Fourteen
Fourteen
We ride in a car with two of Thomas’s friends. I don’t know their names, nor do I pay attention to the road. My head is foggy, as if the life I am living is no longer my own. Like I’m trapped in a nightmare and cannot wake up. The only thing that makes me feel like a living person right now is Thomas sitting on the seat beside me and the burning heat emanating from his hand, which rests on top of my bare thigh. I force myself out of my stupor long enough to text Tiffany, telling her that I left and not to worry. When I see that Travis is spamming me with phone calls and texts, I turn off my phone and put it in my purse.
We get out of the car, and Thomas takes me by the hand as if it is the most natural thing in the world. He probably holds so many girls’ hands that he doesn’t even notice it anymore.
The frat house is packed. Through the open windows of the second floor, you can see rooms filled with people drinking, making a ruckus and generally wilding out, swapping spit as they grope and grind on one another.
In the garden, kids are doing keg stands and playing beer pong, and I get a strong whiff of weed when I inhale. The electronic music is booming loud enough to make my chest tremble. This, ladies and gentlemen, is a classic Matthew Ford frat party.
“Don’t get too comfortable with these people. Most of them are so stoned they wouldn’t even recognize their own mothers,” Thomas warns me.
I nod distractedly. I make to advance toward the front door, but Thomas draws me against his body and encircles my waist with an arm, all without letting go of my hand. In an instant I find myself pressed to his chest, and my heart beats uncontrollably. I am so close that I can smell the intoxicating mixture of vetiver and cigarette smoke that he exudes. I lift my head to observe him and, with his gaze fixed on me, I linger on his parted lips.
“Most importantly: don’t take drinks from anyone. You never know what they put in it,” he whispers a few inches from my mouth.
I blink dazedly and try to recover from the state of bliss into which I had so eagerly sunk. “Reassuring,” I reply uncertainly.
When Thomas releases my hand, I take the opportunity to step back, to put some space between us and clear my head. “You can’t trust anything in there. And you, dressed like that, you’re…” He examines me slowly, biting his lip. “Easy prey.” His eyes linger a bit more than necessary on my cleavage.
“No, go ahead. This isn’t embarrassing at all,” I hiss.
“You’re breathtaking tonight,” he pronounces hoarsely.
I could say the same thing to him. He’s never been so sensual. Lascivious gaze. Full lips. His imposing size. Big, strong, masculine hands that part of me wishes I could feel on my body, on places he has never seen…
I am shocked by my own thoughts. Less than an hour ago, I was crying over the end of a love story that, at one time, I had believed would last forever. And now I find myself thinking about Thomas’s hands on me. I must be going crazy.
Thomas takes me by the hand, pulling me out of my thoughts, and leads me inside. We are immediately greeted by a small group of his friends that I think I’ve seen on campus. He greets them with high fives and shoulder bumps.
“Collins, finally you’re here! We’ve been waiting for you!” exclaims a boy with reddish hair.
“Did you start without me, you assholes?”
“The girls refused. You know they won’t do it without you.”
I stiffen, puzzled, and Thomas notices. He looks at me apprehensively before getting distracted by his friend.
“What are you trying to do, not introducing us to this piece?”
Instinctively, I loosen my grip on his hand and take a step away from him, tense and intimidated. Maybe it was a mistake to come here after all.
“Perez, I know you’re a smart guy, so listen carefully,” Thomas says, resting a heavy hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “This piece is off-limits. And she’s gonna stay off-limits, understood?” The boy, after a moment of bewilderment, nods. “Put the word out, I don’t wanna have to get mad at anyone,” Thomas concludes, dismissing him with a friendly pat. When Perez walks away, Thomas looks at me and reassures me with a barely there smile. I’m about to thank him, but I don’t have time, because some boys—I recognize Finn’s face among them—jump him from behind and drag him away with them. In an instant, I find myself alone on the threshold of this madhouse.
Perfect. Great move, Vanessa.
Hesitant, I look around and study my surroundings. Maybe I’ll be able to find some hidden corner to hole up in here too. This is not my first time at the frat. During the last academic year I spent an evening or two here, but I was always with Travis then, and I felt safe.
Now, however, I am a fish out of water. As I walk along, dodging plastic cups spilled here and there, I run into Matt. He looks oddly sober.
“Nessy, is that you?” He looks me up and down, and I don’t miss the appreciation that shines in his smile.
“Hi, Matt,” I greet him tonelessly. “It’s me, in the flesh.”
“But what are you doing here? Weren’t you at Carol’s? With Travis?”
“Yeah, we were there,” I reply wearily, massaging a temple.
Matt peers at me suspiciously. “Are you all right?”
An unhappy laugh escapes me. “Look, let’s cut to the chase here. You knew?” I ask straight-out, crossing my arms.
He doesn’t seem to understand. “What are you talking about?”
“About Travis, about his affairs. And about Leila.”
Matt stiffens. He parts his lips and lowers his head. Guilty.
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me? You knew how he treated me and you didn’t say anything…” The words die in my mouth in the face of his regretful expression.
