What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7)

by Lexi Buchanan

  “Yeah, yeah. I love your hokey ass, too,” Cookie replies, and then proceeds to wink at me. “Have a great time.”

  The entrance is dark, with the promise of bright lights peeking between the cracks in the wall ahead.

  “Thanks for saving me,” I say, relieved I avoided a run-in with Dylan.

  Blue shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Dylan was just outside, then you grabbed my hand, and we ran into here.”

  “I didn’t save you from anyone. I didn’t even know he was out there, and it’s not like you need to be saved from him anyway.”

  I’m sure he was there, though it’s possible I was hallucinating. I’m not exactly an expert on drug use. And who does drugs without researching anyway? Stupid people do. I did. Then the second thing Blue said resonates with me. It’s true. I don’t need to be saved from Dylan. That’s ridiculous.

  My thoughts bleed into each other, so I shut it all off. My focus scatters as we press further toward the end of the hallway, toward the lights. Blue pushes a floor-to-ceiling black curtain out of the way, revealing a large room lined with mirrors on all sides. This is not the carnival attraction I remember from my childhood. Another curtain hangs on the opposite side of the room. Neon lights flash across the space, reflecting endlessly from mirror to mirror to mirror.

  It’s beautiful and it’s blinding. My head grows heavy. My entire body sinks into the depths of the floor. I catch Blue in the corner of my eye. His head droops and I think he’s feeling the same way. We quickly make our way to the other end of the room, push the curtain aside, and step into the maze of mirrors. The intoxicating blue, green, and red colors bleed against the mirrors ahead of us, and as the curtain falls back into its resting place, they disappear.

  It’s much darker in the maze, lit only with black lights that are embedded in the ceiling. My chest tightens as I take a breath. My head bobbles weightlessly from side to side and I press a palm against a mirror to steady myself. Behind me, I notice Blue’s wide-eyed gaze rested upon me.

  “You good?” his reflection asks.

  I nod, paying close attention to the girl in the mirror. Her smile’s never been more infectious.

  “And how do you feel?”

  “Feel?” I question, searching for the right word. I feel something between ecstasy and anxiety, or a potent combination of both. “Free. I feel free.” I’m a million miles away from my body, unable to control it. My fingers trace a path along the mirror, the sensation of the glass electrifying me. The desire to touch and be touched blurs into a need.

  I turn and rest my back against the mirror. His eyes catch mine. “It’s hot in here.”

  His hands fall to my cheeks, sending shots of ecstasy through me. When he moves in to kiss me, I expect it on the lips and not the neck. His lips run across the second most sensitive part of my body. His tongue taunts me further, running from the base of my neck all the way to my ear. His tongue circles my ear before nibbling.

  I claw into his back, clenching his shirt and pulling it tight. When I close my eyes, everything intensifies. Another nibble against my skin and I might explode. With every moan that escapes my lips, I grow more thankful that nobody can hear or see us. His breath burns hot against my flesh as sweat begins to trickle down my face.

  He gently nibbles my ear once more, and then pulls back, his own face covered in a thin veneer of sweat. One hand still holds me by the cheek, his eyes focused intently on me. “Too damn hot,” he breathes frantically.

  I simply nod.

  In a fury, his hands grab the hem of his shirt and he rips it over his head. This is going to be a night not easily forgotten. His glistening chest shines like a mirror of its own. The way the lights paint his bare skin blinds me. I grab him, pulling him close, and I press my lips against his, tasting every atom of his grape-flavored gum.

  My fingers trace across his damp back and he pushes into me. His lips are off my own and back at my neck, this time with urgency. A trail of slickness is left behind and is being warmed by every strong breath.

  I can feel the thickness in his jeans with every push against me. I dig into the back of his denim and discover he’s not wearing anything under them as I collect a mound of ass in my hand. Firm and smooth. It’s my favorite part of his tremendous body.

  He lifts my shirt as he bends to his knees, kissing every inch of my stomach on the way down. The button on my shorts popping open seems to echo in the tight space. I feel my shorts, and then my panties fall down the length of my legs.

