Cross Crease (On The Edge Book 3)

by Elizabeth Hartey

  “You, D. I want you,” I give him the straightforward answer. “Stop teasing me and just do it.” If he’s expecting me to be some scared little rabbit, he’s going to be disappointed. I’ve been waiting years for this, for him.

  “That’s one needy little pussy. Isn’t it?” He sits up further and licks the length of my neck.

  “Mmm. I su…suppose it is.” I tremble in an attempt to form logical answers with a brain that’s in full on shut-up-and-fuck-me-mode. “I want you inside me.”

  The only response I get is another feral growl as he nearly tears my dress off and throws it across the room. My lacy thong doesn’t fare as well. He rips it off. Evidence of my neediness covers his legs in wet desire as I writhe against him. Reaching behind me, he deftly unclasps my bra. It falls to the side.

  I find myself wondering if his ability to shake off his intoxication, to perform in apparent routine dexterity comes from his experience with countless women. For a moment I panic, remembering I have no real experience. Will I disappoint him? Hell. Will he even be able to get that enormous thing inside me? At least I was smart enough to have continued taking my birth control pills. Even though my prospects were looking grim, I never gave up hope.

  He must sense my apprehension. “You okay, baby?”

  “I’m…yes…but I don’t know…”

  “Don’t worry. Relax. I got you.” He flips me over onto my back. He’s stretched out over me, supporting himself on his forearms on either side of me. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so open to someone else, so ready to be taken, heart and soul.

  Will he break me? Destroy me? No. This is D. We’ve loved each other for years, even if it was as platonic friends. It was a considerate love. He would never hurt me. We would never hurt each other.

  “I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. I…” he begins, but then stops and shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it.

  “Are you okay?” For a moment he looks…different, his brow pinched in confusion. Almost like he’s lost.

  “I’m…I’m good.” He looks straight into my eyes like he’s seeing me for the first time. “Are you really here?” he whispers.

  “I’m right here. I’ve been waiting for you my whole life too. I’ve wanted you for so long, wanted this for so long. Please, D.”

  With a groan, D kicks his briefs off, lines himself up at my center, and with one hard thrust slams into me. I gasp at the invading thickness tearing through me, filling me. I suddenly know the meaning of seeing stars as pinpoints of light explode behind my eyelids. The pain surges through me. I swallow a scream. This isn’t right. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. It should feel…good. He said he would make it feel good. Instead, he’s tearing me apart. He’s too big. I can’t be stretched this wide. He’s going to split me in two.

  “So fucking tight,” he growls. He doesn’t seem to notice my discomfort and he doesn’t slow down. He pushes up onto the palms of his hands and continues to plow in and out of me, each time deeper, more ruthless.

  “D,” I manage to groan out his name. I want to tell him to stop. But when I moan his name in agony, his thrusts become harder, deeper, more intense. The stinging pain becomes overwhelming, affecting my ability to do anything but whimper. I can’t manage to speak. He’s slamming so deep inside me, he’s touching places I didn’t know it was possible to touch. He’s shredding me to pieces. It’s so unbearably painful I think I’m going to pass out.

  I open my clenched eyes enough to look down between us to confirm what he’s doing to me, verifying through blurred, tear-filled eyes the way he’s impaling me, driving into me with animal fierceness, almost like he hates me. Is he trying to prove to me I was wrong to ask him for this? No. I’m losing my mind from the pain. I remind myself this is D pounding into me with hard, rough strokes. He cares about me. It’s his wild need for me which has him behaving like this.

  “Fuck. So good. So good. You’re so fucking tight,” he groans his filthy endearments. “Fuuuck. You feel so fucking good.” His brow pinches and his face and neck muscles strain. Every muscle in his body stiffens, and then with one more bone-deep growl he lets go, bursting into me with a violent release as unrestrained as his thrusts.

  “Christ. I’m coming so hard.” He keeps filling me with burning hot jets as his cock continues to pulse inside me.

  When he’s done, he drops his weight onto me and groans into my neck. I wipe my wet cheeks with the back of my hand and try to will the hurt away from between my thighs. But D’s still inside me. The unrelenting stinging is impossible to alleviate with his merciless thick shaft filling me.