“When I found out, we fought. A lot. I made him promise he’d stop it. And he swore to me that he would. He was remorseful, he seemed determined to repair the relationship between you two. He begged me not to say anything. And I didn’t want to get in the middle. I thought I was doing the right thing,” he explains to me bitterly.
“I had a right to know. And then…Leila,” I say disgustedly. “How can you be friends with a person who is capable of something like that?” My eyes water painfully.
“We have been close since we were kids. What he did was wrong, but he’s still my friend.”
I shake my head, nauseated. This story is horrifying.
“What would you have done if it had been Alex instead of Travis?” he asks in the face of my silence.
“Don’t do that, Matt, don’t try to put Alex on that level,” I admonish him.
“Would you have turned your back on him?”
Yes! I think… I certainly wouldn’t have hidden everything from his girlfriend. Possibly.
“I expected a little more integrity from you. That’s all.” I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying.
“I was stuck in a shitty situation. Whichever side I took, I was going to end up hurting someone. I hoped it would end there.”
“Oh, it’s ended,” I spit bitterly.
He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, believe me.”
“It would have ended anyway,” I suddenly confess, realizing it is the truth. Still hurts, though.
He lays a hand on my arm and smiles sincerely. “I am your friend too. I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
He stuffs his hands into his pockets and glances around. “You here with someone?” he asks calmly.
“Um, yes.” I look around too. “But he’s gone now, and I’m regretting not being at home under the covers.”
“No regrets. You’re here now, so let’s have some fun.” He gestures for me to follow him into the garden. Apparently, according to Matt, there’s no better cure for a broken heart than beer pong. I quickly realize however, that challenging a basketball player to this game is not the smartest choice in the world. So before I end the evening behind some bushes throwing up gallons of beer, I decide to wave a white flag. I leave Matt to play with the others and go back into the house, which is now enveloped by a cloud of smoke. A group of shirtless girls and boys catches my attention.
They are sitting on the floor around a small wooden table. I approach, intrigued. They are playing strip poker. Among the half-naked bodies, Thomas’s powerful physique stands out, covered in tattoos. There is one in particular, one I’ve never seen before, that strikes me—so much so that I get lost examining it. It depicts a child kneeling, surrounded by two huge wings that cover his entire back, while clutching a black anatomical heart in his hands. It’s tragic but fascinating at the same time.
Next to Thomas, in tight jeans and a lacy bra, is Shana, with her red hair loose down her back and a joint between her fingers. So this is what you had to do so urgently, eh, Thomas?
When Shana notices my presence, her face twists into a contemptuous grimace. Wasting no time, she pounces on Thomas’s lips. He reciprocates as if compelled by inertia but pulls away annoyed after a few seconds.
“Oh, now this is a surprise. Forgot how to get home, little gutter rat?” the redhead chirps bitterly, favoring me with a disdainful look.
I shoot Thomas a quick glance, hoping he will intervene. After all, he was the one who brought me here. But he ignores me completely and confines himself to sipping from a glass containing some unknown clear liquid. I shake my head in resignation; I should have known.
“Yeah, you figured it out: you’re not welcome here. Why don’t you go hang out with that bunch of losers from student choir? I’m sure you’ll have a lot to talk about.” She dismisses me with a wave of her hand. Fuming, I am ready to do an about-face.
“Don’t listen to her,” exclaims a boy with dark eyes, sitting next to Shana. “Why don’t you join us, little girl?” he asks with a mischievous grin.
And risk finding myself in nothing but my underwear? No, thank you.
I am about to refuse, but Thomas, with a cigarette between his lips and a deck of cards fanned out his hands, gives the other boy a fiery glare. “Forget I said anything,” the boy adds hastily.
“Figures, she wouldn’t even undress in front of her boyfriend,” Shana snickers with a sneer. “Actually, why don’t you go find him? I wouldn’t let him out of your sight if I were you, you never know what he might do, or who,” she chuckles wickedly.
“Travis isn’t my boyfriend anymore.” At these words, Thomas stops shuffling the cards for a brief moment and, although he doesn’t look at me, I can tell he’s listening.
Shana clicks her tongue theatrically. “He dumped you for that freshman? Or for the junior? No, wait! Maybe he just opened his eyes and realized that literally any other girl would be better than you, right?” she says disdainfully, drawing the attention of everyone present. When she hears them laughing, Shana looks at me with a triumphant air.
I feel tears welling up and shame flooding me. I wish I was strong enough to put her in her place the way she deserves, but right now I’m too hurt to do it.
“You really should learn to shut your fucking mouth. And not just when a man does it for you.” It is Thomas who speaks up for me, with a severe expression that darkens his face, silencing everyone.
And I shouldn’t, but part of me delights in seeing her humiliated. Just as she humiliated me. So I pluck up my courage and reply, head held high, “Quite the opposite, actually. Travis Baker getting dumped by the most boring girl at Oregon State? Ridiculous, isn’t it?”
Bolstered by my own words, I am overwhelmed by an uncontrollable need to show this little princess that I do not intend to be crushed by her or her underhanded tricks. I will not go hide in a corner. Not anymore.
