36. Clara
Chapter 36
Clara
M y cheek aches, my arm stings, but here in Walker’s arms, promising each other forever? I’ve never felt safer.
I lean against his chest, needing to feel his heart against my cheek, the steady beat calming my shaky limbs. “We need to pack. We only have another few minutes of her yelling at my dad before she’ll be back at the door.”
His arms tighten, not letting go. “We can just leave. Is anything here irreplaceable?”
“No, but I want my stuff all the same.”
“Okay. You bring me your things and I’ll pack it up.”
We squeeze all my stuff into my backpack and the paper bag I brought with me just yesterday. I add a box of memories to Walker’s arms, and we’re done. My mom chases us as we hurry out the front. “Clara Grace, we are not done with this discussion. ”
Shoving my stuff into the backseat of Walker’s SUV, I turn to face my mom, my dad hovering in the doorway. “I told you earlier, Mom. I’m done. I’m a grown woman and I won’t be treated like some foolish child, some trophy for you to show off. Not anymore. I’m done living to earn your love. Love isn’t like that, Mom. I shouldn’t have to earn it. It should just be.”
Walker opens my door for me, guarding my exit. And it isn’t smothering. It’s full of care, protection, and something so close to love that my crushed heart thumps in my chest, reminding me that despite everything, it’s still alive.
We pull away from my childhood home, my mother fuming barefoot on the front lawn, and it tastes like the start of forever.
The house is dark and quiet as we step into the warmth, our hands still twined together. The only thing keeping me tethered is Walker’s touch, the press of his hand in mine keeping my panic from spiraling.
I left home.
I’m never going back.
My heart clenches, my breath stalling in my lungs.
Walker notices my panic and pulls me close. “You did the right thing, Clara.”
“But did I? Why didn’t I just apologize?”
“Because you didn’t need to apologize. Your mom did.” He brushes the hair from my face, his palms warm on my ice-cold cheeks. “Only you can keep you safe. And that’s what you did—you removed yourself from a dangerous situation.” He rests his forehead against mine before reaching for my bloody arm. “We should get this cleaned up.”
I nod, letting him lead me upstairs to the guys’ tiny bathroom under the attic stairs. He pulls a crate full of first aid supplies from under the sink, handing me a damp cloth to soak my sweater so we can peel it off without tearing the scabs. I perch on the closed toilet, the warm water stinging where it hits the bloody half-moons left by my mother’s rage.
“So how was your Thanksgiving?” I ask.
Walker chuckles, setting the bottle of hydrogen peroxide next to a pile of cotton pads. “Better than yours, if not by much.”
I swallow, not sure if I should ask. Fuck it. “You said you were happy to get out of there?”
He takes the washcloth from me, carefully teasing the fabric of my dress from my arm. “Yeah, I was. My family? It’s not like yours, but, well, it’s not good.”
“How so?”
He shrugs. “I’m not the son they want. I’ll never be the one they tell their friends about, the one they’ll brag about to my aunties and uncles.”
“But they love you, right?”
He rubs his hands against his pants. “Time to take off that dress so we can see what we’re dealing with, princess.”
I do as he asks, trying to figure out how to pry more from him. We opened the door a crack with our conversation, but I need it flung wide. “So your parents don’t think art’s a good path? ”
He squats in front of me, carefully cleaning my cuts. “They think I’m delusional. But they have three other sons to compare me to, so I don’t know why they need a fourth perfect kid.”
“What makes your brothers so perfect? I like you a heck of a lot.”
He chuckles. “I like you too, princess. I think these will heal better without a bandage, so just be careful not to cover it until the cuts scab over.”
Scooping up my dress from the floor, I run the sleeve under cold water until it runs clear, then pour the hydrogen peroxide over the spot, the bubbles hissing as the chemicals lift out the last of the stain. “Walker? If you don’t want to talk about something, you don’t have to, but I am curious. About you, your life, all the things that make you amazing.”
Having tossed away the bloody cotton pads, Walker slips behind me, his sweater rough against my bare back, his arms tight around my waist. He presses a kiss on my shoulder. “I can think of better things to do than talk about how awesome my brothers are. I mean, one is literally working to find the cure for cancer. No, I think I’d much rather celebrate the fact that I have a super-hot, smart, brave girlfriend. What sort of things do you do to celebrate that, do you think?”
I lean against him, allowing the redirect. “Cake?”
“Hmm. Cake is good, but I can think of something better.” He kisses along my shoulder, dragging the strap of my bra down on his journey.
“Wine. That’s what you’re looking for,” I say, watching him in the mirror, his lids lowering as he lavishes my skin with kisses .
