“You smell so good,” I groan, my glasses fogging, my face suddenly hot, sweat littering my hairline.
I take my glasses off, and toss them across the floor, where they’ll remain safe. I tug her black thong aside, exposing a patch of soft blonde curls, which I run my fingers through a few times before replacing my fingers with my lips.
Her hand comes to my head, filtering her long, lean fingers through my hair as I root around between her legs, tasting any part of her my tongue can reach. I lick her pussy lips, swipe between them, suck her thigh, tease her clit. I keep my head planted there until her legs grow wobbly and her breaths start coming faster, more erratic. Then I get to my feet and help her onto the bed. The silk tie around her eyes taunts me, reminding me that while I’m going to be inside her again, it’s not the same, it’s not the way I want, it’s not going to cure the need. It will only make it worse. Doing this–having her–it will only sink me that much deeper in the unending abyss of my desire for Vivienne Beaumont.
Her phone dings from her purse, which she left near the door, thankfully. Probably her friends checking to see if their guy wanted them to wait naked in the room, too.
Carefully, I take off my shirt, draping it over theback of the chair, adding my pants and socks next. My cock strains against my boxers, and I discover a dark spot where my head pushes angrily against the cotton.
I was supposed to have fun tonight, but because I’m not aone-night-stand with a rich girl from Clear Viewkind of guy, I didn’t bring a condom. I don’t want to use a condom, either, though.
We didn’t use a condom on the beach a month ago, either, and it was a mistake then. I won’t fuck her tonight, because I can’t willingly put us at risk again that way. And she doesn't know it’s me. Sex feels too far, under those circumstances. But making her come? I have to.
I try not to think of the fact that Vivienne believes she’s in this room with another guy, that she’s trying to forget me by having sex with someone else. It’s not a pleasant thought–that she was stronger than me, and was able to go through with her plans to find someone else while I, on the other hand, spent my night orchestrating a way to get to her.
Instead, I crawl onto the mattress, tug her panties aside, hold her legs open, and feast.
Chapter Thirteen
Vivienne
Idon’t know where Chad Michael Murray is, but even as I teeter the line from buzzed to drunk, I know that this man between my legs is Reed.
The possessive way he claimed my hips, the moan he let out when his mouth met my pussy—I know it’s him. Every moment from the beach is etched into my brain, burned into my soul, a page in my diary written in ink–a night I can never and will never forget.
And that’s how I know it’s him.
I had no plans on having sex with anyone tonight. Making out, maybe. Getting felt up over my dress, maybe. But sex, no way.
I don’t know when I’ll be ready to do it again. I guess when I can close my eyes and touch myself without thinking about the night at the beach, then I’m ready. But I’m not there yet.
And who knows how Reed got in here. He’d have to be given a room code from his mother, and I can’t see Maribel doing that. More than that, I can't see Reed asking her. The feeling I get is that Reed isn’t and has never been big into the Clear View scene. Asking her for a room, especially since he’s no longer in high school, is just not something I can see him doing.
Then again, how would I really know?
Reed and I go out of our way to avoid one another.
I drag my thumb over his forehead, finding his skin damp, his hairline wet. Writhing on the bed with my legs spread wide, I drag my hand between my breasts, finding my skin and the lace corset damp, too. Bass from the party below drifts through the ceiling, the alcohol swimming through my legs, making me writhe and wiggle. Reed grips my hips tighter, sliding his tongue up and down my pussy, stopping to suck and nibble my clit.
Does he think I think he's one of those guys from the theater? He had to find out we were gonna use the private suites–he knows something. But does he know that I know it’s him?
We’re already playing this stupid, risky game. One that would without a doubt hurt our parents. I should stop while I’m ahead. I should.
But I can’t.
“Oh my gosh,” I whimper, fighting the urge to draw my thighs together and trap his mouth against me forever. “That feels so good.”
“Hmm.” He moans acknowledgement of my praise, nestling his tongue deeper inside me. We both groan as he adds a finger, then a second, curling them insideme as his lips pepper hot kisses against my swollen clit. I’m coming unraveled, but I want him to come unraveled with me, I want both of us to twist and tangle in this sin together.
I hook my hands under his arms, and tug, bringing him over me. It’s dark beneath the silk of his tie, but I don’t need to see him to know. I know it’s him. I know what I need.
“Please, put it in, I need to feel you inside me for just a minute, please–” I whimper. “I need to feel good tonight,” I breathe, hooking my heels behind his back. His hard cock slides against my clit, making me jerk against the mattress, moaning from the exquisite pressure.
“Please,” I try again, this time pressing my lips to his ear to deliver the final blow. “I’m trying to forget… help me forget…” I breathe.
He moves fast, I hear the whipping of the sheets being adjusted, his conflicted soul as he groans while moving the slick cap of his cock back and forth against my clit. “Help me forget,” I say again, my words scattering everywhere as I gasp.
Sharp, in a single thrust, he’s inside me, both of us immediately still when he bottoms out.
