Chapter 32 Reverie #3
I mean, the man told me he loved me, for fuck’s sake.
In front of his mother. And I came really close to saying it back, because I’m weak, and he’s stupidly fucking gorgeous and so good in bed, I’m genuinely worried for my heart and blood pressure health.
But also because I do share those feelings, except I can’t say I’ve forgiven all he’s done to me, so I refuse to let myself fully acknowledge them.
I’m aware of them floating in the recesses of my heart, but that’s as much attention as they get.
He hasn’t apologized for what he’s put me through, and, frankly, it hasn’t been that long since he pulled his bullshit on me, so until amnesia becomes a symptom of loving someone, I can’t just…
forget it all. I can’t act like it never happened and move on to professing our love while having really hot sex.
You are having really hot sex with him, you dumb whore.
But that doesn’t mean I need to partake in the former as well.
My thumb flies to my mouth, and I bite down on it.
I really should stop having sex with him, though.
It’s not healthy for my mental well-being, and if it wasn’t already putting me at risk for internal bleeding, it definitely is for a stroke or heart attack, so my survival instincts are ordering me to put the dick down and walk away slowly.
“So where’s my apology?”
His deep voice scares the shit out of me, sending my said at-risk heart flying into my throat. I startle, hand clapping over my chest as I stare at him with wide eyes. But then, his words sink in, and I’m immediately irritated.
In a matter of seconds, my blood pressure rises, only affirming that if his dick doesn’t kill me first, his stupid mouth will.
My brows knit, and I give him a dirty look. “Pardon?”
Amusement colors his pale eyes as he glances at me, one side of his mouth curling until a dimple threatens to poke through at the top of his cheek.
“You accused me of being behind the black box. I wasn’t. So say sorry.” His smile widens, prompting him to bite his bottom lip.
My lips part, and for several moments, I can only stare blankly.
He’s joking.
He has to be.
Yet, he continues to wait, though his mirth grows with each passing second.
“Global warming could unleash upon hell and lead to the Ice Age taking over before eventually blooming into a jungle where dino-demons roam, and I still wouldn’t apologize to you,” I say slowly. “Not after everything you’ve done to me. Which you never apologized for. So where’s mine?”
Grinning, he peers over at me over his right arm, his wrist hanging casually over the steering wheel as he drives, black strands falling over glimmering eyes, the sunlight catching the silver hoop in his ear. He props his left elbow against his door, though his fingers have dropped to his chin.
Truly, it’s devastating how beautiful he is.
“I have a lot of different ways of apologizing in mind, darling,” he drawls wickedly, seduction dripping from his words. “I intend to give you far more than your sweet little body can take.”
I narrow my eyes despite how I instantly feel that promise between my legs. Heat forms in the pit of my stomach, warming my insides until I burn with desire. There’s no point in going to hell when it feels like, with just two simple sentences, he brought hell to me.
“How about you use your words instead?” I say, attempting to ignore how easily my body responds to him. “Ya know, like a big boy.”
His answering chuckle is dark and sends a shiver rolling down my spine.
The second his fiery stare clashes with mine, I swear, I see a spark ignite in the air from the corner of my eye. It feels like I’m inhaling water and exhaling electricity—a dangerous combination bound to kill us both.
“Don’t I always use my words, baby? Because if you want to talk about which of us has trouble using their words, I think earlier is a great place to start.”
My cheeks burn, and my stomach flutters wildly. He’s referring to telling me he loves me and me not saying it back. He didn’t give me much of a chance at first, but maybe because I still haven’t, it’s getting to him now.
Meaning: it’s a trap.
“You’re deflecting,” I say dryly.
“I’m utilizing my time management skills,” he argues. “Apologizing for all my wrongdoings is going to take a lot longer than you speaking three words.”
I scoff. “Then you better get started.”
He arches his brow, continuously glancing between me and the road. “Okay. Spread those pretty thighs for me, and I’ll start with funding your entire scholarship so you could attend your dream school.”
My mouth drops, and I’m stunned silent while I try to wrap my brain around the words. Then, adrenaline surges in my veins as I process what the fuck he just said.
The asshole better be lying.
As if reading my mind, he smirks. “Your grades were good, baby, but HCU was only going to cover some of your tuition.”
“You… Why the fuck would you do that?” I snap, my entire face catching fire.
