Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Three days have passed since I started hiding out at Victor’s place. Part of me never wants to leave, but I know I can’t stay here forever. Tonight, we’re lounging in his bed, naked under the covers, after devouring takeout. Victor noticed the weight I’ve lost in such a short time with some concern—he loves my curves—and unlike Ian, he doesn’t criticize my body or control my eating habits. The remnants of our feast still litter the kitchen, a testament to the simple yet perfect moments we’ve shared.
“I need to go home,” I say, even though I don’t want to leave the warmth of his bed. I never thought I’d be okay sleeping in the same bed where Esme once slept, but there’s no trace of her in this loft. It’s like she was never here at all.
“Or you could stay,” he suggests, pulling me closer to him.
“And wear what?” I raise an eyebrow.
He shrugs. “Nothing. It’s worked out fine so far.”
“True.” I snort, grinning. He’s not wrong. With all the spontaneous sex we’ve been having, clothes have been pretty much unnecessary. Plus, with Isabella moved out into a highrise condo downtown, we haven’t had to worry about anyone walking in on us. It’s been like a vacation, just the two of us in our own world. The only interruptions have been a couple of calls from Quentin about the charges being dropped against Victor and whether I wanted to press charges against Ian.
I told him no, even though a part of me is still reeling from the shock and hurt of Ian hitting me and spitting in my face. I’m not just angry about everything that’s happened; I’m sad that things came to this point.
Victor’s eyes meet mine, a flicker of worry in them. “Will you call me tonight if you need me?”
I rest my head on his chest, the bruise on my cheek still tender from Ian’s slap. I catch Victor looking at it sometimes, and I can feel the anger radiating off him. “I will,” I promise. As much as I want to stay in this bubble with Victor forever, I know I can’t. I have to face Esme. I also need to tell my family that the wedding is off—a conversation I’ve been dreading.
“If shit goes sideways, pack your things and come back tonight.” His hands slide around my hips, settling on my ass.
Nodding, I raise my head from his chest and kiss him deeply. His tongue sweeps inside my mouth, tasting and licking, before he sucks on my bottom lip. A moan escapes me as he grips my ass cheeks, kneading and pulling them apart. The absence of our clothes makes it easy for him to wet his finger with my arousal before sliding his digit down the seam of my ass and into my puckered hole.
I kiss him even deeper, grinding against his erection and his finger. It burns a little, but it also feels amazing, and I don’t want him to stop.
“Yes,” I whisper against his lips when his finger goes deeper, screwing in and out, driving me fucking wild. So wild that I lift myself up and sink down on his cock, eliciting a growl from his sexy lips.
“Fuck, Skylar. Shit.”
“Keep your finger in my ass,” I moan, riding his cock.
“God, I fucking love you.”
“I love you too,” I pant, my body turning inside out with all the sensations.
“You’re the sexiest fucking woman I’ve ever seen,” he says, rolling us over and putting me on all fours.
“Please,” I beg, and I don’t even know what I’m begging for—all of him, I guess. Everything. But what I don’t expect is his tongue dragging between my cheeks. “Oh my God,” I scream, burying my face into the pillow as he devours my ass like he’s done to my pussy for the last three days.
“Mine,” he growls, his breath hot on my skin.
“Yours,” I cry out. Sneaking a peek over my shoulder, I notice he’s jerking himself as he tongues my virgin hole. So, so fucking hot.
He doesn’t stop eating my ass until I’m coming, my body exploding. A hand slaps my over-sensitive pussy, the sting sending jolts of pleasure through me. And then he enters me, his dick sliding all the way in with one long thrust. “This pussy was made for me,” he growls, one hand in my hair, with his other holding my hip, his fingers sinking into the skin.
“Yes.” I arch my hips with every thrust. “Oh, God, don’t stop. Don’t you ever fucking stop.”
He only fucks me more savagely, hitting a spot deep inside me that has me wailing and sputtering incoherently.
“I can’t wait to bury my cock in your ass,” he grits out as he fucks into me.
Neither can I.
So this is what it feels like to be turned out. To crave a man’s cock to the point of obsession. He’s so good at this— too good at this —to where I never want to be without it. It’s not why I love him, but damn . Talk about the perk of being with an experienced lover like Victor, who knows exactly what he’s doing.
If someone had told me back in high school that we’d end up together like this, I would’ve laughed in their face while secretly hoping it would come true. After years of denying our feelings, we finally got what we both wanted. And the best part? This is only the beginning.
The sight of Ian’s car in my driveway sends a chill down my spine despite the lingering Texas heat. What the hell is he doing here? Part of me wants to turn tail and run back to the safety of Victor’s arms, but I can’t keep running from this forever.
Parking beside Ian’s car, I white-knuckle my phone, my stomach twisting into knots. If he even thinks about getting loud or putting his hands on me again, I won’t hesitate to dial 911.
Inside, silence reigns, broken only by the hum of the AC. Esme’s keys lie on the counter, but there’s no sign of her.
Unease prickles across my skin. “Es?” I call out, my voice sounding small in the stillness.
She appears at the top of the stairs, and my words die in my throat. It’s not the silky fire-red robe that throws me—it is late—it’s the look on her face. Her eyes are twin flames of barely contained rage, ready to incinerate me where I stand.
“What?” she snaps, arms crossed.
“Is Ian in my room? And did he say anything to you?” I try to keep my voice steady, but it shakes anyway.
