Chapter 20 #2
“It’s hot. Now turn around and put your hands on the door.”
I spin and arch my back like the good girl I am, shoving my ass into the hard length he’s sporting behind that fucking distracting suit. Cool air hits the back of my legs as he flips my skirt up.
His zipper lowering is the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard.
The rip of the condom package and the sounds of him rolling it on have never been more intoxicating.
I arch harder, ready to take whatever he’s got planned, and am rewarded with his hand on my lower back.
Hot fingers trace down the crack of my ass and between my legs, making me squirm and search for more friction, pressure.
He trails a finger through my lips, closer to where I want him, and curses. “Fuck, you’re already soaked.”
I fist a hand and bite my knuckles as he dips a finger inside me, then pulls it out, circling my clit in the way he knows I like.
Then the thick head of his cock slides through my folds.
I thrust back into him, notching him inside.
He groans, the sound skittering across my exposed back, and all the fine hairs on my body stand on end.
This wanting, this desire, isn’t one sided, and it’s a heady feeling knowing he wants me as much as I want him.
“Brace, baby.” He whispers his warning a second before he pushes inside.
“Yes,” I gasp as he bottoms out in one smooth thrust, filling me up in the way only he can.
“Fuck, Mags, you’re so hot. Taking me so well like the good girl you are.”
Jesus Christ. I can’t with his dirty talk. He pulls out, and I meet his next push, rearing back into him. I want more. I want him feral as I meet him thrust for thrust.
Hands grip my waist, yanking me back into his punishing rhythm, each drive hitting that spot inside me that makes me see stars. I’m so close already.
I slip a hand from the door and splay my fingers over my labia, pressing my palm to my clit, feeling the slick slide of his cock with each drag in and out of me between my fingers. I grind my clit into my palm, and he gasps at the roll of my hips.
Emboldened, I tighten around him, then swivel and press my clit once more. His movements become erratic, ruthless. He grips my ass cheek in a way that I’m sure will leave fingerprints on me.
I peek over my shoulder at him, drawn by the need to see him.
He’s unhinged, eyes glued to the place where our bodies are connected, mouth hanging open as he pants with each thrust. He draws that full lower lip between his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure.
The sight of him lost in pleasure overwhelms me, cracks something loose, and I combust. My orgasm barrels through me, and I clench around him.
“Fuck,” he groans softly. The sound sends another wave of pleasure through me.
Knowing I have that effect on him is heady.
He buries himself deep inside me and freezes, letting me feel each pulse as he comes.
Slowly, he drapes his large body across my back, arms coming around to hold me close.
His lips are hot on the shell of my ear. And tears prick my eyes.
We are so damn good together, and he’s going to throw it all away.
As soon as the thought enters my mind, it’s all I can focus on.
I know he’s got this dream, and I suspect it’s something he’s wanted for a very long time.
I just wish I were enough to make him want to stay, that having his job here were enough to satisfy that adrenaline rush he needs.
And I selfishly hope he realizes he’s taking a part of me with him. But running away from the heavy is his MO. Has been for as long as I can remember. So I know this hope is a foolish one.
Too soon, he pulls away and disposes of the condom as I right my dress. I duck my head to avoid his gaze because something has shifted in me. I know it’s going to show on my face, and I don’t want to ruin this night.
I’m messing with the hem of my dress when big hands cup my cheeks, forcing my head up.
Warm eyes meet mine, searching. Shifting from curious to concern to remorse .
Crap , he sees it. But instead of running away, he kisses me.
Softly, tenderly, lovingly. He pulls me into his arms and presses my cheek to his chest, strong arms wrapped around me like he doesn’t want to let me go.
The embrace feels like a goodbye. One I’m not ready for because I know it’s going to hurt like a bitch.
Eventually, he loosens his hold, shifting to rub his hands down my arms as he presses a kiss to my forehead.
He inhales like he’s going to say something, and I hold my breath in anticipation. But he exhales without releasing me from the emotional turmoil this little tryst has put me in .
“Come on. As much as I’d like to sneak out and spend the rest of the night buried inside of you, there’s still a party you have to be involved in.”
I groan at the reminder. This sneaking around, as heady as it was not twenty minutes ago, now feels shady and cheap. Why haven’t we just come out and fessed up to Alice?
Jackson whips the door open, and there’s an audible gasp from the other side.
“Jackson?”