“Is that invitation still open?” I cheekily ask the boy with the dark eyes. He doesn’t answer me but looks at Thomas as if waiting for his approval. “Yes?” I prompt, resisting the idea of someone else making my choices for me. “I’m ready!”
A mocking smile spreads over the redhead’s face, and I am almost certain that I can see a hint of fear behind her mask and…insecurity?
Thomas turns sharply in my direction. “This kind of thing isn’t for you.”
“Let me decide that,” I reply, annoyed. I sit down and get on with it.
I have no idea how, but I soon find myself in just my bra and panties, surrounded by excited boys. Not to be outdone, I raise my plastic cup in the air with each defeat, joining in the boisterous shouts before letting the liquor slide down my throat. The boys toast me and drink along with me. The attention everyone suddenly seems to be giving me has made Shana jealous. Despite all her efforts to cling to Thomas, she eventually leaves, forced to admit defeat.
The eyes of the most handsome and domineering tattooed man I have ever seen are aimed only at me, glaring at me, ferocious and enraged. Or perhaps worried. I am certain I saw him slay a boy with his gaze after the guy tried to reach for me.
After an hour and four drinks, my vision is blurry, my hearing is muddled, and my body feels like it is on fire. People move in slow motion; I need some air.
As soon as I stand up, the room starts spinning and doesn’t stop until two large arms hold me up. It takes me a few seconds to realize that it is Thomas, who picks me up as though I were a child.
“What are you doooooing? Put me doooown,” I protest, wriggling.
“Cut it out, you’re completely wasted,” he snaps. The worried tone in his voice makes me smile. Or at least I think so, it’s not like I have a lot of control over my facial expressions at the moment.
“Am I laughing?” I slur with a numbed mouth.
“What?” he asks confused.
“I wanted to know if I was laughing, I wanted to… I wanted to laugh again.”
Four green eyes glare at me and two Thomases are climbing the stairs.
“Yes,” he mutters. “You’re laughing or something like it.”
“I’m seeing two versions of you and I really hope that at least one of you turns out to be less irritating, otherwise, I’ll be forced to kick both of you…” I laugh for no real reason, and with my index finger, I draw a line that starts at his lip and ends on the lotus flower tattooed on his neck. His mouth is soft, and slight stubble covers his square jaw. The skin of his chest is smooth, his abs sculpted all the way to the edge of his jeans. Damn him, he is beautiful. He mutters something, but I don’t catch his words. Exhausted, I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes. “Where are you taking me?”
“Upstairs, to my room.”
Stop! What? He is taking me to his room, drunk and half-naked. What the hell does he think he’s doing? I kick my legs as hard as I can, until he staggers.
“Stop it, Ness, or your ass is gonna end up on the floor,” he scolds me, but I am completely focused on the new nickname he’s given me, “Ness.” I have to say, I like it. Much better than that annoying “stranger” he keeps insisting upon calling me. Although, to be honest I like that one too. But only because he’s the one saying it. And that is something I will never tell him.
“Put me down,” I order, summoning the small amount of clarity I have left. “Right now!” I kick again, but his grasp is inescapable. “You want to take advantage of me! I won’t let you. Even if I am drunk!”
“Calm your tits. I’m taking you to my room to keep you safe from everything else.” Oh. I relax in his arms. He is worried about me, then. He wants to keep me safe. It’s so…sweet. I’m almost about to thank him when he adds, “Stupid.” I pound my fist against his chest, hard as marble.
“Don’t call me ‘stupid’!” I say, pouting like a bratty little girl.
“What was that supposed to be? With a punch like that, you wouldn’t even KO a baby chick, but we can work on it,” he jokes.
Finally arriving on the landing, Thomas opens a door and we enter a dark—very dark—room. I can’t entirely trust my eyesight right now, but I think that the walls are black. Everything is shrouded in darkness, with only a faint light pouring in from the window overlooking the courtyard. I can see a desk facing the wall on my left, next to the entrance, and a large dark wooden wardrobe on my right.
“Where are we?”
Thomas walks me over to the huge bed. It’s very soft; he helps me lie down on it and covers me with a blanket.
“We’re in my room. You can relax.” Oh my God! Relax, my ass. This bed will have seen more pussy than a retired gynecologist!
“I want to get off!” I shout.
“You want to do what?” he asks, confused and amused at the same time.
“Down. Right now.” I roll off the mattress and end up face down on the carpet. “Ouch!”
Thomas bursts out laughing. Normal Vanessa would find this embarrassing, but I’m too drunk for that. I try to pull myself up, but I feel something churn inside me.
“Thomas…” I call out to him, but he is too busy laughing.
“Thomas!” I say louder.
“What’s wrong with you now?” he asks breathlessly.
I put a hand on my belly. “I’m going to…”
He blinks. “Oh fuck, no.” He drags me to the bathroom. Yes, he has an en suite bathroom.
I barely manage to squat down in front of the toilet before I start throwing up, with Thomas right next to me, enjoying a front-row seat to the show.
Tomorrow, when I wake up, I will dig myself the deepest grave mankind has ever known. Thomas leans over me and pulls back my hair, while I hold onto the ceramic edges of the toilet with both hands.