I can’t discern if it’s because I’m mortified or pissed, but it’s fucking something, and it’s making me want to punch him in the goddamn nose. This whole time, I believed I earned that scholarship, only for it to be yet another manipulative tactic by Dread.
I should’ve fucking known. Even Barry was surprised when we found out I got a full ride. I expected to receive grants and scholarships to cover a portion of it, but certainly not all of it. My grades were really good, but I wasn’t even valedictorian, and HCU is a damn good school.
He shrugs a shoulder, his form completely relaxed. “When it came to you, I did a lot of things I didn’t understand. I told myself it was so you wouldn’t overwork yourself trying to pay for it, and I’d have more time to torture you.”
I sputter, swinging my eyes straight ahead as I try to process, my mouth hanging open.
“You got that one for free, but you’ll need to spread your legs for another.”
“Dread,” I growl with annoyance, swinging a glare back toward him. “This isn’t funny. I thought I earned that!”
“You did,” he says simply. “It was just through my wrath.”
“You…” I struggle for the words to convey just how badly he pisses me off. “You are so fucking infuriating, you know that? Like, I swear to God, Dread, you’re lucky I’m not crazy enough to grab the damn wheel and crash this car and take us both out.”
He chuckles devilishly, those dimples denting the tops of his cheeks, and when his eyes slide to mine, they’re glittering with mirth.
Because of course he finds this funny.
“Baby, you’d have to try a lot harder than that to crash us. I fear it’d be far too easy to keep your hands off the wheel. Both of them fit in one of mine just fine.”
I narrow my eyes, my frustration climbing into dangerous territory, the kind where I make really bad decisions just to prove him wrong.
He’s just so fucking arrogant, and I’m nearly vibrating with the need to make him eat his words.
I’m definitely humiliated I didn’t earn the scholarship myself, but I can’t deny the little seed of warmth sprouting deep in my stomach.
If I’m being perfectly honest, I wouldn’t have been able to afford this school otherwise, but that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow, nor does it piss me off any less that my bully is the reason I got to attend my dream school.
I arch my brow. “You think I need my hands to make you crash?”
There it is again, that cocky little smirk.
“You gonna show me your pretty tits? I won’t say no if you think it’ll work.”
Glowering at him, I unbuckle my seat belt, and his stare stutters when he glances at the road. The passenger seat belt alarm beeps, and a slight crease forms between his brows.
He’s confused.
He won’t be for long.
I shrug off my coat, leaving me in a tight, black My Chemical Romance T-shirt, and then I toe off my Docs, unclasp my jeans, and slide them down my legs, kicking off my socks with them and leaving me in a black lace thong.
The end of my shirt stops just below my belly button while my panties cut low, revealing a substantial amount of skin.
The amusement dissipates, and heady tension fills the car as he watches me with a carefully controlled expression. His glances at me grow longer, and each time he flicks his eyes toward the road, he has to drag them away.
His burning gaze darts down my form, his face carefully smoothed into a blank slate as I maneuver onto my knees and twist to face him fully.
“You want to tell me what you’re doing?” he asks, his voice deepened and rough, though lacking emotion.
But I know better.
He’s working hard to appear impassive, but his cock is already stiff in his jeans, the outline prominent. That’s the problem with having a big dick—it’s really hard to hide it when he’s turned on.
I lean over the middle console, resting my weight on both palms, clenching his thick thigh while I tease the outer ridge of his ear with my lips. His muscles tense to solid stone, and I hear rather than see the leather steering wheel squeak beneath his tightening grip.
“You can’t fool me, Kellan,” I whisper seductively. “We both know you can’t handle driving and playing with my pussy the way I’d need you to.”
I take great joy in seeing his jaw clench, the muscle straining against his skin. I lower my lips to press a soft kiss right over it, evoking a low growl deep in his chest.
“I think you underestimate how good I am at driving with one hand, darling,” he responds, his voice tight.
I hum contemplatively and glance down at his hard length straining beneath his dark blue jeans.
I drag his hoodie up his stomach, exposing the thin, dark happy trail leading down from his belly button while ensuring to brush my fingers over his bare skin, making his abdomen ripple beneath my touch.
His stare quickly flicks down when I unclasp the button and drag down the zipper, both the material and his lips parting for me.