I take the time to soap my hands up with the nearby body wash container—coconut and sea salt—and run them over my body, really taking the time to massage it into my skin.
The movement is almost automatic, enough that I can let my mind wander a little bit.
I check-in with my emotions, expecting to find a well of grief with the top cracking and bulging at the seams. But instead, I mostly find the slow-moving current of rage underneath everything.
And lust. It used to be bottled up and nicely packaged, waiting until I wanted to take a sip. But I feel like Wolf and Rush and Sully have obliterated any sort of container for my lust. I feel like a goddamn walking bundle of hormones lately, and I don’t know what the hell is happening.
All I know is that I want to explore it. With all three of them.
The temperature changes and I feel the beginning stirrings of lust as the water hits my body at all the right angles with the right amount of pressure.
A gasp leaves my lips at the feeling—I think I just discovered why people love these kinds of showers so much. I remember the article I read once in a women’s magazine about showerheads, and it gives me an idea. Maybe a release is exactly what I need.
Hell, at this rate, I may request a special bathroom upgrade for our dorm suite.
I detach the showerhead across from me and bring the handle close to my body, angling it so the water hits my pussy in a hot, steady stream.
“Oh fuck.” The words leave my lips on a groan. Pleasure radiates throughout my body, a soft, warm sort of pleasure that has my limbs feeling light and tingly. I step back and lean against the shower wall, barely under the waterfall, and tip my head back, closing my eyes.
I feel him a second before I hear him. Tilting my face to the side, I stare at him through half-lidded eyes.
His chest rises and falls rapidly, his face the perfect look of concentration. When I flash a sultry smile at him, he takes it for the invitation it is and steps inside the spacious shower. He sits down, fully clothed in a black tee and black athletic shorts, on the bench across from me, spreading his legs and leaning his head against the tile with a thump.
I bite my lip as I aim the showerhead at a different angle, the water hitting my pussy in a new way. My eyelashes flutter closed on a moan, and fire licks up my body, heating me from the inside.
A strangled masculine groan fills the heated space, and I open my eyes. His intense gaze ensnares me, holding me captive. He leans forward, his fingers curling around the edge of the bench seat, his shoulders bunching.
He’s the image of controlled desire as his gaze caresses every inch of my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.
“Are you just going to watch me?” I can’t help but taunt him. I know I’m playing with fire, but I’m not afraid of the heat. I’m praying I get scorched.
“I’ll never stop watching you.” His words sound like a promise falling from his pouty lips.
I watch in fascination as his muscles bunch and tense, his fists flexing and closing on his knees. He’s holding himself back—I know he is.
What would it take to release the hold he has?
“Touch me, Sully,” I all but beg him as I move the showerhead again, finding a new, pleasure-inducing angle.
He shifts forward before pushing himself against the tile wall again. “I want to, princess. You have no idea how much I want to, but I . . .”
“Pretend with me, James.” I prop my foot on the bench next to me, giving him the perfect view of my pussy. And like a rubber band snaps, he springs up. I’m not sure if it was my words or my body, but I don’t really care. I’m damn near giddy with anticipation.
With one hand behind his head, he grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls it off. I feel my jaw slacken as I take him in—all the sculpted, tattooed flesh that I’m dying to map with my fingers—and my tongue.
He turns around and presses a few buttons on the panel, and a second later, the showerhead changes its speed and pattern. It’s faster and more of a pulsing rhythm. My breath hitches as pleasure soars through my veins.
Sully stalks toward me, stopping in front of me to take the showerhead, his fingers lingering over mine on the handle. His body is angled so his wounded shoulder isn’t under the spray, but our faces are inches apart.
His gaze roams my face for a moment, and I let him. I drop any barrier I might’ve had up and let him see me. I told him that we could pretend, but there’s nothing make-believe about this or the way I feel about him.
He slides his hand to the back of my neck and into my hair before he seals his mouth to mine. Our tongues wage war on one another, and he taps into that passion he keeps under lock and key. I arch my back, desperate to feel his skin on mine.
He makes love to my mouth in that one kiss.
My head feels light, and my nerves are frayed, standing on the edge of a cliff and waiting to fall over.
He pulls back but keeps his lips hovering over mine as he slides his hand down to cover mine. He guides my hand to the inside of my thighs, tracing an invisible pattern that hits all my pleasure points. Lust clouds my brain, and I let my eyelashes flutter closed.
He stills our hands right next to my pussy, the tips of his fingers just above my clit. “Eyes on me, princess.”
The growl in his voice snaps my eyelids open. He leans forward and presses a slow, hot kiss against my mouth, catching my bottom lip in between his teeth. He tugs softly, and it’s like a straight shot to my clit.
His long, tattooed fingers tease me with light touches just outside where I need him most.
“Please,” I say on a sigh, my eyes barely open as the taunting pleasure swells.
He holds my hand captive underneath his, but he doesn’t torture me for long. He slides his first two fingers along my lower lips, up and down and up and down, framing my clit but never quite touching it. I lose the rhythm somewhere along the way, my hands reaching up to roll my nipples instead.
“Please what, princess?”