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone,” I plead with him after I’ve finished, spitting saliva into the toilet and wiping away tears of exertion. When I look at my hand, it is stained black. I wonder exactly how hard Tiffany went with the mascara. My God, what a repulsive spectacle I must be to Thomas right now. Shakily, I get up and go to the sink. I wash my hands and rinse my face.
“It’ll be the first thing I do tomorrow after I wake up.” He grins.
I widen my eyes at him. “I will kill you. I swear.” I lurch menacingly at him, intending to grab him by the collar of his shirt, but I can’t, because my stomach is ready for round two.
After what feels like an eternity, I am still in the bathroom, but I feel a little bit better. Except that I smell like death. Thomas is still here with me, and he doesn’t look disgusted. He hasn’t left me alone for a moment, and I don’t know whether to feel grateful or embarrassed about that.
I move away from the toilet. I sit on the floor with my back against the glass door of the shower and hug my knees to my chest. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, looking at the ceiling.
“For what?”
For Travis, for what he did to your sister. For the pain and humiliation he inflicted on you both. For not realizing it sooner. For doubting you. For ruining your night. For making you a witness to all of this. I’m sorry for so many things…
I rub my hands over my face and look into his eyes. “For everything. I’m a disaster, Thomas.”
He sits down next to me. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and caresses my face. A warm, gentle touch. “We all are,” he says softly. With tears about to flow, I put my hand over his, still on my cheek, and squeeze it tightly. I want him to know that I am grateful to him for tonight. Really grateful. We stay like this for a handful of minutes.
“I stink,” I say disgustedly, interrupting the strange silence that hovers between us.
“A lot.” He smiles, and I do the same.
“So, could I…could I take a shower?”
He nods, standing up.
“I’ll get you something of mine to wear for tonight.”
“To-tonight?” I ask skeptically.
“Yeah, given the shape you’re in, you should stay here,” he says peremptorily. The alcohol has mostly worn off, but I still feel weak and dizzy, my clothes—or rather, Tiffany’s clothes—are gone who knows where, and I have no way to get home. The only sensible choice is to stay. Thomas is right. Sigh.
“Okay, but I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Wasn’t my intention.”
“Oh.” I shouldn’t, but I feel a little disappointed. Apparently, all the guys around me like to sleep with other girls but not with me.
He looks at me with a mocking smile and adds, “Unless you want to.”
“No. I don’t want to.” Because I don’t want to, do I?
“Then we’re agreed.” He heads for the bathroom exit.
“Where will you sleep?” I ask, following him. He points to a sofa under the window, not far from the bed.
“I can sleep there if you want, it’s not a problem. You’ve already done too much for me.” I put my hair in a messy ponytail with the hair band I always wear on my wrist.
“The sofa’s not bad. And you need to rest.” He takes a pillow from the bed and props it up against the armrest. I would like to give him a hug and thank him, but I’m afraid he wouldn’t appreciate it. I opt instead to dash into the shower. After getting myself sorted out and brushing my teeth with toothpaste smeared on my index finger, I move back into the empty room. Thomas is gone. I guess he went back downstairs to the party. He left a T-shirt for me on the bed, black and very large. It goes down to my knees, but it’s soft and smells like him, has his unmistakable aroma of vetiver and tobacco. Without thinking about it, I bury my nose in the fabric and breathe deeply. Yes, it definitely smells like him. I get under the covers and stare at the black ceiling. What kind of person would paint the walls of their bedroom like this? A serial killer, perhaps?
I’m immersed in these thoughts when I hear the sound of the doorknob turning. I sit up, clutching the covers to my chest. When I realize that I am alone, wearing nothing more than a T-shirt, in a boy’s room accessible to anyone, panic eats me alive. My heartbeat speeds up, and I swallow with difficulty as I look around for an object that I could use to defend myself, if need be. But there’s nothing.
The door opens softly, producing a slight creak that makes my skin crawl. As soon as I glimpse the face of the person who is entering, I release a deep breath.
“Oh, my God. It’s you.” I rest my hand on my chest.
Thomas enters with a small bottle of water in his hand and closes the door behind him before locking it again. “Who else was it supposed to be?”
“At a party full of drunks? Anyone,” I point out to him.
“No one else has a key to my room,” he reassures me. “How are you?”
“I’m still pretty fuzzy, but at least the room isn’t spinning anymore.”
“Here, I brought you some water.” He hands me the small bottle and I rest it against my sheet-covered legs.
“Aren’t you going downstairs to have fun?”
“Nah. Everyone’s fucked up, it’s not fun anymore.”
I raise a skeptical eyebrow. “And you’re not?”
“I would have been. But you beat me to it,” he snarks. “And I need to be careful for training at the moment.”
“Okay.” I lie down again and remain silent for a while, while Thomas sits on the sofa, his legs spread and his shoulders against the backrest. He lights up a cigarette without ever taking his eyes off me. “What’s up?” I ask, turning on my side to face him, one hand tucked under the pillow.
“What happened?”
Pain clenches in my chest.
