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Without looking, she grabs a bottle sitting by her knee and flicks it open. She pours a thin stream over the head of the veiny fake cock and starts stroking.
Generally I feel pretty good about my size—better than pretty good. But this seems like a lot for someone as small as Lavender. “Baby, I don’t think—”
“Pet names? Someone’s getting desperate. And you’re exactly right; you didn’t think, at all—not about how your asshole behavior affected me, not about whether I was important too. You used your friendship with Maverick as a cop-out. I’m sick of being ignored and protected. I’m done with the bullshit, Kodiak.”
“I was protecting you from me.”
“Still finding excuses, I see. Pretty dumb for someone so smart.” She’s kneeling in front of the dildo, so I can’t see what she’s doing when her hand disappears between her thighs, but the wet sound and her soft whimper are enough to give me an idea.
Her hand reappears, and she lifts her fingers to her mouth, licking up the length of the middle one. “Mmm, tastes like not yours.”
Half of me wants to dispute that—because as far as I’m concerned, she’s always been mine—but the other half, the slightly more voyeuristic side, wants to see where she’s going with this. Will she actually go through with it, or is this Lavender trying to push me over the edge?
I should know better.
Lavender has spent years sitting in the wings, behind her brothers, behind a stage, behind a canvas or a sewing machine. Lavender is usually the quiet one, watching the action and not participating—unless she’s been drinking.
But she’s stone sober right now.
She grips the dildo and slides up the length. She rubs the head over her clit and lines it up with her entrance. Her lids flutter as she sinks down, stretching, accommodating, fucking moaning. Her thighs flex as she rises up, and the head appears before it disappears again, and this time she takes more, up and down, in and out, until all that length and girth is swallowed up inside her.
All I can think about is what it would be like if she were riding me like that, tits bouncing, my tongue in her mouth, breathing in her moans.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” Her fingers dip between her legs, pinching her clit as she slides down the length again. “Being surrounded by all of this . . . ego all the time. Everyone wants to be the best, the biggest, the most, and all I want is to be seen. Acknowledged.” She rises up. “You saw me, didn’t you, Kodiak?”
No one calls me by my full name. Ever. Not even my parents. It’s not even on my school records. Only Lavender has called me that. As soon as she could pronounce my full name, that’s what she’s always called me.
“Yes. I saw you. I see you.”
“But you didn’t want to.” She lowers herself with a quiet sigh. “Too much of a complication.”
“You were seventeen.”
“I’m not talking about two years ago.” Rise up. “I’m talking about now.” Slide down. “It’s awful to want something you’re not allowed to have, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry. There was so much to lose.” I move my hand to my thigh.
“Don’t,” she snaps. “Don’t touch yourself. You need to know what it feels like to be me. Always on the outside.” She circles her clit. “Wanting to be wanted.” Her eyes fall closed. “But believing the person you want will never want you back.”
She shudders, and in true Lavender form, she ducks her head and whimpers quietly as her entire body convulses. Because she’s coming.
But she hides it.
Like she hides everything.
Her wants. Her needs. Her anger. Her hurt.
Until tonight.
Silence follows, heavy and thick with lust and something that terrifies me. My dick is so hard, it hurts, but there’s no way on God’s green earth that I’m going to ask for anything right now.
Slowly, Lavender unfurls, rising up. The wet suction sound is excessive and loud. She stumbles a few steps, finds her balance, and crosses the room. Grabbing her robe from the back of her door, she shrugs it on and flips the lock.
“Get out.”
I uncurl my fingers from the armrest and push out of the chair. I have to rearrange myself, and even that contact almost makes me blow my load. “Lavender.” Her name is guttural—a plea, an apology.
Her eyes shift from the open door to me, hard and angry. “I hope all the suffering was worth it. If you really want me, I guess you’re going to have to find a way to deserve me.”Chapter Twenty-FiveSuffer with Me Silently
Lavender
Present day
I WAKE UP the next morning, and immediately my mind goes to what I did last night. I might have some kind of weird fetish, considering the way I got off on making Kodiak watch me get off. My thighs clench, and I grimace. I’d say I need to do more squats, but I’m unlikely to follow through on that.
