25. Delia
twenty-five
Delia
The cold air slapped my face as I stormed out of the library, my heart pounding and my fists clenched. Robert’s words echoed in my mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.
“If you want to fool around with him and me at the same time, that’s not happening.”
It was bad enough that he’d had sex with me and asked me to leave before I could even put my clothes on. But he just had to take it a step further and insult me.
I couldn’t believe he had the audacity to accuse me of being with Jeremy. And the worst part? He didn’t have any claim over me. He was in no place to demand loyalty from me.
I’d made it all the way to the parking lot when the anger boiling inside me finally overflowed.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath, spinning on my heel.
Tyler and Jeremy were sitting in the car, the engine idling as they chatted. I could feel that their conversation was about me as their mouths stopped when their eyes landed on me.
I held up my finger to say ‘one minute’ and spun around to walk back inside.
I wasn’t leaving things like this.
I pushed open the doors to the library and spotted Robert as he walked back down the hallway toward the auditorium where we had been eating.
“Robert!” I snapped, my voice sharp and echoing down the hallway.
He turned toward me, his eyes narrowing.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded, stomping up to him. “You think you get to accuse me of being some kind of two-timing liar?”
His jaw tightened. “Delia, this isn’t the time or place. You were right to leave. You should keep going. Go find Jeremy. It’s obvious you two are meant for each other.” His tone was sarcastic, cutting me deep.
“I get to choose who I’m meant for!” I shot back. “You don’t have any claim over me.” I poked my index finger into his broad chest, feeling the tense muscles of his pecs. “You don’t get to be mad if I want to be with someone else. You gave up any stake you had in…” I gestured between us, “… this …when you told me to get out.”
His nostrils flared, and for a moment, I thought he was going to yell back. Instead, he took a step closer, his voice low and dangerous. “I did not tell you to get out. I told you you could stay in my guest room. But that wasn’t enough for you. You just had to push for more.”
I crossed my arms, angry that he was bringing that up as though I’d demanded his bedroom. It was the way he’d done it, and he knew it. “I thought you were so emotionally mature. Isn’t that what you said? But now you’re playing games.”
“I’m not the one playing games,” he said. “You’re the one who can’t seem to figure out what the hell you want.”
I laughed bitterly. “You’ve got some nerve. So if you weren’t kicking me out, why haven’t I heard from you?” I looked around the room as if looking for a carrier pigeon to arrive with a letter from him. “You’ve made no attempt to contact me, Robert. Sure seems like you kicked me out and now you’re done.”
His eyes flashed with something—guilt, maybe, or anger, or both. “How was I supposed to know you felt so strongly about me? You’ve pushed me away at every turn. Hell,” he turned up his head to the sky with a chuckle, “even that night, it was hell to get you to agree to let me drive you. A man could save your life, and you’d still act like he had a vendetta against you!” He pointed at me angrily. “So stop acting like you have some high ground in running when we both know you don’t.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, the truth socking me in the stomach. He was right. It was the absolute truth. He had saved my life. And I still thought it was all part of some plan to hurt me.
Even now, while I berated him, I knew the secret I had. I was afraid of him running? I couldn’t even tell him the truth, that I was pregnant with his child.
“You’re right. You couldn’t have known how strongly I felt about you because I don’t feel strongly about you,” I lied.
The silence between us crackled like static, heavy and charged. His gaze bore into mine, and for a moment, neither of us moved.
Then he reached out, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer.
“Delia—”
I didn’t let him finish. “No, don’t. I’m done.”
His hand was still on my arm, a static shock between us so strong that I was surprised I was still breathing. And then he kissed me.
It wasn’t gentle or sweet or apologetic. It was angry and desperate and electric, and I hated myself for kissing him back.
His hands gripped my waist, and I shoved him against the wall, my frustration and fury pouring out in the way my fingers tangled in his hair, and my teeth grazed his lower lip.
“This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven,” I muttered against his mouth, even as my body betrayed me by pressing closer to him.
“Not asking for forgiveness,” he murmured, his voice rough.
His hands slid down to my hips, pulling me even closer, and I let out a low, frustrated groan.
“This is a terrible idea,” I said, even as I pushed his jacket off his shoulders.
“Probably,” he agreed, his lips moving to my neck.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered that Tyler and Jeremy were waiting in the car. That they could walk in at any moment. But the thought only made the heat between us burn hotter.
Robert’s hands were under my sweater now, his touch igniting a fire in my skin. My nails dug into his shoulders as I kissed him harder, trying to pour every ounce of anger, confusion, and longing into the moment.
“I hate you,” I whispered, even though it was the furthest thing from the truth.
“I know,” he said, his voice low and rough.
He picked me up by my legs so that they wrapped around his waist, and he carried me into a closet, closing the door behind us. Only a thin crack of light showed beneath the door. We had to feel our way through the darkness to each other’s bodies, but it felt easy, second nature. I somehow knew his body like my own.
The world outside the two of us didn’t exist anymore. There was no Jeremy, no Tyler, no guilt or frustration or fear. There was only him—his touch, his breath, his heat—and the way he made me feel like I was coming apart and being put back together all at once.
Robert’s hands cupped my breasts under my sweater, holding the weight of them in his strong and rough hands, and his fingers tweaked at my nipples as he breathed heavily against my lips.