Oh shit . It’s Alice. Alice is here, and Jackson has sex hair, and I definitely look rumpled and well-fucked. Not to mention…
“Why does this room smell like sex?” Alice demands.
There’s that too.
Poor Jackson is frozen in place. Seriously, does he freeze like this on the job?
Too late, he goes to block me, but Alice sneaks her hand under his arm and pushes the door open.
“Oh. My. God. Did you two hook up in here?”
“Alice…” we both say at the same time. She holds a hand out to stop us.
“You know what? I can’t deal with this right now.
I came looking for a phone charger. Had no idea I’d be walking in on my brother having”—she flips a hand around in our direction—“whatever this is.” Pressing a hand to her forehead, she closes her eyes.
“I can’t believe you guys kept this from me.
” Hurt laces her tone, and I can’t meet her eyes.
What have we done? How badly is she going to kill us?
I expect her to rage, to yell at me for using her for her brother. Instead, she marches across the room, snatches her charging cable from her purse, and stalks out of the room without another word, avoiding my gaze the whole time.
“That went well,” Jackson quips, like it means nothing that she basically walked in on us. “Thank god she wasn’t five minutes earlier.”
I punch him in the arm. “Don’t be a jerk.” It’s easy for him to shrug this off. He’s leaving in a matter of hours, and I’ll be the one left to sort out this mess.
I’ll be the one Alice cuts out of her life, and then I’ll be the one left behind. Alone.
Still, he takes my hand, and I follow him out of the frying pan and into the fire.
In the banquet room, everyone is facing the stage, and Alice, who has been hovering in the periphery all evening, is nowhere to be seen. A large screen has been lowered into place, and sappy music plays over the loudspeaker. Too late, I remember her warning about the memorial.
I glance at the big screen and see a montage of photos from the year before Jackson graduated. Like a highlight reel of each year’s seniors, there’s representation of every big event from each class being honored tonight.
The montage switches to Jackson’s class. There’s a set of photos from when the football team won the state championship that year. One from the science bowl and the debate team.
And then there’s a picture of prom night. And a random—bad—photo of me and T.J. dancing at prom. I didn’t even know this existed, but it looks like a group shot, and it’s been cropped and edited until all you can see is the two of us.
Tears prick my eyes. That night was as blissful as I remember it, based on the smiles on our faces.
I haven’t allowed myself to think about that night in a long time.
For a while, it just hurt too badly. The emptiness of loss and grief was the only thing I knew after being so head over heels in infatuation with T.J.
And then with time, the hurt lessened. And I grew from that grief and lived my life because he couldn’t. And I honored him in the only way I could… by chasing my dream. In my heart, T.J. has always held that special place, not because we were super close, but because we had potential.
The video cuts to the after-prom party, and the group of seniors all lined up, arms around shoulders, getting ready to take that stupid plunge. I can’t stop the tears that fill my eyes. The realization that I’m looking at the last moments of his life.
Maybe if I’d had a larger friend group or hadn’t immediately withdrawn from the world, I would’ve seen these before tonight instead of being blindsided by them now. I’m grateful Alice tried to give me a heads-up.
But as the screen fades to yet another group shot, what strikes me is seeing Jackson talking to T.J. in the background, as T.J. looks worriedly into the abyss. Jackson freezes beside me.
“Oh man, I forgot you were the one who pulled him out and did CPR on him,” someone nearby says. I glance over to see a man I don’t recognize addressing the statue at my side.
This has to be a mistake. Surely, this guy is wrong.
I know I was detached and built walls around myself to deal with my grief, but how was I so blind?
I don’t want to believe that Jackson withheld information from me, and this guy is full of shit.
But instinct tells me he’s not, and an ugly, vile rage bubbles up inside me.
Jackson swallows thickly, eyes a little too wide, gaze a little too frantic.
He knew T.J .
He knew T.J. It makes perfect sense that he would. It even makes sense that he’d be the one trying to save him.
But that also means he knew who I was talking about when we had our little heart-to-heart after that first night. And even though he’s known all along, he’s never once mentioned it. Reality tunnels to just me and Jackson, who won’t meet my gaze. And my heart shatters.
“Why?” I’m not sure if I’m asking why he kept this from me, or why I didn’t ever realize it? Or why he didn’t save T.J. that night.
“’Scuse me,” he mutters and backs away. He spins on a heel and stalks out of the room. Confident and sure and being a complete jackass.