Spent - Part 1 (Spent, a New Adult Romance, MMA Series)

BOOK: Spent - Part 1 (Spent, a New Adult Romance, MMA Series)
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Table Of Contents

Title

Copyright Notice

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Baptiste's Rage - Only From Elise's Fan Club

Thank You

SPENT

Part One

Elise Holland

Copyright © 2015 by Elise Holland

This book is a fiction production. All characters, businesses or organizations appearing in this work are fictitious, of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any mechanical or electronic means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher or author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages within the boundaries of fair use, in a review.

First Printing - February 2015

Special Thanks To Danie Newcomb, and Alex and Lisa Moss who without their valuable input and support, this book would have never become a reality.

Chapter 1

Closing my eyes tightly, I try to stifle the anticipation building rapidly deep within my sex. It’s been far too long since I’ve felt Derrick’s touch and I want that comfort so badly. He’s a man of few words, but when he touches me, I can feel what he has a difficult time saying. I can feel that, deep down, he probably loves me. Wrapped up in his strong arms, I feel safe from all harm.
 

We’ve been growing distant lately, but every relationship has its ups and down. All I need is for him to touch me and I know that all those feelings of longing and separation will be washed away.
 

Derrick noisily rummages in the dresser drawer, searching for a piece of latex that’ll help secure our ability to be able to finish school and pursue careers before starting a family. Sighing, I think about what it would be like to have a family with Derrick. He still has a lot of growing up to do, but then again, so do I. He wouldn’t be a bad father. Hell, anything would be better than the sperm donor of a father I had.
 

I shake my head, trying to shrug off the thought. I don’t want my sex drive to suffer by resurfacing old memories that I have worked so hard to suppress. All I want right now is for Derrick and I to work on us and grow together before we even think about having a family. As I watch him, though, I realize that having a little boy running around with my auburn hair and Derrick’s dark eyes wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
 

I watch as Derrick sheaths his dick into a condom. His hands greedily run over his thickness as he rolls the latex down to the bottom of his shaft. I can feel my sex tighten as I watch his nimble fingers at work on his cock. The defined muscles along his shoulders and pectorals flex tightly as he rolls the condom into place. I can feel myself grow wetter as I watch on, anticipating those same greedy hands running along my body.
 

Derrick climbs into bed with me and makes his way between my eagerly spread legs. I run my hands up his arms and along his shoulders, feeling his firm and defined muscles tense against my touch. He lowers his head down to mine, soft lips brush against the sensitive skin of my neck, making their way up to my jawline. Leaning my head back, I give him access to the delicate skin, arching my naked body against his. My sex throbs, begging for his touch.
 

Eager and demanding lips kiss me hard as he brushes his penis against my clit. The sensation is exhilarating, but before I can process it, Derrick thrusts himself into my vagina way before I’m wet enough. I gasp. The sudden sensation of latex and hardness against the delicate raw skin of my unprepared sex is painful. Once he’s inside of me, Derrick moves his mouth away from mine. He pumps into me, hard and fast, his large frame hovering over me with all of his glorious physique flexing.
 

I lean forward to kiss him, but before I can, he moves his face outward, caught up in the heat of his incessant thrusting. The realization that the few kisses I received are the only foreplay I’ll be receiving tonight makes me sigh. It’s going to be another one of those nights.
 

Derrick pumps into me over and over again; hard, fast, and straight on fucking. I enjoy it when he lays me hard and fast. I enjoy the roughness, even if it isn’t what I had initially wanted. Even without any foreplay to get me going, the intensity of his pumping causes me to begin to climb. The smooth rhythm of his hulking body plunging into mine is intoxicating. I lean forward and kiss his neck, but he doesn’t respond; he just continues to pump into me.
 

My body falls against the bed as I let out a deep sigh. I want to touch him and I want him to want to touch me. Sleeping with him is great, but after being with him for over a year now, I want more than just constant penetration. Feeling his lips and hands on me while we make love are what I long for and need.
 

This isn’t the first time our love making has been one sided. In fact, it has been happening a lot lately. Ever since school let out for winter break, Derrick and I have had little to relate with one another. During the semester, we were both gone so much that the few hours a day that we saw one another were spent in wild and erotic sex. Now that we’re with each other nearly all day long, Derrick has wanted little to do with me. Sometimes it feels like I was only interesting to him because he rarely saw me.
 

He barely even looks at me as he plunges his cock into me, hard. Through closed eyes and a tight grip to the bed sheets surrounding my head, Derrick screws me the way he wants to with minimal interaction from me.
 

With every thrust, I feel myself getting wetter. Derrick’s muscles tighten under my touch. My eyes search for his. I want to enjoy this. I want to enjoy it so bad, and I want my boyfriend to show me with his body that he loves me. His eyes finally meet mine and he smiles. When he does look into my eyes, I see nothing. The brown eyes staring at me tell me that there is little love behind what we’re doing in this bed; all they reveal is that this is not for my pleasure, but his.
 

“You feel so good, Tash,” Derrick breaths against my mouth as his lips brush against mine.
 

I arch my pelvis towards him, begging him for more. I can feel myself building, slowly; my body begging for sweet release. It has been so long since Derrick has made me come, but I finally feel like tonight it will happen. With each impalement from his large dick, I feel myself getting closer and closer. My skin flushes from the heat of my rising climax.
 

