Nineteen
Nineteen
“Oh my God! My mother is back!”
I throw Thomas off the bed and jump up, trying to straighten my disheveled clothes and hair.
“I noticed,” he sulks, getting up from the floor with an extremely visible erection in his pants.
“Excuse me?” I ask in a soft voice.
“I got your ice cream. I’ll wait for you downstairs,” my mother calls from below.
I open the door and, after clearing my throat, I shout, “Um, thanks, Mom. But, well… I’m not hungry anymore.” I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and pray that she believes me.
“But you asked for it less than an hour ago,” she answers, confused.
“I know, I’m just too tired now. I almost fell asleep.” Meanwhile, I hear thumps behind my back. Thomas wraps his arms around my hips and starts peppering kisses on my neck. Is he insane? I try to push him away, but he tightens his grip and his mouth on my skin makes me waver.
“Are you sure?” my mother continues. “I got exactly what you asked for: a pint of pistachio ice cream with chocolate syrup and whipped cream. I also got you some of those little rainbow cones you like so much.” I feel Thomas’s chest twitch against my back in an attempt to suppress laughter.
My cheeks ablaze, I turn my head slightly toward him and murmur, embarrassed, “I was a little hungry.”
“Oh, I could tell.” He laughs and nibbles on my earlobe, grinding his pelvis against my bottom and giving me goosebumps.
“Thanks,” I turn my attention back to my mother. “But I really don’t feel like it right now. I’ll eat it tomorrow,” I say firmly, with my head peeking through the narrow space between the door and the jamb.
“Whatever, I’ll put it in the freezer. I’m going to take a hot bath. If you need anything you know where to find me.”
“Okay,” I tell my mother quickly, before the Thomas Effect makes me completely lose my mind. I shut the door and try to think of a way to get Thomas out of here without my mother seeing him. I turn to him and put my hands on his chest to push him away. “I don’t know what depraved ideas are going through your head, but you should forget them. You absolutely must get out of here without her seeing you.”
He ignores my words, moves my hands and presses me against the door, pinning me with the weight of his body. “Am I wrong or did you just call me depraved?” he murmurs under his breath, lifting my chin with one finger. His green eyes stare at me greedily, full of danger. Those eyes should scare me, and yet I am drawn to them. Almost hypnotized.
“I-I…” I swallow hard, feeling my throat suddenly become dry.
“Shh…” He presses two fingers to my lips before pushing them slowly inside my mouth, inviting me to open up. And I, helpless victim of some strange spell, do so. Completely dominated by him. By his confidence. By his beauty. “Let me show you just how depraved I can be.” He latches on to my neck with his lips, sucking the sensitive skin, leaving his mark, just the way he likes it… My knees are shaking and heat blossoms between my thighs. Thomas stops torturing me just long enough to let down my hair. It falls disheveled over my shoulders, releasing the scent of my berry shampoo.
He breathes it in greedily, half-closing his eyes and smiling appreciatively. Then he gathers my hair into a fist and pulls backward until I tilt my head. He goes back to tracing a small, scorching trail down my neck with his tongue, ending on my shirt-covered breast. He bites it hard, giving me a small preview of what he’s about to do to me. I gasp with pleasure and pain.
“My…my mother is downstairs,” I pant without much conviction. I can’t tell whether the thought makes me more anxious or aroused. Thomas, unfazed, drops to his knees. He caresses my stomach and my ribs under my shirt, all the way up to my breasts, where my nipples are already stiff and swollen. He envelops them in his large hands, squeezing and licking a stripe between them. He obliterates my last ounce of sanity.
“Then you’ll have to be very good at keeping quiet,” he murmurs, a devilish smile on his face. He stands up, towering over me, then pulls my shirt over my head and tosses it to the floor. I suddenly find myself naked and vulnerable before his lustful gaze. The cold of the door against my bare back makes me shiver. My heart beats wildly, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Insecurity takes over and I try to cover myself, but he stops me, grabbing my wrists with one hand and pinning them above my head. He takes a long moment to examine my soft, languid body. “Don’t hide,” he says in a deep voice. “I want to look at you.” I lower my eyes and hold my breath, unable to believe that someone like him, used to far more sensual bodies, could find anything appealing in mine. My insecurities are swept aside, however, when Thomas falls upon my breasts. He tortures one nipple with his fingers and takes the other between his lips. When the cold ball of his piercing lingers on my skin, I erupt into goosebumps. He slips one of his legs between mine and presses his thigh against my sex. I close my eyes and clench my lips, suppressing a moan. I feel dazed, aroused, ravenous. So much so that I begin to shamelessly match his movements. I ride his thigh, rubbing myself against his muscular leg. He pushes harder against me, allowing me to feel him even more. All of my muscles tense at once and my legs give way beneath me. When he releases my wrists, I am forced to cling to his powerful shoulders to keep from collapsing to the floor. “That’s how you like it, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice raspy with desire. He abandons my breasts and attacks my mouth, invading it with rough kisses, crushing me between the door and his embrace.
