Chapter 20 #2
My eyes snap to his. Has he ever said my name before? No, it’s always been ‘pretty boy,’ ‘Fowler,’ ‘kid.’ I don’t think he’s ever…
Taking two steps closer to me, he cups my cheek in his hand. “I did not leave you,” he repeats.
“You called me Emmett.”
A moment all too long passes, my chest heaving with both rage and relief before I grab his probably-aching face in my hands and kiss him hard.
I actually missed him. I hate him, but I don’t want to be without him again.
His tongue slips into my mouth and I welcome it, swallowing up the taste of him.
I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tight, as if I’m afraid he’ll disappear again if I let go. He holds me just as tightly as he leads me toward his car, his mouth never leaving mine.
“Wait,” I breathe. “My dad’s in there. Davis, too…if they see us, they’ll kill you, I’m not kidding.”
“My windows are tinted,” he replies with a smirk, “and those two don’t scare me.” He quickly claims my mouth again, effectively shutting me up.
We hurry to climb into the back of his SUV and Nash flips a few switches to move the seats into a better position for the two of us to fit inside.
I start to peel off my suit jacket, and his hands grab my wrists to stop me. “Leave it on,” he tells me. “You have to go back in there.”
Oh. Right.
I shimmy out of my pants and he does the same, the two of us already breathing so heavily that we wouldn’t need the window tint. They’ll all be coated in steam in less than a minute at this rate.
My cock throbs as he turns me toward the back of the seat, using my hands for support, and he presses his solid body against mine. His arm wraps around my middle and I feel a finger trace featherlight touches over the lower curve of my ass.
“I’ve missed this little birthmark,” he tells me.
“I don’t have a birthmark.”
“Yes you do,” he chuckles, slipping himself inside of me. I whine a loud moan in response as my body welcomes his cock. “It’s shaped like Florida.”
Holding me tightly, he moves his hips as I rock against him, letting him in until his hips are flush against my skin. As frantic as we were outside, he fucks me slow and deep, soaking in whatever time we’re able to steal with each other until I have to go back.
I turn my head over my shoulder and he presses a kiss to my lips. “Do you remember who you belong to?” He asks.
I nod.
“Who?”
“You,” I pant.
I never imagined myself belonging to someone, doing what they ask and letting them overpower me. I think if it were anyone but Nash, I would fight it. I wouldn’t bend to their will or to their command; but I welcome it from him; I think I want it from him.
His thrusts pick up speed just a little and he fucks me harder, as if I’m being rewarded for answering his question correctly, and I let out a low groan.
“You thought I left you,” he scolds. “I don’t leave important things behind.”
Moving a hand from my waist, he brings it around to wrap around my cock, pumping it in even strokes while he works my ass, and all of the air pours out of my lungs, leaving me breathless.
“Gah—” I gasp, grabbing tighter onto the seat. “Sto—”
“Don’t ever assume the worst of me again, pretty boy, do I make myself clear?”
“God— Christ, yes,” I shudder. “Crystal clear.”
His fist tightens around my shaft and I could practically fall apart in his grip. My entire body shakes and I can feel the vibration of his chest on my back as he groans.
“You’re mine,” he pants. “I wouldn’t leave you.”
Lava courses through my veins, across every nerve ending in my body, and I cry out, desperately trying not to come. I don’t want this to end. Please, don’t let this end.
“One...or the other…please...” I beg him, straining for both air and focus. “You have to…stop.”
His mouth presses against my ear and he growls, “You deny yourself pleasure, but I want every fucking drop of it, Emmett.”
All it takes is a few more equally matched strokes and I fall apart, biting into the seat as I cry out and my body shudders, wracked with the electric release of my orgasm.
“Oh, pretty boy,” Nash moans behind me. “That little show was spectacular.”
With my body still spasming against my will, he thrusts into me again and again until his own body tenses and stills. His cock throbs inside of me as he leans his head over my shoulder, moaning into my ear through his climax and filling me with his cum.
“Now,” he rubs my back as he pulls out, catching his breath, “go back to your party. You’ll be missed.”
All that I can do is gape at him over my shoulder.
I can’t speak; I can’t stop the quivering in my body.
I swear to god, I pulled a muscle in my side just from coming.
He brings a hand up to smooth my hair back into place and maneuvers himself to pull his pants back on.
After long moments, I follow suit with a shaky hand.
