Page 12 of Falling Back to You

Spinning around, I stared into his deep-set brown eyes, looking for signs of doubt. But all I found was his soft, concerned gaze.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve double-checked with you. Cyrus said it was all good, and maybe I wanted to believe that, so I failed to loop you in.”

Ozzie Palmer gave the best hugs in all of Hume. His big, strong arms would pull you in and squeeze, the pressure like a weighted blanket making you feel safe and secure. The thing is, since we’d split, I no longer got to experience those hugs, and I could really use one right now. For him to pull me into his chest and, with zero words, reassure me that everything was gonna be okay.

Ozzie continued, “Just tell me to leave and I will.”

Why did he have to be everywhere? No matter where I turned, there was a reminder of him. Of a time when we were in love. And now when I passed through Hume, all my happy memories were bitter, no sweet, just the sting and the bite of what could’ve been. I couldn’t even escape this man in my dreams. Every night like clockwork when I closed my eyes, he was there to greet me.

I clutched the sink basin in the laundry room. It was difficult to think straight.

I sensed him behind me, waiting for direction. Oz would do anything for me, and everybody knew it. Well, with the exception of leaving me alone—that was the one thing neither of us could seem to enforce. Massive hands landed on my shoulders and began to knead. His thumbs worked at the base of my neck, massaging out the kinks. I carried stress in my upper body. When we were together, Ozzie would always rest his hand on my shoulder as a reminder to lower them from my ears.

My life had not turned out how I imagined. I had the work thing down pat; all I ever did was for the betterment of Figs and Twine. Personally, there was little to be proud of. At my age, my mother had two kids and was pregnant with her third. She was working at the nursery and married to a partner who supported her dreams. My mother’s dream had just happened to be motherhood and a family.

I’d stopped allowing myself to imagine a life in which I was the main character ages ago. I wanted to make an impact, but I didn’t know what that looked like. So, I just stood in place while life ticked by. My greatest fear was waking up twenty years from now and being surrounded by an unremarkable existence. How was Maple supposed to look up to that?

Closing my eyes, I leaned my ass into Ozzie, rocking my butt over his lap, and was treated with his dick coming to life. His hands moved from my shoulders to cupping my breasts with a firm squeeze. Oz rubbed his palm over my nipple. “Do you think they’re gonna come in here?”

“Eventually.” Spinning around, I stared up at him with wanton eyes. “Can you fuck me quick?” I wanted to feel something other than hot rage, and the fastest way to shift my mood was to have Ozzie’s dick tickle my clit.

“Not my favorite way to fuck you, but yes.” He closed the door to the laundry room with his foot. And for my part, I tugged off my boots and stripped out of my pants. Ozzie undid his jeans and allowed them and his boxers to collect around his ankles. Ripping open a condom, he quickly slid it on and filled me. Fucking Oz was a tried and true way to relieve my stress.

His dick should come with a warning label. Caution: Fucking Ozzie Palmer could ruin your sexual experiences with all other men. I grunted as he bent his knees, hitting new angles. After our first time together in high school, I knew I was fucked. Literally and figuratively. I didn’t come; I was too in my head obsessing over the newness of the feeling. But after, when he wrapped me in his arms and held me close, I knew I wanted to experience that moment forever.

After the first time we got to hunching like we were grown, and that first dick-induced orgasm turned my world upside down. Oz would do anything for me, but what most didn’t know was that I would beg, borrow, and steal for Ozzie.

My breath hitched as I rocked over his length. I wanted to release this built-up tension, and Ozzie knew all the valves to twist to make that a reality. Was this reckless? Yes. Was I sending mixed signals? Yes. Was this going to solve anything? No—in fact, I was just making shit worse.

There was a knock on the laundry room door, and Ozzie planted his foot at the base to ensure no one opened it. “Dial, stop being ridiculous and let’s talk.”

“Go away, Cy,” I whispered.

“What?”

“Go the fuck away!”

“Is Oz in there with you?” Cyrus asked.

“Oz is the only one… keeping me from… whooping your ass.” My words were choppy because Oz never stopped stroking me. “I just need a minute. Can I have that?”

“Sure,” Cyrus said. “Oz, are you still alive?”

“I’m good.” Ozzie’s voice had lost some of its vibrato.

Footsteps receded, and Oz wasted no time digging me out. I’d never had sex with anyone in my parents’ house. And I guess technically I never would, because this was our house now. Mine, Edison’s, Cyrus’s, Fancy’s, and Oz’s. That thought pissed me off all over again, but Ozzie’s well-timed thrust shook the nagging irritation from my brain.

I let out a wail. “Ozzie.”

“You have to be quiet, baby.”

“Gotdamn you. Fuck me. Take it.”

He cupped his hand over my mouth, knowing I was close and wanting to minimize the deep moans that were sure to follow. And he was right to do so, because the orgasm that rolled through my body left me seeing stars. His final thrust pushed him over the edge, and he buried his face into my back to minimize the sound of his hollering. During sex he would moan, grunt, and whimper louder than me, and I’d always loved it because I liked vocal appreciation. And Ozzie acknowledged my bomb-ass pussy every chance he got.

He snatched a paper towel likely left behind by my parents and wrapped the condom inside, shoving the evidence in his pocket. I jumped into my jeans.

“Say it. I know you wanna.”