Page 18

Skylar

This is either going to be the best decision of my life or the worst.

Only time will tell, but I’m not about to dwell on it. She’s finally here in my arms, saying yes for once—actually choosing me instead of Julian or some other tool from the club.

She tastes so sweet, the mint of her toothpaste touching the tip of my tongue when I dip it into her mouth. The scent of her shampoo surrounds me, invading my nostrils with every breath.

Every time I grind into her pussy, she lets out these sexy little sighs that only spur me on. I’ve got her up against the wall, hands squeezing the flesh of her bare ass, swallowing all the helpless breaths of air she feeds to me as if I could save them for later.

I’m impressed with my level of improvisation tonight, and it’s insane to think we’d almost had a completely different interaction. It wasn’t hard to tell something was up with her at dinner. She kept looking at me, and not like she usually does. She was starting to put it together; she recognized me.

There hasn’t been enough time for my beard to grow back in since I last saw her as Broody, so I had to comb it out to look longer.

The second I saw her eyeing my watch before frantically typing on her phone, it was obvious what she was doing. I only had to write out my own message while she was looking down, then discreetly send it when she was eyeing the watch again.

After that, it was easy to prepare myself for this particular confrontation. She never answered Broody, so I typed out the second message and waited for the opportune moment—her explosion on the porch—to pull the trigger.

I know it seems like I’m just a fanatic for mind games, but I can’t really help it if things work out that way. It’s better for everybody, clearly. She’s mad at Broody for disrespecting her personal space, so I get to reap the benefits of her revenge ploy.

“Please,” she mewls, pulling away from the kiss to bury her face into the side of my neck. When she starts nipping at the skin, I really lose my shit, ripping her from the wall to march us inside.

The guest room where I stay is on the first floor, through the kitchen—where the back door is—and down the hall. Thank fuck, because there’s no way I’m about to ravage Gene’s daughter in her childhood bedroom, right across the hall from his own. What would my poor mother think?

I only make it a few steps past the threshold when she bites into a chunk of my neck, sucking like her life depends on it.

This bitch is going to kill me.

I’m not going to make it. Spinning to my right, I find the nearest countertop and set her on it before stealing another kiss. She’s crying for it, begging for me to take her, but I want this to last as long as possible.

I’ve waited so fucking long for this. I bided my time by watching from a distance, dreaming and fantasizing about her whenever possible. I need this more than I’ve needed anything else in my life, and it’s worth the wait.

Her shirt lifts easily when I dive in, suckling on her breasts like a fucking infant. Her tits are beautiful—so big and heavy, they could smother the light from my eyes and I’d still ask for more .

She squirms like she’s having a damn seizure when I suck on her nipple, twirling my tongue around the hardening bud while her hips buck into me. I’m having the time of my life until she says, “This is so fucked up.”

I’m confused. Her feet are digging into my ass, forcing me closer. Her hand is curled around the nape of my neck, unwilling to let me move from her chest.

I manage to pry myself loose, straightening up to meet her gaze. “Do you want to stop?” I ask, but I’m not sure I could handle her saying yes.

She throws her head back when I tuck into her neck, peppering kisses along the expanse of her chest and throat. “I don’t know…what if it’s weird? What if our parents—”

I clamp my hand over her mouth, kissing up to her ear in the way I know she goes crazy for. Whispering against the shell of it, I say, “Think about yourself, for once. Or better yet, stop fucking thinking.” I hoist her off the counter so quickly she squeaks in surprise, giggling into my neck as I carry her to my room.

Huh.

I’ve never heard her laugh like that before. I guess I wouldn’t, seeing as I really only have been a jackass to her. Maybe one day, she’ll forgive me.

Her lips keep drawing me in like a magnet, so plump and red that I want to steal the color for myself. I want to take some of her red and store it away, because when I inevitably lose her all over again, I’ll need something to keep me going. If I could bathe in it, I would. If I could trap her in my bedroom forever, I would.

I’d do anything if it meant having her to myself.

She plucks sweetly at my bottom lip, tugging it between gentle teeth as she grinds senselessly against my cock. That would be fine and all…if I wasn’t trying to open this fucking door with her wriggling all over the place.

I slam her against it, trying to hold my balance when I reach for the handle, but she notices my struggle and takes pity by turning it for me.

Once we’re inside, it’s all easy then.

I don’t even have to remove my tongue from her mouth when I throw her down onto the bed and cradle into the opening of her thighs, giving her the friction she’s been seeking this whole time. I’m in the middle of some of my finest dry-hump maneuvers when I get the notion that only one thing could make this moment better.

Music.

My laptop is still open on the desk in the corner of the room, connected to my wireless speaker from before I stepped outside to have that cigarette. I’ve been religiously listening to Sleep Token’s discography on repeat, so I reshuffle the playlist and choose “Sugar” to play first.

The mood is set. The girl I’ve been pining after for a year is in my bed. She wants me. She’s ready to go. I’m ready to go. Fuck Julian. Fuck The Prince . This is mine… she is mine.

“I like this, it’s nice. Who sings this?” she asks, sitting up from where she was lying on the bed to stare at me.