“He cheated on me,” I confess after a moment of hesitation, expecting to feel a stab to the heart. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t answer. He inhales cigarette smoke with half-closed eyes and blows it upward. Even now, he doesn’t take his eyes off mine. “Does he know you’re here?”
I shake my head no and watch the smug smile appear on his face.
“Thomas,” I whisper. “Would you like to… I mean, can you come here, with me? I know, it’s dumb. But it’s been a horrible day and I just really need…” Human warmth? Reassurance? Affection? It would be too pathetic if I said any of that out loud. The perplexed expression he gives me prompts me to stop talking. Maybe I’m asking too much. “Never mind, forget I said anything. It doesn’t matter.”
I go back to staring at the ceiling and calling myself stupid. Surprisingly, however, Thomas lets out a deep breath and gets up. He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand and ditches his jeans, wearing just a pair of black boxer shorts. Faced with the vision of his naked, sculpted body, my ability to speak, think, or breathe is obliterated. My cheeks burn, and I cannot remember my own name. I blink and swallow hard as I try desperately to look anywhere but the most crucial part of his body, currently covered by fabric that is far too tight. So tight that it leaves little room for the imagination.
“What’s wrong, Ness?” Thomas’s warm, persuasive voice causes me to look up at him. He looks at me mischievously, aware and proud of my embarrassment. Cocky, as ever. “You wanted me under the covers, right? Wish granted.” With an insolent smile, he puts one knee on the mattress and slowly approaches me in a catlike fashion, though being very careful not to touch me. It’s as though the idea of teasing me amuses him, but he doesn’t want to disrespect me in any way or take advantage of my moment of weakness. He puts his hands behind the back of his head and leans back against the headboard. He turns toward me and stares at me with a look so sympathetic and indulgent that it manages to dispel the tension. I was certain that being in bed with someone who wasn’t Travis would make me nervous in some way. Instead, for some strange reason, my body is perfectly relaxed next to him. Moved by an instinctive need, I let go completely.
“Can I…can I just hold you for a little while?” I feel desperate for crumbs of affection. I’m sure it’s the alcohol lingering in my body that has made me so open, so free of any boundaries.
He seems bewildered by my request. Then, prompted perhaps by a sense of compassion, he decides to open his arms to me. “Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles. I curl up and press my face against his warm chest, inhaling his scent. I love it.
Thomas holds me in a grasp that is strong and reassuring as well as protective. And something inside me seems to break loose. Suddenly, I burst into tears. I can’t stop. the tears flood out of me, uncontrolled.
“I’m sorry, I…I can’t stop,” I sob, with my face hidden in my hands.
Thomas doesn’t say anything, he just holds me tighter, making me feel as though I am enclosed in a fortress where I can give free rein to all my pain.
“You were right, you know? He took everything from me,” I murmur, my lips wet with tears. “And now I can’t stop feeling…”
“What?”
“Wrong.”
“You’re not the one who’s wrong,” he says brusquely. I tilt my face to look him in the eye.
“But that’s how I feel. Wrong. All this time, Travis has been cheating on me. Do you know what that means? That he preferred anyone else to me. I must have disgusted him. Whatever I had to offer him wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. It’s always been like that. I’ve never been enough for anyone.”
Thomas pulls away slightly to get a better look at me. “You talk a lot of bullshit. But I’ll give you a pass. You’re half drunk and clearly depressed.”
“No, it’s the truth. I don’t like myself, and why should I? My own boyfriend didn’t even like me,” I say, bursting into nervous laughter and then shaking my head in humiliation.
Thomas grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “He cheated on you because he’s an asshole who couldn’t keep it in his pants. That is not your fault. It’s his. Get it through your head.”
“You don’t understand…” I leave the sentence hanging when I realize that he, too, must have inflicted the same humiliation on who knows how many girls.
“Do you think you aren’t attractive? If you do, you’re fucking wrong.”
I feel a shiver down my spine.
Does he really think that?
Dazed and overwhelmed by a thousand emotions, my gaze lingers on his lips. I feel a tingle in my belly at the idea of covering them with mine, of feeling our tongues entwine and our flavors blending together. I wonder how he kisses, Thomas. How he takes control of a woman’s body. How he looks at the moment of climax…
An unhealthy idea makes its way into my head.
I want to find out.
My fingers move automatically along his jawline, following his chin before slowly meeting his chapped and parted lips. Hypnotized, I trace the outline of his mouth. My breasts press against his massive, exposed chest. The tips of our noses touch, and for a few interminable moments we do not tear our gazes away from one other, our breaths labored with tension.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” I answer, entranced by my own movements.
Longing for more, to feel the effect his skin would have against mine, I push my pelvis slowly toward him; my thighs press against his more muscular ones and the slight bulge covered by the thin layer of his boxers presses against my most intimate parts. My body temperature skyrockets. I bite my lip and close my eyes as I feel him becoming increasingly bulky and defined between my legs.
“This is how you get in trouble.” His eyes blaze with desire. “Big trouble.”
“That’s my specialty.” I hold my breath as, with another movement of his pelvis, his erection rubs against a very specific spot between my thighs. In an automatic reflex, Thomas clutches my hair in his fist and tries to suppress a moan of gratification. He lets loose with an actual moan when I begin rubbing myself against him more passionately. I feel like I’m beginning to lose control as well.
