Page 53 of Vying Girls (Girls of Hazelhurst #2)

‘No more,’ I grit out, cutting the next one.

She doesn’t ask what, but nor does she agree. After all, it’s not her, is it? It’s me. I do this to her, it’s me pulling the strings.

My hands shake. I can’t be sure I won’t add another nick to her record. I’m aware of the bloodied marks beneath me, glad they’re concealed by her pyjama bottoms. No shorts this time. Covering up her pain for once.

‘Nic, that’s enough now.’

Carrying on, the roar steadies with every clip.

‘Nic, seriously, stop now—’

I grab her face, dig my nails into her cheeks and kiss her. She whimpers in surprise, the sound vibrating against my teeth.

‘What the fuck?’

Tilda snaps her head round at Haz’s voice, but I don’t. Breathing hard, I resume my solemn task, taking advantage of her distraction to cut her remaining nails.

‘Nic, are you fucking demented?’

‘Do one, Haz,’ I mutter.

‘Get those scissors out of her face first.’

‘Haz. I’m okay.’ Tilda clears the huskiness from her voice. ‘Can you close the door, please?’

Haz does only after another moment of looking between us, a huff escaping her as she slams it.

I don’t look at Tilda, carefully cutting around the nail of her littlest finger. They’re painted black, chipped like she applied it days ago. I’m aware of her watching me. Her gaze is incinerating. I flush beneath it, the memory of what I just did hitting me full force.

After a moment, she covers my restless hand, leans up and kisses me. My stomach caves, those soft lips feeling so fucking good. They’re cool, cushiony, smooth from lip balm.

I shove her back down with my palm. Just one more nail. Her index finger. The longest. Probably the one she uses to cut herself the most.

‘Nic…please kiss me.’

I cut around the curve carefully, the ping of the scissors making me twitch. It’s like my blood’s on fire, this small act all that’s keeping me together.

‘Nic.’

Gritting my teeth, I hurl the scissors, swallowing Tilda’s flinch when they hit her metal bin. Free from my clutches, she winds her arms around my neck, kissing me as hard as I’m kissing her. Like she wants this. Like she wants me.

Only my limbs touch her, my body still hovering, unwilling to yield. Tilda grasps my top and tugs me down. My arms shake, like two twigs in the wind. I grunt as I fall onto her, my pussy screaming as it grazes her hip.

It’s not a graceful kiss. It’s messy, vicious, so much unsaid in it, a decade’s worth of resentment, lost love and pain. Our bodies grow hot, all the unspoken things a friction between us, a match on the cusp of igniting.

She tugs on my hair, cupping my skull and pressing me to her.

Her hips rise against mine, the rhythm driving me mad.

I tongue her lips, the cut on them, gladly delving inside.

The more we’re fused, the harder it’ll be to extricate ourselves.

We’ll have to be brave, to face whatever this is for once.

She tucks her thumbs under my waistband, taking mindful swipes at the skin there. I pull away, the sight of her eyes opening panicking me. I force her over, my own hands pulling jerkily at her trousers, baring her ass to me again, a sight I haven’t been able to bleach from my eyes.

‘Do you want this?’ I breathe, palming her cool skin.

‘I want you,’ she whispers. ‘I’ve always wanted you.’

I huff through my nose as old hurts flare. ‘If only.’

Eyes on her naked skin, I grab my pussy and massage it, arousal so acute in my chest I can hardly breathe. Unable to wait, I pull my own trousers down, hissing through my teeth as my wetness hits her ass.

Tilda turns her face into the pillow and bites it. I breathe out hard as I commence my thrusts. Fuck, it feels so good, each drag over her cool, yielding flesh.

I feel Tilda writhe below me, clit desperate for some kind of purchase, her breaths loud and frustrated.

I pick up the other pillow. ‘Here.’

She folds it in half, jamming it between her thighs. She gives a breathy moan as she rocks her hips, a similar one escaping me the next time we move as one.

With her facing away, I let myself drink her in. Her dark hair’s splayed over her back, the strands soft when I run a hand through them. The back of her neck’s hot as I palm it, her moan telling me she wouldn’t be averse to more pressure.

It’s hard to believe we’re doing this. It doesn’t feel as immediate as the other times.

I’m less vulnerable with her facing away.

There’s no more denying that I want her.

That’s a truth I can deal with. Hate-fucking, like we talked about.

It’s easy. At least it is with pleasure rocketing up my clit.

Wish I could ride this wave forever, never meeting the sober light of day.

The subtle creaking of the bed increases the faster we thrust. Tilda holds her pillow in a death grip, the other hidden from my view beneath her. The thought of it growing wet with her makes me gasp, clit twitching dangerously.

