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“Say my name,” he gasps. “Say my name, Ev...”
“Micah,” I whisper, wondering why he needs this to go over the edge, but powerless to deny him whatever he wants. “Micah.”
“Fuck,” he grunts and drives his pulsing cock into my hand. “Fuck, oh fuck...”
I can feel his balls lift, and his hard-on jerks in my hold, releasing ribbons of white cum. They splash my breasts, my throat, and he groans as his orgasm crests and then tapers off, his cock softening.
His arms tremble and he sinks on top of me, heavy and boneless. His head is on my breasts and I place a hand on his short, silky hair.
“I’m crushing you,” he mumbles after a moment and slides to my side. “Shit.”
“I’m okay.”
He reaches over me and blindly fishes for the box of tissues on the table. He pulls out a couple tissues to clean me up, and his eyes darken again.
“Dammit.” He trails a finger down my neck. “Can’t fucking believe I came like that, just from your touch, like a horny teenager.”
“Actually,” I say, and my face heats. “I thought that was kinda hot.”
Oh God, I really do think that. I loved holding him, touching him as he came. Knowing I did that to him, brought him over the edge and gave him pleasure. And I even like the fact he came on me. It’s as if he marked me. Why do I like the thought so much?
He looks pleased. A faint smile pulls at his lips. “You’re...” He shakes his head.
“What?”
“Unexpected.” He rests on his side, his cheek in his hand, gorgeously naked and relaxed. Fine stubble covers his jaw, glinting in the low light like gold dust.
“In a good way, I hope.” I’m already drifting off, a pleasant darkness seeping into my thoughts, when I think he whispers something into my ear.
“The best.”
At least that’s what I think I hear, and my silly heart gives a little skip. I sigh and turn on my side, cradling my head in my hand. It sure is a nice dream.
Chapter Seven
Micah
The darkness is broken by a flickering bulb, illuminating patches of black mold on the walls. The air reeks of old, sour sweat and the heavy breaths of too many kids stuffed in a tiny room. Some are snoring, curled together on the three narrow beds and the worn carpet. Others are sitting with their backs to the wall.
I walk among them, moving forward but going nowhere. I’m trapped. There’s no oxygen. No future.
The room tilts and shifts, leaving me disoriented. I’m on a long staircase, going up. I have no other choice. The darkness has changed, filled with hateful eyes, and they’re waiting for me.
Footsteps follow me, and I try to climb faster, but I can’t. Time slows to compensate for my efforts, pulling on my limbs like hardening glue, so that I struggle and pant and rage. I try to shout for help, but I can’t breathe, can’t speak. Others are waiting for me at the top of the stairs, and the footsteps behind me grow louder. Closer.
My foot slips on the step, and I go down. I tumble into the darkness, right into the hands of my pursuers, and they grab me by the hair and drag me down. Kicks knock the breath out of me, and then their fists find me, punching all sense out of me. My body is a raw nerve, flayed bloody. Fire runs in my veins, scorching my flesh. A scream dies in my throat, never making it out, as I arch and twist and struggle to escape the pain.
“Micah.” A sweet woman’s voice, calling my name, and I reach for it like a ray of light in the dark. “Micah!”
The darkness dissipates. Brightness stings my eyes, and I groan, trying to turn my head away when I realize I’m lying on the sofa on my back, an arm flung over my head, and a girl is sitting next to me.
A naked girl. A very pretty naked girl, with her hand on my bare chest.
“Ev,” I croak as it all comes back to me—the knock on my door, her appearance, the kiss, the almost-sex... The nightmare. A cough rattles in my chest, and I turn my head and smother it on my arm.
Her hazel eyes are wide, her face pale.
Goddammit, I scared her. Of course I did. Nobody should see me as I claw my way out of this nightmare, this mishmash of memories from the last two group homes I lived in. It was a fucking hell, and I ran away many times, ending up on the streets. Being on the streets was safer, although the cold and hunger always won out, sending me back into the system.