“Ness…”
“Give me…” I bring my lips close to his before finally touching them. A series of shivers flood my spine. His lips are soft and full, and I savor their faint aftertaste of smoke.
“You’re drunk,” he murmurs hoarsely into my mouth. I’m not listening. With my heart beating wildly, I continue this slow torture, elusive and delicate, as if I were playing out a little game of seduction between our bodies. He doesn’t retreat but doesn’t seem willing to reciprocate either. Instead, he thoroughly studies my every movement with his eyes open wide, his breath short, and his muscles tensed.
To coax him into yielding, I tease him with the tip of my tongue. I lick the edge of his mouth. We both hold back a shiver. I do it again, and again. Only then does Thomas tighten his grip on my hair and move his hips against me. Instinctively, I press my legs together to soothe my arousal.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” he growls. But I don’t give him a chance to add anything else. At this exact moment, this is the only thing I want to do.
I move to his mouth and kiss him with all the strange passion and perversion that Thomas brews within me. He doesn’t reciprocate immediately the way I had hoped. He is using all of his self-control to hold himself back, but I feel the desire he has for me. I sense it everywhere. So I don’t give up and decide to be daring… With trembling fingers, I creep down to the elastic of his boxer shorts. I open my palm over his bulge and begin to move up and down, with motions that are relentless, intense, and perhaps a little clumsy. Nevertheless, I feel him quivering, pulsing more and more under my touch. With a brutal growl, Thomas bites my lip, leaving me breathless.
His tongue invades my mouth hungrily, and my body explodes. I cling to him, kissing him wildly. My mind is foggy with desire and my body burning with passion and urgency. His tongue piercing gives me a new and terribly exciting feeling. When I find the strength to break away from him, I am bewildered. I’m breathing hard. His face is flushed. I thought kissing him would appease this desire, but it has only amplified it.
I move closer for more, and as soon as our lips touch again, I go up like gasoline tossed onto a campfire. I straddle him because contact with just his mouth is no longer enough for me. I feel his erection pressing against me through the thin layer of my panties and, with a lack of inhibition that is completely foreign to me, I grind myself against him, desperate to relieve the devastating heat I feel between my thighs. With one hand Thomas clasps the hair on the nape of my neck, with the other he squeezes my side nearly hard enough to bruise. The pace of my movements increases with the intensity of his grip. We find ourselves moaning together in a whirlwind of arousal. I don’t know what I am doing, but I do know that I have never felt better than this.
Our tongues entwine greedily until we run out of breath. We pull away gasping, and I press my forehead to his. Two dilated pupils stare at me longingly; a vein on his neck throbs so hard I fear it might burst at any moment, just like my heart. His erection throbs between my thighs, and I feel the fabric of my panties getting wetter and wetter. I smile at him, pleased with the effect I seem to be having on him and by the feelings that he provokes in me. I move to kiss him again, but Thomas stops me.
He puts his hands on my shoulders and shakes his head. “You’re drunk.”
“Yes and no.” True, the alcohol is probably making me more uninhibited, but I am clearheaded enough to know what I am doing. And I want to do it.
“That doesn’t work for me,” he replies seriously, as our breathing regulates.
“I don’t understand, you don’t… You don’t want me?” I ask, straightening up away from his face, trying to hide my humiliated expression.
He frowns. “So, according to you, that hard dick you’re sitting on means I don’t want you?”
“Then don’t stop.” I pull his hands off my shoulders and draw close to his face, brushing his lips with my own. “Make me forget, Thomas,” I beg him in a whisper, moving my pelvis against him. “I need it.”
“You’ll regret it.”
“Don’t treat me like I’m a virgin. I’m not.” I lean forward and kiss his neck softly, tracing imaginary lines with the tip of my tongue. “It’s just sex.” I reach his mouth, lick his lip, and bite him hard as he had done to me. I feel him trembling beneath me. I am playing dirty, but I need this. I need to feel desired by someone, even if only for one night.
“All right, I’ve let you have your playtime, that’s enough.” He grunts as though annoyed, but I can see in his eyes how much he wants me. As much as I want him. Thomas, however, grabs me by the waist and moves me off him. I fall flat on my back on the mattress, unsatisfied.
I sigh impatiently and prop myself up on my elbows. “You know what? If you don’t want to do it, then I’ll go find someone who will. That party downstairs is full of assholes desperate to take a turn,” I spit acidly, with a language and boldness that surprise even me. I get out of bed, committing to my charade and hoping that it will have the desired effect. I reach the door, but just as I begin to open it, a large, tattooed palm shuts it vehemently. I hide a pleased smile. Thomas grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Downstairs.”
He takes a few steps forward until my back collides with the door. I find myself trapped, with no escape route.
But why would I want to run anywhere?
“Get your ass back on that mattress,” he orders peremptorily, his cheeks slightly reddened.
