by L. A. Sable
It sounds like vows, or a promise. And I get the distinct impression that he isn’t only talking about whether I get to come. My skirt has bunched up around my waist so I can’t see his face. I shove it aside
He pushes a finger inside of me and it glides through my wetness without even a hint of resistance because I’m just that ready for him. I moan as he adds a second finger, working them into me with the same exquisite slowness as I writhe underneath him.
In and out, enough to make me go mad. It’s enough pleasure to keep me on the edge, but not nearly enough to shove me over it.
I force myself to open my eyes and stare down the sharp line of my body into his face. As if he’s been waiting to finally catch my attention, Jayden smiles in the way that’s been charming people since the day he was born. His fingers slip out with an audible squelching sound that would have embarrassed me if I still had the capacity for that particular emotion. He brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean of my fluid, humming at the taste of it. Of me.
“Fuck.”
Jayden grins. “That’s next, assuming you don’t tell me to stop.”
He resumes his onslaught, eating me with the full force of his attention. I’m aching with the need for him to finish this, but I know that if I say the word he’ll simply stop. He’s making a point, forcing me to confront the fact that one of us will inevitably break first.
And at the moment that I think I can’t take any more torture, Jayden finally gives me what I’ve silently been begging him for. He finds my clit with the unerring accuracy of a homing beacon. His lips close over it and suck hard.
Stars burst across my vision, brighter than comets streaking across a night sky. I lose control of my body to the point that I can’t tell if I’m pushing my hips up into his mouth or if he’s pulling me closer. It’s probably a desperate combination of both. Pleasure overwhelms me in a way that ebbs and flows like tides pulling in and out from the shore and for a sparkling moment it seems like enough to kill me.
I think I’ve gone blind but then I realize the force of my orgasm has momentarily robbed me of the strength I need to keep my eyes open. When I finally manage it, I crack open too heavy lids to see Jayden hovering over me with a smirk on his gorgeous lips.
“I think I died,” I murmur, as his hands settle over the buttons of my shirt.
“Well come back quick, because we’re not done yet.”
He undresses me slowly, lovingly, as if he really wants to take his time with it. Jayden Heart doesn’t have a frenzied bone in his body and everything he does is deliberate.
My skirt comes off first, followed by my shirt until I lay there in only my bra and panties. When those come off too, he pauses to stare down at me. His attention is so focused that it makes me self-conscious.
When I shift my arms to cover myself, he grabs them and pushes them apart. “Let me look at you.”
“Not fair. You still have your clothes on.”
“Fair enough.”
Jayden strips off his shirt and tosses it at me. I grab it from mid-air and bring it to my nose, inhaling the scent. The top note is some kind of expensive cologne, but under that is him. The cocoa butter moisturizer he uses on his hair and a spicy hint of musk from his sweat.
But I don’t care about how amazing his shirt smells, when Jayden rises enough to strip off his pants and kick them away. But not before he slides a silvery packet out of the back pocket. Boy scouts always show up prepared.
“No underwear?” I ask with a smirk. Every line of his body looks like it’s been chiseled with marble and then dipped in liquid bronze. He practically exudes vitality and raw sensuality.
“I like to fly free.” He gives me a moment to ogle him before his body slides over mine. “Now, where were we?”
My body feels like it’s on the fire and he is the only thing that can put it out. I want him on me and in me as quickly as possible, but I also don’t want this to be over too soon. I’m caught in that fragile place where fantasy meets reality, but eventually I’ll have to go back to that cold and cruel world where my mother is dead and my life is in the midst of falling apart.
It’s almost poetic. For most of my life, I thought it was impossible to be rich and still have problems. I remember sitting in our tiny apartment in the Bronx, watching Trish pull double shifts to keep the rent paid and the lights on while I scrounged for lunch money in the couch cushions. And I’d been convinced that a little bit of cash would take all our problems away.
Now, I’m heir to half of the Bellamy fortune, which is still a fortune. Kind of like how half of infinity is still infinity. But my mother is dead, I’m being blackmailed, and this is the unhappiest that I’ve ever been. All the money did was bring new types of suffering.
I don’t realize how lost I am to my own thoughts until Jayden’s hand coasts along my cheek.
“Hey,” he says softly, bringing me back from my reverie. He looks down at me with a tenderness that’s edged with concern. “You’re still here with me, right?”
I force myself to put aside thoughts that don’t have any place in this bed right now. All the pain and suffering will still be waiting for me, but I can take a small amount of precious time for myself. My arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer. “I’m right here.”
He kisses me then murmurs against my mouth. “Everything is going to be okay, you know that right?”
I don’t know it, but for right now I’m willing to believe the lie. “Don’t stop.”
He works his hands underneath my body and hugs me closer to him, cradling me against his body for a long moment, just offering comfort. And I let him do it, finding myself inexplicably near tears. I don’t realize that they’re falling down my cheeks until he kisses them away.
But I don’t want to be comforted. I want to be fucked hard enough to take the pain away.
There’s only one sure cure for sadness.
