Chapter 25
Fable
I’m learning something about myself this evening: I don’t mind scary movies when the setting is right. And the setting is right when I’m reclining back against Theo in the bed of his truck, my hips between his spread thighs.
All it took was one brief mention that the ridges on the back of the cab were digging into my shoulders, and before I knew it, Theo was grabbing me by the waist, pulling me into his lap, and tossing the quilt over us.
He seems to have relaxed since our conversation earlier.
That sad, haunted look in his eyes had my heart breaking for him.
I didn’t realize how much his father’s actions were still impacting his life, and it makes me wonder if he shares that piece of himself with anyone else.
Do Mia and Eva know he’s still struggling so much?
Is he able to be honest with Maddox? Is he going to therapy?
But I keep those questions to myself for tonight, because his demeanor has lightened significantly, and I don’t want to bring him back down.
We’ve been laughing and bickering about the characters’ decisions, sharing cupcakes, and finishing off a couple more drinks.
I had a brief moment of wondering if we’ve lost the plot on this event, because it’s feeling startlingly date-like and not nearly fake enough, but I’ve been having too much fun to overanalyze it.
It must be close to midnight now and Scream 3 has just started.
About half the other cars have gone home, leaving us all alone in the back row, tucked into the dark corner, and my body is hyperaware of that information.
I’m way too distracted by his hand resting on my thigh beneath the blanket to be scared of this ridiculous movie.
I can’t sit still—my blood is close to boiling simply because of Theo’s proximity, and every muscle is coiled, waiting for something. I just don’t know what.
My heart is thumping loudly against my ribs, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the movie. I adjust my hips again, planting my hands on his thighs.
Theo’s lips graze the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “Why are you squirming so much?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
A low hum rumbles against my cheek. “I think you do.”
I clear my throat. Squirm again. But don’t reply.
“Is it because you’re scared of the movie?”
I shake my head. We’ve been making fun of it more than anything.
A smile pools in his voice when he asks, “Is it because you’re tired?”
“Wide awake, actually.”
“What is it, then?” His hand splays wider on my thigh, like he already knows the answer.
Leaning a bit, I turn my head to look up at him. Flashes of light from the screen dance over his features, but he’s not watching the movie at all.
“What is it, then?” he repeats, his smirk full of challenge.
I take the bait. It’s now or never, and my body is definitely screaming now.
My attention dips to his lips. “What if we . . .” I swallow and work up the nerve to blurt, “What if we did more than kissing?”
His smirk hitches wider. “What if?”
I turn a little farther. A sudden surge of shyness threatens to hold me back, but I push on.
“It could be something like the friends-with-benefits thing you had in Oregon. What did you say? ‘No guilt, no emotions’? We could do that.” I think.
I’ve never done it before, but this is Theo.
I trust him. “Responsibly, of course. We’d have rules. ”
Something seems to shift behind his expression as he searches my face. “What sort of rules do you have in mind?” One hand spans my jaw while the other slips under my hoodie to curve around my waist.
I feel so held, cradled against him, that my body relaxes. I’m finding it hard to even want to set rules. My instincts are screaming to just go with the flow here, but I’ve learned those bitches don’t know what they’re talking about.
“Fable.” My name is soft but precise. “Rules?”
“Right.” I clear my throat. “Um. No sleepovers.” That seems good. Smart. I don’t know if I could handle seeing him in my bed again—with sleepy eyes and mussed hair and pillow creases on his cheeks.
“All right.” The fingers on my waist swirl slow circles against my skin. “What else?”
“I’m not sure. I can’t think with your fingers doing that.” They pause. “Don’t stop though.”
His grin is hot and predatory as he starts again. “Yes, ma’am.”
“So, no guilt, no emotions, no sleepovers?” I ask, my breath hitching when his fingers graze the waistband of my sweats.
His gaze dips to watch his thumb trace my lower lip. “And no more flirting with other people.”
“A little possessive,” I tease.
His sigh borders on a growl. “Yeah,” he admits, not looking ashamed in the slightest, and that’s okay. I’m feeling a little possessive over him right now too. If this is the only time I get with him, I’m going to be greedy about it.