I am about to refuse and tell him that he can’t tell me what to do, but he raises a corner of his mouth impudently and adds, “If you want to get fucked by some asshole, then that asshole is gonna be me…” He grabs my face with one hand and forces me to look him in the eye. “As long as it really is just sex,” he says, making it clear.
“Just sex,” I reassure him.
He tastes my lip and then sinks his tongue into my mouth. His vetiver scent overwhelms me. I breathe him in deeply. Without interrupting our kiss, he picks me up off the ground, catching me by surprise. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist. He pulls me back onto the bed, where he drops me beneath him. He grabs me by my thighs, spreading them apart and positioning himself between them as I cling to his elbows. He presses his hips against mine, and I am overwhelmed by a wave of heat so powerful that I have to arch my back and inhale deeply into his mouth. He pulls back a bit, his index finger brushing my lips, my neck, and the cleft between my breasts covered by the fabric of his T-shirt. With his other hand, he squeezes my left breast and gently massages the already stiff nipple. I watch, mesmerized, as he bends down and buries his face between my thighs.
He licks me through my soaked panties and then nibbles, teasing me slowly, in such an obscene way that it makes me even wetter.
“Oh, God,” I gasp, fisting the sheets in my hands. He pulls my panties down with his teeth, and a devilish grin spreads across his lips.
“Much better without them,” he says, kissing my knee, then my inner thigh, moving steadily up and up. He uses his tongue to lap at my most sensitive spot and, for a moment, I cannot breathe. I try to move, but he holds me still, so I sink my hands into his hair and push his head deeper between my legs, urging him to give me more, begging him to calm that heat in my core that makes me gasp. With considerable skill, Thomas rotates his tongue all over my slit, from the top to the bottom. The friction of his piercing against my flesh makes my head spin.
“More…please…”
He presses one finger into me, and all my muscles contract around it. He slides it in and out divinely. He knows exactly when to speed up and when to slow down and applies the perfect amount of pressure the whole time. When he slowly slides a second finger in, I feel a jolt in my lower belly. I am losing my mind with this unbearable pleasure that reverberates through every inch of my body. When he begins to move his fingers faster, I thrust my hips against him, moaning under his smug gaze. He interrupts that pleasure to rip off my shirt and tosses it away to who knows where. Suddenly I feel a pang of shame. I realize that I am now completely naked, in Thomas Collins’s bed. And even though I am currently more uninhibited than I’ve ever been, my insecurities are always alive inside me. My discomfort increases when I notice the hungry way Thomas looks at me: first at my open mouth, then my breasts and belly, all the way down until he reaches the crux of my thighs.
“What are you…what are you thinking?” I bite my lip, immediately embarrassed at myself for asking such a stupid question.
“If I’m being honest? About ten different ways to fuck every part of your body.”
Oh God.
He smiles and kisses me on the lips. It is a chaste kiss, nothing like the ones he’s already given me. With one hand he hitches up my thigh and wraps it around his waist. I squeeze my knee against his side and I feel his arousal—still covered by his boxers—rubbing against my center. He grabs my butt and tilts my pelvis up to intensify that pleasure. He looks me in the eyes as he does so, his lips slightly parted, a hank of dark hair falling over his forehead and his breath tickling my face. He leans over my breasts and, as he continues to rock my lower body against him, he takes a nipple between his lips and sucks it slowly, meticulously, making me arch into him.
“Please, I need you, Thomas…” I gasp, no longer able to bear the intense pulsations between my thighs. I need him to satisfy the throbbing desire or I will go crazy, I am sure of it. He brings his attention back to me, caressing my leg, resting the full weight of his body on his other arm so as not to crush me.
“Last chance to back out, Ness.”
Instead, I take his face in my hands and kiss him, biting his lip so hard that I hear him suppress a moan.
“Fuck me,” I breathe into his mouth. “Just fuck me.” At these words Thomas dives between my thighs, and I want nothing more than to feel him inside me. With one hand pressed to the mattress, he reaches up to the nightstand and pulls out a silver packet. My eyes widen and I feel dumb for not even having thought of that. Even though I’m on the pill, you can never take too many precautions, especially with a guy like him. Thomas clouds my thinking, which isn’t a good thing.
He tears the packet open with his teeth, and that gesture triggers a sudden craving in me. I take the package from his hands. He arches an eyebrow, frowning. “I want to do it,” I confess, in a small voice. I don’t know what is happening to me. None of this is me.
Thomas, after an initial moment of astonishment, gives me a cheeky smile that exudes unadulterated virility and wickedness. He pulls off his boxers, sits back on his heels, and positions me on him. The sight of his erection towering between us makes me tremble and gulp at the same time. Our faces are aligned, and Thomas squeezes my butt with one hand. With the other he grips himself and starts rubbing the head slowly along my cleft, lubricating it with my fluids and making me shiver with pleasure. Feeling it skin to skin sets me aflame. I see the same fire burning in his dilated pupils. “It’s all yours.”
I swallow and, with a courage I cannot explain, I wrap my trembling hands around his burning-hot member. Thomas represses a low moan when I caress the moist tip with the pad of my thumb. I slide the condom on him, noting how the muscles in his abdomen twitch under my gentle and somewhat unsure touch. I bite my lip and lift my eyes to his. Heat. That’s all I see there.