  He holds me by the hips as he plants kisses across my thighs, ending with a soft lap against my mound. I press my palms against his shoulders to steady myself. One look in the mirror behind us, and it’s a sight so perfect that I know there’s no turning back. The top of his ass peeks above loose jeans while he’s on bended knee.

  He stands up and brings one hand against me, and the other across my shoulder, holding himself firm against the mirror. “Do you get it now?”

  “Get what?”

  “Why I do it. Why I take this drug?” He drags his palm against my opening, and I can’t even respond. “I can’t quit it, just like I don’t think I’ll ever be able to quit you.”

  I moan, unable to do much else.

  “You’ve made me wait,” he says with a rough smile. “And I’ve been patient, but I need to hear two words before we begin.”

  “Free me, Blue.”

  His tongue rolls across his lips. “I was thinking fuck me, but that’ll work.”

  I’m not used to this—these words coming out of his mouth. He can go from one extreme to the next, from cute and gentle all the way to this. But this—

  A finger pushes into me and I swear I can feel his heartbeat pulsing through it.

  “Blue,” I moan.

  “This isn’t gonna be like last time.” He pulls back, unbuckling his jeans. He steps out of them as they form a puddle on the floor. “You asked me to take you to the edge.” He lifts me up, pulling my legs around him so that I sit between his hips and the mirror. His hardness pushes against me, promising an unforgettable journey. “Are you ready?”

  I hesitate, not because I don’t have an answer, but because speaking is a chore when my entire body is being held hostage. “I’m ready,” I whimper.

  A slow, wanting smile begins on one side of his face, hitching all the way across. Then he pushes himself slowly into me, and my legs pull tight around him. He’s gentle, but I know it won’t last. The careful thrusts will soon turn into something else—something stronger, more intense.

  Every time he pulls back, I’m terrified he’ll leave, that this will all end. Only dreams are this perfect. I pull against his neck, already feeling the impossible. There’s a surge rising in me, and I’m begging him to fuck me faster, harder, but slow he goes.

  Across the way, I can see what I’d call the porn-view. His ass pulls tight with every thrust, my mouth held agape. More than feeling it, I can see it, as my innards are turned inside out. I come against his pulsing flesh, tightening around him.

  “Shit,” he breathes, his fingers digging into my side and my ass. I lean my head back, throwing it against the glass as he continues to fuck me raw. Every time I think he’s close to the finish line, he repositions, each time driving further, deeper into me.

  Since the night we met, I’ve been resisting this explosion, afraid it would turn our relationship into something temporary. I was wrong. There’s no point in denying the fire any longer. We’re part of the same flame, burning bright and hot, fueled by the same desire. The connection is strong, more than the sum of parts touching and thrusting. I’m complete with him, even as he tears my body into a million seizing pieces.

  The mirror behind me warms, the sweat of my body painting a slippery coat against it. With every thrust, every push of his thighs, I slide further up the glass. In the vacant moments, I’m able to open my eyes. I see the ridges of his back fold and crease, his muscular ass pulling taut w
ith every shift of his hardness.

  His cock drives into me again and again. Scars begin to form under the pressure of my firm grip. I hold onto him tight, not because I fear I could fall, but because if I don’t, I could be fucked out of this world and into the next.

  That time in the grass, he was holding back. There’s no other explanation as a second orgasm begins to rise from the bottom of my being, ascending all the way to the edges of my mind. Coursing and pulsing through every miniscule vein, taking its time while circling my heart, then finally wrapping firm around my soul until I’m unable to breathe any longer.

  My entire body aches, screaming as I break. A weak cry stifles in my throat and I catch his eyes rested on my own. He sees me through my own pleasure, not breaking focus even as he begins to speed up.

  His fingers dig into the curves of my ass, holding me in place as he empties himself inside me. His swollen lips vibrate as he gives himself to me completely. I brush a hand through his slick hair, cradling his head so that it doesn’t fall back. I watch as the revelation sinks into his eyes. I wanted to go to the edge with him, but we went further than I ever dreamed. There’s completeness in the space between us, filled with nothing but the aftershocks of ecstasy.