Tense music echoes from the movie, and I tilt my head toward the screen. Theo seizes the opportunity to readjust us, spreading his legs a little and letting me lean farther against him.
“Do we have a deal?” he murmurs, voice low and husky.
“Yes.” My heart races, and I’m not sure if it’s from the movie or Theo.
“Then you just keep watching that movie, sweetheart.”
Which is the most absurd request, because he has a hand on my waist and one on my upper thigh, and I don’t know how I could concentrate on anything else. I think he must know that, though, because he tortures me by just continuing those slow circles on my stomach.
It seems like a subconscious movement, but it turns me to wildfire. I’m focused on every breath he takes, every warm pad of his fingers on my waist, every millimeter of space his hand covers on my thigh. Even through the thick fabric of my sweatpants, I can feel the heat of his palm there.
I fidget and wriggle, begging him for more. “Theo,” I whisper.
“Fable.” He sounds steady, unconcerned.
It’s annoying. “I need . . .” I start to sit up, but he holds me firmly in place.
“Relax. I’ve got you,” he assures me, pulling me closer. His hardness presses into my ass, and my mind goes blank. “I’m going to take care of you. I promise. I just need a minute to calm myself down.”
My gaze sweeps over the cars in front of us. I’ve never done anything like this, but as long as I can stay quiet, I feel safe here in the dark corner, with everyone’s attention on the movie.
Theo’s lips graze my neck. “Do you know how long I’ve thought about touching you like this?
” His hand slides up my thigh agonizingly slow, fingers tracing the inner seam of my pants.
But before he reaches where I’m achy for him, he slips back down.
“How much I want to kiss you when you glare at me? How hard I get every time you say something snarky? How desperate I’ve been for you to want me like this? ”
Heat pools in every corner of my body. I dig my nails into his thighs, and I spread mine wider as his hand slides up again. But he bypasses my core and glides all the way up to dip beneath my waistband. Finally. My stomach tightens with anticipation.
When he reaches the lace of my thong, a pained noise leaves the back of his throat. “Fable.” My name sounds like a reprimand this time. “What are you wearing?” His fingers travel over the top of the fabric like he’s analyzing every detail. “Describe them.”
I bite back a grin. “Lacy. Maroon. Thong.”
He fists the thin band at my hip. “Fuck,” he says, sounding like this is awful news.
“Matching bra, too,” I tell him, pushing his other arm up.
“I want a picture of you in only this.” He cups my breast, then strokes his thumb over my nipple. I moan louder than I mean to. “Shh, sweetheart. This is our secret back here. You can be quiet, right?”
“Mm-hmm.” I can feel my pulse pounding in my neck, my stomach, my core.
He presses a kiss to my jaw. “Good, because I really want to make you come.” His fingers finally—fucking finally—dip into my thong and slide down where I need them. With a low groan, he parts me, gliding his touch over my clit. “Oh, Fable. You’re so wet already.”
A hot, electric feeling blooms in my stomach, and I melt into his leisurely movements. He explores me slowly, like he has all the time in the world, but I could combust at any moment. I whimper, sounding so desperate it’s almost embarrassing.
“Your little sounds,” he murmurs, bringing his lips to my throat. “God, they’re fucking perfect.”
My hips twitch, grinding me between his hand and his cock, and a sharp grunt leaves his chest. Pleasure swirls through me as he glides a finger inside, satisfying that empty feeling that’s been plaguing me for weeks.
“Please tell me you’re still okay,” he whispers. “I don’t think you’re breathing.”
“I . . . I can’t breathe, but it’s— It feels good.” I move my hips again, chasing the friction. “Don’t stop.”
The air mattress squeaks a bit as he shifts, sliding almost all the way out and then back in, his thumb working over my clit in slow circles. His other hand slips up under my bra and palms my breast, dragging a low moan out of me.
I try to wedge my hand back between us, needing to touch him, make him feel this good, but he presses closer against me with a teasing, “Nuh-uh. This is about you.”
Fine. If he won’t let me touch him, I’ll keep grinding back against him until he gives in.
When I do, he chuckles, like he knew that plan before I did. “Oh, the claws are coming out. You gonna punish me?”
