10. Libby
The lightning and thunder haven”t let up.
I toss in my bed, still unable to find rest. And it”s not all due to the chaos raging outside. I have to admit, my own internal storm feels much more destructive. In the form of messages left unanswered by Michael...well, strangerDanger23... but it”s Michael.
He can”t possibly know it”s me on the other side of the screen. Unless Kesley”s little slip up somehow clued him in.
Pulling the pillow over my face, I try to find sleep, but it continues to elude me. Instead, memories of us as teenagers play out like a movie in my head. One moment in particular from a summer evening when I was eighteen stands out.
”Why are you crying, Libby?”
”I”m not. I”m fine. Just go away, Michael.”
”No, you”re not. Did Jonah do something to you? Did he hurt you?”
Not me. He didn”t hurt me.
”Go away.”
”I”m going to go talk to him.” I pull him by the arm to face me.
”Michael, listen to me. You and I can”t be friends, okay? I”m no good for you. And I can”t be with Jonah. So just...just pretend I don”t exist, okay?”
”I can”t do that, Libby.”
”Just promise me you”ll stay away.”
”No.”
”Then, I will.”
The thunder outside makes me sit up straight from my bed, and I”ve already decided I”m not getting any sleep tonight. Even in this house, surrounded by people I care about... I feel so alone.
I throw the covers off me and decide to grab a drink of water. My phone”s batteries are dead. Maybe I can find a charger somewhere in the house. Maybe Michael responded to my messages after all, and I just haven”t been able to see them.
I find my rain boots and tug them on. I can always grab the charger from my car.
Tiptoeing down the hall past rooms of snoring hockey players, I try my best not to make any noise as I make my way down the stairs, only turning on the kitchen light once I”ve made sure nobody else was sleeping nearby.
I open and close drawers and inspect wall outlets trying to find a charger somewhere. When I”ve exhausted all possibilities, I decide to brace myself for a run into the rainy night.
I find an umbrella and hesitate at the open front door for a minute before I make a run for it.
The lights on my corvette blink twice as I unlock it. The wind is so strong that it”s making the rain hit sideways, rendering my umbrella totally useless.
Even more so, when a gust snaps it out of my hand and sends it flying into the street.
Well, shit. Guess I owe Landry a new umbrella. I quickly rip my charger from it”s place in my center console and slam the door shut, beelining to the open front door.
Once inside again I shut the door and lean against it. I”m soaked from head to toe and shivering.
”Are you insane?” Michael”s voice calls from the darkness.
I look around, unable to see where his voice is coming from. But in a moment, he”s in front of me with a towel and wrapping me up in it.
”W-what are you doing up?”
”Light sleeper,” he says, pulling me up from the ground. ”What are you doing running in the rain, Lib?”
I pull my charger up from under the towel. ”M-my p-hone died.”
”You”re shivering,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down the side of my arms to create friction.
”I”m f-fine.”
”No, you”re not. Come on, I have some spare clothes you can use.” He tugs me by the towel and leads me to the laundry room just down the hall.
Once inside, he picks me up by my waist and hoists me onto the dryer. Reaching behind him, he sifts through a basket of what looks like his clothes and produces a t-shirt and shorts. The t-shirt has the number twenty-three displayed prominently on the front.
”Take your shirt off,” he demands.
”W-what?”
He takes the towel from me and holds it up like a curtain to block the view. I do as he says and rip the camisole off. I”m not wearing a bra underneath but it”s better than a wet top. He tosses me the dry t-shirt and I slip it on. So much better.
My pajama pants are also soaked. I reach down and pull them past my ankles. Still holding the towel up, Michael watches as they plop down to the ground, followed by my panties.
He swallows hard but doesn”t drop the towel.
”C-can I use the towel to dry off?” I ask him.
He clears his throat. ”Yes, sorry. Here.” He gingerly lowers it onto my lap, but doesn”t move his hands. Instead, he dries me off himself.