My chest heaves with anticipation, the flush spreading across my chest and up my neck. “Please make me come,” I say against his mouth, licking the corner of his top lip.
His mouth curls into a deliciously sinful smirk before he spreads my pussy open with his fingers. He moves the pulsing showerhead directly in front of my clit, and the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt takes over my body.
My back arches and a long low moan is torn from my throat. I can’t keep my eyes open as I pinch my nipples and roll my hips involuntarily.
“That’s it, princess. Can you imagine my cock inside you while you play with your pretty pink pussy in my shower, hmm?” Sully whispers his dirty words right into my ear, biting my earlobe softly.
“Yes,” I murmur with a nod. My clit throbs in time with my heartbeat and my pussy clenches. I feel drunk on lust, and it’s honestly fucking amazing. “Oh, shit. Oh, I’m going to . . .”
He angles the showerhead one more time. The pressure applied to my clit is almost too much, and my legs start shaking. Two seconds later, I fall off the cliff, shattering the entire way down.
My muscles clench, and my mouth falls open as the purest form of pleasure races around my veins like lightning bolts.
Sully moves the showerhead, and I open my eyes slowly, water dropping from my lashes. “That was incredible,” I say on a breath.
His fingertips lightly caress me, sending little ripples of aftershocks through my body. “Aye, it was,” he says against my mouth.
I slide a hand up his arm to rest on his good shoulder, holding him against me. “I’m not done pretending.”
His hands tunnel into the hair at the nape of my neck. “We’re just getting started, princess.”
Excitement lights up inside my veins, and I push onto my tiptoes at the same moment he crushes his mouth to mine in a soul-searing kiss.
I manage to push him out of the shower and into the bathroom, never disconnecting our mouths. The tile floor is cool against my toes, and
even though we’re dripping water everywhere, I don’t stop.
Steam billows into the air, following us into his bedroom. I guide Sully until the back of his legs hit the end of his bed.
My heart thunders inside my ears, beating a rhythm that belongs to this man. Curling my fingers into the waistband of his shorts, I slowly drag them down his hips and over his ass, breaking our kiss.
I sink to my knees, keeping my gaze on his as I slide his shorts down his legs. His eyes turn nearly black with lust, and his kiss-swollen lips part on a deep exhale.
I’m not very experienced with this—most of my previous experience was with him, but I’m so goddamn turned on right now, not even my insecurities can stop me. I let him see the desire radiating from my gaze—if my wet pussy wasn’t enough of an indication.
I drop my gaze to his dick right in front of me and lick my lips in anticipation. “Holy shit . . .” I can feel my eyes widen at the size of him. We messed around when we were younger, but either I misremembered him, or he got bigger.
“Fuck, princess, what are you—”
I wrap my fingers around his dick, cutting off whatever he was going to say. He feels hard and soft at the same time as I stroke him, my fingertips not even close to touching.
“Goddamn.” The word sounds like a groan, and I glance at him as I stroke him, twisting my hand and tightening my grip.
I lean forward and seal my lips around the head of his dick, twirling my tongue around a few times before I take him deeper.
Sully sucks in a breath, releasing it on a low groan as he slowly slides his hand into my hair. His touch is firm but undemanding as I suck his cock without a single inhibition.
I glance at him from underneath my lashes as I lick and suck and stroke his hard cock. Our heated gazes crash together and a ripple of electricity races across the room.
I know he feels it too, because in the next moment, he tightens his grip on my wet hair, twirling it around his hand. The pressure on my scalp has me gasping as I feel myself get wetter.
“Oh fuck . . .” Sully stares at me, flicking his gaze between my eyes and my lips stretched around him. His ocean-blue eyes are dark enough to look black, and I hope he can see the lust pooling in mine as I moan around his cock, flicking my tongue along the underside of his shaft.
That’s as long as he lets me play though. Like a man possessed, he guides my mouth by his grip on my hair and sinks his cock into my mouth once, twice, three times before he pulls me off of him with a pop.
My eyebrows crease as I stare at him, but before I can voice my confusion, he hauls me up and crushes his mouth to mine. Our tongues tangle for dominance as he steps back against the back.
I nudge him to sit down with a hand on his chest. I place a knee on either side of him, hovering over his lap. It’d be so, so easy to just sink down on him, to claim him as mine. But doing that would shatter the illusion of pretend we’re hiding behind.
Sully pulls back, his palm on my cheek and whispers, “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
My heart soars, and my mouth falls open. We’re definitely on the same wavelength.
He slides his palm from my cheek to the hair at the nape of my neck, his gaze bouncing around my face. His voice is low, tortured as he says, “But I don’t forgive you for leaving me, Alaina. And I don’t fucking forgive you for making it look so goddamn easy.”
I curl my fingers around his wrist, holding him to me. “I—”
He closes the gap between our mouths, his eyes bright, and his lips graze mine with each syllable. “Don’t insult me by saying you didn’t.”
I strain, still hovering above him, desperate to feel him and desperate to wade into our past and finally deal with it. My heart aches at the anguish painted on his face.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, James. I—” I bite my lip, shaking my head in two small movements as I remember the events from that night so clearly. “I didn’t leave you. I would have never left you.”