“I don’t have claws.” I gasp when he pushes into me with two fingers, and the pressure grows exponentially.
“Hey, I love your claws. Scratch me the fuck up. I can take it.” He does some curling movement and hits a spot that makes me whimper. “Oh, right there, huh?”
Everything is too good. His touch. His words. The arrogant smile I can hear in his voice. Twitches of pleasure are barreling down my limbs. It’s going to be over too fast.
Frustrated, I grind against his erection, and this time, he lets a moan slip out.
“Right there, huh?” I tease back, breathless.
With a dark chuckle, he doubles down, working me with the kind of precision that tells me he was just playing with me before.
I tilt my head back, trying to delay the orgasm I can already feel building.
I silently curse myself for being so fucking desperate that Theo’s hands have me this close to the edge within minutes.
But, of course, he realizes what I’m doing. He nips at my earlobe. “Don’t fight it.” Velvet lips coast over my jaw. “Let me have it.”
“I—” When his fingers curl again, I lose my ability to speak.
“You what?” he coaxes playfully.
“I don’t want it to be over,” I admit.
He hums, fingers still moving in a smooth rhythm. “Let me have this one, nice and easy, and then you can make me work for the next one. How’s that sound?”
Heat infuses my cheeks. The answer tumbles out of me. “Yes. Yeah. Okay.”
My eyes fall shut as he moves more firmly. I dig my fingers into his thighs, trying to grip anything I can. His lips are against my throat. Fingers pinching my nipple. Rumbly murmurs in my ear. Until he sends me careening into ecstasy.
I muffle a cry with my hand. My back arches away from him, pleasure shooting all the way down to my toes as I come apart.
“That’s it. Just like that,” he whispers, my muscles fluttering around his fingers.
Relief sweeps through me. I’m panting, arms limp and shoulders loose, but he doesn’t let me catch my breath. Doesn’t even pull his fingers away before he murmurs, “One more.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
His smile curves against my cheek. “You can. You’re gonna give me one more. Make me work for it.”
The ache rekindles in my belly. And when his hand leaves my breast to splay over my thigh, pulling my legs open farther, I don’t fight it.
My core throbs with need, and I bite into my bottom lip.
I use my grip on his thighs to circle my hips against him, seeking every bit of pleasure I can for both of us.
This time, he’s rougher. Grittier. “Can you feel how bad I want you?” he asks, grinding against my ass. “So fucking bad it hurts, sweetheart.” His teeth drag over my throat.
My feet search for purchase against the slippery air mattress, but I finally hook them on the outside of Theo’s calves to get better leverage.
I’m coming undone, trembling against him, and if anyone looked back here right now, they’d know exactly what was happening, but I can’t find the will to stop.
“Theo,” I whimper. I need more of him, so I reach back and tangle my hand in his hair, nails against his scalp.
He groans, his breath ragged. “Attagirl. Hold on to me.” His hips are punching into me with every stroke of his hand, and when I tip over the edge a second time, his teeth clamp down on my neck.
A low, almost feral grunt rolls from his chest, and tiny unconscious thrusts press and then hold against me as he finds his own pleasure.
After a moment, the rest of the world comes back into focus. My hand slips from his hair and his fingers glide out of me. “Fable,” he hisses, lips grazing my cheek.
I turn to see his face. His eyes are gleaming, skin flushed in the light from the screen. He’s never looked more beautiful.
His rapid pulse thrums against my ear as he lifts the fingers that were inside me, and with slow, deliberate movements, he paints my lips with my arousal.
I watch, entranced by the heat in his gaze.
Then he brings his mouth to mine, and we groan into the kiss.
He cups my face firmly, lapping at my lips and into my mouth until I’m ready to start all over again.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs against my mouth before pulling back. With an arrogant grin, he adds, “Told you you could give me one more.”
“Is this really the time to be smug?” I tease, shifting my hip against where he’s still half hard.
He lets out a breathy laugh, cheeks going redder. There’s some rearranging as he slides me out of his lap and cocoons me back on the pillows with the quilt tucked around me.
Then he presses a kiss to my temple and promises, “Be right back.” And I don’t think I make it one minute before my eyes are slipping closed, and playful dimples and soft lips flood my dreams.