I take a moment to share how I found the band and even some of my favorite songs, but when I lock eyes on her again, I see the hesitancy. She’s stalling.

Nope.

We’ve come too far to quit now. Stalking towards the bed, I grab my shirt behind the neck and rip it over my head before tossing it on the floor.

Her eyes go wide for a second before she exclaims, “Oh! Let me see how your tattoo healed. Did you have any trouble with it? Any blowouts or—”

“Scarlett.” I reach the bed, plant a knee beside her, and crawl up the length of her body. As I get closer and closer to her face, she leans back in tandem with my own positioning.

“Yeah?” She looks nervous, but it’s not clear whether she’s still feeling doubtful or she’s just anxious to do this. I’ve never called her by her real name before—except as Broody on her birthday—so the shock on her face is bittersweet.

“Shut the fuck up.”

I grab her by the jaw and press my lips against hers. It’s hungry and wet and sloppy, but our tongues work together now instead of fighting .

When we’re like this, we move in perfect unison; her mouth opening for me when I need to taste her, my lips closing around hers when she needs to take a breath. Our bodies exchange pleasure like a currency, each of us receiving while the other prospers.

She claws at my back, so I growl into her ear and send goosebumps across her skin. I suck on her neck, and she whines so softly that my dick twitches against her throbbing clit. She bites my lip, so I tug gently at the hair on her scalp where my fingers are threaded. I lift her shirt to suck on her tits, and she wraps her legs tighter around me until there’s not an inch of space separating us.

She breaks away for a second, crossing her arms to grab the bottom of her shirt before slowly peeling it off. Now, I’ve got plenty of room to kiss the length of her body without obstruction, but I’m focused on how fucking pretty she looks when she’s sprawled out like this for me. The curves of her waist fit my hands perfectly, and the heat radiating between us is intoxicating.

Then, I see it.

It’s faint enough that a passing eye would miss it, but I’d recognize it anywhere. I was there when it was made, after all. Bringing my lips to her left breast, I kiss the scar before trailing down her stomach, being careful not to linger suspiciously.

Having her as myself, without the disguise, is better than I could have imagined. I don’t have to tease her. I don’t have to edge her out. If I want to eat her pussy, I’m going to treat it like a fucking buffet.

When I wedge the panties down her legs, there’s no more reluctance on her face. Our eyes don’t break away from one another, so I see it all—the intrigue, the anticipation, the desire. It’s all for me.

I just hate that Julian had her first.

I should have been the one to taste her, and it should have been me feeding him the cream from her cunt. He wouldn’t have her at all if I didn’t let him. But no matter what he does at Eden, he can’t take this from me .

I waste no time diving face-first into her pussy. She still smells mostly of body wash, but the second I get a taste of the arousal dripping from her, I go wild. I should probably be embarrassed by the rumbling groan I make against her, but I couldn’t give a shit. I’ll make whatever sound she wants as long as it keeps drawing out those sweet cries.

I’ll never be able to take my hair down around her because I’ve made it a part of my Eden identity. There’s not much for her to hold on to as I fuck her with my tongue, but man, she tries the best she can.

Her nails dig into whatever she can reach, scratching against my scalp, my shoulders, and the forearms I have wrapped around each of her thighs to keep her in place.

I’m still learning what she likes, but I have noticed she moans more deeply when I flatten my tongue rather than using the point of it. If I wander too far from the sweet spot, she’s not shy about shuffling her hips into a different position, taking exactly what she needs from me.

I love it.

The way she responds is so satisfying, like we’re perfectly compatible to communicate through body language alone. Like this is enough for us. Like maybe it’s okay that we fight all the time, because this is where we’re meant to shine together.

I know she’s close when she stops making noise, solely concentrating on grinding her clit against my flattened tongue in rapid succession. Just to send her over the edge with a bang, I stick two fingers inside her, curling them upwards to find her G-spot. She does the rest of the work, gyrating her hips to steal her pleasure as she rides my tongue.

Scarlett is completely soundless when she comes. Only two indications give her away: the tight contractions of her pussy walls suffocating my fingers, and the way she digs her feet into the bed to raise her hips away from me.

I don’t fucking think so.

I want her to be overstimulated. I want her to beg me to stop.

Tightening my grip on her thigh, I rip her back down and devour her, not daring to quit until she wails so loudly that it might actually wake our parents.

I don’t think it’ll give me away to make her taste herself, so I crawl back up her body and feed my coated tongue through her panting lips. This dirty bitch sucks on it like a piece of candy. She’s fucking perfect for me, and I need to have her. Now .

There’s no going back from here—once she’s mine, that’s it. If I get naked, I can never let her see me like this at Eden. In the back of my mind, I wonder if I’ll even need to pursue her there after tonight. Could this be it for us? Will she still want me tomorrow or the next day?

She’s lifeless when I stand to kick my pants off, basking in her afterglow like she’s lying on the beach under the sun. My cock springs free from my jeans, and the temperature difference almost hurts when the cool air blows over my flushed skin.

