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He steps inside the bathroom and closes the door behind him. “That sounds boring,” he says. “And I’m realizing that I’ve beenperpetually bored with everyone and everything for a very long time, but I’m not bored with you.”
“Well, I’m sure you will be. Or you’ll find out that’s not a good thing,” I scoff.
“Are you really going to be shitty to me because of something Audrey said? Hmm? Come on, Ally.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do with you. I didn’t think about any of this.”
“What’s ‘this’? What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know,” I say softly, averting my gaze.
What I would do when someone else wants you and can give you things I can’t. What it would feel like to be here with you and not be able to touch you. Howthismight affect one of the only friendships and safe spaces I have.
He runs his hand through my hair, then down to the nape of my neck, and leans down and kisses me.
I wrap my arms around his back and kiss him back, feeling his tongue caress mine while he nips and bites at my lips.
“I missed you,” he says before diving into my neck, licking and sucking in that way that makes me completely crazy, causing wet heat to pool between my legs even before I feel his erection against me.
“You’re going to get me in trouble.”
His thumbs slide into the waistband of my joggers, and I break away.
“What’s wrong?” he says. “If you can be quiet, they won’t even know. I promise.”
“I just…I don’t want you to see me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have scars,” I tell him. “A lot of really ugly scars. I can’t wear a bathing suit. That’s why I’m not getting in the pool—I don’t want people to see them.”
“Where?” he asks. “I’ve seen you naked. I didn’t see any scars.”
“It was dark,” I say. “Um, they’re down the sides of both of my hips. And on my upper thighs…across the front and inside.”
“Okay,” he says. “Where did they come from?”
“Um, I did it…to myself.”
“Let me see.”
I laugh so that I don’t cry. “Haven’t you seen enough?”
He places his hands on my cheeks and uses his thumbs to wipe the tears pooling in my eyes. “Never. Okay?”
I nod my head, and his fingers go back to my waistband. My cheeks burn, and my heart hammers in my chest while I wait.
He starts working my joggers and underwear down my legs and drops to his knees, and I forget how to breathe. I feel his eyes on me—on my skin, my scars, my pussy. He runs his fingers over the marks on the outside of my hips—the deepest of my scars—then the newer marks I started making inside my thighs. A few of them are still scabbed over, red, and irritated—painful to the touch. I wince and suck in a breath. I feel his eyes searching my face, but I don’t look back.
Then, I feel his tongue on the same wounds, kissing and licking the insides of each of my shredded thighs before he spreads me and runs his tongue down my wet slit.
“Devon…” I gasp as he slowly licks up and down my center. “They’re gonna…”
I give up my protest when he slides his fingers inside of me, slowly pumping them in and out of me, two at first and then adding a third, and I have to slap my own hand over my mouth to keep from crying out.
“Shit, you’re tight,” he says. “Does that feel good, or is it too much?”
“It…feels good,” I force out.