“Nope, not wine.” He unhooks my bra, pulling it off, staring at me in the mirror. I feel weird with the weight of his gaze on me, so I go to turn into his embrace, but he stops me.
“Balloons?” I squeak out.
“Not balloons. Not at all. Princess, don’t you see what I see?” he asks.
I shake my head, avoiding the awkwardness of staring at myself in the mirror. “What do you see?”
He turns me back to my reflection, bare from the waist up, giving me no choice but to look. One hand slides along my side before tracing a line around one breast, spiraling up and tweaking my nipple, pulling a groan from me. “I see a beautiful woman waiting to take her pleasure. I see skin I can’t wait to touch, to lick, to tease until you come unwound in my arms. I see breasts so fucking sensitive, it makes me wonder if I could get you to come just by playing with your nipples. I see lips that are soft as clouds, eyes that take everything in, a brain that spits out creative solutions to whatever problems crop up in your path. I see you, Clara, and you’re magnificent.”
“Walker,” I mumble, snagging his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.
He kisses a line down my spine, pulling off my leggings and panties, helping me step out of them until I’m totally naked in front of the mirror. Then he taps the insides of my knees, so I step wide, and he plants himself between my legs, his dark eyes glancing up at me full of mischief, wedged between the cabinet and me. He presses both of my palms to the edge of the counter. “Hold on, princess.”
He pulls close, his tongue teasing my entrance. Oh my.
I hold tight, my knees already shaky as he coaxes me higher and higher with just his mouth, his hands gripping the back of my thighs, everything so much and not enough at the same time.
My eyes flutter closed, my breath ragged, and Walker pulls away. “Princess, watch yourself. See how pretty you come for me.”
“Please, Walker.”
“A queen takes her pleasure. She demands it. Watch, Clara. Watch yourself shatter and rebuild stronger every time.”
His words sear, and I force myself to watch, my breath shallow as he teases me, stroking the fire inside me, building it into a blaze before he pulls my clit into his mouth, his tongue spiraling around the bud, sending fireworks exploding from my fingertips to my toes.
I force my eyes open as I shudder, my gaze hazy, my body flushed and glistening with a fine layer of sweat. Walker strokes the back of my thighs, watching me watch myself. “Good, princess, good.” His hands stroke up my sides, before sliding back down, and barely recovered from my first orgasm, he presses first one finger, then a second into me, stroking me as his mouth coaxes my body to build again. The flush of my skin darkening, my nipples painful peaks reflected in the mirror, my legs shaking with only one of his arms to support me.
My knuckles are white against the counter when I scream my next release.
Walker stills, his face shiny, a grin creasing his cheek. “Gorgeous.”
“Walker, I don’t think, I don’t know if I can,” I stammer, trying to tell him this is enough, it’s too much, but he presses a third finger into my channel, and I moan.
“Ask for it, Clara. Tell me what you want.” He teases my clit with his tongue, his hand slowly pumping into me. And I’m so goddamn full, the wet slurp of my arousal echoing around the small room, my panting breaths and whimpers adding to the tumult.
“Shit, Walker,” I say, my arms barely keeping me upright in front of the mirror.
He pauses and I whine, needing more of this torture.
“Tell me, Clara. Tell me what you want, what you need.”
I shake my head, words trapped behind years of doing what others expect, of being the good girl who never makes waves.
My body stretches again, and I keen as Walker slides his whole slim artist’s hand into me, stilling as tremors wrack me from head to toe. “Tell me what you want,” he demands.
Panting, I gaze at myself in the mirror, thoroughly undone by the fully clothed man kneeling at my feet. I look like some nymph at a fucking bacchanalian, lost in the woods with only sex and alcohol to keep me going. I look wrung out from too much pleasure. I look like a goddess, a feral beast, a goddamn queen. “Fuck me until I scream, Walker.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
His clothes vanish as I stare at myself, then he’s pressing his palm to my back, forcing me down as he drags my hips toward him. He kisses my shoulder, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “Goddamn. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He slides in, and I’m so fucking wet I don’t even have to adjust for him. Squeezing and tweaking my nipples as he pounds into me from behind, I whimper, overwhelmed. The build is electricity rolling from my fingertips and toes, spiraling in on the point where the two of us are joined.
Walker slams into me, harder and harder, and I meet every thrust, wanting the punishing pace, the pure sensation of being fucked like a dirty goddess. “Shitshitshit,” I groan, so close, so so close.
One circle of my clit has me shattering with a scream, Walker three pumps behind me, both of us collapsing on the counter, his weight heavy on my back. “Holy fucking shit,” I whisper.
Walker’s soft kisses feather across my back. “Ask princess. Just ask, and you’ll get exactly what you need. I’m here.”
He is. At least for now, he’s here.