“Don’t miss anymore calls, you menace,” I tell him as I step out of the car.
When I walk back into the party, everyone is so into what they’re doing that they don’t even notice me. I probably could have stayed out there with Nash all night and no one would have batted an eye.
I pluck another champagne flute from the table and dunk it under the fountain as my dad approaches me. He sways on his feet just a little bit, and I think I may actually be witnessing a properly drunken Colt Fowler for the first time in my life.
“My son, the magister of economics!” He shouts, smacking a hand against my back.
“No one really calls it that anymore,” I laugh. I lift my glass to my lips and his brow furrows at me.
“You’re shaking. Are you alright?”
“Oh. Adrenaline,” I assure him. “It was a big day.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders and points to a table on the far side of the main room, littered with different foods. “There are chicken nuggets over there,” he grimaces. “Get something to eat.”
“Oh cool, I’ll go make you a plate. Heavy on the nugs.”
“I will have you taken out of my will so fast your head will spin,” he threatens, and I practically double over in laughter.
This night is a good night. It might actually be the best night that I’ve had in months.
I can shut down the worry, the pain, the darkness; even just for a few hours.
I can let myself be celebrated and enjoy the people around me.
I can worry about everything else later; for the next few hours, I can just live.
·
I lay at the edge of my bed with my head hanging backward over the side as Rowan walks into the room giggling.
“Your dad is hammered,” she tells me as she flops down next to me, dropping a bottle of Gatorade onto my stomach.
“He barely made it to bed with one shoe and a pant leg off. Did you have fun tonight?”
A chuckle rolls out of me and I can’t help but smile. “Oh yeah,” I tell her, “I had a great time.”
“Good.” She rolls to the other side of the bed, dropping her hand to the nightstand next to her, and she opens the top drawer, digging around until she pulls out my secret stash of gummy worms. “I’m kind of surprised Mariah isn’t in here with you. Unless she’s hiding under your bed or something.”
“Nope. I didn’t bring anyone back.”
“Which means you did all your celebrating at the party,” she says, dramatically pretending to gag.
I cackle, throwing a hand over my mouth. Shit, maybe Dad’s not the only drunk one. “It wasn’t indoors,” I tell her.
“Eww!” She whines, tearing open the bag of gummy worms and taking a bite of one. “I was just kidding!”
“You know, I was around while you were pregnant. You can’t sit there and pretend you’re grossed out by sex.”
“I’m grossed out by you having sex.” The bag of candy smacks against my stomach before Ro flops down onto her back, hanging her head over the edge of the bed next to me. “Wanna do a face mask with me? Your skin is gonna be all dull and angry from the alcohol tomorrow.”
I let out a laugh way louder than I mean to. “I went on a three-week long bender. Did my skin look dull and angry after that?”
“You looked like you’d been microwaved,” she tells me with a deadpan expression.
The two of us burst into a howling, raucous laughter that shakes the entire bed and makes it hard to breathe, which only fuels the laughter further until we’re both laughing so hard that we’ve gone completely silent.
“Oh god, okay,” Rowan eventually sighs with her hand on her chest, slowly rolling herself over and looking at her smart watch. “I’m doing a face mask. You can join me or you can make the wrong decision. It’s up to you.”
Less than ten minutes later, I’m sitting on the edge of the tub in the bathroom, having cold, gritty mud painted onto my face by my best friend, whose own face is already covered in a thick layer of the stuff.
She paints with precision, avoiding my eyes and mouth.
When she’s finally done, I stand and look in the mirror at the two of us with a laugh.
A thick layer of the green crap is caked onto my face, matching Ro’s. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but I’m almost certain that my face is tingling.
“This is horrifying.”
“But just think of how pretty you’ll be after!” She teases.
Pretty boy.
I feel Nash’s hand wrap around my wrist and I hear the gentle tone of his voice playing in my head as he told me ‘I didn’t leave you.’ I look at my friend, bobbing her head side to side and moving her lips along with the music coming out of her phone’s speaker while she sits on the counter.
“Rowan, can I—” I hesitate, suddenly choked by nerves that ball themselves into my throat to block my speech. Ro’s eyebrows raise in expectation, and I clear my throat. “I was just wondering how long we have to keep this stuff on.”
“Two more songs,” she smiles.
Maybe I can try again tomorrow.
Maybe.