With more strength than he probably expects, I push him off of me and roll our bodies so I’m straddling him. Our naked flesh presses together as intimately as it’s possible to be without him inside of me. My hips grind against his, his half-softened cock hardening again from the delicious friction.
His fingers tease in and out of my entrance, grinning when he realizes that I’m more than ready for him. Every cell in my body aches for him, for this. Even if he has the most expert tongue I’ve ever encountered, one puny orgasm isn’t enough to satisfy me.
Okay, it wasn’t that puny, but still.
I shift to lower myself down on him, but he arrests the movement with sure hands curved around my hips.
“Condom,” he reminds me with a low laugh.
“Yeah, right.”
The tiny, silver packet is still lying on the bed where he’d dropped it and I duck my head to grab it so he can’t see my face. What a stupid thing to forget, I’m smarter than this. As if I need another problem crowded onto my already full plate.
He captures my mouth in a searing kiss and takes the condom out of my fumbling hands. “Let me.”
I watch him slip it on and it’s only now that I’m staring down at him that I realize how much bigger he is than I expected. “Jeez.”
“It’ll fit, I promise,” he says with an assured smile. “Although I appreciate the compliment.”
“That wasn’t a compliment,” I tell him pertly, although I know there’s a smile in my voice. “That was concern for my personal safety.”
He laughs, white teeth gleaming in the darkness. “Where’s your sense of adventure, baby?”
There’s a challenge in his words I feel compelled to meet.
I stroke the hard length of him through the condom, amazed when he seems to grow even larger. He kisses me hard, almost certainly as a distraction while he shifts my hips so I’m poised over him, latex-tipped cock resting at my entrance.
But then he holds me there, forcing me to make that final and oh so important decision.
Before I can spend too much time thinking it th
rough, my hips shift down to meet his, letting gravity do most of the work. He fills me so completely that it’s as if I could burst from it, every part of his body hard beneath my touch.
I have a moment of apprehension when I realize men feel bigger from this position but then his hips are thrusting to meet mine and I don’t have any more capacity for rational thought. My clit grinds against the rough plain of his lower belly as stars burst across my vision.
His mouth dances on mine, tasting and nipping at my lips in a way that makes me dizzy. My fingers dig into his back as he thrusts into me hard enough to bottom out, the tip of him butting up against my womb in a way that’s just on the right side of painful. I know that he’ll have little half-moon marks in the shape of my nails on his back, but I can’t bring myself to care about it.
He breaks our kiss as his mouth shifts to my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a hickey that’s high enough it won’t be covered by the collar of my uniform shirt. I can’t fight the impression that he wants to leave a mark on me, wants us to mark each other.
Like we’re both staking some sort of claim.
And then his mouth comes back to mine and I forget about anything but the taste and feel of him. Our tongues tangle together in a way that’s all friction and heat, as our bodies thrust together. In this position, my head rises above his as he raises and lowers me onto him. I feel capable of devouring him, of absorbing him into myself until nothing remains that isn’t both of us.
But I need more. I need something to take me away from myself and pleasure isn’t enough to do it. Even with his size, the copious amount of fluid my body produces eases his passage and I need more. More friction. More pain. More everything.
I catch his bottom lip between my teeth and bite down hard enough to taste blood. He groans, but doesn’t pull away when do it again.
“Harder,” I say and I can’t tell if I’m commanding, or begging.
Without pulling out of me, Jayden rolls our bodies so my back hits the mattress hard enough to force the breath from my body. He searches my face for the barest moment, but whatever he sees there must satisfy him. Because in the next instant, he drives into me hard enough that it bows my body in half and my mouth falls open in a silent cry.
Jayden fucks me like he’s trying to force his way through my body and into the mattress underneath me. My hips try to rise and move with his but he presses me down with his hands, fingers digging painfully into the hollows of my hips, holding me still. He drives forward with brutal force, heedless of my inhaled breaths and whispered cries that come just short of begging him to stop.
I stare up into his eyes, so colorless in the dim light that they’re like chips of ice and almost as cold. An emotion moves across his gaze as he stares down at me, there and gone so quickly that I almost could have imagined it.
Fury.
He’s angry at me, for hiding things, for lying to him, for being so mistrustful of the good that I wholly embraced the bad. It’s not something that he will ever put into words, but the emotion is there regardless and simmering underneath the surface.
My mouth presses against the slick skin of his chest, tasting the salt of his sweat on my tongue. His weight presses down on me so that any more would press his flesh against my nose and mouth, suffocating me. I mumble the words against his chest that shouldn’t be loud enough to hear.
“I’m sorry.”
One of his hands pushes between our bodies as he continues to pound into me. His fingers work at the sensitive bud of flesh above my opening, stroking my clit like he’s playing an instrument he mastered a long time ago.
Pleasure spikes through me, but it’s too much. It clenches my belly and bows my back like every nerve ending has come alive with overwhelming sensation, enough that I don’t know whether to call it pleasure or pain.
