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“You’re... a fucking... slut,” he groans. “Tight cunt... Cleo. Goddamn... ah, Cleo...”
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
“Yes... oh fuck.”
My palms graze the carpet as I sag forward. The arm around my hips tightens, his hand gripping my hipbone. His cock batters me... and it’s incredible; it’s merciless; it’s terrible. I’m getting sensitive—so sensitive. I can feel my clit throbbing... my pussy roaring as he uses it so hard tears pop into my eyes.
Somewhere far away, I hear his low breaths turn to mostly groans... I feel him strain against his pleasure: sweating, shaking. He shoves his thumb deeper and pounds so hard and fast I feel a drop of sweat land on my back. I try to clamp my thighs around him... anything. Fuck—anything to get him... just a little deeper.
“Fuck!”
He’s so hard now... I gasp each time he fills me up, momentum building like an ocean wave... I want him deeper... need him deeper. I push back against him, and the world goes white and hot. I’m almost there... my clit is pounding like its own heartbeat.
His cock is like a punch...”I want it...”
“Yes... fuck. Ohh God.” He pounds so hard I fumble forward and his hand on my hip slides down to my thigh.
He snarls and grabs me back against him, in and out... another in... he shoves so hard I feel my eyes roll back.
And then I feel him twitch inside me. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever felt: the way his cock pulses, then swells as he comes, panting and clutching my hip.
“Oh God.” His voice is hoarse: delicious.
I come in the rush of a tsunami overtaking islands.
As I pulse around him, I feel his thighs tremble. “Oh fuck...”
His chest pumps against my backside, and then his forehead drops down to my back. He’s shaking hard—his legs, his hips. He’s like an animal, spent and ravaged by adrenaline. His forehead nuzzles me, digging into my back in time with his ragged breaths. And I’m surprised to find: I love it. That I did this to him. That I made him as crazy as he made me.
The feeling spreads through me like melting butter. I feel warm and sleepy. Kind of—no, not kind of—GOOD.
My head begins to whirl... the room is tilting. I can’t breathe. I feel the weight of him move off me and I feel him sliding out.
He says, “fuck.” He sounds surprised, I think as I blink wet eyelashes in the dark.
He clears his throat, and when he speaks, his voice sounds stronger than I thought it would. “Press down against me, Cleo.” I’m so dazed, at first I’m not sure what he means. “My finger. Bear down against it.” I do what he asks, and seconds later, I am startlingly empty.
I can hear him rustling behind me. I push up on my elbows, turn myself around, toward the little bench... but I can’t seem to move. I lie there on the carpet like a turtle in its shell. My heart is beating way too hard. My eyes cast up, I clutch my shawl around myself. I can see the outline of his body, darker than the dark. He’s bending down, combing the floor—for his clothes? Mine?
I imagine Kellan pulling my leggings back over my feet... tugging them up my calves. The way his long-lashed eyes would crinkle slightly as he stretched the fabric over my thighs, the way his lips would curve into that perfect, cocky smile. The smile morphs: gentler. His hands are warm and kind. As if he wants me, more than just my body.
I’m insane. Obviously, he’s driven me insane with sex. I mean... my God above, his dick is something else. I feel deflowered. My lips curl into a mad little smile. I shake my head. I just got my brains fucked out. By Kellan Walsh. I blink at his moving form and wonder who the fuck is he? Why did I react this way?
The sex was just intense. That’s what I tell myself as I get to my feet. My cheeks and neck are hot, my body is unsteady, but the sex we had was so intense, of course I would react differently. I’ve been with other guys. Kellan’s more intense. It’s messing with my head.
I step over to the wall beside the door and drag my palm along it, feeling for a light switch. When the room lights up, I draw my first deep breath since being pulled atop his lap.
See? I’m totally good now. When I turn around, things will be just the way they were while we were studying. Just business. Okay—maybe some occasional heart-thumping... but definitely nothing serious. These squishy-wishy feelings I’ve been having in the last few minutes: they’ll be gone. Because I don’t even know him. And what I do know, I don’t like. There’s no reason I should feel drawn to him in any way.
I stand there facing the wall, breathing slowly, and allow myself to admit that I’ve been lonely. Really lonely. The kind of lonely that always feels like after Olive died, when Mom and Grans were never home and I would find Mary Claire standing in the street “on accident,” and I would curl up in my bed at night and pray for someone to come take me to another house. Any time life gets quiet, the image of that sharpens in my memory. I start needing things I can’t get. Things I think maybe no one ever gets. Things that don’t have names.
So maybe I’ve been a little like that lately.
So his hands on me felt good. No big deal.
Deep breath... blow it out my nose... five, four, three, two, one...
I turn slowly and it’s almost a shock to see him there. My nerves spark as I look him over: Kellan in his unzipped slacks. He’s freaking beautiful. And perfect. Those wide shoulders, and his heavy chest—that look is one I love. The way his abs are dusted with gold-brown hair, trailing down...
