“Okay.” I squeeze my eyes shut as a swell of pain flows through me. “Does what happened tonight happen often?”
Once again, he doesn’t answer. I’m now realizing that his silence following difficult questions are the answers.
When I open my eyes, I notice that he never put a shirt back on and his pants are still hanging open.
Reaching over, I ever so gently sweep my fingertips over the bruise. “Did he give you this?”
Nothing.
The need to soothe him in some small way comes over me, so I lean over and softly brush my lips against the bruise over and over, wishing my touch alone could make all his pain disappear.
Phoenix releases a jagged breath, and I notice his cock is rising.
His voice is a rough scrape. “Lennon.”
I can’t tell if it’s a warning or a request, but I go with the second option and wrap my hand around him.
A low groan pushes past his lips when I tongue and suck his plump head.
However, when I stretch my mouth over his length, he halts me.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment because of course he doesn’t want a blow job right now, he’s going through something traumatic.
I start to move away, but he grabs my hand and places it back on his dick, guiding it up and down.
A startled gasp flies out of me when his free hand tightens around my throat. His hold isn’t strong enough to suffocate me, but enough that it makes breathing a little more difficult.
Inclining his head, he inhales me.
“Jerk it faster,” he rasps, running his lips along the side of my throat. Both his words and the vibration have my nipples hardening.
Closing my eyes, I speed up my movements.
His deep, melodic voice rolls over me, holding me hostage. “You’re so sweet and innocent.” I’m about to remind him that what I’m doing right now is neither sweet nor innocent, but his teeth graze my neck. “The thought of corrupting the shit out of you turns me on so fucking much.”
That makes two of us.
He draws my skin into his mouth with enough suction I know he’s going to leave a mark.
I not only welcome the pain, I crave more of it. “Harder.”
His teeth clamp down, nipping and biting until I whimper and shudder.
A low groan tears out of him and he fists the base of his dick while I’m on the upstroke. “I’m gonna come.” Taking over, he gives himself a hard and fast tug. “You want some of this?”
I want whatever he’s willing to give me.
Dipping my head, I close my mouth over his tip and slide down as far as I can. A moment later, a coarse, ragged sound cuts through the air and a spurt of hot liquid hits the back of my throat. I suck him down, not wanting to waste a single drop.
He slumps against the driver’s seat. “Fuck.”
I’ll say. Phoenix might have been the one who came, but I feel like I’m the one who derived all the pleasure from it.
Until a depressing thought hits me.
What happens after tonight? Is he going to act like I don’t exist? End our friendship for good?
“Are you gonna ignore me again?”
“No.” Cocking his head to look at me, he lights a cigarette. “But I don’t do girlfriends, Lennon.” A regretful note enters his voice. “And even if I wanted to pursue this thing with you, I can’t because Storm and I are leaving for LA in eleven days. We’re hoping to make some connections and catch a break there.” He expels a sigh. “I probably should have told you that before…you know. I’m sorry.”
I get it. Though I can’t help but wonder now.
“If you weren’t leaving…would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Pursue this thing with me?” When I see uneasiness spread over his face, I quickly add, “Just so we’re clear, I’m not asking you to stay.” I’d never want him to stop chasing his dreams because of me. “I’m leaving for Dartmouth at the end of the summer, so I’m not looking for a relationship, either.” I lift a shoulder. “I just want to know.”
If a girl like me could get the guy.
He takes so long to answer I’m about to tell him to forget it…but then I hear it.
“Maybe,” he whispers.
My heart squeezes painfully. Talk about bittersweet.
But it doesn’t have to be. We can’t be in a relationship, but it doesn’t mean we can’t keep in contact and be friends.
I could visit him in LA during breaks from school and I’m sure he and Storm will be back to visit his grandmother from time to time.
Plus, he’s not gone yet. Granted, we don’t have much, but we have a little time. Which is better than no time.
“We still have eleven days.”
“Yeah.” He tosses his cigarette out the window. “But three of those will be spent practicing for Voodoo.”
True.
“If you and Storm are okay with it, I’d like to come to practice.”
“It’s cool with me. Although you’ll probably get bored after a while.”
That’s not possible. “I’m never bored when I’m hearing you sing and watching you perform.” I look out the window just as a light turns on in my house. I have no doubt my dad is waiting up for me. “I should probably head in.”
Something tells me he’ll have lots of questions regarding my current wardrobe.
I’m about to grab my things and leave, but then it dawns on me. “How come you always park here and never in my driveway?”
“Because you have security cameras.” He smirks. “None of them point over here, though.”
Huh. The more you know.
I grab my purse off the floor. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
On impulse, I lean in…then freeze.
How does this work? We’re friends, but what we just did was a little more than friendly.
Do I hug him? Shake his hand? Or just say to hell with it and kiss him?
As if reading my mind, Phoenix says, “I never kiss my hookups.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind him that we’ve already kissed, but then he adds, “It complicates shit. Makes them think it’s more than what it is.”
Can’t really argue with that.
“No kissing. Got it.”
I reach for the door handle at the same time he reaches over and cups my jaw.
My breath stills as he comes closer.
There’s no tongue when he kisses me, just a soft press of his lips against mine before he pulls away. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
I bite my cheek to keep from smiling as I run across the street and sprint up the driveway.
I was hoping my dad went back to bed, but he’s sitting on the couch when I walk in. Drinking a cup of coffee.
In other words, intentionally waiting up for me.
“Seriously, Dad?” I roll my eyes. “I’m not a baby.”
“You’re my baby,” he argues. “And one day when you have children of your own, you’ll understand the fear that comes with your teenager attending a party where something bad might happen—” His eyes widen as he looks me up and down. “What happened to your clothes?”
Thinking fast, I utter, “We had a massive water balloon fight at the party.” I shrug. “My dress got drenched, so the girl hosting it gave me a T-shirt to wear and offered to wash it for me.”