My thoughts short-circuit, my breathing is out of control, and arousal rises within me, becoming almost unbearable.
“Thomas…” I gasp into his mouth, embarrassed and overwhelmed. But he gives me no respite. His kisses, if possible, become even more ruthless and savage. He then lets his free hand slide down, under the elastic of my pants, until he reaches the now completely sodden fabric of my panties. He smiles at me with burning eyes. He pushes my panties aside to stroke my warm flesh with slow movements. He goes from the bottom to the top, an agonizing, tormenting touch. “Oh, God,” I moan in despair. He continues to move his hand deftly, rubbing my clit with his index finger before pressing down hard on it with his thumb. This expert, unexpected touch tips me over into delirium. Thomas continues his slow torture, determined not to sate the incandescent need that is driving me mad. “Please…” I beg again, panting between desperate moans.
“Please what?” he asks greedily. Before I can answer, he presses a finger inside me. He pulls it out quickly, giving me a single surge of pleasure that sweeps me from head to toe and makes me cry out. “Shh, did you forget we aren’t alone?” he whispers into my ear, warm and sensual. He slips a finger in again, but only for a moment.
My God, I’m going crazy. Frustrated, I close my eyes and rest my forehead against his chest. “You’re going to kill me…”
Thomas lifts my face, forcing me to look him in the eye. He grabs my wrist and guides my hand to his groin. I shudder and become somehow even more aroused when I feel his erection pressing against his jeans. “Feel how hard you make me.” He thrusts his hips forward and invites me to get familiar with his thick bulge. I give it a firm squeeze and only then do I hear him emit a soft, guttural gasp—the first I’ve heard since he decided to absolutely ignite me with desire. My legs are trembling, and my brain is so clouded with pleasure that when Thomas pulls my pants down along with my panties, I furiously kick them the rest of the way off. Thomas kneels before me and touches my calf, making his way up my entire leg.
He strokes the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, intensifying my need until he reaches my mons. I tremble at the sight of his fiery eyes staring up at me.
“I want to kiss you here, taste all of you.” He looks at me, waiting for my consent. I nod shyly. He moves closer and closer to me and then, slowly, he presses his lips against me. He laves me with his tongue, lingering on my clitoris. It is more agony than pleasure, just a taste of what’s to come. Suddenly, he fills me first with one finger and then two, tearing the air from my lungs.
“Oh, yes,” I gasp, finally satisfied.
“I can feel how tight you are,” Thomas murmurs. He slides in a little deeper. His eyes darken as he feels my core contracting greedily. “You were like that the other night too. So tight and wet…”
I stiffen, struck by an immediate insecurity. He understands and strokes my cheek. “Relax, I’m just trying to get to know you. Getting to know every part of you.” He pushes his finger deeper, giving me an intense stab of pleasure. Something about the reassuring sound of his words makes me trust him.
“I don’t know, it’s just…” Vision clouded with desire, I stop, consumed again by the thrust of his fingers. I grab both his wrists to steady myself. “I’ve never had a lot of self-confidence,” I confess, my face aflame with the discomfort of revealing something so intimate to him. “And after what Travis said yesterday…”
He draws closer to me, kisses me delicately before biting my lip. Softly at first, then harder. “I’m gonna have to work hard to help you get your confidence back then.” With these words, he ends the conversation and begins to move his hand masterfully against me, driving every single fear of being disliked, of not measuring up, straight out of my head. I close my eyes and let myself be carried away by the pleasure he gives me, by the desire he has for me, the need he has to make me his own. I cling to his shoulders, I sink my nails into the fabric of his sweatshirt and bite my lip to keep from screaming. Thomas slides his fingers in and out of me, never quite reaching the exact place I want. He stops halfway and pulls back. I gasp for breath. I dig my hands into his hair, trying to communicate something that I’m not able to express in words.
“Do you want more?” he whispers, licking my increasingly slick folds.
I confirm with a breathless nod as he continues to move inexorably inside me, torturing me.
“Say it,” he demands.
I look at him with wide eyes. I am not used to being so explicit about these things.
“Say it, or I’ll stop.” He gives my clit a lingering, protracted lick. My body is crying out for mercy. “And, believe me, I really don’t want to stop.” I suck in a breath but cannot speak.
