Page 52 of Pocketful of Shame
"Kiss me," she cried out, dragging my lips back to hers, as her breathing hitched and her pussy clenched and spasmed. "Don't stop kissing me." Groaning against her lips, I did as she asked and plunged my tongue into her mouth, my whole body jolting with tremors as Romi came apart beneath me, coming hard around my fingers, fingernails clawing and tearing at my back and neck. "I want this, Sketch," she begged, and it was too much. It was too fuckingmuch. "I want you inside me."
Clenching my eyes shut, I groaned against her lips, every muscle in my body coiled tight, as my orgasm ripped through me. I came harder and longer and more intense than I ever had in my life, spilling my seed all over her stomach.
Trembling, I pulled back to rest on my knees, breathing hard and fast, as a wave of vulnerability and humiliation washed over me. Dropping my head, I placed my hands on my thighs and tried to find the composure I needed to handle my feelings. Handleher.
Romi's breathing was just as erratic as mine as she slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, legs still spread open to accompany the fact that I was kneeling between them. "Are you okay?"
I couldn’t answer her. I couldn’t fuckingbreathe. So, instead, I did the only thing I could; I grabbed a towel and cleaned her stomach.
"Sketch, it's okay." Her hand covered mine, holding me still. "Look at me."
I couldn’t do that either. Not right now. I felt too exposed. Rising to my feet, I moved for my discarded shirt.
"Say something," she whispered, still sitting on the bathroom floor.
Giving her my back, I yanked my shirt back on as quickly as possible, completely fucking reeling. "I'm sorry," I finally replied when words found me. It was all I had.
"Don’t be," she countered, voice thick with emotion. "Because I'm not."
"Romi, that shouldn't have happened," I replied, running a hand through my hair before turning back to face her. "I shouldn't have touched you."
"I kissed you," she reminded me, eyes locked on mine. "And I wanted you to touch me."
"Yeah." Shaking my head in defeat, I closed the space between us and helped her back onto the toilet seat. "I had Presley pick you up something to wear at the store – and there's some other shit in there, too." I grabbed the shopping bags by the door and placed them next to her before moving for the door. "I should go."
"Sketch –"
"I can't… I can't deal with this," I admitted, chest tightening to the point of pain. "Not right now."
"Is this because we –"
"No, it's because being near youhurts," I strangled out, backing away from her and moving for the door. "When I'm around you, I get hurt, Romi, and I can't handle any more pain."
And then I got the hell out of there before my heart hemorrhaged all over the bathroom floor.
Chapter Seventeen
Romi
My emotions were in turmoil. I couldn't explain why I kissed Sketch any more than I could explain why I begged him to be inside me. The only justification I had was the same rationalization I used for lying to him for ten months. I loved him. It made me reckless with my heart and even more reckless with my body, but there it was. And knowing the truth? Knowing that Sketch didn’t leave me by choice? That, for some sick and twisted reason, my father forced his hand? Well, that changedeverything. For me, at least.
Emotionally drained from a life that seemed to be falling down around me, I grabbed my bags and climbed to my feet, surprised that my body could balance itself after the knockout blow it had taken when Sketch ran out on me. My heart sure as hell felt like it had been KO'd. Much steadier on my feet now that I was once again wearing my boot, I set the shopping bags on top of the vanity surrounding the sink and looking inside, finding everything I could possibly need, including my favorite brand of tampons. I didn’t need them, but he'd remembered. Two years had passed and he still remembered the fucking tampons I used.
Tears stung my eyes and I clutched the edge of the vanity with a death grip, clenching my eyes shut as I forced myself to swallow down a tsunami of pain and regret. It was too much. Too raw.
Reluctantly, I dropped the towel wrapped around my body and took a long, hard look in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl staring back at me. I was a lot thinner since Chris's death, and falling from the treehouse left my skin littered with bruises. My face looked gaunt, cheeks sunken, my eyes and lips too big for my small, heart-shaped face.No wonder he ran out of here,I thought dejectedly,you look like a ghost.
My gaze flicked to the purplish mark on my neck and I reached up to touch it. He marked me. A shiver of pleasure rolled through me and I quickly looked away, focusing on getting cleaned up. My hair, still damp and knotted, cascaded down my back in damp curls. Running my fingers through the knots, I used my newly acquired hairbrush to comb it out. Then I reached for the toothbrush and ran it under the cold tap before squeezing a dollop of toothpaste on the brush and shoving it into my mouth. I scrubbed my teeth with a viciousness that caused my gums to bleed. I didn’t care. I just needed to wash it all away somehow. Erase my mistakes. Erase the past two years.
I kept thinking about what might have happened if I'd broken Sketch down two years ago and forced him to confess.
Everything, Romi.
Everything would be different.
Shaking my head, I pushed the thought away and focused on small mundane tasks like rinsing my toothbrush, screwing the cap back on the paste, splashing water on my face, turning off the faucet, drying my face, cleaning my stomach, folding the towel.
All simple mindless tasks.
