23. Skylar #2
An ominous laugh rumbles in his throat. “Looks like I was right. You’re fucking soaked, Skylar.”
I look away, not out of shame, but because I feel like I might explode from his words alone.
He tilts my chin up. “You want me to make you come?”
“Yes.” My voice is a whisper, so why does it sound so loud in my ears?
“Right here against your car?”
“Yes.”
He looks behind me, to where the house is, and the satisfied curve of his lips falters a little. “Are you sure it’s okay…”
I don’t know if he’s asking because we’re at my recently- deceased father’s house or because he took my virginity in the room a hundred feet away from where we’re standing, right before he ripped my heart out. Either way, I don’t care. “Yes, yes. Please, just move.”
He does, adding another finger to the first and pumping them in and out. My hips move of their own accord, grinding against his palm.
“Fuck, Skylar,” he coaxes. “You’re so pretty when you’re desperate.”
I’m so turned on from the motorcycle ride and his words that it’s going to happen quickly, too quickly, which makes my face heat even more.
I almost laugh at the irony. He was right when he said all my hook-ups would leave me hard-up.
I haven’t been with one man since Declan who could make me come.
Not that I’ve had a ton of men, but I did go through a period freshman year of college where I thought I could erase him.
Needless to say, it didn’t work. Now I’m afraid I’ll come too soon.
He twists his fingers, curling them just right, and at the same time, he presses the pad of his thumb onto my clit, rubbing it in tight circles.
“Shit, Declan. I’m gonna…” He stops, removing his fingers so abruptly that I fall against him as if they were holding me upright.
“What the hell?” I snap, pushing against his chest.
“Sorry, sorry. I just love that little face you make when you’re close. I wanted to see it again.”
My eyes roll, and I grip the fabric of his shirt in my fist as he slides his fingers back in, and this time, he doesn’t stop.
Not when I'm at the edge and not when I fall over it, succumbing to the band of pleasure that coils around me. He works me through every aftershock until I’m so sensitive, I have to move his hand away.
“Too much,” I say, and he pulls his hand out of my pants.
I already know what he’s going to do before he does it, yet I’m still surprised when his tongue flicks out to lap at his fingers.
He doesn’t stick them in his mouth, no, he licks them like a damn popsicle.
When he’s done, he fixes my pants, sliding up the zipper and buttoning the top.
I’m not sure what comes over me, but before I can think better of it, I reach out and grab his belt. His hand covers mine, the warmth of it seeping into the cells of my skin, and I already know it’s a rejection.
“Skylar, I said ‘no.’” His voice is firm, but I hear a hint of hesitation.
He’s referring to the other night when I tried to reciprocate.
“Why?” I hate the way my voice cracks.
“Because if my dick comes anywhere near you, I won’t be able to be gentle. It’s been too fucking long.”
“Who said anything about being gentle?” I look down at the bulge in his pants. “If we’re testing theories, it looks like your dick isn’t on the same page as you.”
He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It never is.”
“Then what the hell is the problem?”
“I won’t be rough with you, Skylar.”
I scoff as he takes a step back to give us both space.
“What?”
“I—there were all these rumors in high school.”
“Oh yeah? What rumors were there?”
“That you were rough and demanding. That you liked to dominate. I don’t know, I just thought—”
“You thought what?”
“I don’t know. That you wouldn’t treat me like I’m made of fucking glass.”
He runs his hand along his face, his fingers digging into his cheek.
“I’m not some na?ve little virgin anymore. I’ve had plenty of men.”
He chuckles again, the sound as dark and gritty as his threats to Julian at the bar. “So you keep saying. Are you trying to piss me off so I’ll be rough with you?”
“Maybe.”
He clicks his tongue, softly tracing his fingers down my collarbone until they land on my locket. “Is this from one of them?”
“What if it is?” My breathing turns shallow as his thumb runs over the locket before he drops it back to my chest.
“You’re still not getting it.”
“Why not? All those girls in high school—”
Before I can react, his fingers return, gripping my chin, forcing me to face him. “Meant fucking nothing to me.”
“So what? You think your dick is going to destroy me?”
“Jesus, Skylar.”
“No, seriously. Tell me so I understand.”
“I was a teenager!” he snaps, throwing his hands up.
“I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.
You think I had a safe word? You think I asked those girls what they liked or if they had hard limits?
Think I sat with them after to make sure they were okay?
I was an asshole. I used them, Skylar, and then I threw them away.
Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you and make you leave before the cum on your tits has dried? Because that’s what I did.”
Suddenly, the ground feels like it’s falling out from under my feet, and I stand there, mouth agape. I rip open the car door. “Sounds familiar.”
“Skylar.”
“Don’t stand there and say I was any different from them because that’s exactly what you did to me. You got what you wanted, and you discarded me like I was nothing.”
“Fuck, Firefly. I didn’t mean…”
“Don’t call me that. Just stop. I need space.”
I plant my ass in the driver’s seat, but before I can close the door, his arm shoots out to catch it.
“I’m not saying never. You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you so hard that you feel me for days, but I won’t do anything that requires complete trust until I know I have yours.
That’s not an ultimatum. It’s just the truth.
I can’t trust myself to be with you that way until I know you’ve forgiven me. ”
Silence stretches between us, broken only by my thudding heart, and I whip my head around, placing both hands on the wheel to ground myself. “You think you deserve my forgiveness?” I croak.
“No.”
“You fucked everything up.”
“I know.”
“We could have been everything,” I yell and I hate that I’m crying almost as much as I hate myself for thinking this thing between us could be casual. “But you ruined it.”
“I know,” he says again, his voice almost a whisper.
Shaking my head, I rip the door from his grasp, and this time, he lets me slam it closed.
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, checking my rearview mirror, only to see him standing by his bike, putting his helmet on.
Even though I hate that he’s going to follow me, it also fills me with a strange sense of comfort.
As I turn onto the road, driving myself for the first time in over a month, I don’t feel scared.
I don’t even hesitate. If anything, the sensation coursing through my body is a lot like freedom.