  I want to say something but I’m not sure what to say. He told me he doesn’t fuck virgins. He warned me he had no sensitivity to give and I begged him for this anyway. Why doesn’t he say something?

  But then empty words become unnecessary. With a grumble, D rolls off me onto his back, yanking his somewhat still firm cock from me. It causes yet another hurtful sensation and a rush of warmth to drip down my thighs, soaking the sheets. His chest rises up and down in long breaths. D’s snoring. He fucked me and passed out without saying a word other than declaring the strength of his orgasmic release.

  I’m confused, crushed, feeling as discarded as my torn panties. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself this is what I wanted, what I asked for, a quick deflowering and we would be done. It was nothing. It means nothing. I promised him it would mean nothing.

  I have to get out of here, go back to my own cottage, not let anyone see me leaving his room. I thought I would be walking on cloud nine after giving my virginity to D. Instead, I’m facing a walk of shame I’m not prepared for. God. If Dak finds out about this, he’ll be feverish with anger. He already threatened to kill D if he came near me. I know he didn’t really mean he’d kill him, but I don’t want to ruin his wedding weekend with any drama. You’re so stupid, Heaven. D was right. I’ve been nothing but a little fool.

  I slip out of D’s bed and quietly gather my clothes. Stepping into my disheveled gown, I take one last look at D. I cringe at the sallow crimson stain left on his sheets; humiliating evidence of what happened here. D, however, is in a deep contented sleep, not a care in the world.

  ***

  As I climb into my own bed, I can still feel D inside me, stretching me wide with his fullness. My shredded core continues to pulse in discomfort as manic thoughts swirl through my head. He didn’t force me. I asked him to have sex with me. I expected him to be gentle, knowing it was my first time—at least, somewhat gentle. Instead, he hurt me, physically and emotionally.

  He warned me. He warned me. The reproach thrums in my head. All the misgivings I should have had before having sex with him join my frenzied thoughts. He had way too much to drink. He wasn’t coherent. I should never have gone back to his room with him alone. I should never have agreed to sex. I knew he was drunk. I should have been the sensible one.

  And here I am, hurt and broken, making excuses for D yet again. Can I blame him, though? He’s been nothing but honest with me. He never promised me anything. Always admitted the way he is with women. I was foolish or arrogant enough to think he would be different with me.

  Time to grow up, Heaven. Time to stop being the headstrong little girl who always thinks I can fix everyone and everything. D is who he is. He has no desire to be anyone else. He’s told me as much a hundred times.

  Things will be different, awkward now. He warned me about that too.

  I roll onto my side and punch the pillow. I’m so angry with D—with myself. But I have to stop this, stop blaming myself, stop blaming him. I’ll drive myself crazy second guessing what I can’t change.

  I’ll talk to him tomorrow. As I glance toward the window, I realize the sky’s soft pink glow is evidence it’s already tomorrow. My body is spent and begging for sleep. But the chaos inside my head refuses to be quiet.

  I promised D I would make it work between us after we slept together. But I’ve had so many foolish-girl fantasies.
Now I’m discovering it’s more complicated than I thought it would be to abandon them—to not be overwhelmed by these broken, empty feelings.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Heaven

  Not having my mom’s pain-relieving herbal potions, I resort to taking two aspirin and a cool shower. With the dull pain going on between my thighs and the lack of sleep, I’m a hot mess when it comes time to meet everyone for breakfast.

  Tracey had planned for everyone to meet for one last breakfast in the patio restaurant before heading home. The uneasy thought occurs to me, D might stop at my cottage to get me since he passes it on his way. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or upset when he doesn’t. I reluctantly head over to the main building.

  The lobby is bustling with wedding guests checking out and family members sending them off with hugs and kisses. When I walk in the door, the first person I bump into is Josh. The shame washes over me when I realize I never gave one thought to him. I’m a horrible person. I left him at the reception and didn’t return, even though I said I would. He must know why I didn’t return. I’m mortified.

