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“I want to do this. I want to kiss you, Zayn. I’m not a feeble, weak thing. I bear the evidence of my strength right here,” I say, pointing to my bruises. “David hurt me, and I want to erase every bruise, every punch, every bad word, every snide comment from my skin and my heart. I want you to help me to do that.”
I’m fully aware that in the early hours of this morning I professed the same to York and Dax, but I don’t feel guilty about it. They all know how I feel, and aside from Xeno, they’ve not pushed me away despite knowing I love them all. This is how I want to heal.
For the first time, dance isn’t enough.
“Then I will make sure every last memory of that bastard hurting you is replaced with ones of love,” he responds fiercely, grasping the back of my head and slanting his lips over mine. His mouth parts on a sigh as his hands find my hips and dip beneath the waistband of Xeno’s joggers that I’m still wearing, minus my knickers. I took them off after they left, feeling uncomfortable in the soaked material.
“Pen!” He mutters against my mouth, shocked at my bare arse that his hands are so firmly clutching now.
“Zayn!” I mock, smiling as I rock my hips and slide my tongue between his parted lips, searching for his words of love, wanting to taste them, swallow them, needing them to satiate the hunger and appease the starvation I’ve endured for so fucking long. Yesterday, I didn’t know what to expect, what might happen, but now York and Dax have shown me the way, I know what I want and it might be more than just a kiss.
With one hand firmly grabbing my arse, his other finds its way to my bra strap and with deft fingers, has unhooked it. It’s actually quite impressive how he manages to do that so easily, though I suppose he’s had plenty of practice. I push that thought away, not wanting to think about how many girls he kissed and touched before me. My bra slides off my shoulders as our tongues, lips and teeth, search, soothe and bite.
Our kisses become more and more intense as his fingers find my breasts and his thumb rolls over my nipple, teasing me and sending bolts of sensation right to my core. I react, pressing myself against the length of his cock, thick beneath his jeans. With a slick pussy and a full heart, I reach between us, my nails trailing down his chest and abs, desperate to hold him in my palm.
“I knew I should’ve fucking come upstairs myself,” a dark voice says from the doorway.
We break apart, panting, and my cheeks flush a deep pink. I almost reach up to cover my bare breasts, but think better of it. Tipping up my chin, I look at Xeno defiantly. I won’t be made to feel ashamed. I appreciate him letting me stay here, I really do, but I won’t stop loving these boys just because he says so. The thing is, when I meet his gaze, I don’t see anger or disappointment. I see something else. Desire.
Hot, molten, raging desire.
He’s turned on. I’m sure of it.
“Xeno… I love her,” Zayn says calmly. He’s firm, sure of himself in the moment, and he doesn’t let me go. In fact he pulls me tighter against him, resting his lips against my collarbone and running his tongue over the mound of my breast.
“I know,” Xeno bites out, shutting the door behind him.
With my head turned to the side, I watch Xeno as he leans against the door, his hands stuffed into his pockets, staring at us both.
“You gonna stand there?” Zayn asks. I note the missing but implied word,just.
“Yeah, I am.” Xeno’s is acting stubborn even though his eyes are dark and full of glittering promises, like jewels locked away in a glass cage. He gives me glimpses of the riches he could bestow if only he would let himself.
Zayn shakes his head. “Why torture yourself, man?” he asks before grasping my face in his large palms and gives me a kiss to rival all other kisses. His tongue swirls and dips, his teeth nip and bite, his lips soothe and caress. It’s a hot, messy, glorious kiss that burns me white-hot and turns me inside out. When Zayn’s mouth closes over my nipple and his fingers slide between my legs, I turn my head to Xeno and let out a low moan. Heat builds within me, around us. Emotions swirling in the torrid air, conjured up by our love and our lust.
Through the haze, I can see Xeno push off against the door, his body rocking on his feet as though he’s fighting every instinct to come and join us. Our eyes lock and he drags a hand through his hair, a frown marring his beautiful face.
“Xeno,” I mouth, but the sound is ripped from my lips when Zayn presses his thumb against my clit and I orgasm, my eyes falling shut and my chest heaving.
When I finally open my eyes, blinking back the stars, Xeno is gone.
* * *
The next morningit’s just Xeno and me in the house. The rest of the Breakers are coming back later in the afternoon and we’re going to have a movie night, making the most of our time together before I have to go back home tomorrow. Right now, Xeno’s sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee.
“Hey,” I say, giving him a wave and then mentally kicking myself for being so awkward. I’ve changed back into my own clothes and I’ve got the ones of his I borrowed folded up in my hands with my dirty underwear tucked between the folds. “Could I use your washing machine? I need to wash your clothes.”
He glances at me, his gaze moving between my face and his joggers and back again. “Sure, laundry detergents under the sink,” he indicates, jerking his chin towards the cupboard before returning his attention back to his phone. I see red spots heat beneath his tan skin, and feel my own flush at the memory of what happened last night. I came on Zayn’s hand and all over Xeno’s favourite pair of jogging pants.
This isn’t awkward, much.
“Did you speak to your mum?” I ask, picking a fairly neutral subject to try and ease the growing tension in the room whilst I throw the clothes into the washing machine and switch it on.
“Yeah, they’re back the day after tomorrow. I’m going to have to make sure this place is tidied up before then. Mum’ll blow a gasket if she sees the mess.”
“I’ll help tidy up. It’s the least I can do after you’ve let me stay. I really appreciate it, Xeno. It means a lot to me.”
“Sure,” he mumbles, returning his attention to the mobile phone and whatever he’s so engrossed in watching on it. Feeling like I need to clear the air, I pull up next to him and peer over his shoulder. He’s watching a dance battle on his phone. A couple of the guys are doing insane flips, jumping over each other, and wiping the floor with their opponents.
