Casey
W ater drips down my body as I step out of the shower that did nothing to calm my rampant thoughts, the war waging in my heart, or the need raging like an inextinguishable wildfire through my body. My lips part with an annoyed sigh as I reach for a towel, wrap it around my hair, then grab another and dry off my body. When my skin is no longer damp, I wrap my soft, cotton robe around me, and I sit on the side of the jetted tub and begin moisturizing my legs. My mind replays the conversation with Graham in the car and in the garage.
He called me beautiful. No, not beautiful. He said perfect. Any other time, I would’ve rolled my eyes. I would’ve believed he was just saying it out of obligation, but the look in his eyes told me the word wasn’t a platitude. Neither was that kiss. The entire interaction was spent trying to convince me that he wants me, while I tried my hardest to refute every word.
My skin heats as I recall my loud declaration about my sexual experience in my attempt to prove him wrong. I can’t believe I said that to him. Worse, he didn’t seem all that surprised, which is so utterly humiliating, but the one time it almost happened, he interrupted. As much as I protested back then, I’m not sorry he did, but it doesn’t make me feel any less embarrassed.
Then I remember him dangling that damn wand Lily insisted I buy. It wasn’t a lie when I told him I used it for my legs and feet. I’ve stuck to my little vibrator and fingers because, honestly, I’ve been too terrified to do more.
And that shows how pathetic I am.
My fingers are digging into my aching feet when my head falls forward with self-pity. I try to remind myself that opportunities for me have been slim. Even if I were more socially adept, I’ve been too focused on school and dance to allow time. But the excuse makes me feel worse.
Frustration bounces off the walls of the bathroom with my groan. The plastic lotion bottle thuds then falls into the tub when I slam it down with exasperation, then stand. My feet slap against the cold tile as I stomp through the enormous bathroom—the largest in the apartment and conceded to me by my bestie because she said I needed the Jacuzzi tub more than she did—to my bedroom.
Terror rips from my vocal cords, burning my throat when I spot dark eyes boring into me from his lazy position on my bed. Unaffected by my reaction, his tongue swipes over his lower lip as his lascivious gaze travels over me. Another squeak escapes me as my arms come up, covering myself, knowing the thin material of my small robe leaves little to the imagination. Not that he needs to imagine, considering he stripped me bare on my dining table days ago. “How did you get in here?”
The material of his dark blue button-down stretches over his chest as he lifts an arm, propping it behind his head, thick, corded forearms flexing with the movement. A dark brow lifts along with the corner of his mouth. “The same way you did. Through the door.” I lift my hand and point to the door, not wanting to argue about needing a code to my apartment because he probably just paid someone to give him one. “You need to go.”
He eases up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and stands. I want to back up—away or something, but my feet are rooted. “I wasn’t done with you.”
My shoulders lift as I inhale with annoyance, then immediately regret doing it because his scent envelops me, making me dizzy. I shake my head, trying to regain my senses and meet his eyes. “Graham, I told you…”
His wide hand comes up, covering my mouth as he backs me up until my ass hits the dresser behind me. He drops them, setting one on either side of me, caging me between the hardwood and his hard body. “Stop regurgitating the same bullshit because if I haven’t made myself clear, I don’t care. Do you think I don’t know what’s in your head? I ask because I want you to say it—to use your voice and admit your feelings—but I already know. And you’re right. People will talk and get pissed. They won’t understand a damn thing about us, but it doesn’t fucking matter what they understand. You are mine.”
“It does matter,” I whisper, though denying I’m his is pointless because it’s the truth. The falsehood I’ve been telling myself will always be the lie. I’ve always been his in some way. Even all this time apart trying to convince myself to let it all go, I haven’t been able to. Graham is all I’ve ever wanted.
All I can do is remind myself we can’t be and hang on to the sliver of sanity I have. Anything else will get my heart decimated in a way that sixteen-year-old me didn’t have the sense to realize. And my heart will inevitably get broken because Graham could never be happy with me forever, and I can’t lose everyone important to me for a few fleeting moments with him.
His hand lifts from beside me, wrapping around the back of my neck. Thick fingers massage into the tendons, making my lashes flutter. His forehead kisses mine, his minty breath fanning my face as he breathes heavily. “…” When he says my name like that, full of sadness and pain, my insides clench. Dark lashes brush his cheekbones as he sighs, his head moving back and forth over mine as he shakes his head. His eyes open, the dark chocolate irises nearly black, and stares into mine with desperation. “I’ll prove it to you.” When my brows furrow, not understanding what he means, a low chuckle slips from him. “You are mine, Sunflower, and I want to tell everyone, including fucking Liam, to kiss my ass. But I know you need time to believe this isn’t just a sudden whim—a need to stick it to people. I hoped you would know me better than that, but—”
“No!” My hand lifts between us, digging into his shirt. Panic surges through me because I know Graham would never intentionally use me. “I know you would never hurt me on purpose, Graham. You’ve spent half my life ensuring no one hurts me. I just think that maybe subconsciously, what you’re feeling is fueled by… you know. Because we both know you’ll get bored with me, Graham. I’m not exactly the outgoing, glamorous socialite that makes life exciting.”