Chapter Sixteen
THEN
Alaina
This past summer with James felt like a dream or the plot of a book or something. But definitely not real life—not my life.
And yet, here I am about to go on another date with my boyfriend. I can barely keep the giddy smile off my face.
I slip my phone out of my skirt pocket and check the time for the seventh time in as many minutes—still nothing from James. I open up the text conversation with him and read over our last messages. Maybe I misunderstood where we were meeting?
James: Can’t wait to see you tonight, princess. 8:00 at O’Malley’s Pub
Maybe he’s just caught in traffic. He did mention that he had something he had to do for his dad this afternoon. Traffic in the city is crazy, but it’s absolutely insane on a Friday night.
Me: Hey! I’m outside O’Malley’s. See you soon!
I lean against the red-colored brick and watch as a group of girls walk around me to get inside the pub. The bouncer checks their IDs and nods them inside. When the door opens, I hear the notes of The Clash’s “Train in Vain” and hum along.
“You gonna stand outside all night, girlie?”
I turn my head to take in the bouncer by the door. With bright-orange hair and a matching beard, ripped jeans, and a faded Dropkick Murphys band tee, he looks every bit the bouncer to an Irish pub.
“I’m just waiting for someone.”
He crosses his arms and nods his head, staring out into the NYC night. “First date, huh?”
I shrug one shoulder. “Not really, no.” I shift off the wall to face him. “We’ve been hanging out for a while. We’re meeting to check out the band tonight.” My cheeks flush at my overshare and I shut my mouth with a click, hooking my thumb over my shoulder toward the pub.
“Big Clash fan, huh?” He nods toward my shirt.
“Yep. I found the London Calling album in my dad’s vinyl collection years ago. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Your dad has good taste. I’m Jack, by the way. I own this place.” He nods toward the building. “And you’re going to love Jimmy and the Jazzes. They’re the best Clash cover band I’ve seen in years. We first discovered them at our open mic night on Fridays. They were good—really good. And they brought a following with them. Eventually, we offered them a solo spotlight once a month.”
There’s something calming about chatting with him. The beard is a little distracting, but I think he’s probably old enough to be my dad. And he doesn’t give me any creepy vibes. “That’s cool. Yeah, I’m excited to check them out once my boyfriend gets here. I’ll have to check out the open mic night too.”
My phone vibrates with an incoming text.
James: I’m sorry. I can’t
My heart thunders in my ears as I stare at my phone. Did I just get stood up? Is he . . . breaking up with me?
My face flushes and sweat breaks out along my neck that has nothing to do with the summer heat.
I knew I shouldn’t have pushed him for labels. I don’t even care about that kind of thing, but the girls convinced me that he would hook up with other girls if I didn’t.
I bite my lip as I second-guess my conversation with him this morning. I had asked him to do the long-distance thing when he went back home to Boston, but his response was a halfhearted shrug. He was distracted by this thing he had to do for his dad, so I assumed that’s why he didn’t answer the way I was expecting—hoping for.
Embarrassment warms my cheeks when I remember that I told him that I had feelings for him this morning too.
Alaina: Is this because of what I said this morning?
I watch the bouncing three dots for a moment before they stop. My heart skips for a second as disappointment so heavy fills me that I feel the telltale tingling in my nose. Shit, I’m going to cry any second now.
Stop being ridiculous, I chastise myself. I don’t know that’s what’s going on. I just went to the worst-case scenario.
I curse my fair skin fo
r the millionth time when I feel the warmth on my cheeks. Taking a deep breath, I look up and blink rapidly. I will my eyes not to let go of the tears.
Maybe something happened during that errand for his dad? What if he got into another fight? Or worse? My stomach drops at the thought of James getting hurt.
Alaina: Is everything okay? Are you hurt?
I bounce my heel as my nerves stretch and strain while I wait for his reply. I give him a minute to reply before I call him. It rings once before it goes to voicemail. I’m about to leave a voicemail when my phone vibrates with an incoming text message.
James: Sorry, I can’t talk right now.
He sent me the standard preset message. What the hell does that even mean? Oh god, he is breaking up with me.
I try to swallow past the lump in my throat.
I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. My mom always told me that boys will only want me for one thing—and now more than ever, I’m so glad that I never slept with him. Telling him I had feelings for him the same day he ditches me is humiliating enough.
I make up a weak excuse to the bouncer and turn on my heel as the second, third, and fourth tears slowly trail down my heated cheeks. I walk to the end of the corner and wait for the light to turn, so I can cross the street.
I can’t believe that I just got stood up. Who even does that? I should’ve known James was too good to be true. With his perfect face and perfect laugh and perfect taste in music, he was definitely too good to be true.
I wipe underneath my eyes, trying to make sure my mascara hasn’t run. I guess it’s a good thing I use the stupid waterproof stuff that Madison made me buy last month. Normally, I’d be worried about someone seeing me like this, but this is New York City on a Friday night in the summer. A crying teenager is probably the most normal thing on the streets right now.
Sully: An Irish Mafia Romance (The Brotherhood Book 3) Page 11