  “Hey, you. What happened to you last night? I tried to call you, but it went straight to voicemail. I figured you were tired and went to bed. I didn’t want to bother you.” He greets me with a kiss on the cheek.

  Between no sleep and the residual distress, I didn’t think to check my phone this morning for missed calls or messages. Josh isn’t even mad at me for ditching him the way I did. Now I feel even worse. I’m going straight to hell for my appalling behavior.

  “Oh. Yeah, I…I was really exhausted, I decided to go straight to bed. I’m so sorry. I just didn’t have the energy to walk all the way back here.” He doesn’t question why I didn’t take a minute to call him and tell him I was going to bed. And now, I’m not only a wanton, bruised, one-night stand, I’m also a bold-faced liar. What’s the alternative? ‘Sorry about that. I decided to let my intoxicated best friend take my virginity and tear me to shreds?’

  “No problem. I’m sure after having to drag Wolfe back to his room you were beat. I should have insisted on helping you. He’s pretty big. He must have been a lot to handle for you.” Of course, my dirty little mind drops right into the gutter. I think about my inability to handle D’s gigantic penis. The response going on in my aching morning-after core has me clenching my thighs together.

  “Um…yes…I mean no, he was fine. I mean, it was fine. I mean…it’s been a long weekend. I was exhausted.” I can feel the warm blush creeping up my neck. Hopefully, Josh doesn’t notice.

  “I’ll forgive you if you promise to make it up to me by taking a trip with me up to San Francisco next weekend. It could be really nice. A quiet weekend, just the two of us and lots of marine life.” He chuckles and reaches for my hand, entwining his fingers in mine.

  He’s the sweetest, most perfect guy: handsome, smart, interesting. Why doesn’t my heart beat in triple time when he walks into a room? And why isn’t there too little oxygen whenever I look into his piercing eyes? And where are all those annoying fluttery things sending my insides into a giddy convulsive dance from the inability to breathe whenever I’m near him?

  “San Francisco? That’s a long way to go just for a weekend trip, isn’t it?” He’s still holding my hand, and I’m still feeling like an awkward, terrible person.

  “Actually, I have to go up to the Marine Mammal Center to check on some sick sea lions that washed up on shore. I thought maybe we could combine business with pleasure.”

  I glance around the room, trying to look anywhere but at Josh, certain there are big scarlet letters flashing in my eyes, and he’ll know what I did last night. My attention is immediately drawn across the room where D is leaning against a wall, hands in his pockets, legs crossed in front of him. His gaze locks with mine, like a magnet to steel, as if he willed me to look up and see him. He begins to make his way toward me. I reflexively yank my hand from Josh’s.

  He runs the hand back through his hair. “I understand if you’re busy. This is short notice for a weekend getaway.”

  “Hey, Pip. You staying for breakfast?” D interrupts the conversation before I have a chance to answer Josh or explain why I can’t possibly take a weekend trip with him.

  “Um…I think…”

  Alison appears out of nowhere and interrupts me. “Hey, Wolfe. You ready? I’m starving,” she whines her greeting and slips her arm into D’s. I’m sure the way my jaw drops to the floor is apparent to everyone within fifty feet.

  “Oh…uh…Pip, you remember Alison, don’t you? From last night? At the bar?” D tugs on his ear. Maybe he’s searching for the mind I’m sure he’s lost.

  “Alison…of…of course I remember her,” I answer, politely stunned. But I want to scream, why is she pressing herself against you and running her hands up and down your arm?

  Josh extends his hand to the beautiful woman whose hair I want to tear out by the roots. “Hi. Nice to meet you, Alison. I’m Josh.”

  “Nice to meet you, Josh.” She giggles. What the hell is she giggling about when my heart is a shredded bleeding mess along with my vagina?

  “Crazy night last night, huh?” D rubs the back of his neck.

  “Stark raving mad, I’d say.” On my part. I didn’t expect him to marry me or even apologize. But it’s been a handful of hours, and he’s shoving another girl in my face.

