Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ishould’ve changed into the jeans, but instead, my shins were coated in thick, clinging mud as I stomped defiantly through the forest, my flashlight from the safety station cutting a harsh swath of light through the dense woods. Emily seemed unfazed by the dirt, her strides steady and sure.
We trekked far enough from the nearest group that their shouted calls for Shannon became distant echoes. Once shrouded in the woods’ depths, I finally voiced the question burning within me, “What were you doing out here earlier, Emily?”
Her mouth was a grim line. “I was searching for the rock,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.
I nodded, a chill running down my spine. Why hadn’t I thought of that? “Did you find it?” I pressed, my heart pounding.
She nodded again, her eyes scanning the underbrush.
“And?” I urged, panic surging.
Her gaze flicked to mine, then away. “There was still dried blood on it. You definitely hit something with a heartbeat,” she stated, her voice too calm.
I froze, my breath catching. Emily’s fingers dug into my elbow, tugging me forward, her grip insistent. “I scrubbed it, and buried it. It’s fine, Lola.” Her voice was stern, as if she hadn’t just become an accomplice to my crime. “You don’t know what you hit.”
A choked gasp escaped me as I struggled to breathe evenly. “Emily, it had to—“”
She silenced me with a harsh glare. “It had to have been a deer. That’s it. Andy said he saw a deer. It was a deer. Say it, Lola.”
“It was a deer,” I breathed, nodding, my voice barely a whisper.
“Good. Now keep moving. You’ll drive yourself mad if you stand still too long.”
Time blurred as the sky deepened into an inky blue, streaks of fading sunlight dancing through the treetops. Then, August’s voice cut through the darkness, “Any luck?”
I jerked my head up, neck aching from scouring the forest floor, to find Wyatt standing with him.
“No,” Emily replied tersely, taking our shared flashlight and marching towards them. “Switch partners with me,” she demanded of August.
Wyatt looked alarmed. “Oh, I don’t think—“
“I don’t care,” Emily cut him off, striding away with the expectation that Wyat would follow. He hesitated, eyes flicking between August and me before rolling his eyes and trailing after her.
August’s face was illuminated by his flashlight, his green eyes searching mine with intense concern. “You okay?” he asked softly, closing the distance between us.
I bit my lip, checking our surroundings to ensure we were alone. Most everyone had moved towards the large white house at the top of Cloverfield Farms, while Emily and I had ventured deeper into the woods.
August brushed a damp strand of hair from my cheek, his fingers lingering at the nape of my neck. “Tell me you’re okay,” he urged softly.
I nodded. “I’m okay.”
“Are you being honest?” he asked, pain etched in his voice.
I shook my head, admitting the truth.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he pressed. I shook my head again, the words stuck in my throat.
He paused briefly before pulling me close, his arms wrapping tightly around my shoulders. My face pressed against his chest, heartbeat wild against my ear, the scent of the woods clinging to his clothes.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t have our study session today,” I murmured into his shirt.
August’s shoulders shook with a small laugh. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not like you planned for a kid to go missing.”
Guilt twisted in my stomach. “I know,” I whispered desperately. “I just miss you.”
August pulled back, his thumbs pressing under my jawline, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You have me,” he asserted.
I nodded, wanting it to be true. But I didn’t know how much of August I could really have when I could never give him the parts of me that mattered.
August glanced around briefly, a devilish grin spreading across his face. He clicked off the flashlight, casting us into darkness, and shoved it into his jacket pocket. He moved swiftly, gripping the backs of my thighs and lifting me.
“August! You’re going to get all muddy,” I gasped, instinctively wrapping my legs around his waist.
“I don’t care,” he murmured, his mouth pressing against my throat. Before I could register his touch, my back was against a tree, the damp bark soaking through my cardigan.
“August…” I breathed as his mouth found my jaw, nipping at the skin.
“I almost called you last night. Begged you to ditch church and come to my bedroom instead,” he confessed, his words piercing deep within me.
His mouth was on me then, his full lips pressing firmly to mine. I opened to him instinctively, and his tongue pushed in, snaking around mine as he moaned into my mouth. I felt like he was trying to consume me whole.
“You’ve never kissed me on the lips before,” I said breathlessly, when we finally broke apart.
“I was afraid I wouldn’t get it perfect.” The words came out muffled against my lips. He pressed three small kisses against them, each more tender than the last.
“August,” I pushed at his chest, forcing him to look at me. His pupils were dilated, his lips swollen. “I had sex with Andy last night,” I admitted quietly, the words tumbling out.
I didn’t know if I was trying to self-sabotage or push him away to save him from the long list of awful things I’d done in the last twenty-four hours.
His smile was feral, spreading wide across his face. “Did you come?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice.
“What?” I breathed, searching his face for any hint of betrayal, and finding none.
He leaned in, his breath hot against the sensitive flesh below my ear. “Did he finally make you come, Lola?” he growled, his hips pressing against mine, his hard length grinding against my center.
“No,” I breathed, my grip on his shoulders tightening.
August tsked. “Fucking shame. You’re so goddamn beautiful when you come.”
His fingers found the hem of my panties beneath my dress and slipped underneath. “August, what are you…” I gasped as he ran a finger through the dampness that had gathered there then found my clit, rubbing tight circles against it.