‘Oh, fuck!’ she cries, voice muffled by the pillow.

I rock on her steadily, tiptoeing on that edge, content to wait for her.

When she finally comes, crying out into the pillow, I tip my head back and fall over too, one drawn-out groan escaping my lungs. It’s one of relief, of a pain eased, a wound finally releasing its poison.

I feel floaty coming back to myself. Tilda shifts, pulling the pillow from between her legs. On her back again, she drags hair out her eyes, her pretty, flushed face the perfect picture of content and wary.

For once, I don’t feel the need to look away. There’s nothing in me that wants to run. I could float on this feeling forever.

It’s hard to keep this morning’s events from my mind. I hook a finger around one of hers, staring mournfully at the short nail. Trying not to think too much, I raise it to my mouth and kiss it.

‘Nicole,’ she breathes.

I close my eyes, finger tightening around hers.

How did we go so wrong? How can there be this much ugliness between us?

‘I miss you,’ Tilda says, voice barely louder than the wind outside. ‘You’re right in front of me and I miss you.’

She twines the rest of our fingers, asking quieter, ‘Are we still waiting for spring?’

I look down at the tangle of our hands. ‘Fucking long winter.’

She chuckles breathlessly. ‘You’re telling me.’

Moment broken, I get off her with shaky legs.

‘I’m taking these.’ I pluck the scissors from the floor and hold them up.

‘Strange souvenir, but go off. Although’—she grins, cockroaching on her back as she pulls her trousers back up—‘they’re scissors so guess they’re apt.’

I duck my head to hide my smile. ‘Glad to hear your lesbian education’s going well.’

‘It is. Think I just had my favourite lesson yet.’ She rolls onto her side, propping her cheek on her palm. ‘So, you like humping, huh? One trick pony?’

I shake my head at that diabolical word. ‘I’ve got a few other tricks up my sleeve.’

‘Would be happy to see them,’ she says quietly, expression suddenly serious.

I nod cautiously. She means more than sex. I can infer that much. After the events of the day, I’ll happily give her anything. I don’t want to be scared like that again. Listening to that fuck on the phone, another bastard man wanting to cause her harm.

If it stops her leaving again, I’ll do anything she wants.

Tilda

I’ve been staring into nothing for an hour when Elly peeks her head round the door, my heart summersaulting at the sight of her. Relief drenches me when she returns my tentative smile.

‘May I join you?’

I breathe out a chuckle at her formal tone. ‘Be sad if you didn’t.’

Closing the door, she slips under the quilt, wiggling until she’s pressed right up against me.

‘Sorry,’ she burrs into my hair. ‘I’ve been shit today.’

‘Not as shit as me,’ I mumble back, lips pressed against her chest. ‘Sorry about leaving. I literally wasn’t thinking.’

‘Just don’t do that again. Talk to me. That’s what I’m here for.’

‘I know. It’s just…stuff with Nic. I know she’s your friend…’

‘Won’t be if she keeps on upsetting you.’ Elly pulls back, stroking hair from my face. ‘You better brace yourself. Haz is on her way to interrogate you about Nic.’ She smiles wryly. ‘And not just about the kissing I heard you two were doing.’

I groan weakly, closing my eyes. Not sure I’m ready to talk about that. I just want to hold it close in my mind for a little longer.

I love Elly and Haz but there’s something so deliciously illicit in Nic choosing to fuck me. That’s three times now, each as astonishing and unexpected as the last.

And kissing her…ten-year-old me needs a slap.

I huff against Elly’s chest, the relief of her arms around me making me feel oddly high.

Her lips had been perfect. Hard and devouring.

Like she was screaming at me inside her mind.

I listened to her noises, trying to divine everything behind them, desperately wishing I could see her eyes.

I took what she was able to give, reading the care behind her violent actions, the anger at my cutting, the frantic, useless quest to stop me doing it again.

She was saying sorry. It seeped from her, haunting her eyes as we lay catching our breath.

It was a nice step forward, but I can’t stop my heart from sinking, wondering what the two steps back will look like this time.

She always retreats after something like this, reinhabiting the Nic who hates me.

I snuggle Elly closer, gleaning her comfort. Unable to resist, I leave a kiss on her lips. ‘You are my favourite thing in the whole world.’

She grunts, hugging me tighter. ‘Despite being stretched between three now?’

‘You’re the only one in my bed right now.’

‘True. Losers.’

I laugh quietly, the horrors of the day slipping away like oil down the drain.

Lifting my head, I take her lips in a soft kiss, thanking every deity out there for sending me this lovely, balm of a soul. I feel sleepy as she gently strokes my cheek. It’s too early to call it a day but I’m more than ready to put this one behind me.