Not the Rebound Guy by Abby Knox (popular books of all time .txt) 📗

both like a freight train. An adorable cartoon freight train that exploded with rainbow glitter and filled my life with some much-needed chaos.

Garrett backs me against the wall of the shower stall, claiming me with deep, hungry kisses. I have no energy left for a fuck. Yet, my body keeps responding to the ever-lengthening urgency pressing against my lower abdomen. I reach down and grip his cock in my hands, its thickness further calling out to my sex. Garrett growls with frustration into my mouth and mutters, “Hold on to my shoulders, shorty.”

I’m too tired to question what he’s thinking of doing, but I still cry out in surprise when he hikes up my legs and wraps me around him. “Better,” he growls, finding my center with his cock.

I’ve never been fucked in the shower before, I realize. Funny how a four-year relationship with a man who has sexual hang-ups made me think that I was the one with the problems. I thought I didn’t need someone to pleasure me with his mouth. I thought I was weird for wanting to have sex with the lights on once in a while. I thought he was just too tired, and I was too demanding.

Now, in Garrett’s arms, his thick length filling me up, I realize it was all backward. I don’t need a rebound guy; I need to be shown a real man.

My arms gripping his shoulders for dear life and my thighs clamped around his hips, I wonder for a minute when he’s going to get around to the fucking. But he’s just holding me, propping me up, kissing me, nesting inside of me.

“And you’re mine,” he says. Finally, he begins a slow rhythm of his hips, his big hands gripping my bottom. I smile, and then my face goes slack at the sensations overwhelming my body.

“I am,” I say.

I’m already drowning in all the feelings when I sense one of his hands moving down between us to find my clit. I dig my nails into his shoulders.

“Good?”

I squeak out a barely audible “good.” It’s preposterous to say that word. “Good” doesn’t cut it. Fucking fantastic. A marvel of human achievement that he can hold me up for this long.

The truth is, he can’t. He has to slide the hand that’s on my backside toward the middle of my ass for leverage.

And his finger is right there.

I open my eyes when I feel his grip so close to that split.

Garrett’s brows knit together as he drives into me, strums my clit, and clenches my ass.

He’s asking with his eyes.

I nod, then seal my consent with a kiss. “Do it.”

There are a lot of firsts with Garrett, both in and out of the bedroom. If you would have told me four days ago that by Sunday, the man who made me forget my heartbreak would be filling me everywhere, I’d have said that’s entirely insane. Undoubtedly a result of poor judgment.

But there’s no more room for judgment with this man’s tongue down my throat, his cock splitting me in half, his fingers filling my ass, and my body falling to pieces like a rag doll.

Nobody has ever loved my body this much. Nobody has ever been this invested in and focused on my satisfaction. Garrett is so into it—into me—I’m already spent by the time my orgasm smashes me to pieces.

I’ve nearly forgotten our chat earlier about not needing a condom, and I’m reminded when I feel his seed filling me up. The warm contact is so perfect, I might never go back. He grunts and growls through his release, his fingers digging deeper, shooting more waves of shattering pleasure through me.

“Baby,” he says, shutting off the water.

I think he’s going to set me down, but he doesn’t. He stays buried in me, pulling me away from the wall and wrapping me up in his arms. “Baby,” he repeats.

Yes, I think. That’s how you make babies. And maybe I’d be okay with that. It’s a good thing I’m still on the pill, because, at this moment, my brain is so foggy I’m ready to have a dozen babies with this man.

That’s not brain fog, says my conscience. That’s evolution deciding that the world needs more little Garretts running around this world.

I sigh. “Well, doesn’t it?”

“Huh?” Garrett chuckles as he squeezes the water out of my hair with a towel, then wraps me up with a separate dry one.

“Nothing. Gibberish. I’m so tired, I think I’m already talking in my sleep.”

Moments later, the two of us are wrapped around each other in my bed. The full-size isn’t the greatest, and Garrett’s legs indeed do hang off the edge. I should tell him his legs will cramp up if he insists on cuddling in this small bed, but I’m so tired I can’t keep my eyes open, let alone form words. He seems content enough to stay, and truth be told, I wouldn’t want him to leave. If he does cramp up, I’ll just have to massage him later. The idea of that makes me smile sleepily as the beautiful darkness sweeps me off to dreamland.

With me nestled against his chest, I feel him kissing the top of my damp head. “I love you, sweet Eliza.”

I mumble as I snuggle in closer, drifting off. “I love you, Garth Buddha.”

I wake to the sound of my mother making a disgusted noise.

My eyes fly open to see Karen standing at the end of my bed, hands on her hips.

“I can guess what you two were doing when Mom was having a stroke.”

Garrett’s first order of business is to make sure I’m covered with the blankets before I sit up to confront my mother.

“Ma’am, I know what this looks like.”

I have to cut Garrett off. “Mom, it’s exactly what it looks like. Garrett and I are together, and it’s very new. And since when do you barge into someone’s bedroom like this? And for your information, Grams was playing Bunco with her friends because