Her gaze zeros in on my bruised cheek. “What happened to you?”
Self-consciously touching my face, free of makeup, I reply, “Ian’s what happened. I’m gonna get him outta here so you and I can talk.” I grab my ring from the coffee table drawer, my hands slick with sweat.
“What do we need to talk about?” Esme’s eyes narrow at the ring.
“We broke up, so he shouldn’t even be in my bedroom.” I swallow hard. “There’s a lot I need to tell you, but first?—”
She holds up a hand, palm out. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Well, well, well. Hello, Skylar.” Ian’s voice makes my blood run cold. He saunters down the stairs, zipping up his jeans with a smug grin on his face, despite the two black eyes and split lip.
No. Oh, God, no. Please tell me they didn’t…
I whip my head toward Esme, praying I’m wrong. “Es?”
She won’t meet my eyes. Guilt and defiance war on her face, and she bites her lower lip, a telltale sign of remorse. But there’s a stubborn set to her jaw and a hint of challenge in the way she squares her shoulders. It’s all the confirmation I need.
They had sex.
“How long has this shit been going on?” I croak out, my voice strangled.
Esme shifts uncomfortably, still not looking at me.
“I came for my ring.” Ian breaks the tension, holding out his hand.
I want to scream. I want to throw the damn ring at his stupid face. But I can’t focus on him right now. Not when my best friend since kindergarten has just shattered my heart into a million jagged pieces.
“You fucked my man, so I fucked yours. Checkmate, bitch.” Esme’s words are pure venom, but I catch the slight waver in her voice, the barely perceptible tremble of her chin before she juts it out defiantly.
The hypocrisy of it all hits me hard. “Are you fucking serious, Esme? Really! You fucked Ian!”
“You didn’t want him—too obsessed with my man to take care of yours.” Her words are meant to cut deep, and they do. But there’s a brittleness to them, a fragility she’s trying so hard to hide behind her anger.
“Wow,” I laugh bitterly as Ian slides up next to her, looking way too pleased with himself. “How long has this been going on behind my back?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He smirks.
“Just this once.” Esme plucks his arm off her shoulder like it’s a used tissue. “You can go now,” she dismisses him.
“What?” Ian looks as shocked as I feel.
“Your services are no longer needed.” She gives him a hard shove toward the door.
“You bitches are crazy. Fuck both of you,” he sneers, snatching his ring from me.
“Fuck you too,” Esme shouts after him.
Ian storms out, cursing about us being “a white man’s bed wench.” Classy .
Then it’s just us—me and Esme. Seventeen years of friendship, crumbling to dust between the lines we crossed.
“So you fuck Ian to get back at me?” Rage boils under my skin, warring with the shame churning in my gut.
“Bitch, are you serious right now?” she yells but then visibly tries to rein it in. “Ian didn’t have to say shit. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Her words are like a punch in the stomach. “What are you talking about?”
“The way you looked at Victor before he left our trip. I’m not blind, Sky. Oh, and I read the text messages.”
My brows furrow. “What text messages?”
“In Cape Cod. The morning after I got wasted. You left your phone in your room when you were showering.”
My mind scrambles as I try to remember the texts. She’s known this whole time? “And you never said anything.”
“Neither did you,” she shoots back, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
True. “I was going to tell you tonight.”
“After fucking him all weekend?” She barks out a harsh laugh. “Seventeen years, Sky. I never thought you’d do me like this.”
“Don’t play innocent. You knew how I felt about him in high school, yet you still went after him.”
“That was high school,” she shouts, throwing up her arms in frustration.
“Even after high school. You fucked him in the parking lot just to get him to stop talking about me. Thirsty, much?”
Her nostrils flare, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. “He could’ve said no. But he didn’t. He fucked me in that car, and he kept fucking me for months because he wanted to. He wanted me . Not you , and you couldn’t stand it. Poor Sky. Boo-fucking-hoo.”
She’s right. He chose to be with her, just like I chose to be with Ian. No one is blameless in this fucked-up situation. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“Well, ya did a fuckin’ fantastic job,” she spits. “No wonder Liv wants nothing to do with you anymore. She knows you fucked him too.”
Is that why she hasn’t returned any of my calls? Esme’s words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. But I deserve them. “This whole situation is so fucked,” I whisper, blinking back tears.
“So are you two, like, together now?”
I finally meet her gaze head-on, not willing to deny our love to anyone ever again. “Yes.”
She laughs again, but it’s a sad, broken sound. “Good luck with that. Shit happens, you know?”
“I love him, Esme.”
“No shit,” she mutters. “I need you to go. Pack your shit and get the fuck out. I can’t even look at you anymore. We’re done.”
We’re done. I don’t want to be done. But there it is. The final nail in the coffin of our friendship. Tears blur my vision as I turn away, each leaden step carrying me further from the girl who was once my sister, my ride or die.
I pause at the door, my hand on the knob. I want to say something, anything, to try and bridge this gaping chasm between us. But there’s nothing left to say. No magic words to undo the damage we’ve done. So I walk out, the muggy night air enveloping me like a suffocating blanket. The tears finally break free as the weight of everything I’ve lost crashes down on me.
At least there are no more secrets. But God, the price of love.
Esme and I…we really are done. Shattered because of a man who has always owned my heart. And even though it hurts like hell right now, Victor is the one I’m meant to be with. The one I’m willing to risk everything for. I just hope that someday Esme will understand and forgive me—forgive us. Time heals all wounds, right?