  “I guess I overindulged in the bourbon last night. I couldn’t even remember how I got back to my room until Alison knocked on my door this morning. I could barely drag my bourbon-soaked ass to the door. When I told her how out of it I was and how that’s never happened to me before, she explained it was her that helped me back to my room and…” He clears his throat. “And helped me out.”

  “Alison did?” When I look over at the heroine in question, she gives me a smug grin and shrugs one shoulder.

  “I think you’re mistak—” Josh interjects, trying to set the record straight.

  “Wasn’t that sweet of her?” I interrupt Josh. “Good thing she was around to help you.”

  I think it’s time for me to take up cursing. And right this minute all I can say is, you have got to be fucking kidding me. He doesn’t remember? He doesn’t remember it was me! How did he explain the big red blood stain on his sheets? Surely, he’s not naïve enough to believe Alison was a virgin.

  “Yeah. She rushed in the room and shoved me into the shower. Said I would feel better after a long hot shower. She even had room service bring me a morning after smoothie and take care of my room while I was showering.”

  That’s why he didn’t see the sheets. She took them off the bed before he noticed. But what about the things D said last night before he plowed into me? He said he had been waiting for me his whole life. Did he think he was saying it to Alison? Maybe he uses the same sleazy lines on all his one-night stands. Screw Alison! No. Screw D! And every other whoring hockey player on the planet. But not literally. Never screw them literally. They will rip your heart out and toss it around like a hockey puck—right after shredding your V-Jay.

  Maybe I’m still sleeping. This has to be a nightmare. This is much worse than I even imagined it was going to be. Beyond his indifferent aggression, he doesn’t even remember it was me he was pounding into.

  “No. I’m not staying for breakfast. I have to get home. My new internship starts tomorrow. I have to get myself ready. I’m going to be super busy for the next few weeks.” I turn and walk away from D, Josh, and cunning Alison. D deserves her. Let him believe her lies. I’ll apologize to Josh later when my head stops spinning.

  “Wait! Pip!” D runs after me. I keep walking. I think I’m going to be sick and I don’t want to throw up in the lobby.

  “Wait.” D grabs my arm and stops me as I step outside. “What’s going on? You’re not mad about me hanging out with Alison, are you? I figured I should thank her for looking out for me last night and this morning. I offered to buy her breakfast. No big deal.”

  I suppose the adult t
hing to do here would be to tell him it wasn’t Alison, it was me who helped him back to his room last night. It was me he fucked. But there’s something a tad demoralizing when a guy doesn’t remember it was your virginity he was taking with disregard, while he was balls deep inside you. Humiliation at that level has a way of bringing out the thirteen-year-old broken-hearted drama queen. And ta-da! Here I am.

  “Huh. That’s a new one, Damon Wolfe sticking around long enough to buy his one-night stand breakfast. Seems like a big deal to me. Quite a breakthrough in your I-don’t-give-a-shit-existence.”

  “Wow. You are mad.” He blows out a big breath. “I won’t have breakfast with her then if it’s a problem. Doesn’t matter to me one way or the other.”

  “How gallant of you.” I mean, I don’t want him to have breakfast with the deceiving be-otch but as far as he knows she was his fuckable Florence Nightingale last night.

  “Tell me what you want, Pip.” My stupid body warms at the memory of his voice giving me the same sultry demand only a few hours ago. “If you’re mad about me hanging out with her, I won’t. We can leave right now.”

  I stare at him for a moment. This has to be a joke. Maybe he remembers everything and he’s teasing me like he always does. He has to remember. But he doesn’t give me the usual ‘just kidding, you silly Pip-squeak’ line he does when he’s taunting me. Because he idiotically really doesn’t remember having his gigantic dick inside me.

  “No, I’m not mad. In fact, I’d say I’ve finally come to my senses.” I continue to walk toward my cottage to collect my things so I can get the hell out of this nightmare.

  “I thought we could ride back together.” D catches up to me and walks along with me. “You don’t have a car here, do you? I have the Bronco. I wanted you to see it. 412 MotorSport did a phenomenal job refurbishing it. You’re going to love it. I took your advice and went with the candy apple red exterior.”