Page 27 of On My Side (Quiblings #3)

“I’m sorry,” I giggle. “I wasn’t the most… thoughtful teenager.”

“Yeah, you were an asshole,” he says dismissively, turning his attention back to the TV.

“But so are all teenagers, so don’t beat yourself up over it too much.

Nic punched me in the face and broke my nose on her seventeenth birthday because I tried to wake her up to surprise her, so she’s got you beat. ”

I laugh nervously, teeth digging into my lip.

“Can we watch it?” Ren asks, turning his body to face me.

“ Gilmore Girls ?”

“No, Scream .”

I stare at him in confusion. “You want to watch the movie that traumatized you as a child?”

“Yes,” he says simply, folding his hands in his lap. “Call it what you want: exposure therapy, facing my fears. But I think it’s time. Plus, if I watch this and Gilmore Girls , you really can’t say no when I eventually ask you to watch S tar Wars .” He looks at me pointedly.

I laugh before going to the kitchen, relieved when I find a bottle opener. “If you’re sure it won’t give you nightmares again…”

I’m joking, but what if he has nightmares? What if he wakes up sweaty and scared and alone and I’m not there to…

There to what , exactly?

Never mind.

When I return to the couch, Ren presses play on the remote and reaches into the bowl of candy I left on the coffee table.

I sit next to him, and try not to creepily leer at his hands while he rips open the Butterfinger wrapper.

But I can’t help but track the way his long fingers move and flex, and the way his veins decorate his skin.

This “not being able to get myself off” thing is a true tragedy.

“Wait,” Ren says, pointing his candy bar at the TV as the movie plays, “is that Drew Barrymore? Of The Drew Barrymore Show fame?”

I laugh and reach for my own candy bar. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m guessing you know her from E.T. since you’re a billion years old?”

I get on my knees and cover his mouth. “Lorenzo, the movie’s playing.”

His eyes widen comically, bouncing between my face and Drew Barrymore cooking popcorn on the screen.

“ Augh !” I yelp, pulling my hand away from him and shaking it. “Did you just lick me?”

Ren shrugs and takes another giant bite of candy. “Maybe. And stop pretending you didn’t like it, weirdo.”

I sit and pretend I’m not thinking about how desperately I want his tongue pretty much everywhere besides my hand. Hell, maybe in a different context I’d even accept him licking my hand. I’m a desperate harlot at this point.

We watch the movie in silence, and I watch him out of the corner of my eye when Drew Barrymore, of The Drew Barrymore Show fame, is brutally murdered.

“Brutal, huh?” I say as the movie logo appears on the screen after Drew’s character’s violent demise.

“What?” Ren says, staring straight at the screen.

“Your favorite talk show host just died, Ren.”

“Oh.” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to shake out whatever’s in his head. “Sorry, I, uh. Wasn’t paying attention.”

I sigh and press pause. “ You insisted we watch it.”

“I know.”

“And you’re not watching it?”

“I tried… but I kept getting distracted.”

I blink at him, confused. “Distracted by what ?”

He laughs incredulously. “Oh, I don’t know, Audrey.

You’re sitting next to me in your hot-as-hell witch costume with striped stockings, and our legs keep brushing so I have to pretend I’m watching this movie when all I want to do is find out if the stockings are thigh-highs because I’d very much like to take them off with my teeth if they are and—”

“Yes,” I interrupt, face heating.

His fingers rub at the base of his throat, rubbing his chain that tucked under his costume. “Yes, what?”

I take a deep breath and pinch the fabric of the skirt between my forefinger and thumb, slowly pulling it up my thigh to expose more of the stockings. “Yes, they’re thigh highs, and yes, I’d like you to take them off with your teeth.”

He freezes. “Seriously?”

“Depends,” I squeak.

“On what?”

“On if you were serious, too.”

I yelp in surprise when he rotates his torso and grasps my hips in his hands, pulling me on top of him so I’m straddling his lap. I’m not thin, but this man’s ginormous hands almost span the entirety of my hips and it’s incredible.

He pulls me down further on his lap, and I gasp when his rock-hard cock grinds against my aching core.

“I’m serious,” he says, eyes intent on mine.

Neither of us move.

He laughs, and I love laughing with this man in our horny hazes. “Should I prove it again?”

I nod. “Yes, I’m data-driven and I need more physical evidence.”