“Oh fuck, Tasha!” He cries out as he meets his release.
 

I grip him tightly, digging my fingers into his shoulder blades. His penis pulses violently as he pours himself. Latex and warmth fill my body, making me ache for deliverance. I keep grinding my pelvis towards him, because I still yearn for my own climax. He collapses against me, his body spent. I can feel his swollen dick lessen in size as the final pulses of his orgasm radiate through him. My vagina longs for a fullness that is no longer there, and slowly, my craving dwindles down to nothing more than built-up tension.
 

Rolling off of me, Derrick gets up and walks to the bathroom adjoining the bedroom. I can hear him turning the shower on. Sighing, I get up out of bed. If I can’t orgasm, the least I should be able to get from him is a some sensual touching in the shower. At this point, even just fondling my breasts would probably get me off. He wouldn’t have to work hard to get me going; all I would need would be just a touch...

I peek my head around the shower curtain. Hot water and steam pour over his chiseled body. The curves along his back and ass tighten with every move he makes while washing his body. The longing for climax deep within my sex grows tighter as I watch him bathe.
 

“May I join you?”
 

Derrick spins his head around, startled. “Um, the shower’s a bit small for both of us, Tash,” his expression is that of someone who has been caught naked by a stranger. It’s offsetting, but I don’t let it knock my determination.
 

“That’s never stopped us before,” I smirk.
 

Inhaling, I can smell the sweet fragrance of mint from Derrick’s body wash. The scent is nearly euphoric for me, because I’ve smelled it so many times during our lovemaking. Just the scent alone causes my heat to rise higher, making my body beg for release.
 

Derrick scratches his shaved bald head, “I just want to shower and crash, Tash. I have a match I need to prepare for this week, so I need to be at the gym early tomorrow,” he gives me a wet peck on the cheek.
 

I sigh, “Okay. Love you, baby.”

“Mhm, you too,” Derrick mutters while lathering up his body, his eyes no longer looking into mine.
 

I sulk back to the bed. Curling up into a ball, I pull the multiple layers of quilts up to my chin. It isn’t that cold in the room, but a chill is coursing through my body that I just can’t shake. The yearning within my vagina has long since passed and now has been replaced with a feeling of emptiness.
 

Hot tears sting my eyes and threaten to rain down at any moment. I reach over to the side table and pick up my cell phone. I search for the one name in my phone who I know will be able to help me find the solutions for what to do about Derrick and I.
 

“Cameron, can we meet tomorrow? I need to vent.”
 

Even though Cameron is my English advisor, she’s the closest friend I have here at school. None of my friends back home applied to Maryland, so I felt rather alone. Cameron and I clicked the first day I walked into her office my freshman year when I noticed she had a stack of Fullmetal Alchemist mangas sitting on her bookshelf; the spines worn down to the point that some of them had been taped back together. I had gone to her office to get advice on my course load, but we spent the entire time discussing our favorite mangas and animes.
 

I hit send, knowing that Cameron is probably asleep or at a party and will likely not answer me back until morning. If I waited until morning to send her a text, it probably would never get sent. I would do my usual routine of blowing off whatever was troubling me, pretending like it really wasn’t as bad as I remembered, and I would try to go on with my life.
 


Sure, Babe. 2pm at our cafe?

 

That was fast. “
Sounds good <3
.” I reply.
 


See you then <3.

I put my phone back on the table and nestle back into my ball. Derrick walks in just at that moment, naked and drying his bald head with a towel. His muscles flex everytime he moves to dry off another part of his body. The tension deep below my stomach begins to tighten exponentially. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll come to bed and make up for all of the hurt I was feeling. Maybe he’ll come to bed, hold me, and make love to me. Perhaps I will be able to have coffee with Cameron tomorrow and tell her about how he healed the wounds he created. Hope floods throughout my body as I await for him to come to bed.
 

Derrick tosses the towel to the side of the room. Even though I’ve begged him countless times to throw his laundry in the hamper, without fail, a towel or a pair of boxers or something always ends up on my apartment floor. It drives me crazy, but I take in a deep breath and let it slide, this time. It’s something we’ll have to work out if he’s ever going to officially move in with me.
 

The bed sinks in as he climbs in on his side. I await for his arms to enshroud me with love and forgiveness. Seconds pass, but nothing happens. Finally, minutes pass, and still nothing. Slowly, the hope that had been building up in my body begins to fade. When I hear him lightly snoring, I sigh, the last bit of hope escaping as I breathe out.

***

“So, what do you think I should do?” I ask between sips of my coffee.
 

Cameron peers at me from over her crescent moon shaped glasses while sipping her coffee. Looking into her eyes, I notice that the pale green cardigan she’s wearing really bring out the light brown color of her irises.
 

She’s only around five years older than me, but she likes to dress like an old spinster so that her colleagues at the university will, in her mind, respect her more. If Cameron spent half the energy on showing up to her classes on time that she spends trying to figure out what to wear, her colleagues would likely care less that she’s so much younger than most of them.
 

“I think you need to get a boyfriend and not a fuck buddy.”

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