  The tension in his arms break, the impossibly strong grip he had on me becomes lax, and I slide off his thighs and onto my own two feet. It’s as if I’m learning how to ride a bike again—it’s a chore to stand on my own after being carried into another world.

  I’ve been freed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  We tumble out the backdoor of the attraction. I laugh through the cotton of my shirt as I pull it over my chest. Behind me, I hear Blue fumbling to click his belt buckle together. With my shirt back on, I spin toward him. My shoe slips against the mud and I begin to fall, but my clumsiness is no match for his speed. He steadies me as I chuckle at the physical comedy of it all.

  I’m lost in him. Lost in the way he smirks at me with that smile handcrafted by God himself. Lost in those blue eyes that shine like the Milky Way, the neon reflections of the carnival like stars on a clear night.

  I mean to speak, but nothing comes out. It’s like I want to say something, but the part of my brain that controls my mouth is defending me from myself. If I said a word, I’d ruin this beautiful moment. The galaxy wants this. I want this. There is nothing in the world that could ruin this moment. The moment that I know, with every fiber within me, that I lo—

  “That’s great.”

  I hear things now. Blue’s lips don’t move, but I hear him speak. He’s reading my mind. Or I’m reading his. I should probably sit down.

  “Really great.”

  From behind me? I turn around and everything breaks. The big fucking bang.

  “How long have you been standing there?” I say to Dylan, whose head shakes sideways, disdain pouring out of his soul.

  “Long enough.”

  I brush Blue’s arms off me and step toward him. “Dylan…”

  “You know what, Charlie? How about we don’t?”

  I shake my head. “Don’t what?”

  “Talk about this,” he says, “or about anything ever again.”

  His eyes emote more than his words. He’s not crying. I don’t think he could if he tried. Some people are just built strong like that. Or they suffer some disorder where their tear ducts are permanently dry. That’s the kind of guy Dylan is, but his eyes are washed in a whirlpool of emotions, and I’ve never seen him this way before. Not the day I broke up with him and not the day that I stood by his side as we buried his father.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to comfort him, but that seems to be a chore, and I think that’s my fault. Or the Molly’s.

  “Don’t!” he barks at me, his voice one decibel away from breaking. He swats his hand at the air, a gesture I’ve seen before. He’s about to take off. And that’s what he does—he turns and hurries from the scene. I ball my hand into a fist, but not out of anger. It’s a feeling I can’t comprehend. My eyes get heavy and the rain begins to build.

  Blue rests his hand on my shoulder, giving me a moment of comfort before I rush away from him and toward Dylan. I’m sluggish as I approach him, the weight of my body fighting against the weight of the world. I’m spinning, but this isn’t a carnival ride I can enjoy. Hearts are breaking all around me like thunder, and for the first time, I’m already regretting the Molly. I can’t help but feel I’d be better suited to handle this situation if my mind were clear. Never mind the probability that I wouldn’t even be in this situation in the first place.

  I catch up with Dylan and reach out for him, but he swats my hand away as he spins to face me.

  “Didn’t I tell you we’re not doing this?”

  “I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”

  “Guess what?” he says, and waves his hands at me. “You don’t get to tell me when I’m angry.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing,” I say as I finally catch my breath. “I didn’t want you to see any of that.”

  “I’m an adult. I think I can handle that.”

  “Then what are you so angry for?” I ask softly. My gut knows the answer but something inside needs confirmation.

  “Because it’s you, Charlie. The only girl I’ve ever been with—the only girl I’ve ever loved.” He’s calmer now. His voice comes down to a level that can just barely be heard above the pumping hydraulics of the tea cups behind us.

  It’s the second time in as many minutes that I’ve wanted to speak, but I can’t force the words to come out. I can feel the frustration in his voice. He’s waiting for me to respond. I want to give him the one thing he needs, which, like me, is confirmation.