He doesn’t stop even as I come for the second time that night, hips pistoning into me as if he wants nothing more than to keep going until he breaks me apart. My vision shatters into pieces as I wonder if this if what it feels like to die: your energy absorbed into the universe only to be remade into something new.
And it doesn’t stop. Pain morphs into pleasure and back again until I lose my fragile grip on reality. Maybe I scream his name, but it’s just as likely that my mouth opens and no sound comes out. He taunts me with how long he lasts as I climb the same cliff and fall from it over and over again. This is his revenge, the only form of it that he can bear to exact upon me.
Right before I pass out, I recognize that being broken is exactly what I deserve.
When I wake up in the morning, Jayden is gone. I remember him leaving in the middle of the night, even though he didn’t realize that I watched him pull his clothes on in the dark. Part of me had wanted to beg him to stay, but couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I have to start figuring out how to face this world alone, because I can’t expect them to prop me off every moment of the day
I’m not exactly excited to be heading back to class. My week-long reprieve hiding out under Dean Felton’s nose has officially ended, but I need the distraction of getting back to daily life.
Grief does strange sorts of things to your mind. I keep glancing down at my phone, looking for a text or missed call from Trish. Then I have to remind myself that I’ll never hear her voice again or have a chirpy Morning, doll face message pop up on my screen from her number.
And every single time, the realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I keep thinking that next time will be easier to bear, but it never is. Every day feels like the first day I’ve woken up without her in my life.
I know I look like crap as I mount the steps of Bellamy Hall, shirt wrinkled and no makeup on with bags under my eyes from poor sleep over the last few days. But the murmurings of the people around me don’t even matter as I shove open the doors of the building.
Let them talk, none of it matters anymore.
“You look like shit,” Grace says, when she catches sight of me in the hallway. She’s uncharacteristically alone and the words don’t have her usual ring of cool mockery, more like she’s just stating a fact. “You should really do something about that before anyone else sees you.”
“In other news, the sky is blue and water is wet. Feel free to tell me something I don’t know.”
She raises a perfectly arched brow, expression sardonic. “Is this some sort of trauma work thing, where you have to walk around looking like hot garbage to get through the grief?”
“I really don’t get why you care.”
“Okay, enough.” Grace grabs my arm and pulls me toward the nearest bathroom, surprising me with her strength when I try to yank my arm away and can’t. “We are doing something about this right now.”
The door slams open as she shoves it with her foot, hitting the wall loud enough that the two girls washing their hands at the sink are visibly startled.
“Out,” Grace says shortly, not releasing her death grip on my upper arm.
The two girls barely glance at our faces as they scurry away, not even bothering to grab paper towels as a trail of water from their wet hands tracks their progress out the door.
“If you wanted privacy, we could have just gone to the bathroom in the Diamond Lounge,” I point out as she finally releases me and I rub my now sore arm.
Grace casts me an airy smile as she hefts her large bag up onto the sink. “Sometimes it’s fun to pull rank. Plus, the lighting in here is all harsh and florescent, so it’s more likely to hit home for you just how unacceptable your face is right now.” She pulls out a zippered pouch so full that it’s a wonder she got the thing closed. “My concealer has too much yellow in it for you, but I think I have a highlighter that I usually use for contouring that we can put on those bags under your eyes.”
I don’t have the energy to fight her as she starts pulling tubes and palettes out of the pouch and lining them up on the marble countertop. “Do you seriously carry a full makeup kit around wherever you go?”
T
he look she casts me is dryly amused. “The fact that you think this is a full kit makes me feel even sorrier for you.”
I’ve seriously upped my personal grooming game in the last few months, but Grace had enough product on her to open a kiosk at the mall. “Do we really have to do this?”
“Some people bring over casseroles when someone dies, this is what I do. Accept the offering and shut your mouth.”
“Is it too late for the casserole?”
“Shut up.”
I let her dab under my eyes while I glare at my reflection in the mirror. She isn’t wrong that I look like shit, but I doubt it’s anything she can fix in the five minutes we have before class starts. It hard for me to understand why she’s bothering with it at all.
“You have really pretty skin,” she murmurs, brow furrowed in apparent concentration. “But I can tell you haven’t been moisturizing. Better fix that if you don’t want to age like a potato.”
Grace almost sounds like someone who cares.
“Why are you pretending to be my friend?” After losing so much, I no longer have any capacity to censor my thoughts. It’s not like anything else can be taken away at this point. And there’s no heat in my voice, I’m mostly just curious. “You don’t even like me.”
“I don’t like anyone,” Grace replies with a shrug.
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Because you’re a Diamond, which means that you represent the rest of us, whether you like it or not. And just because we’re not 'friends’,” she uses her free hand to put the word around air quotes as the other blends in eyeshadow the color of rose gold on my lids. “Doesn’t mean that I’m some freak who hates being around people. You can be fun to be around when you’re not feeling sorry for yourself.”
Since I’m staring at my own reflection in the mirror, I know my expression is full of skepticism. “Is that the same thing you’d say about Chloe?”