“Why-why do you want to hear that?”
“Because I want you to shed all your inhibitions when you’re with me.”
I look at him, biting my lips. His breaths come in short pants like mine, his mouth glistening. His eyes are full of arousal, and a few locks of black hair fall over his sweat-slicked forehead. He’s beautiful. Then he presses a kiss to my stomach, his eyes locked on mine, and one corner of his mouth curves into a smile. I dissolve.
“Do it, please,” I burst out, finally.
As soon as I feel his hot tongue on my sex, I gasp. I close my eyes and throw my head back. I thrust my hips into his mouth and I feel so starved and desperate that I almost don’t recognize myself. He plunges his fingers in and out of me, coaxing a wave of sensation that makes my legs tremble.
He presses his thumb to my clitoris and sucks it hard, while his fingers keep going in and out, faster and faster, ever deeper and more intense. I grab his hair and yank on it, lost in ecstasy. Thomas does not stop me. In fact he seems to grow more excited, lapping at me. I tremble and pant against the door, struggling to hold back a scream. When I finally feel that I am on the precipice of orgasm, Thomas slows down just enough to panic me.
“Not yet.” He starts moving his fingers inside me again, finding a rhythm that makes my senses blur. I don’t know if it’s the thought of having my mother right downstairs, or the fact that I’ve been brought to the edge for a second time before being denied, but the mixture is so potent that I could pass out from bliss.
“Thomas, I’m begging you. I’m almost there, I’m about to…” Thomas lifts my right thigh and lays it on his shoulder, still holding me over his mouth. He looks down at me and continues to move his fingers in targeted circles, each time touching a magical spot that sends me into ecstasy. Suddenly, a wave of pleasure hits me and every muscle in my body contracts. An overwhelming heat sweeps me from head to toe as I am shaken by small, violent aftershocks. I try to pull myself away from Thomas because the idea of letting myself go like that, on him, is incredibly embarrassing, but he holds still. He wants to make me come just like this. He increases the movements of his tongue until I explode on his mouth with the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. I feel like I am shattering into a thousand pieces. I cry out, but Thomas presses his palm to my mouth. Muddled with sensation, I sink my teeth into his hand, muffling my moans. Thomas fingers me relentlessly through my climax, until my breathing regulates and my legs stop shaking. Only then does he loosen his hold on me. He lifts himself slowly off the floor and draws a trail of kisses over my belly, to my right breast, then on to the left one. On my neck. Then my jaw and finally, delicately, on my mouth. He brushes the tip of my nose with his own and smiles at me. I look at him, stunned. I want to say something to him, but my whole body is paralyzed, and my head continues to swirl with the last tremors of orgasm. My legs are going to give way at any moment.
“You look wrecked.” He picks me up with his powerful, tattooed arms and puts me gently on the bed. I curl up, dazed. Thomas surprises me once again by pulling back the covers and tucking me in. I stare at him in sheer confusion and it’s only now that I realize he’s still fully clothed.
He heads for the door and for a crazy moment, I think he’s going to try to leave. “You can’t go out there, my mother might see you,” I say. But he only turns off the light and joins me in the bed. As he pulls off his sweatshirt and his sneakers, I begin to feel a little uncomfortable at the idea of being naked—and sober—next to him. Wrapping myself in a quilt, I get out of bed and search the floor for my pajamas. “I need to get dressed. Could you…could you turn around?” I ask shyly.
Lying on the bed, with his arms crossed behind his head, Thomas gives an amused snort. “You do realize you just came in my mouth, right?” he points out arrogantly. I choke, my eyes widening in embarrassment.
“Thomas!” I scold him.
“I’m not gonna turn around, so you do what you have to do.”
“Thanks so much for your understanding!” I sulk. I turn my back to him and wrap myself in the sheet so he can’t see me. I can practically hear him grinning behind me, but I ignore it. Maybe I seem funny to him, or childish, but I don’t care.
“You don’t need my understanding; you need to realize that there’s nothing wrong with you.”
I shake my head. “You couldn’t understand even if you wanted to.” Shielded once more by my pajamas, I sit cross-legged on the edge of the bed, in front of the TV. “So, while we wait for my mother to go to sleep, we have two options: watch a movie or chill.” Or hash out exactly what just happened between us and what it means. But of course I don’t waste my time asking him about that. He would just dismiss it and the very thought of that hurts me. He stares into my eyes, his own eyes so fathomless it makes butterflies erupt in my stomach.
“Neither of those. I want to talk.”
“What?” I ask in amazement.
