle.”
My earlier fears about possibly having a baby with him evaporate. Why would I be scared when I’m with the man I love? The man I’m supposed to be with? Nothing’s scary with Jordan by my side.
“I love you too. You’re my everything.” He starts to move, a little smile curling his perfect lips. “You okay with this?”
“Okay with what?” I frown, a whimper escaping me when he slides deeper. He knows just how to do this.
“I forgot to put on the condom.”
My eyes fly open and I mock glare at him. How can I be upset after what we discussed? We love each other. He wants to marry me. No matter what happens, we’re in this together.
“You did that on purpose.” I lightly sock his shoulder with my fist, then close my eyes when he hits a particular spot deep within me, making me whimper.
“Mmm, yeah. I did. It feels good, being inside you with no condom on.” He’s still moving at a languid pace. Trying to drive me out of my mind, I’m sure. “I like the idea of having a baby with you right now, Mandy.”
“I’ll get fat,” I warn him.
“Not fat. Full of my baby.”