Page 24

SIXTEEN

AUGUSTE

The apartment is too damn quiet without Samson following me through to the bedroom. I sit on the edge of my bed, elbows braced on my knees, trying not to lose my shit because I can still smell Courtney on my skin.

My chest hammers harder with every deep inhale of her scent on my clothes.

I’ve never done that before—made a girl come so fucking hard they squirt.

It’s fucking crazy… wild… sexy as all fuck.

And my dick is in agreement as it throbs in my sweats.

Hating me for not giving Court what we both need. What we’re desperate for.

I just… I couldn’t take advantage of her like that. I’m not that guy.

It’s what I keep telling myself as I open my bedside table drawer and pause, taking in all the little things I’ve collected of her.

A pen.

A hair tie.

The gold “Samson’s Human” tag she made me.

The folded napkin from dinner that night that has her pink gloss on it.

The crumpled receipt that dates back to the day she came to LA—it fell from her pocket when she got out of the car a few days ago.

They’re little things. Stupid things. But I’ve kept them like tokens. Proof that I’m not dreaming up this girl I can’t stop thinking about.

Trophies.

Pieces of her that she left behind—and I couldn’t give back. Wouldn’t give back.

Like the damp panties in my pocket and the gloss tube in my hand. I run my thumb over it, tracing the faint smudges where her fingers have worn the label.

I’m totally aware I’m not touching Courtney, but I can smell her on me. Smell the fruity scent of her lips. And a tremor crawls up my arm when I unscrew the lid with my thumb and a dribble of barely pink peach and vanilla gloss squirts on my skin.

Just like that, I’m back to thinking of Court. Back to seeing her fucking beautiful face as she came for me. Riding my hand like a desperate slut and I fucking loved every goddamn second of it.

Tonight she gave me more.

She let me in.

Let me touch her. Feel her fall apart in my hands. Watch her hips rock against my palm while she chased it—needed it.

Needed me.

A sound grates low in my throat. So damn feral.

Goddamn her.

Goddamn me for falling for her so down bad. For needing her. For being this fucking desperate that I can’t control my own body. My desire… my obsession.

It’s been minutes since I left Court. Long minutes that feel like endless hours. Aching in my chest to set my eyes on my girl again as I pull my phone from my pocket and boot up the feed instinctively.

A stupid grin stretches across my face at the loud sound of Sammy’s snoring. The little shit is coiled into a ball between Courtney’s pillows.

Something about the sight of her fast asleep in my hoodie, hair tangled around her head has my chest doing funny shit.

My head goes back to that damn thought of Snow White, and it makes so much sense why these princesses always end up getting kissed back to life or some shit like that.

Because I’d give my big toes to kiss Court right now.

Maybe even my thumbs. I wouldn’t be able to skate or shoot for the rest of my life, but I’d have another taste of her.

My cock throbs painfully at the thought of tasting her. Really fucking tasting her. All of her.

I almost did. Right there and then when she came all over my hand. I would have if she didn’t look like she was about to freak out about coming so hard she soaked the both us.

Bringing my phone closer to my face, I zoom in on her. Heat crawling under my skin when the scent of her lip gloss together with her arousal burns my lungs .

I swear I can still feel her slick on my fingers. Still hear her gasp my name. Still taste the salt of her skin.

And I swear to Christ, I’ll never get enough.

Never.

But—

My jaw locks as a different thought crosses my mind.

What if she only let me touch her because she was hurting?

What if it wasn’t me she wanted—just comfort?

What if tomorrow she smiles like tonight never happened, or worse tells me it was a mistake?

The possibility hollows me out. Because there’s no going back from this. From tonight. From touching her. From kissing her. Watching her unravel for me. Because of me.

Fuck.

I’m raw… starving. On the precipice of lunacy as I focus on the blob of lip gloss slowly running down my finger. Melting into my skin, soaking into it the way her cum did.

I swallow hard. Gripping my phone tighter. Resisting the urge to do now what I didn’t do then.

Taste.

At least I try to. I really do. And I fail.

Lifting my hand to my nose, I breathe in deep. Taking in every goddamn note. Cataloguing it like it’s the most precious artifact and memorizing every sweet, fruity note with the perfect hint of pleasure and need.

Sex. And her.

I can’t go back. Not after this. Not after tonight.

Courtney is mine.

Whether she truly realizes it or not.

With one long inhale I pull her scent all the way into my lungs.