  “I. Loved. You.” He places emphasis on the beginning of each word. “And you loved me.”

  “I did.”

  “And now you’re stumbling out of a carnival attraction, putting your clothes back on after getting fucked inside?” He looks me up and down, sizing me up, but resting on my eyes. “You look like you’re on drugs, coke or Molly, and I’m not sure which it is because I obviously don’t know you anymore.”

  “Maybe you don’t,” I say, deadpan. It’s a revelation that’s the same for the both of us. “Things change. I’ve changed.”

  “Don’t I know it.” He’s still shaking his head, and underneath all these layers of mixed emotions, it’s starting to grate me.

  “This isn’t about me, is it?” I ask him pointedly. “This is about Blue, right?”

  “It’s about both of you. What does he have on you?”

  “I think I love him. That’s what he has on me.”

  He huffs. “Well, you said you loved me, too, so I guess that doesn’t mean a lot.”

  I feel my tongue roll across my lip. “You have to let me go, Dylan.” There’s a quiet desperation in my voice, as if I need that more than he does. If he lets me go, then I have nothing else holding me back. Nothing left to leave me so torn.

  “I have. Just now. In this moment, I am letting you go.”

  It sounds like confirmation, but it actually just makes it sting even worse.

  “Why don’t you go back inside and do another line,” he says, dismissing me.

  “That’s not fair.”

  “That’s great, Charlie. Really. Do you need to be reminded why we’re not together?”

  Coming from my side, I hear two kids laughing. I remember those days. The two kids cut between Dylan and me, chasing each other with inflated plastic swords. I’m hoping they cut this conversation short because I already know where it’s going.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, you left me.” He begins to close the distance between us. He’s about eight feet away, and I’m beginning to understand claustrophobia. “You said you couldn’t do the long distance thing. That you were going to college, and I didn’t fit into your perfect little plan.”

  Everything he says is true.

  “When did you know you weren’t actually going? Was it after you hooked up wit
h him?”

  “No,” I say. “Of course not.”

  “As much as I love you, I was willing to let it go. Willing to let you go and do whatever it was that you needed to do, hoping that someday you would come back to me. But it’s become apparent that I’ve lost you.”

  “You don’t have to lose me,” I say tenderly, and then like drums beating, preparing for war, I continue, “but you can’t have me.”

  The world goes silent.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, then rolls them into his eyes, wiping away the tears that I’ve just noticed are actually there. I will forever be the first person to ever make Dylan Parker cry. The punch against my stomach is intolerable.

  “Fine,” he says, defeated.

  “I’m sorry,” I say under my breath. It’s so quiet that I know he can’t hear it.

  “Go back to your carnie.” He waves me off with his hand. “He’s waiting for you.”

  He walks away, probably for good. And I’ve never bled as badly than I am in this moment, watching someone I truly care about walking out of my life against the neon-lit background of a carnival painted against an impossibly black sky.

  This is what it feels like to lose innocence.

  Blue’s breath against my skin startles me. I have no idea how long he’s been standing there. He’s fully dressed now and I’m a blank-faced, emotional mess, yet somehow I still manage to notice the way his shirt sticks to his sweaty chest, outlining every muscle in his upper body. Must be the Molly.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah…” I trail off. “Let’s go somewhere.”

  His eyes light up. “I know just the place.”

  We’re lying in the grass beside Blue’s Jeep. We’re just on this side of the chain-link fence that separates the field from the carnival. Above us, the Ferris wheel cycles perilously close to the fence. A strong wind could topple the six-shot revolver of death onto us. But I’m growing fond of living life on the edge, and it doesn’t even feel dangerous anymore.

  In slow motion, faded neon colors brush against the cool skin of Blue’s face. He’s different in this light, and I’m seeing things in him that I’ve never seen before. Just underneath his beautiful blue eyes, under the right one, is what appears to be a scar hidden by lapses of time. There’s a story there and there’s nothing I want more than to know what it is.