He pats the mattress to invite me closer. “C’mere. Tell me a little about yourself.” He smiles sweetly at me. Guarded, I lie down alongside him. The darkness of the room somehow makes the atmosphere more intimate.
“There’s not much to know.” I shrug.
“Did you finish reading that book about the two sisters?”
I nod, surprised that he remembered it.
“Did you like it?” he asks with a crooked smile.
“Very much. But I’m biased, I love everything she wrote. I’d probably fall in love with her shopping list too,” I say dreamily.
“Why do you like her so much?” he asks, seeming genuinely interested.
“Because she used her novels to rebel against the restrictions of English society, and she always did it with the utmost irony and intelligence.” I play with a lock of hair, propping myself up on one elbow.
“Hmm, and let me guess: Pride and Prejudice is your favorite, right?” He casts an amused glance at the book open and overturned on the nightstand next to me. I had started yet another reread of Pride and Prejudice just this afternoon. I had to inaugurate the edition that Alex’s mom got for me.
“All of her novels are masterpieces, and the way she draws you into the story is disarming, but yes.” I look up at him. “ Pride and Prejudice holds a special place in my heart.”
“What are her books about?”
“Love.” His face twists derisively, but I ignore him and continue, “Love and all its many facets. Tormented, painful, sometimes impossible. Unconventional, but authentic. Take Elizabeth Bennet for example: she rejects a marriage proposal that would have guaranteed a comfortable future, both for herself and for her family, even going against her mother’s wishes all because she wasn’t in love.” Thomas is paying close attention to me now, although he does have the hint of a smile around his mouth.
“Well, you know how I feel about that.”
Here, Vanessa, just in case you forgot who he was…
“Tell me, what else do you like?”
“I don’t know.” I lie on my back and look up at the ceiling. Biting my lip, I think about what to tell him. “Well, I like books, TV series, journalism fascinates me, I love pistachios…but you may have figured that out.” I look at him, amused and embarrassed at the same time. “I like the rain. The sound. The smell. The feelings it gives me. It is melancholy and romantic. I feel I have a connection with it.”
“Are you like that too? Romantic and melancholy?”
I think about it and then, as naturally as anything, I answer, “Yes.”
He stretches out his arm and gestures for me to come closer. He slips his arm under my neck as if to act as a pillow, and a shiver runs through my whole body.
Why is he acting this way, so…so…affectionate?
“Do you like the sea? You seem like the kind of person who would hang out on a seaside cliff, searching for meaning. Maybe with some bummer song in the background,” he teases me. I pinch his side in answer.
“I like the sea but…”
“But?”
“Okay, confession incoming.” I prop myself up with my elbow and rest my cheek on my palm. “First, though, you have to swear you won’t laugh at me.” I give him a menacing look.
“I never make promises I can’t keep.”
Go figure.
“The truth is, I…I don’t know how to swim.”
I hear him stifle a laugh and close my eyes in shame.
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. I love the sea, but the idea of swimming in deep water gives me a panic attack.”
“You are such a wimp. I learned when I was three years old,” he boasts. It’s so funny, almost endearing.
“Wow, do you want a round of applause, Captain Nemo?” He laughs and the low sound of it warms my heart. I want to take a picture of him in this moment and keep it under my pillow so I can fall asleep every night with a smiling Thomas underneath me.
“It wasn’t as fun as you might imagine. My uncle took the ‘rip the Band-Aid off’ approach. Without telling me anything, he took me to the water and threw me in. No floaties,” he adds.
I look at him bewildered. “Seriously?”
He nods. “Bit of a crude method, but effective.”
I want to ask him more about his childhood, but I know it’s difficult to break through the walls he’s put up. So I offer up something else about myself. “I do, however, know how to ice-skate. When I was little, my father used to take me to the ice rink every Sunday, and we would spend hours there. Until one day I had the bright idea of improvising a loop jump. Instead, I fell and got this.” I show him a small scar on the back of my left calf. “The cut wasn’t very deep, but there was enough blood to scare my father. I don’t know if he was more worried about the wound or about having to tell my mother. After that day, he never took me to the rink again.” I laugh along with him, and the domesticity of this scene feels so surreal to me. Something about the situation makes me want to tell him about a tradition that Alex and I have been carrying on since high school. “And then there’s the thing I do with Alex, my best friend: we collect tickets.”
“Tickets?” he repeats skeptically.
“Yeah. Train tickets, theater tickets, movie tickets. At the end of the year we have this tradition of looking at them all together.”
“That’s bullshit, you know,” he snaps, hurting my feelings.
“Excuse me?” I murmur, dismayed. His phone is audibly vibrating in his pocket, but he ignores it.