He thrusts his hips upward, and I groan as his cock grinds into me again. “You can feel it. I know you can, sweetheart. Look at how you’re moaning for me.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my life, which is baffling considering this man has made me come in my pants like a teenager and gave me a hickey when I asked.

Yet I’m somehow even hornier.

If I didn’t have an IUD, the odds of me getting pregnant again would be embarrassingly high.

He grasps my hips like if he loosens his grip, I’ll disappear. Like the idea of me getting away is absolutely unacceptable to him.

“Will you touch me?” I ask, surprised at how breathless I sound.

His touch is gentle as he reaches up and grasps my witch hat by the brim, tossing it absently behind me. “How?”

Being celibate for a decade and a half meant I had lots of time to fantasize about dozens of different ways having sex again could go. And now that I’m here… I don’t know.

“Why don’t we figure it out as we go?” he offers, brushing my hair off my shoulder. It’s like he can sense my anxiety, my hesitation.

I cup his face in my hands, searching his eyes and finding the same things I always do when we’ve been here: lust, passion, patience, kindness. I trace his lips with my thumb, enjoying how his breath hitches. It feels like he wants me as much as I want him.

“I’ll be so good to you, Audrey,” he whispers, and I believe him.

I tilt his face and capture his mouth with mine, taken aback by how gentle and soft it is compared to the previous times.

I want to ravish him, for him to ravish me .

I want it hard and fast and rough and to take my pleasure, but he knows I need it like this.

It’s as if he’s telling me, it’s just me.

I’ve got you, I promise. I want us exactly as we are.

It’s gentle and intimate and it makes me want to sob.

He’s the first to break the kiss, and his breath is heavy. “Will you take me to bed?” he asks, and I want to scream because how is he unbearably sexy and fucking warm and soft at once? “I want to see where you touch yourself to Sky.”

I groan, suddenly bashful, and bury my face in his neck.

He chuckles and moves his right hand from my hip to cup the back of my head, softly threading his fingers through my hair.

“It’s alright sweetheart. We can stay right here if you’d rather.

We can rewind the movie and watch Drew Barrymore’s violent demise again, if that’s what you need. ”

I smile against his neck. His patience around sex heals the scared teenager within me who saw how quickly sex could ruin everything. The devastated girl who learned how drastically sex could change lives, the young woman who felt unworthy of it, and the adult who has avoided it ever since.

I lift my head and nod. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his hand moving to cup the side of my neck. “You’ll tell me if something isn’t okay?”

“Yes,” I promise him. “And you’ll tell me?”

He nods. “I will.”

I move to stand and he frowns at me, hands grasping my hips again. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I’m taking you to the bedroom?” I say, confused.

“Bold assumption I don’t want to carry you.”

I laugh. “Ren, you can’t. I’m heavier than I look. I— agh! ” I shriek and wrap my arms and legs around him as he suddenly gets to his feet, easily lifting my more than two-hundred-pound body.

I need to stop thinking he can’t get hotter, because I’m wrong every damn time.

“Kiss me,” he breathes as he carries me down the hall.

I do. Hard and desperate this time with scraping teeth and tangled tongues and moans and grunts as he stumbles through the house, bouncing off walls and into picture frames. It’s so good and—

“Oh god, Piper,” I gasp, pulling away.

His brow furrows. “It’s, uh, Ren actually.”

I bark out a laugh and press my lips to his jaw, his stubble rough against the sensitive skin. “No, no, I haven’t checked my phone in a while. I want to make sure she’s okay and I left my phone on the table…”

“Hey.” His voice is so soft I can’t help but peer up at him. “I don’t want to tell you how to parent… but you’re allowed to enjoy yourself. Piper’s a smart kid, and I’m sure she’ll call if she needs you.”

I bite my lip. He’s right, yet I’m still nervous. What if this is the one time she can’t get through? What if I’m having wild, animal sex and she gets hurt? What if…

“I’ll put you on your bed and get your phone,” he says gently. “We can keep it on the nightstand, face up if that’ll make you feel better. Okay? We can take breaks for you to check and…”

I swallow his words with another hard kiss.

He’s not telling me my anxiety is unfounded, or that I’m a helicopter mom, and he’s not letting me spiral or deny myself either.

He’s meeting me exactly where I am. I always thought putting Piper first would mean I would never be able to give myself to someone else besides her.

Maybe I was right, because until him, no one accepted me exactly as I am, but now, Ren has me thinking that one day, maybe I can try.