I kneel between her spread legs and toss her calves over my thighs, scooting as close as I can. Eager to feel her warmth, I run the head of my cock up and down her pussy, soaking it with her cum until she’s literally dripping off me.

I wish I could pause this moment in time and archive it away in my brain so I’ll always remember it perfectly.

I want to relive the heart-pounding elation I feel when lining myself up for the first thrust. I want to recall the taste of her on my lips when I crawl up her body to press our mouths together. I want to experience the phantom tingles of her hands caressing my lower back when she wraps her arms around my waist to brace herself. I want to memorize the connection I feel when I bury myself inside her, tangling my fingers through her hair and pulling against the crown of her head to ensure I’m as deep as I can possibly be.

At first, I’m worried it might be too much when she expels a pained cry as the head of my cock digs into her cervix from the added weight. I’m reminded of a thought I had all those weeks ago, after our last encounter here. I contemplated what it might be like to see her cry as I fuck her—but that was just a daydream.

The reality is so much sweeter.

Her cry turns into a soft moan with every slow drag of my cock, and it fuels my drive. I cradle her skull in my hands, pulling her further down so I bottom out every single time I roll my hips into her.

I want her to feel all of me. I need her to be sore for days afterward so she can be reminded that I was here, and she’s the one who let me in.

She either adjusts to the pain or feeds off it, because when her feet dig into my ass and suck me into her orbit, I know she’s enjoying it. This is how it has to be with us—an amalgamation of pain, pleasure, hate, and lust—because two fractured souls like ours couldn’t settle for less.

I know Scarlett’s pain; I know the loss of a parent, I know the hardships of school, I know the lack of passion in a partner.

I’d be lying if I said I ever tried to have a real relationship or indulge anyone’s feelings before her. Although my mom is the picture-perfect parent, I’ve seen the horrors of the world. I know what it looks like to pour love and trust into another person, just for them to destroy it in front of your very eyes.

I’m not saying I want that with Scarlett. It’s just that filling a void with sex still requires something fulfilling, and I haven’t been satisfied. I’ve tested my compatibility with partners at school and Eden, but it’s all fake and full of vanity.

I’d rather have a steady fuck buddy I share sexual chemistry with than hook up with random broads for the fun of it. I want passion and heat as much as the next person—as much as Scarlett does.

She wrote in her diary about how that was her whole purpose for going to Eden. She wanted something new, satisfying, and enlightening.

I have that with her; I just wish she felt the same way.

Her nails dig into the flesh of my back and pull my mind back to her in the present, but it just reminds me how close I am to the edge.

It’s something in the scrunch of her brow, the weakness in her tongue as it fights to keep up with mine, the pressure of her legs trapping me inside, and the way she keeps purposefully tightening the muscles of her cunt around me .

I straighten up to sit on my heels and wedge her thighs apart, just admiring the view of us together. Pulling my hips back to watch my cock nearly slip from her pussy, I take notice of the way she keens when I slowly push it back in.

The sight of her makes me salivate, so I let a glob of spit fall onto the point where we meet. When I take aim, I glance up at her face and see she’s tracking the saliva with enchanted eyes.

Julian has definitely trained her to love being spit on.

When it lands with a splat , I use my thumb to spread it around, coaxing another orgasm from her the same way I did on her balcony. I want to feel her come before I do; I want the constriction of her pussy to be the thing that sends me over the edge, milking every ounce of jizz I feed into her.

I don’t know if it’s because I used my tongue the first time and my fingers now, but she does not come silently, spurting out this feral groan as she grips the pillow beneath her head.

Instinctively, I drop down to her and wrap one hand around the crown of her skull while the other goes for her mouth. Together, we ride the waves of her orgasm until my own follows.

Pulling against her head to claw myself deeper with every thrust, I pump her full of my cum while she screams into the palm of my hand. My heart rate rises to a dangerous level as I pant against her temple, but I wait patiently until she’s silent again to remove my hand and kiss her. Our breaths are hot and still taste of her first orgasm, but I soak it all in, content to share anything with her.

We take a few moments to clean up before redressing and walking to the porch for a post-coital cigarette—the best of all cigarettes.

I don’t really know how to handle this part, though.

An awkward silence fills the air, the two of us just puffing on our smokes as we stare blankly into the night. We’re not speaking or reminiscing, only quietly enduring the aftershock.

Do I make small talk? I can’t think of anything to say when the only thing at the forefront of my mind is fucking her again, as soon as possible .

She’s the one to take initiative, stamping out her cigarette before walking towards the door. Her head turns to peek at me over her shoulder, a small grin on her face. “Night, Satan.”

Satan…not Skylar.

“Night, Red,” I return. My delivery isn’t as dry as I mean for it to be, but it’s not even remotely friendly.

Scarlett walks inside, presumably to go sleep in her own bed, leaving me alone on the porch. Without realizing it, she answered all the questions I’ve been ruminating on since taking her into my room.

I’ll always be Satan to her.

She doesn’t actually want me. Not now, not tomorrow, not the day after that. Never.

Pulling out the burner phone I’ve been using to text her, I type out a quick message, then send it through without hesitation.