“Yeah,” he goes, his eyes all molten. “Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you if you ever came near me. And I…”
“You what?”
He licks his lips and it makes me needy. It makes me want him to do what we should be doing instead of whispering sweet nothings to each other up against the tree.
“Wanted to do what we’re doing right now,” he replies.
My eyes go wide, and my hips jerk again, my channel getting wetter. “You w-wanted to have sex with me up against the tree?”
His eyes rove over my flushed features, his thumb caressing my cheek. “Get as close ashumanlypossible to this beautiful girl with strawberry hair and cinnamon freckles that I haven’t been able to get out of my head since the first moment I saw her in my sister’s backyard.”
A few moments pass where we simply stare at each other. Where he studies my face and I study his. Where he’s hard and hot inside of me and my channel is all juicy and soft wrapped around him. Where his chest still moves in the same rhythm as mine.
Then, licking my lips, “Shepard?
“Yeah, baby?”
“Kiss me.”
At this, his eyes go alert and his thumb stops caressing my cheek. His jaw pulses and his nostrils flare. And before I can take another breath, his lips come down on mine and he’s kissing me and kissing me and I kiss him back. I kiss him back with all the love in my heart and even though I know he’s not ready for that. I don’t care.
I don’t care if this is my first time or how badly it hurt when he entered me. He took care of it just like I knew he would. I may have been scared in the beginning and wanted to stop but I don’t now. I never want to stop. So I move. I grind my hips against his, and even though it smarts a little and my pussy feels sore, I keep doing it. I push past the pain. I push past the discomfort and be good for him, brave for him. Because he’s been so good for me too. And he rewards my efforts by moving against me. By hunching against me in a way that hits my clit with every stroke.
And then we’re dancing together.
We’re making music with our breaths and moans, with the beats of our hearts. With his words, his raspy voice that tells me I’m his good girl. I’m his brave,bravegirl. That I’m the girl he dreams about, he thinks about. And he knew it would be thisgood but he never knew how good. He never knew I’d change his life with my pussy.
His words are like aphrodisiac, something that makes me feel so good but also so hungry and horny. His words make me clench around him as he slides in and out, in and out, just like the breaths we were taking together. And soon, I’m a writhing mess. I’m moaning and panting and kissing, so close to coming around his cock that anything could send me over the edge in this moment.
But what does is when he abruptly breaks the kiss only to sink his teeth into my pulse. To taste me there while he’s feeding me his dick down below. And it’s such an ‘us’ moment: sweet and dirty, full of soft butterflies and sharp teeth, full of roses and thorns, juicy strawberries and toxic snakes that I fall.
Fall and fall and fall even deeper, making him fall inside of me too.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE WRECKING THORN
Guilt is notan emotion I feel often.
I think it’s useless and wasteful. It makes you dwell on things when it’s always better to not. It’s better to bury them and move on. Besides, you can’t go back and change things, can you? So what good is it to think about it? But I’ve been feeling it a lot lately, when it comes to my family and the distance I feel from them.
I’ve been feeling it even more ever since I met her—or rather, since I chased her down at that gala months ago, because she’s always running from me—I’ve felt it often. I’ve been able to brush it away though, bury it deep. I’ve been able to justify my actions, wrap them in a pretty bow. No matter what I did, what lines I crossed—offering money in exchange for sex, stalking her at her jobs, blackmailing her to be with me—I thought of it as her getting something out of it. I thought of it as ‘helping’ her in exchange for her ‘helping’ me. I even justified doing what I did that night at the club, humiliating her, making that video, having her ride my boot, as something that I was owed for being hurt.While I still feel like a piece of shit for it, I’ve been able to live with myself.
Or rather, I’ve been able to sleep at least a couple of hours at night, with her under the same roof as me. Not at all healthy if you’re prepping for the season, but fuck that right now. Soccer is the last thing on my mind at this moment.
Instead, what’s on my mind is that I don’t know how to burythis.What happened two days ago. What I did. How I broke her trust. Again, I’ve broken it often enough, but this feels like a new low for me. Or maybe I’m starting to grow a conscience because of her. Maybe she’s changed me in some way.
Either way, I should’ve told her. She’s not safe with me.
For many, many,manyreasons.
That everything she’s worried about is true. Yes, us being together will complicate things. Not for her, of course, but for me. Conrad is going to fucking hate it. He’s going to lose his shit if he finds out I’m sleeping with his new stepsister. He’s crazy like that. He’sgoodlike that. He’s already been eyeing me ever since that night when I declared she was my business. If he had his way—which I think he’s waiting for—he’d take her away from me and put her somewhere safe. Only because he knows how I watch her.
Only because theyallknow, all my siblings, how I watch her. Like she’s a piece of juicy fruit and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into her. Not a lie, and yes, she is juicy. Probably that’s why they all drop by the house so much. They never used to before, but now they’re over every fucking day and it’s really fucking annoying.
She’s also worried about Snow. Rightfully. Snow is young, younger than her. And she’s made sure that Snow remains as innocent as possible of how the world works. Probably because she knows way too much about it. And if Snow finds out what’sbeen going on behind her back, she’ll be happy, I know, but she’ll also be planning a future for her sister and me.
Not to mention the fucking media. They haven’t left me alone these past few months and now they won’t leave her alone either. Just by her association with me. And she doesn’t know it yet, but it fucking sucks being torn down every single day. Being doubted and criticized and fucking taken apart. The only way I’ve been able to survive it is because of her. Because of her ‘cheerleading,’ which I always dismiss and insult, but somehow it’s become my saving grace these past weeks.