I was slick inside my jeans, rubbing against the inside seam of my zipper as his bulge pushed against my wet spot. I needed him.
I groaned at the feeling of his cock pressed against my neediness, and I bit at his bottom lip, tugging it into my mouth to suck on.
One of his hands traveled out of my sweater and roamed up into my hair, holding onto it tightly. He pulled my head back so that we were looking at each other in the eyes in the darkness.
My eyes had adjusted, and I could just make out his features so close to me. His eyes were serious, looking deep into my soul, and his mouth was set tightly. I could see the muscles in his jaw circulating as he tightened it.
My hair was wrapped around his fingers, and he turned his wrist to wrap it further until his hand was up against my head, cradling it. He growled, “I’m done with these games, Delia. You’re mine, or you’re nothing. I’m not sharing you.”
“I’m not asking you to share,” I breathed, gasping as he tugged on my hair harder.
“Tell me that you’ll be mine, or this has to end,” he demanded, trailing his nose across my jawline gently. I could feel his breath on my neck. I felt like I could feel the stirring of his heart in his chest, the beating growing stronger and faster.
He pushed his hips against mine, and his bulge’s reach deepened, stretched between my legs. I could feel his member twitching in his pants.
I reached out for him, to hold onto his body and pull him into me, but he backed up just out of my reach. “Say it,” he repeated. “Tell me, Delia.” His voice was rising, his anger audible. “I’m not fucking around. I need to know that you’re all in.”
“I’m…” I wanted to say it. I’d mean it if I said it. But I knew the secret that I had brewing, and I was terrified to let him trust me, knowing that I was untrustworthy. But he was in front of me and so sexy, and I knew the real him, and I did want him. I sighed.
“I’m yours,” I said finally. That part could be true.
“Good,” he told me, looking at me curiously with his hands still in my hair. Finally, he eased away just enough to give himself space to unbuckle my pants, pulling the zipper down as he looked in my eyes.
Then I reached out for his pants, my hands trembling as I unbuckled his belt, his eyes still on me like I was a specimen to be studied.
He smirked at my shaking hands and put his over mine, guiding my shaking fingers as I undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He pulled his pants off, kicking out of them and shedding his shirt and sweater together in one go.
His erection sprung from his underwear, and I couldn’t help but gasp when I saw it. I’d missed it. Seeing it again, although in this dim light, reminded me of the way it had felt inside me, and I could feel my pussy drooling for it already.
I sank to my knees, wanting to worship him, and I took it in both hands, admiring the way the skin shined in the minimal lighting, the swollen head in front of me. I stroked his shaft with one hand as my tongue dragged across the ridges underneath his head, the vein that stuck out impressively.
He sighed in contentment and ran his hands down the back of my shoulder blades under my sweater. My skin lit up where he touched me, and my inner thighs trembled at the memory of the way he’d held me open as he licked me clean of all my juices.
Still licking the underside of the head of his penis, I sucked the head into my mouth, sucking the air of my cheeks in. He shuddered against me and held my head, not pushing it down but caressing it.
He braced one hand against the wall of the closet behind me as his body shook, and I took it as an invitation to suck him down my throat further. I swallowed in order to keep my mouth from trying to breathe, forcing myself to breathe through my nose as I took more and more of his penis down my throat.
I did it until I had all of it, until he was touching the back of my throat, until I could hardly breathe, until I felt a sense of panic over it, until my nose was touching his pelvis.
He was groaning, his breathing growing more and more rapid as his cock grew bigger and bigger in my mouth. It grew until it was filling my throat, until I couldn’t tell where my throat ended and his cock began.
My hands planted on his back, and the warmth of his skin was such a lovely shock against the chill of the floor on my knees.
I started to bob my head up and down his shaft, enjoying the way that my saliva gathered at the base of his penis, the way that I lost myself to sucking cock, the way that he gasped in awe of my abilities.
When I finally emerged, releasing my throat of the obstruction, gasping for air, he pulled me up by my arms and shoved me against the wall with my ass out.
He pushed my hands flat against the wall, kissing my neck and groaning as he teased my slit with his wet, spit-covered cockhead.
Excitement moved through my body, making my toes curl and my fingers shake, and then he plunged the entirety of his inches into me.
The rawness of the feeling made me cry out, but I pushed my mouth into my arm, biting my skin to keep myself quiet even as tears gathered at the corners of my eyes at the sheer size of him.
He moved between my cheeks like butter, slick with my spit and my juices, and his hand reached around to tweak my nipples as he fucked me, his size splitting me open while I quietly took it. I arched my back so that he could hit my G-spot, and the angle was so delicious that I shook and cried into my forearm.
He fucked me more furiously as he sensed that my orgasm was approaching, and I moaned and wriggled against him.
We came together, our bodies shaking violently. As he came inside me, he held my hips tightly so that he could move inside me faster and harder, pushing me flatter and flatter against the wall.
I had a flashback to that night, to the night that got me pregnant, the moment that it all changed, his cum coating my walls. I’d felt so good that I’d given myself over to it.
And now I was doing it again.
When it was over though, reality came crashing back like a wave.
We stood there, both of us breathing hard, our clothes disheveled, and our anger replaced by something far more complicated: the truth of who we were and what we wanted from each other.