Page 47 of A Little Bit Reckless

My chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, I was still trying to figure out what just happened. “What?”

“I said whothe fuckwould touch you?” His nose was almost touching mine, and I swallowed. He bared his teeth. “Who the fuck would dare?”

I was still so… confused. Did it bother him I was with someone? That couldn’t be true. Unless…

I was so dumb. It did bother him. Of course it did. If I was with someone, that meant he hadn’t intimidated someone enough to stay away from me. To make mesuffer.

To keep me alone.

What happened in high school had made me a social pariah, and if someone touched me, that meant someone had gotten through. They beat Wells at his own game, but I never intended to beat Wells. In fact, me losing my virginity had nothing to do with him.

At least, that was what I told myself.

My vision clouding, I refused to think about the moment in question. How I had lost my virginity, and, in the moment, I thought that had given me power. It didn’t though. It just made me feel gross, dirty.

“Who, Squeak?” Wells was on me, and though his nose wasn’t touching me, his breath was. Heat ghosted over my lips. Especially when he gripped the sink on either side of my hips. “Who was inside you?”

I sucked in a breath, liquid heat pulsing between my legs. I wet my lips, and Wells’s green eyes darted to my mouth.

“This turning you on, Squeak? Making you hot?” His chest inched closer.

What is he doing?

I didn’t know, but I was frozen when he took a piece of potpourri off the sink. Some of it had landed on the basin, and Wells took a long stick.

He inched my skirt up.

The stick was strong, thick, and it had to be because soon Wells had my twill skirt clear above my knee-highs. He exposed my skin, and I pressed my legs together. “What are you doing?”

He wasn’t listening to me, focused as he hiked my skirt up inch by grueling inch. He was right beneath my boy shirts beforehe stopped. “He or she make you tremble like this?” he asked, and my breath sucked in again.

“A he,” I said, and once more, his eyes shot up. Something wild flared his eyes to electric tones. The color didn’t actually change, but it seemed like it did, a heat behind them.

“He, then,” he stated, the words dark, low. They rolled in his chest before he was taking that stick and moving itbetweenmy legs.

“Wells—”

He moved my knees apart, pressing the end of the stick hard into both knees. It was thin enough that it stabbed me, and I winced before falling back to the mirror.

Wells was at the space between my legs, and he moved that stick so it was brushing my sex through my underwear. I wriggled. “Wells?—”

“Don’tfuckingmove,” he gritted, the threat keeping me still. Wells’s breath was incredibly husky, and my back bowed when he guided that stick between my folds. My underwear was sheer and I felteverything.He growled. “How wet did he make you?”

The words followed the movement of the stick. He rubbed, gently at first, but then harder, faster.

“Wells, don’t.” I said this but my legs were so wide. They’d actually fallen apart and my knees had hit the sink. “Why are you doing this?”

He wasn’t listening to me, his eyesand stickfocused. He looked down, watching them both, and his jaw was so tight I thought the bone would pierce the skin.

“How do you like to get fucked, Squeak?” Wells asked, but he wasn’t looking at me. He just kept moving the stick, and, at this point, my hips were rocking against it. I thought to reach out to him, to hold him, but if I did, I’d fall off the sink.

If I did, he might stop.

My toes curling, I wasn’t shy about moving my hips. I slammed against him, my ministrations meeting his.

“You like this,” he said, his words incredibly dark. “You open your legs this easy for him?”

The words were like an ice bath but that was only part of the reason why I froze on the sink.