“Does it feel good at least? Having his cock inside you?” he spoke against my jaw, his voice rough.
“It feels…” Heat pooled between my legs at his touch. I couldn’t process what he was asking, why he was asking. Did it turn him on to hear it? Would it turn me on to tell him?
“Rough,” I finally finished, my voice barely a whisper.
“Do you like it rough?” August nipped at my earlobe, his fingers picking up speed.
“Sometimes,” I whimpered thoughtlessly.
“Do you want me to be rough?” he asked hoarsely.
“No,” I said easily. “I like you just the way you are.”
“How am I?” his fingers slowed to a teasing, torturous pace, his mouth hovering over mine.
“Perfect,” I moaned.
August leaned back, lifting his leg to press me against the tree.
He pulled off his jacket, tossing it to the wet ground.
Then he was tugging at my cardigan, exposing my arms to the chilly night air.
“Need to feel your skin,” he groaned against my chest, his mouth finding the top of my dress, pulling at it with his teeth until he freed one of my breasts from the fabric.
His fingers found my clit again, his mouth wrapping around my nipple. “This little white dress might be my favorite inanimate thing on the planet.”
“Jesus, August,” I gasped as his tongue flicked hot against my peaked flesh.
He let out a dry chuckle against my damp skin, adding to the sensation. “Don’t call for him. It’s just us here,” he said, repeating my own words back to me.
“You’re the only man I’d pray to anyway,” I said, reaching for the button on his jeans. His hand grasped mine the moment I began to tug at them.
“Not yet,” he said hoarsely.
“Afraid you’ll come in two strokes, August?” I teased. It dawned on me then that I hadn’t ever actually seen August’s cock. I had felt it through his pants a few times, but never actually got to touch, or see it fully.
He laughed against my shoulder. “No, but you touch me, I’m going to want to put my cock inside you. I can’t do that here.”
“Why not?” I teased.
He pulled back enough to look at me. “Well, for one, I don’t have a condom. And for two, I want to take my time with you. I don’t want some rushed, rough fuck in the rain to be our first time.”
“Well, it’s hardly my first time,” I muttered.
“Well, it’s mine,” he said, a bit harshly.
I swallowed tightly, brushing his wet curls away from his face. “I know. I’m sorry. We can wait as long as you want,” I said softly.
August smiled, kissing my cheek softly before dropping to his knees on his jacket. His mouth was on me instantly. “Don’t scream,” he chuckled against my center before wrapping his mouth around my clit.
The world narrowed to the wet, insistent pressure of his mouth.
The rough bark of the tree dug against my shoulders as my back arched, a grounding counterpoint to the dizzying pleasure coiling in my belly.
His tongue was a force of nature, a slick, determined muscle that knew exactly where to go, exactly how to move.
He wasn’t tentative like I might have imagined; he was devouring me, like he was starving and I was the only thing that could satisfy him.
My fingers tangled in his damp hair, the curls thick and heavy with moisture from the humid air.
I tried to hold on, to anchor myself, but my hips were moving of their own accord, grinding against his face, chasing the sensation.
He growled against me, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through my core, and I bit down hard on my lip to keep from crying out.
The search party, along with the awful secret Emily and I now shared faded away, replaced by the obscene, beautiful sounds of August’s mouth on me. The wet sucking paired with the desperate moans he was making drowned out the distant calls of Shannon’s name in the dark woods.
He slid a finger inside me, then another, curling them while one of his rings pressed hard at my entrance. The dual sensation was almost too much, a delicious, overwhelming pressure that made my thighs tremble.
“August,” I gasped, his name a ragged plea as my fingers tightened in his hair. He responded by sucking harder, his tongue flicking my clit in a relentless, maddening rhythm. The coil in my belly tightened, impossibly, until it snapped without warning.
A wave of pleasure, warm and blinding, crashed over me, and I came with a choked cry, my body arching off the tree, my inner walls clamping around his fingers.
August didn’t stop, but his tongue slowed, drawing out the sensation until I was a boneless, trembling mess. When he finally pulled away, I slumped against the tree, my chest heaving, my legs barely able to hold me up.
He looked up at me, face glistening in the faint moonlight, with a triumphant smile spreading across his swollen lips. He stood, his hands gripping my hips, and kissed me, deep and hard.
“See?” he murmured against my mouth, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Much better when someone cares if you come, isn’t it, Sin?”
August slid my panties back into place, his fingers lingering for a moment before he smoothed down my dress.
The white fabric was a disaster, stained with mud and wrinkled beyond repair, but I didn’t care.
I felt more alive than I had in days, maybe years.
He clicked on his flashlight, the harsh beam cutting through the darkness, and for a moment, I saw the raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes.
It wasn’t just lust. It was something deeper, something that scared the hell out of me.
“Am I allowed to care if you come?” I asked, voice much weaker than I intended.
He ran his long fingers through my hair, pushing it away from my face sticky with sweat and humidity. His nose brushed against mine as he spoke softly, “I did.”
My eyes flashed down instantly, but August’s hips were pressed tightly to mine. “Again?” I taunted, playfully.
He leaned in, pressing his lips to mine in a slow deep kiss before murmuring against my lips, “You have no idea how much pleasing you turns me on.”