“Do you think those girls are exciting?” He raises a brow as if he’s questioning my intelligence and sanity. “They’re a pain in the fucking ass. Why would I want someone like that? But, Sunflower, this didn’t just begin. It started when an innocent fucking kiss knocked me on my ass so hard, I quit kissing other women altogether, and it go so much worse because… I’m not a saint, . I’m not going to stand here and lie to you by saying I haven’t been with other women, but I was also trying not to give in to these feelings. But I eventually gave up there, too, because all I thought about with them was you. It was wrong. Wanting you is wrong, but I don’t care anymore. I haven’t for a while, but I was waiting on you. And that’s what I’m going to prove.” When I start to shake my head, he grips my jaw, holding me still. “You’re mine, but I’m going to prove I’m yours too, so until you believe it, I will do this discreetly. No one needs to find out that I’m being anything more than the best older brother a person could ask for.” The way he says brother makes it clear he doesn’t like the idea, but my heart thumps hard because he’s not backing down. No . He’s saying he will give me time. “You’re afraid of losing people and being left alone if you give into this. I’m going to prove you will never be alone, and no one will ever fucking hurt you again. I’ll be your dirty little secret, baby.” He smirks as his mouth gets closer to mine. My breath hitches when his tongue darts out, swiping over my lips. “But don’t forget my patience is limited, Sunflower, so you better start believing very quickly.” His fingers come between us, gripping the thin belt holding my robe in place. The knot comes undone, and it falls open. My entire body flames as his hands swipe over my shoulders, the fabric falling to the floor. “But I’m not waiting to fill this little pussy up with me. Liam interrupted me the other day, and it’s all I’ve thought about since.”
Anxious trepidation escapes my lips. The room spins as the nerves take hold, making my heart beat in erratic thumps of hysteria. The hands still gripping his shirt clench harder, trying to keep myself upright. “I-I…”
He spins me toward the mirror that sets over the dresser, clicking his tongue. “Are you going to deny you’re on fire for me?” My fingers grip the wood’s edge as his heavy hands grip my hips. One drags over my stomach, trailing up between my breasts until he reaches my neck. It wraps around my throat, tugging me back against him. His lips meet the soft skin of my shoulder, nipping and biting a feathered path toward my neck. Chills run down my spine as his tongue flicks my ear. “I’m in your blood, baby, and you are in mine.” His fingers tighten around my neck as he slides his other hand slides around, going low and cupping my sex. “You’re dripping for me. You want me inside you as badly as I need to be inside you. Tell me I’m wrong, .”
I can’t tell him because I do want it. He’s right. I’m dripping down my thighs. My core is clenching and throbbing with need. Every nerve ending in my body is electrified by his whispered words against my fevered flesh, ignited by the slightest brush of his fingertips.
But I’m also terrified. I’m not even sure what I’m afraid of. That it will hurt? That doesn’t feel right because I’m used to pain. Being a dancer isn’t for the weak. That I’ll be bad at it? Well, that’s a given, all things considered, but that doesn’t feel right either.
The why doesn’t matter. The fact is, I am so scared, I know I’ll slam the brakes and not be able to go through with it.
My lashes flutter as his finger slips inside me. My chest expands with a gasp. Anxiety pulses through me until I’m shaking. What he’s doing to me—his thick finger pumping in and out feels so good, but I feel like I’m going to pass out. “Gr-Graham.” It’s so soft and muted that even I struggle to hear, but he sees my lips move. His movements don’t stop, but they do slow as he waits to hear what I’m going to say. “I-I need you…” The words trail off as embarrassment about what I’m about to say coils tight in my belly, not quite sure how he’ll react.
His eyes become hooded with lust as he nips at my neck. “I know you do, baby. This tight little pussy is desperate for me.”
I shake my head as I grip his wrist, pulling him away. Dark eyes flash with annoyance and anger, but he doesn’t object. I force myself to maintain eye contact through the mirror even though I want to look anywhere else.
Actually, I want to lock myself in the bathroom, but I have a feeling he’d just break my door down. That would be a fantastic thing to explain to my dad.
“I need you to take it—take me.” My entire body prickles while turning an extraordinarily bright shade of red.
“What do you mean take you?” he growls, but the flex of his jaw tells me he knows exactly what I mean. “,” the growl deepens, rumbling against my back. His hands grip my hips, spinning me to face him. Pain shoots through my jaw as he grips my face, forcing my head back the few inches needed to bring our eyes together. “you can’t fucking say that. Do you know how badly I want to do just that? I want to fill you until you don’t know where you start and I end. But that is not how this needs to go. Not your first time. I know I lost control the other day, but it can’t happen now.”
Desperation pulls my hands up to wrap around his wrist. “Pl-please. I-I won’t be able to do this if you don’t. I’ll chicken out. Just…” I bite my lip, knowing I’m about to really piss him off. “Even if I try to stop or say no, make me.”
