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His tongue swirls and his lips suck until I’m falling apart, pleasure pummeling through me in relentless waves.
“Fuck.” My breathing is ragged and uneven as I collapse against the seat. My muscles are useless right now, numb with pleasure. “You’re so good at that.”
His hands run up and down my thighs, rubbing the sensitized skin. My whole body is still humming with awareness.
“I’ve had a lot of practice.”
I tense. It’s not a decision, just a reaction.
He feels it, because he huffs. “Withyou, Cassia. If you want to get jealous, here’s a fun fact: you’re the only girl I’ve ever gone down on. Okay?”
I exhale. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you, and I know I need to get over it. I just…wish it had only been me. Thinking about you doing this with someone else makes me want to punch something. And maybe it would be different if it had all been before I knew you.”But it wasn’t.“I’ll stop mentioning it. I promise.”
“Cassia.” Holden sits up, his hand finding mine in the dark. “I’m sorry. I am. I’d have happily punched Douchenerd after seeing him just talking to you. That day in the library, when you helped me with my history paper? I was furious with Harrison for sitting at the same table with you. If I knew that one of them had touched you…” He exhales. “I was in a bad place in high school. Those other girls? They were a distraction, like fighting or drinking. And I hope you never find this out for yourself, but having sex with someone you don’t love feels different. It wasn’t that I wasn’t attracted to you back then. Or that I didn’t care about you. It’s that I was scared and selfish. Trying to protect you from myself.”
I smile. “Who’s Douchenerd?”
He chuckles. “Uh, Brooks.”
“That’s mean. He’s a nice guy, not a douche.”
“His name isBrooks.”
“I like that you’re jealous,” I whisper, squeezing his hand.
“Great. I’ll punch guys around you more often.”
“I’d rather you did other things with your hands.”
“You just came.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t.” I slide my hands down his chest until I reach the elastic band of his shorts, the stretchy material expanding easily as I tug it down. His boxers yank away just as effortlessly. I find his cock by feel, my fingers brushing against the hard length.
I want to take him in my mouth. But that’s logistically impossible in the current situation. I settle for rubbing him against my clit until I can barely think straight, then lining the tip up with my opening and sinking down.
I come after only a few strokes, desperately chasing the euphoria of release. Craving the closeness of being so connected to him. This feels right, while so much feels wrong.
It’s too cramped in the backseat to make cuddling comfortable. We both get dressed as best we can. Holden climbs out first, and I’m right behind him.
“Good game, flower.”
I smile in response to his teasing, but it fades quickly. Holden’s does too, watching me closely. A shadow of dread appears in his expression, same as I glimpsed earlier. Or maybe I’m just projecting my own churning emotions onto him.
I spin my keys around one finger, glancing at the bleachers.
This place that has seen so much of our history. The beautiful and the ugly. The sultry and the sad.
My mouth doesn’t open. I’m dreading speaking the words.
They sound so…final.
Real and permanent.
Divorce is an ending.
Having parents who aren’t together isn’t something I ever wanted to have in common with Holden. I liked the idea of him having my whole happy family to fill the gap of his fractured one.
Holden’s gaze grows increasingly concerned.