“You heard me. That whole collection thing is ridiculous. Your little friend probably just wants to get in your pants, but he hasn’t had the balls to try.”
I sit up and give him a dirty look.
“How dare you insinuate such a thing? Alex and I have known each other for thirteen years. We’re like brother and sister. We love each other with all our hearts, without ulterior motives. It’s called friendship,” I emphasize. “And, believe it or not, not every human interaction is about sex! But I don’t think you can understand, ‘Mr. I Don’t Do Relationships.’ And for the record: our collection is not ridiculous. You’re the ridiculous one, Thomas,” I snap back, offended.
“Are you mad now?” He heaves an annoyed sigh and shakes his head.
“I opened up to you and you immediately assumed the worst. On top of that, you take it as a given that a guy could only want one thing from me.” I cross my arms and look away. He has ruined a perfect moment.
“You’re acting like a child.” His phone starts vibrating again but again he lets it go.
“And you’re a superficial asshole.”
“I’m superficial? Need I remind you that I’m in here because your crazy mother is out there and you don’t want to run the risk of her seeing me because who knows what would happen if she found you with ‘a boy who isn’t Travis’ who is ‘covered in tattoos.’”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “For your sake, I will pretend that you didn’t just insult me, my best friend, and my mother all within the space of two minutes,” I say sourly. “And for heaven’s sake, pick up your damn phone!”
He huffs but answers the phone. “What do you want? I left. No, I’m not on campus. None of your damn business. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Your place.” He hangs up.
“Who was that?” Dammit, I cannot help myself.
“Shana,” he replies tonelessly, showing no emotion. I can feel him watching me, waiting for a reaction.
My heart leaps into my throat and I start to feel hot. “So, you’re seeing her tomorrow?” I ask with feigned nonchalance.
“I don’t think that’s anything new.”
A pang in my heart catches me unprepared, but I try to hide how his frankness hurts me. Suddenly I feel like such a fool. Tomorrow, he’ll go back to Shana, and I will be eaten up with regret for letting him do all this to me. I don’t even have the right to get mad at him because he has been clear from the beginning. It was stupid, falling for it again, hook, line, and sinker.
“Well, no wonder you two get along so well. After all, you have so much in common. You’re both assholes and the same kind of petty.” In response, I get only silence. I get out of bed and head for the window opposite. I need a moment to clear my head. Was Alex right? Am I messing with Thomas to escape the pain that Travis caused me? Part of me is tempted to believe it. Yet, the other part of me knows full well that whenever Thomas is nearby, I can’t think of anyone but him. His haunted emerald eyes pull me in like a magnet. Did I let this happen because I’m weak? Naive? Or am I just a masochist? I wipe two traitorous tears from my cheeks. “Why did you come here, Thomas?” I ask faintly, with my eyes turned to the dark night sky outside the window.
“I felt like it.”
“You felt like it,” I repeat with disappointment in my voice. “You wanted a…a dalliance?”
He remains silent for a few seconds. Seconds in which my heart breaks.
“If I wanted a dalliance, I would have stayed where I was.”
I close the window and turn around, thankful for the darkness of the room that keeps him from seeing my tear-streaked face.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t,” I mumble. I reach the bed, feeling his eyes on me. “You’ll stay here until my mother has gone to sleep. In the meantime, get out of the bed. I would like to sleep.” I grab the quilt and cover myself up to my chin before turning my back to him.
“Ness…”
“Good night,” I answer shortly.
I hear him sigh. A few seconds later he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me against him. I feel his warm, muscular chest against my back.
“Thomas, let me go.” I try to fight him off, but he holds me even tighter, burying his nose in my hair. I hate the effect he has on me. He annihilates me. He manages to make me feel things I shouldn’t. He makes me feel light and desired one moment, wretched and disconsolate the next. And now—now I want him to hug me, to hold me against him all night long, because I need it. Especially after the intimacy we shared, a connection that I’ve never had with anyone before. Not even with Travis. But I am not allowed to do any of these things, because he is not my boyfriend and, worst of all, he’ll never be a boyfriend at all. This is the punishment I deserve for allowing Thomas Collins into my life.
He exhales exhaustedly, as if he has read my mind. With his face still in my hair, he murmurs, “What do I do with you…”
“What do you mean?” I murmur, my voice trembling.
“Nothing, Ness. Sleep now.” He presses his lips to the nape of my neck, placing a delicate kiss there, which makes me shiver and makes me angry at the same time. I want to kick him out. I should kick him out. Instead, I end up basking in his warmth, surrendering myself to a deep sleep.