I nearly gasp at the feel of his hands over the towel. My body aches with the need of his touch. And I can feel my heart rate picking up as he moves the towel lower and lower down my legs until...
His eyes meet mine. Without exchanging any words, we make a silent oath.
He drops the towel and steps in between my legs, his hands coming up to the back of my head and drawing me toward him.
He hesitates a moment, his gaze dropping down to my lips and back to my eyes. I nod and he kisses me again. This time it”s frantic and needy. And I respond to it, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him to me.
”Libby,” he whispers between kisses.
”Don”t,” I warn. ”One night. Let”s just give this one night. And we can go back to...whatever we are.”
I swear anger pulses through his look. ”One night?” he says. ”You really think we can do that?”
”Yes,” I gasp out as he runs his tongue down my neck.
”You think one night would be enough for me to get my fill of you?”
My eyes widen and I pull back to get a good look at him.
”You”re insane if you think one night would be enough,” he says.
He kisses me again. ”I”m going to make you come so hard. I”ll have you begging for more.”
My core clenches, and I can”t believe the words coming from him.
He pushes me up away from him on the dryer and spreads my legs wide. I think my heart is beating in my vagina. It has to be. Or am I just that turned on right now?
He”s staring down at me with vicious blue eyes before he bends down and picks up my wet clothes. He opens the dryer door and throws them in. Then reaches behind me and turns the dryer on, making it whir to life underneath me.
”What are you—“
”It”d be a little suspicious if our friends saw you wearing my t-shirt in the morning, wouldn”t it?” He cocks his head to the side.
”Oh.”
Now he puts his hands on either leg and holds me open. Bending to kiss me just above my knee as he works his way up my thigh.
”Libby,” he whispers against my skin, his lips trailing higher and higher up.
”Yeah?” I breathe out.
”Tell me what you want me to do.”
Oh my god. Those words. The feel of the dryer vibrating under my naked skin. His touch on me.
”I want to feel your mouth on me,” I answer.
He smiles, and I feel his lips stretch on my skin as he does. ”Where, Libby? Be specific.”
He wants me to spell it out for him? ”On my... my... ”
”Pussy?” He finishes for me.
”Yes,” I gasp out.
”Mmmm. I”ve been dying to taste your sweet pussy, Libby,” his voice is raspy.
I moan as he continues to kiss my thigh. His lips are now right at my core as he pauses over my birthmark. ”But I need to hear you say it.”
He looks up at me, splayed open for him. ”I want you to eat my pussy, Michael.”
I say it with as much force as I can gather. He smiles wickedly.
“It would be my pleasure, butterfly.”
My world crashes. He does know it was me. But before I can say anything about it he’s swiping his tongue against my skin, holding my legs open wide for him. And he hums his appreciation as he does it again and again.
I”m going to lose it. There”s no way I”ll be able to last long like this. But he doesn”t stop. He continues to lap me up like I”m a dessert.
”Oh my god,” I gasp out, throwing my head back. The sensations are overwhelming.
Michael stops suddenly.
”What are you doing?” I whisper.
He looks back at the open door and kicks it closed before going back to my center. Almost instantly I”m riding a wave a pleasure brought on by his tongue and I can”t help but cry out.
”Atta girl,” he rasps, drinking in my pleasure. ”You come so beautifully, Libby.”
He steps back still holding my legs open and watches me as I continue to feel the pulsing sensations of my orgasm.
”So beautiful,” he breathes out. His eyes finally meet mine once the aftershocks have subsided.
”I... I don”t know what to say,” I admit, my hands covering my eyes.
He finally pulls back. ”You should go get some rest. Wouldn”t want you to look haggard for your photoshoot.” He repeats the words I told him earlier in the night.
“Michael,” I say, gulping. “We should talk.”
”Goodnight, Libby.” He turns and goes out the door, leaving me sated and still half naked on top of the dryer.
What the hell just happened?