My God, it’s enough to wreck me—my cock is throbbing, aching like never before. So damn hard it’s got a pulse of its own, robbing me of any logic I have left as I lick the gloss off my hand.

Tastes just like Courtney. Sweet and salty, bright and deep. I see every fucking color of her in that one taste.

But it’s not enough.

Not to sate that endless keening in my bones. Not to get the curiosity out of my system. Not to ease the craving in my chest and my blood.

It’s not enough.

Not even close .

And fuck it hurts. So bad. So deep. So viscerally.

I don’t care how deranged it makes me, I need more. More than just the sight of Courtney in my hoodie. More than just the scent of her blazing in my lungs…

This girl is making me crazy, and I can’t get enough of it as I push to my feet and rest my phone on the bedside table, still zoomed into her sleeping form.

The hammering of my pulse screams through me as she shifts, legs parting… my hoodie rides up to her hips, and all I have is the shadow of her perfect cunt.

Taunting me.

Teasing me.

Reminding me of how good her pussy choked my fingers. How damn soaked and tight she was for me.

“So fucking perfect,” I groan, squeezing my cock through my sweats.

I’m trying.

To be good.

To be decent.

Not to take more than I should.

I’m desperately reminding myself of why I can’t… I shouldn’t want Courtney Nilsson. Shouldn’t fucking need her like this.

I’ve never needed or wanted anyone. Not in this unhinged way that’s got me crossing every goddamn line. Making me a criminal .

Nothing works.

Not even the brutal grip of my hand on my cock. Not when she burrows deeper into the mattress. Into my hoodie, turning onto her side so that I get the perfect view of her ass. Toned, juicy… I bet it would be fucking delicious to sink my teeth into.

Fuck. Fuck this. Fuck it. Fuck everything.

Shoving my hand into my sweats, beneath the top of my underwear, I jerk my heavy cock free.

“Jesus.” All the oxygen hisses from my lungs as the cool air meets my leaking tip. So sensitive. So ready to blow.

For her.

I’m a mess for her. Courtney.

With another savoring lick of my lips, I squeeze some of the gloss onto my palm. Watching the shiny, translucent pink gloop melt in my hot hand before I drizzle it along the length of my dick.

I wrap my hand around my cock, dragging slow at first.

“Holy shit… so good… ”

Bitting down on my lip, I stroke harder. Tightening my grip with every glint of the tag she made me in the lamp light.

The pen. The hair tie. The napkin.

All mine.

Like Courtney.

Mine.

I pump faster, rougher, chest heaving, every muscle tight. My hips rut into my hand. Fucking chasing my release to the vision of Court sleeping and all the fucking objects I’ve collected of her. All right there. In front of me.

Taunting. Teasing. Reminding me of every fucking moment we’ve had. Every touch we’ve shared.

Every goddamn week, day, hour, second that’s led me to this. Made me this motherfucking simp.

I hate her for it.

Not enough to stop me from jerking off over the feed of her sleeping. Over all the trophies I’ve kept of her. It doesn’t stop me from reaching into my pocket and fisting her panties in my other hand while I continue fucking myself.

Harder with every pound of my pulse. Faster with every throb of my heated blood coursing down to my cock.

I’m so there. So close.

“ Fuck! ”

My hand slaps to my face, pushing her damp panties into my mouth. Deeper with the punishing thrusts of my gloss-slicked dick into my white-knuckled fist.

I lose it.

Every ounce of sensation shoots through me. From the marrow of my bones and burning pores, straight to my cock. White ropes painting over all the tokens laid out by my phone. Over the image of her.

“Courtney.” A groan claws out of me, ragged and hoarse, muffled by the panties balled in my mouth.

I slump forward, one hand braced on the wood, the other still gripping my shaft like a lifeline.

Everything is spinning. My head. The walls. Every damn thought that’s already dreaming up a next time. Another way to own Courtney.

Nothing’s changed.

Not a single part of me is sated.

I’m still hard.

Still aching .

Still wanting.

Lusting.

Coveting.

Because even like this—fist tight, chest hollow, body drained—it’s not enough.

I lift my gaze to look at the screen.

Roving my eyes over her silhouette, soft in the moonlight.

Peaceful.

Unknowing.

Oblivious to how fucked up I am over her.

Something claws up inside me, feral and vicious and sick with need.

I don’t know if she’ll ever see me the way I see her, if she’ll ever want me like I want her. But even if she doesn’t. Even if she tries to pull away—I’ll be here.

Waiting. Watching. Wanting.

Always.

Even if it wrecks me.

Even if it wrecks both of us.