Chapter 8

The ride back to my apartment with Javon is awkward as hell. The silence is choking me, so I finally say something.

“Why are you mad, Javon?” I ask, looking at him while he drives.

He glances at me, then back at the road. “I’m not mad, it’s just—” He pauses before finishing. “It’s just I’ve been wanting you for the longest, Sierra, and you don’t give me a chance.”

I don’t give you a chance because I don’t want you, and you’re not my type at all. I want to say that, but I don’t. I may be blunt, but I’m not heartless. I wasn’t lying to Gio when I told him I was sweet.

“Javon, I don’t see you that way. I’ve told you this. You’re a friend—nothing more.”

“Just one chance, please, Sierra. I’ll do anything for you. Just give me a chance,” he says, still looking between me and the road.

“I can’t, Javon. I really can’t. I’m not going to be with someone I don’t feel anything for,” I say.

Before he can argue, I add, “You’re a handsome man, Javon. You’re attractive—you could pull anyone you want—”

“But I can’t pull you?” he cuts me off.

“The thing is, I think you’re attractive, but I’m not attracted to you. There’s a difference,” I tell him.

He stays silent for a few seconds.

“I’m not giving up, you know,” he shrugs. “Might as well just give me a chance.”

“Javon, I love you as a friend. Nothing more. Can’t you understand that?” I raise my voice—he’s starting to piss me off.

“Yeah, well I don’t understand why you’re not attracted to me. You’re the only girl who’s rejected me—not once but multiple times,” he says.

We finally pull up to my apartment. Before I get out, I tell him, “If this friendship isn’t enough for you, then I don’t know what to tell you.” Then I unlock the door and leave.

I step inside my apartment and go straight to take a shower. I strip and head to the bathroom, but before I turn on the water, I hear a knock at the door.

Probably Javon again.

I wrap a towel around myself and open the door.

It’s not Javon.

It’s Gio.

A slow smile creeps onto my face as I unlock the door. This is going to be fun. He walks in with a look that says he’s pissed—and a pissed Gio looks fine as fuck. Dangerous. Territorial. That shit turns me on.

I close the door and turn around—his hand is instantly on my neck, gripping it lightly but firm enough that I feel it.

“Why are you trying to make me jealous, Sierra?” he asks, voice low.

“You came to my house to ask me this stupid-ass question?” I reply.

I hold my towel tighter because just from his voice—just from him saying my name—I’m already getting wet. I hate that he has this effect on me.

“Why did you sit on his lap, Sierra? And why was he even there with you?” he asks.

“Why were you laughing with that girl?” I shoot back before I can stop myself. I didn’t mean to sound jealous—but who cares. He’s jealous too.

He chuckles. “You jealous because I laughed at her?”

I don’t answer. We just stare at each other.

“And you’re jealous I sat on Javon’s lap?” I ask.

His grip tightens around my neck. “I don’t like when other men touch you, bellissima.” His eyes flick from mine to my lips.

And that’s it—I break.

He crashes his lips onto mine, and I kiss him back like I’ve been starving for it. He slips his tongue in, and I moan against his mouth. He moves down, sucking on my neck, slow and hard, marking me.

He pulls back and looks at me—down my towel, then back at my eyes. He smirks.

“Let me take a shower with you, princess,” he says against my lips.

“You don’t have any clothes for after,” I say between kisses.

“You’re right. But I don’t give a fuck. I could stay naked all night.”

We laugh—and then he picks me up, carrying me to the bathroom.

The towel drops.

The water runs.

I feel his hand slide over my stomach from behind, his lips on my shoulder. His dick is already pressed against my ass.

“I missed this,” he says against my skin.

I turn and kiss him. “I missed this too.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I breathe.

I’ve been wanting to go down on him since the second he walked out of my apartment that night. I’ve imagined it over and over—hearing him groan while I take him in my mouth. So I’m going to do it. Just in case this is the last time I ever see him.

I start kissing down his neck, then his chest. My hand wraps around him. He lets out a low moan—the sexiest sound a man can make.

I drop to my knees.

“Angel, you don’t—” I don’t let him finish. I take him in my mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

He’s big. Too big. But I push myself, going deeper. I hear his breath hitch. I speed up. I look up at him—his head falls back.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, almost a growl.

I grab his hands and guide them to the back of my head. He looks down with a smirk.

“And I thought you were innocent,” he says. “Tap my thigh if you want me to stop.”

He starts slow. Deep. Slow. Groaning without holding back. God, I love that. I hate guys who act quiet during head—moan, bitch, I want to know I’m doing it right.

He grabs my hair and starts fucking my mouth faster. Tears run down my cheeks. He’s hitting my throat—and I take it.

“Shit, baby—fuck, that feels so good,” he groans.

He pulls out suddenly, bends down, kisses me, then slides back into my mouth again, harder.

“Fuck—fuck—I’m gonna cum,” he says.

He tries to pull back, but I grip his thighs and won’t let him. I look up at him and take him deeper.

“I don’t like when other men touch you,” he says through clenched teeth—and then he pushes all the way inside.

I choke, but I take it. I feel him explode down my throat, hot and thick. I swallow everything.

I tap his thigh when I can’t breathe anymore. He pulls out and lifts me to my feet, his hands gentle now. He kisses me.

“That was really good, angel,” he says with a smile—then his face shifts, serious again.

“And I meant what I said. I don’t want to see you with other men.”