I pull my shirt off and toss it aside. “We’re gonna fuck. And I’m gonna come inside you. From what I understand”—I pull my leg out of my sweats, and then the other—“the chances of you getting knocked up once a month are about the same as you getting cancer, because you have ‘the gene’. Newsflash: my grandmother doesn’t have the gene and she has cancer.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers as I pull her up, tug her shirt off, and get annoyed as fuck that she’s wearing a bra as I unsnap it, and then push her back gently.
When she opens her mouth, I bend over and thrust my tongue inside it to shut her up … and because I want to see if she still tastes so fucking good.
She does.
I pull back, breaking our kiss. “I’m so fucking hard right now that I’m a little nervous that, when I do come inside your pussy, my barbell will end up permanently lodged in your throat, but it will get better as time goes on.”
I yank her pants down. “You want me to stop”—I stroke myself—“say it now.”
She says not a word.
“Perfect. Now, I’m gonna fuck you hard, fuck you fast, and fuck you raw, because, Sutton, I love you.”
“I love you,” she whispers.
“I fucking know that,” I hiss as I run my crown up and down her soaked seam before thrusting inside her fully.
“Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours.”
“Whose heart is this?”
“Yours.”
“Whose lifetime is this?”
“Ours.”
“Fuck yes, it is.”
* * *
We fucked and fought for four days straight. We didn’t leave the apartment for anything. I missed classes, she missed classes—she’s only enrolled in two because she planned to cut her tits off and thought she would wait until she healed to go full-time, at Harvard.
I dropped my classes knowing I was going to be too busy dealing with what I now had in front of me—Grandma Patrick, the apartment building, and school to keep me busy. Now with the ceramic shop and her, I don’t need to keep busy to fill empty space. She’s already consuming it all.
She admitted to following me on social media. I was pissed I didn’t know she had accounts so that I could do the same, so I had a fucking clue where her head was at, so I didn’t think I was alone and crazy because I couldn’t get over her.
Day four was the worst.
She started demanding I tell her everyone I had slept with. When I admitted I really wasn’t sure, she flipped her shit some more, then locked herself in my room for five hours … with my phone.
When she came out, she threw it at me and told me that she messaged them all. She said she wasn’t sorry.
Then she tried to leave.
I didn’t let her.
She broke down and cried.
How fucked up is it that I think she’s even more beautiful when she cries?
Apparently, pretty fucked up, or so she said when she locked me out of the room for another hour. Then she let me back in, apologized profusely, and fell asleep.
When I came out of the room to order some takeout for when she woke up, the phone was pinging notifications left and right.
When I opened the first, I found it funny. She had told a hook-up that my doctor informed me that:
My itchy anus wasn’t caused by my monthly hemorrhoidal flare-up; it was caused by an STI that I may have passed on to you and numerous others. Please get checked out and learn a lesson from our indiscretion.
Regards,
Patrick Steel,
ex manwhore.
It wasn’t funny when a receptionist at my parents’ company messaged me that she was,
“… sorry about the issues you’re having. I think you sent this to me by mistake. Healing prayers and congratulations on your recovery.
*prayer hands*
And I was even more pissed when I scrolled through and found out she had sent that to every female in my DMs.
I really flipped my shit when Truth sent me a text and told me to look at all my tags on IG, Snap, and TikTok.
I drafted a post saying I had been hacked. It wasn’t a lie.
When Savvy/Sutton finally wakes up, she looks dejected as she holds up her phone, my old phone, the one I gave her, the one she still has, and says, “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll forgive you, but you gotta stop thinking you don’t belong with me.”
She nods as I sit back and she climbs on my lap, running her fingers over my chest. “What’s the number seven on your chest?”
“The ink?” I ask, knowing exactly what she’s talking about.
She nods.
“Seventh girl I kissed, owned my heart. Felt fitting.”
She looks up at me through her long as hell lashes. “Me?”
“Only girl I’ve ever said I love you to, only girl I’ll ever love. Only girl I want forever with.”
She smiles. “Me?”
“Only you.”
* * *
The End
Also by MJ Fields
THE STEEL WORLDS
(Recommended reading order)
The Men of Steel Series
Jase
Cyrus
Zandor
Xavier
Forever Family
Raising Steel
The Ties of Steel Series
Abe
Dominic
Eroe
Sabato
The Rockers of Steel Series
Memphis Black
Finn Beckett
River James
Billy Jeffers
The Match Duet
The Unsocial Dater
Match This!
ImPerfectly Matched!
The Steel Country Series
Hammered
Destroyed
Wasted
Tied in Steel series
Valentina
Paige
Gia
Steel Crew
(Generation 2)
Tagged Steel
Branded Steel
Laced Steel
Justified Steel
Tricked Steel
Busted Steel (January 2021)
Smashed Steel (March 2021)
Marked Steel (May 2021)
Maxed Steel (July 2021)
THE LEGACY SERIES FAMILY OF BOOKS
(Recommended reading order)
The Love Series
Blue Love
New Love
Sad Love
True Love
The Wrapped Series
Wrapped In Silk
Wrapped In Armor
Wrapped Always and Forever
The Burning Souls