His eyes turn pitch black as his pupils swallow his irises. White teeth peek from between his lips as they curl into a feral look. A sharp yelp escapes me when he scoops me up, turns one hundred eighty degrees, and crosses the few steps to my bed. The springs of my mattress creek as I land with a bounce.
Vulnerability—or more of it—rips through me as his fully clothed body hovers over my naked one. “Every fucking cell in my body wants to do exactly what you asked, and maybe if you hadn’t suggested it, I would’ve listened to my damn dick instead of my head. Which would’ve ruined your first time. And if I ever find out you’ve said that before when I’m done with you, you won’t sit for a goddamn week. So, not no, but fuck no, I won’t just fuck you if you’re begging me to stop. Not today.” Jesus, what’s wrong with me? Why does that make me want to cry? Disappointment that this will never happen turns in my chest, but it only lasts for a moment as his mouth drops to mine. “But what I will do is make you beg for me to fuck you. I’m going to make you so desperate, needy, and aching that stop and no will only be for me to end the torture and give you what you need most.”
Oh, my God. I doubt he’ll accomplish that. Not with the nerves and fear that are eating away at me, but it was certainly hot.
Before I can argue, he takes my mouth with his, tangling his tongue roughly, then leans back. His head gives a slight jerk. “Scoot up the bed.”
This . It’s what I need because even with my nerves, I need him to take control, and my body responds to his command with haste, giving my mind no time to object. He leans back on his heels and reaches for his belt buckle. My heart beats staccato as I watch him unlatch the metal and pull the thick leather through the loops. I expect him to remove his clothes, but he doesn’t. Instead, he moves toward me. “Hands up.”
My eyes grow. I want to shake my head and refuse, but no words leave my lips, and my hands do as he demands of their own accord. I shake with absolute terror and fascinated desire as he loops the belt, slides it over my wrists, and fastens it to the headboard.
He reaches for the loosened tie around his neck, slipping it off. He comes closer to me, straddling my naked hips, and slips the loop over my head until it covers my eyes. “Wh-what are you doing?” I couldn’t hide the shake in my voice if I tried.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans back. I feel him move across the mattress and his weight disappears. Panic blazes through me, my panic surging that he’s left me like this. Then music plays.
My body sags into the mattress as the seductive sounds flow around me, drawing me into the music. Rough fingers trail over my calf, then up my thigh, slipping to the inside. “That’s it, Sunflower. I want you out of your head. The blindfold is to force you to feel. And I’ve seen what this beautiful body does when it gets lost in music. The belt… well, I want you desperate, but I also want your words. All of them.” A stuttered breath tears through my lips, and I hear him chuckle. “Get lost, .” His hands travel up both my thighs, kneading the tense muscles until they relax. “That’s it. Just listen and feel.” My heart skips when I feel his warm breath against my belly. I clench hard when a finger slips inside me. “Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” His lips nip at the soft skin of my belly. Rough stubble grazes my skin as he nips every inch.
His finger works at a slow, tormenting pace, but with every stroke, my legs spread a little wider. Heat spears deep in my belly when his tongue flicks my sensitive clit, making my hips buck against him. He laps at the needy bundle of nerves so leisurely that I feel like I might cry. It throbs so much it’s painful, and he’s only just begun.
He adds another finger, and I wince from the intrusive stretch. Discomfort replaces the pleasure for several breaths, but soon it returns, and my hips move as I try to get what I need. When his lips wrap around my clit, sucking it hard, I moan softly, almost rejoicing.
Pleasure builds, and my walls begin to spasm. Electricity trickles down my spine, my body shaking as I teeter on the edge about to combust.
Then his fingers and lips are gone. I cry out, not even sure what I’m asking for, but I get no response. His weight still dips the bed, and his scent still lingers around me, but he’s quiet and unmoving, making me doubt if he’s here or if my imagination is running wild.
I yank my arms, testing the limits. When they stay firmly in place, I know I’m not imagining this, but then why did he stop?
I feel him hovering over my body, his delicious heat engulfing me as his lips brush the skin of my neck. “I won’t have to take anything, will I, Sunflower? You’re going to give it all to me.” His mouth trails lower, reaching my breast. He nips and sucks, then draws my aching nipple into his mouth. His teeth graze the peaked bud, making me shudder. Fingers dip, once again, to my core, stroking slow and rhythmically, but the friction isn’t nearly enough. I try to grind into him, but he doesn’t allow it.
Over and over, he brings me to the edge, then pulls it away until tears stream down my face. I’m panting and desperate. The only thing I can think of is coming. It’s not a want. It’s a need. I feel like I’ll die if he doesn’t let me.
“Gr-Graham?”
I feel him lift his head from between my legs. I wish I could see him. Touch him. Anything because feeling has become too much.
“Do you need something, Sunflower?” I hear the amusement in his tone, and for once in my life, feeling like someone is entertained at my expense doesn’t make me want to melt into the shadows.
I nod my head, answering his question without words, knowing he won’t be satisfied until I say it. But the words still won’t come. His thumb brushes over my hypersensitive clit, and I cry out. “Tell me, . Say it. Either tell me to stop or tell me to fuck you.”
Another brush over my clit, and the words tumble out.