Page 23 of Nevermore (A Cruel Love #1)
TWENTY-ONE
REIGN
This is the way it’s been.
With Santi’s—I can’t believe he lets me call him that—lips on mine, his hands migrating down my body, all rational thought goes out the window.
We’ve been at it like this for a week, unable to help ourselves and our apparent horniness for each other.
If we’re not making out, we’ve been giving each other ‘fuck me’ eyes that have gone straight to my aching dick.
A dick, by the way, that he hasn’t touched again.
But that’s fine by me because this is just as good. The way he gently slides his tongue against mine, the hum of contentment he breathes across my lips, it’s all so overwhelming, but in a good way. I feel consumed by him. Broken down until I’m nothing but his.
Which is crazy, right? I mean, we’ve only known each other for such a short amount of time. He ignored me, hated me, made out with me, and now we’ve been so enraptured with each other that we can’t breathe without wanting to rip each other’s clothes off.
That’s exactly what he does next. He slides my shirt up, exposing my stomach, and his elegant hands trace lines up and down my skin.
Crawling down my stomach, he lays kiss after kiss down my body until he reaches my happy trail where he proceeds to lick the skin there.
I’m sure he can feel my hard on pressing against him but he ignores it, whether it’s because he wants to torture me, or because he’s not ready to go there.
We haven’t discussed it but I’m pretty sure I’m his first experience with a guy.
He seems confident but it’s in the little things I’ve noticed.
Like the way he always hesitates for a split second before taking my lips.
Like the way his hands tremble just a bit when they wander down my body.
It’s endearing but I wish he would just talk about it with me.
But, even though it’s been such little time, I can already tell that Santi is stubborn as hell.
He’d never flat out tell me he’s never been with a guy before and he’d never admit to being the slightest bit nervous.
We can work on that.
“You feel so good, querido ,” he murmurs against my stomach, pressing a butterfly kiss there before crawling back over me. He takes my mouth in a passionate kiss, dragging his tongue against the seam of my lips before pulling back. “I want you so bad.”
My breath stutters when I feel his hard cock grinding against mine. I don’t have the balls to ask him to go further, to make me cry for him, to break me apart until I can only scream his name. So, instead, I nod. “Me too.”
He dives back down and I take advantage of his position and begin sliding his shirt over his back. He groans as he sits up and helps me, so fucking sexy when he grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over in one fell swoop.
When he lowers himself again, the bare skin brushing mine sends a spark up my spine and into my curling toes. This is everything I never knew I wanted.
I want more .
But I’m denied it when he pulls away and sits up, silently signaling that he’s done.
He always does that. Once he reaches his limits, he stops, and I know I need to be patient.
Hell, I’m not even sure I’m ready for it.
No matter how much I crave more, it’s smart to take it one kiss at a time.
Not only are we just getting to know each other, we’re fucking stepbrothers to boot.
So, I sit up with him, tentatively rubbing his shoulders as I perch my chin there. “You good?”
He turns his head and I catch the soft blush crawling down his tan neck. “Yes. You?”
“Yeah.” I nod as I kiss his bare skin. “Wanna just talk for a bit?”
“Sure,” he says. He lowers himself back onto the bed and opens one arm, wordlessly telling me to tuck myself in that space. I do greedily, sniffing his armpit which causes him to give me an incredulous look. “You’re weird.”
I shrug. It’s not my problem that his pits smell good. “So, how you been enjoyin’ the summer?”
“That’s what we’re going to talk about?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I’ve been spending it tongue-deep with my stepbrother.”
I blush and chuckle weakly. “Right. Sorry about that.” He sits up just a tad, cocking his head which causes my blush to spread. “What?”
“Why do you make yourself smaller than you are?” he asks, scrutinizing me.
Confused, I frown. “Excuse me?”
“Apologizing,” he states, now zeroing in on my eyes with a laser focus that has me squirming. “Making questions out of statements. You do these things because you’re sorry for what? Existing?”
I stutter for a response. “N-No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.” He sits up all the way, turning me on my back and hovering over me. Bracketing my face with his arms, he leans in, and I sigh as his nose brushes against mine. “You don’t have to apologize for existing with me. I rather like your existence.”
Butterflies I shouldn’t have erupt in my stomach.
It’s one thing to mess around with Santiago, but this fuzzy feeling I’m experiencing, it’s not smart.
Despite our obvious differences, he’s my stepbrother .
The consequences of me actually falling for him far outweigh any sort of benefit at the moment.
I try to turn away but his hand snaps out to grip my chin. Holding me firmly, he shakes his head with a cocky smirk. “This conversation wasn’t over, querido . Now be a good boy and listen to me.”
It’s hard to breathe as those fluttering traitorous butterflies fly up to my chest. “O-Okay.”
“Have I told you what it was about you that caught my attention in the first place?” he asks.
I shake my head dumbly. “Um, the fact that I was the poor kid movin’ into your ritzy place?”
He chuckles, a low smirk on his lips. “No.”
“The accent?” I propose, feeling a little self conscious when I compare it to the melodic lilt of his voice.
“I quite enjoy your Southern drawl,” he teases, nipping at my lips before pulling back. “But no.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you gonna tell me or we gonna play twenty questions?”
“It was your fire, Reign,” he concludes as he brushes his knuckles down my cheek.
“What fire?” I snort. I’m not exactly what one would call a ‘fiery person’. Hell, I hate confrontation and would rather stay in the background of everything. Santiago was wrong when he said I apologize simply for existing. I do it because I never want to be an inconvenience to anybody.
He looks at me with a bit too much condescension before trapping my earlobe between his teeth, whispering into me, “That blaze you hide under this pathetic exterior is everything. I wanted to peel you back, to open you up, to expose what no one else can see.”
I gulp. The fluttering is back at full force and I can’t breathe. “N-No one else?”
“Yes. Because you’re mine.” He comes back into view and rubs my bottom lip with his thumb. “Aren’t you, Reign?”
I go to automatically say no, but I can’t.
He’s looking at me with so much vulnerability and so much openness.
It’s exactly what my jerk off fantasy was about.
Not necessarily the kissing and the groping but just being let in.
Let into the mind of someone who’s far greater than anyone I’ve ever met simply by existing.
But I also can’t say no because he’s right.
This whirlwind of a few weeks has tanned my ass. We barely know each other and it’s terrifying how strongly I feel for him. It’s like we… No. That’s stupid. I shouldn’t even think about it.
But what if it is?
What if Santiago and I… What if it was always meant to be this way? What if this is some sort of fairytale where the prince and the pauper meet and fall in love? Is that what this feeling is?
I feel consumed by him and his magnetism. By the possessive way he holds my jaw and demands that I’m his when he has no right to. By the obsessive way I watch him while he’s around. My mind is always on him, my eyes always tracking his movements, my body always yearning for his touch.
Maybe that really is what this is. Teen love. A summer love. Something new and bright and shiny.
Something I want .
“I’m… I’m yours, Santi,” I whisper against his lips, my trembling breaths fanning against his mouth. “Does that make you mine?”
He stiffens but nods. “In every sense of the word, querido .”
I nod as well. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I drag him down and pull him close. “Do you want to keep making out or do you want to just lay here with me?”
I don’t know which I prefer, and I don’t want to pick, but I’m happy when he decides to flip onto his back and drag me once more against his chest. “Let’s lay here.”
I press my ear against his chest, listening carefully to the rapid thrumming of his heart. He doesn’t seem nervous—he never really does—but his body can’t betray him.
Because maybe he’s falling for me too.