“Are you still sure?”
I nod.
Immediately, Thomas slams me against the mattress and, with an abrupt stroke that moves me a few inches, he penetrates me. He wrenches from me a cry of commingled pain and pleasure. It is unexpected, strong and invasive. Yet, having him inside me is the most incredible sensation I have ever felt. I loop my arms around his neck and tighten my lips, while he pauses and gives me a moment to get used to his size. When the initial burning fades, I lift my hips and urge him to continue. He grabs my thighs and spreads them even wider. He pulls out slowly and penetrates me again with even more force, making me scream. I dig my nails into his shoulders and scratch hard. Suffused with a savage satisfaction, he continues to move relentlessly in and out of me. Harder. Faster. Making me moan with every stroke. “Goddamn, I could fuck you all night long.”
“Do it,” I encourage him, unable to help myself.
I run my hands over his pecs, down to his tightened abs, covered with tattoos and small beads of sweat. I worship him, as if I had a god underneath my hands, while he slams me into the mattress with inconceivable force. I crawl my fingers over his hips until I find a raised scar. I feel him stiffen, and the warning look he gives me from under his long lashes tells me I should stop touching him there. Instead, like an idiot, I run my fingers over the tissue gently, solely with the intention of reassuring him. But as soon as I graze the edge, Thomas pulls out of me abruptly, startling me. He grabs me by the hips and, with one move, flips me over. A small cry of astonishment escapes me. I find myself with my cheek pressed against the pillow and my pelvis raised to the height of his groin. With one hand he grabs my hip, and he presses the other against the back of my neck to hold me still. I feel dizzy and hot. What does he want to do?
He squeezes my ass cheeks ferociously and I open my eyes wide when he delivers a resounding slap to my right cheek. It pulls a powerful scream from me and, to my enormous surprise, excites me even more. I feel him bending over me, his chest pressed against my back. He looms over my body, brings his mouth close to my ear and, in a rough, sensual voice, he murmurs, “Tonight I am yours, and you are mine.” He gathers my hair into a ponytail and wraps it tightly around his fist. With a jerk, he forces me to tilt my head back, taking my breath away as he rubs himself against my opening. “But there are some lines you are not allowed to cross.” He seats himself inside me with one overwhelming thrust that makes me arch my back. My toes curl. “Never,” he orders, giving me another hard slap to the other buttock and sending my whole body into a frenzy. To say nothing of my head. My eyes roll up involuntarily, overwhelmed by the mixture of extraordinary sensations. I follow his movements and, pleased, he tightens his grip on my hips. He bites my shoulder, my neck, every bit of skin he can reach.
“Ah…more… I want more,” I scream, in thrall to this insane and uncontrolled passion, subjected to his rapid, powerful thrusts. Never would I have thought that sex with Thomas could be so intense. So rough. Animalistic. Above all, I never would have thought that I’d like it so much. It was never like this with Travis. Our sex had always been reserved and contained, even boring at times. It was all because of me, because I got ashamed at the mere thought of taking a risk. Maybe if I had let myself go a little more… Suddenly, Thomas presses his cheek close to mine, continuing his implacable movements. The sound of his soft, gasping breaths reverberates between my thighs.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks frowning, as if he can tell that my mind is wandering.
“Nothing, everything’s okay,” I reply breathlessly. Thomas tightens his grip on my hair and gives my neck a languid lick.
“If you let me fuck you”—he grunts against my skin—“I want you to be with me.” He gives me a yearning thrust and it takes me less than a second to completely forget about Travis and focus on this perfect Adonis who makes me feel things I have never, ever felt before.
“I-I’m with you,” I gasp dazedly, completely at his mercy. I feel him smile against my neck. I surrender to his strong, firm strokes again and again and again, accommodating his movements as my knees begin to buckle, and my body contracts with each spasm of arousal. Thomas reaches between my legs with one hand and stimulates my clitoris, intensifying the stabs of pleasure. My God. I could die…
“Are you coming?” he pants into my ear. I barely manage to nod. He flips me over, crushing me underneath him. With my eyes closed, I wrap my legs around his waist and press my heels against his buttocks. Our scents mingle as our bodies merge. This position makes everything more intimate.
“Look at me,” he orders, with one hand around my neck in a dominant grip. I do as he says. I look into his eyes and I get lost there. He leans down and kisses me. His tongue intertwines with mine. His every touch is studied, expert and designed to give me pleasure. Thomas tenses his muscles and pushes into me even more forcefully. I scream and lift my hips to meet his thrusts. I grip his waist with my trembling knees. I cling to his broad, powerful shoulders until I explode for the first time with his name on my lips. Shortly thereafter he stiffens as well, his biceps flexing as he comes, shaking through his orgasm. “Fuck,” he exclaims breathlessly, collapsing against me with his face in the crook of my neck. It feels like the earth is shaking, or maybe that’s just me. Or Thomas. I don’t know. What matters is that I have just had the most intense, most beautiful orgasm of my life. It was incredible. But I don’t have the strength to tell him so, because we both sink immediately into a deep sleep.