AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He pushes in deep, sending a jolt of slicing pain through my core. My body bucks upward as he continues to drive his finger in and out of me as if he wants to hurt me and make me feel good at the same time.
I reach out and grab him again, this time by the shoulder blade, squeezing. I’m not sure why, but his expression suddenly morphs into something dark and forbidding. I can see the muscles in his jaw clenching as he grinds his teeth. It’s a chilling sound that drowns out my labored breathing.
As if he’s punishing me for reasons I can’t fathom, he aggressively adds a second finger. I gasp at the discomfort, but it’s quickly replaced with pleasure when he hits a spot that makes the pain worthwhile.
His body aligns tightly with mine and I feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against my thigh. A rush of desire floods through my core, knowing I gave him that erection.
I wiggle my bound wrist, desperate to be free from his grip so I can squeeze something—anything to alleviate some of the pressure building inside my body.
Holy shit. What is happening to me?
Sounds I’ve never made before slip between my lips, airy and audible. My cheeks flush pink because I hate that he’s making my body react this way.
“Rome,” I try again, still unsure what it is that I want. One thing’s for sure, I want whatever feeling comes next.
My head falls back slightly, my mouth agape as I moan in pleasure. Just when I’m on the edge, about to fall into that water I’m sure I’ll never want to resurface from, Rome slides his fingers out of me. Suddenly, I’m left feeling empty, unfinished, and like the biggest idiot in the world. My pussy feels like it has its own heartbeat. It desperately needs to be touched—filled. “What are you doing?” I ask him, my voice dripping with equal parts anger and need.
He removes his hands from my jeans and takes a step back. Holding up his index and middle fingers, a sly smirk lifts his lips. My eyes widen when I realize they’re the same two fingers that were just pumping feverishly inside me.
Without missing a beat, he drags his tongue down his digits, licking my arousal.
“Mmm,” he mutters. “Virgins really do taste better.”
I gulp. Unsure of whether I’m turned on or disgusted right now.
How does he even know for sure I’m a virgin? Is that something a guy knows just from fingering a girl? Either way, I don’t validate or invalidate his thinking. Instead, I bend down and snatch up the sweatshirt I was wearing.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps as he jerks the sweatshirt from my hands, pulling my shirt out from inside it. “I took this off you for a reason.”
I’m stunned. Unsure what the hell is happening. “I thought…”
He tosses my shirt back at me and I catch it against my chest, using it as a shield to hide my breasts now that my brain is back online and Rome doesn’t look like he wants to murder me with his bare hands.
“You thought wrong.” He holds the sweatshirt in the air, the veins in his hands protruding as he squeezes it. “This is my mom’s and you have no fucking right wearing it.”
My eyes go wide. “I’m…I…I’m sorry, Rome. I had no idea.”
“Like hell you didn’t.” His jaw feathers, and that anger I was afraid of morphs his features once more.
“It’s true,” I tell him, trying like hell to prevent that side of him from coming back while we are locked in a small space together. “Sayer gave it to me before we left the house. I told him I didn’t have any Misfits apparel to wear to the game and he went to his room and got it.”
His shoulders slump slightly and relief floods my veins when I see he believes me. Rome brings the sweatshirt to his chest as if he’s trying to hold tight to his mother with just that lifeline. I get it now, the anger, the sadness. And I threw it all in his face when I cheered for his brother like an idiot just to try to prove a point. And for what? To hurt him more than he already is?
That’s not me. Rome might have some anger issues he needs to deal with, but I don’t have to stoop to his level just because he picked on me. I can be the bigger person here so that he can grieve however he needs to.
“I really am sorry,” I tell him again, this time not talking about the jersey, but I don’t know if he realizes that.
He drops his hand to his side, still gripping the sweatshirt, and narrows his eyes. “Prove it.”
“Prove I’m sorry? Aren’t my words enough?” Really? Rome has this way of making me feel bad for him, just to say something stupid and affirm my resentment toward him.
“Not even close. Come to the party tonight, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”
If I thought my heart was beating fast when he was fingering me, that doesn’t hold a candle to the lashing it’s giving my chest right now. Brady and Julia mentioned something about a party earlier and I shut down the conversation before they could tell me where it was. The last time I went to a party in Willow Creek, bad things happened.
I take a minute to study him. He’s not angry, doesn’t look like he’s planning anything particularly evil. But this uneasy feeling settles in my gut.
“I can’t,” I tell him. “I have homework.”
