And I collapsed.
Every inch of me fell limp, my breaths erratic, heart a fucking jackhammer in my chest as Clay smiled against my pussy. He softly kissed my bud, but it was so sensitive that I shook with the touch. He continued those sweet kisses on every inch of my body as he carefully made his way up to sit next to me.
Once he was there, he pulled me into him.
I felt like the smallest thing in the world cradled in his arms, my pussy still pulsing between my thighs as I curled into him.
“Lesson complete,” he whispered, kissing my hair.
“You are so fucking good at that.”
He barked out a laugh. “So are you.”
“Really?” I peeled back to look at him. “Did I do okay?”
His smile slipped, his eyes skating over my face before he spotted a rogue curl and tucked it behind my ear. “You were amazing.”
“Do I need to go deeper? Should I get some lessons on deep throating or something?”
“Jesus, Kitten, are you trying to get me hard again?”
I laughed. “I’m surprised I could even fit you in my mouth.”
“Okay seriously, stop talking.”
He grabbed himself under his sweats and adjusted, and I flushed, leaning into his chest.
“Thank you for showing me all this.”
My chest ached with something I couldn’t quite name, like remembering that that’s all he was doing hurt for some reason. I was thankful he was showing me. It was what I asked him for.
But he was so good at pretending that sometimes it felt…
I couldn’t even finish the thought. I just clamped my mouth shut, closing my eyes and willing the anxiety to fly away.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he said, swallowing. “And for letting me escape in you.”
I peered up at him. “I’m always here,” I promised.
And I didn’t mean just while we were fake-dating, or when we were putting on a show for Shawn or Maliyah or whoever else was watching. I meant now, and after… whatever it might look like after.
After this was all over, after he had Maliyah back and I had…
Again, the thought raced from me before I could finish it, and I let out a strange noise as I peeled away from him and sat up, collecting my panties from where they rested by his feet.
“We need food,” I declared, standing and pulling on my thong without looking back at him. “And probably a shower.”
Clay chuckled, taking his time rising to his feet. I could see he was still turned on, the bulge in his sweatpants giving him away. He saw me staring at it and smirked, but then something washed over him, something sad and overpowering.
I didn’t know what it was, didn’t know what had happened tonight or why he was upset. But whatever I’d done to ease the pain had been temporary, because I watched in slow motion as he became distant again, that lost look in his eyes.
“I think I’m going to head back to the dorm,” he said. “Get some sleep.”
I nodded, trying not to show my disappointment. “Okay.”
“You good?”
I swallowed, then held out my thumb with as big of a smile as I could muster. “Peachy.”
Clay frowned, like he wasn’t sure if he could believe me, and the smile was getting weaker by the minute, so I turned and grabbed my bag off the ground, slinging it over my shoulder.
I headed for the stairs, Clay on my heels, and when we made it down and out of the observatory, we paused at the fork in the sidewalk — one way leading to his dorm on campus, the other pointing toward my apartment.
“Let me walk you home.”
“No,” I insisted, shaking my head. “I’m going to get food. Maybe stop by the coffee shop to see Shawn play.”
It was a lie, a bold-faced one I tried to seal with an excited smile as if that’s all I wanted in the world — to see Shawn Stetson.
The truth was much darker, much more foreign, and much more terrifying.
I was running from a feeling demanding to be felt, a monster with gruesome teeth and sharp claws I knew would maim me if I let it catch up.
Clay didn’t let on any emotion when he asked, “He’s playing tonight?”
“Yeah. He told me when we ran into each other at the game.”
“Oh.”
I nodded, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.
“Let me know how it goes,” Clay finally said.
“I will,” I promised.
And in the most awkward goodbye ever, I offered him a peace sign before scurrying off with the memory of his tongue between my thighs etched into my brain forever.
Clay
I stayed away from Giana all week.
It was like refusing myself the pleasure of jumping into a refreshing spring on a hot summer day, like restricting myself from drinking water as I heave from dehydration — but I had to do it.
I was in too deep.
Almost a week ago now, Giana had taken me to the observatory to get my mind off my mom, even though she didn’t know the full extent of what had happened. She’d somehow known enough to not push me when I said I couldn’t talk about it, and she’d somehow cared enough to not leave me alone — even when every sign I gave off was cold.
She knew, without me having to say a word, that I needed something.
She knew what I needed.
And she let me lose myself in her.
It had haunted me all week, how it felt to come apart for her, to have her come apart for me. It was all under the guise of a lesson, but I knew if I was being honest with myself, that wasn’t what it was for me.
I wanted her.
I wanted her so badly my chest had a gaping hole in it whenever I wasn’t with her.
I wasn’t even thinking about Maliyah anymore, and maybe I hadn’t been for a while now. I couldn’t put my finger on when it changed, when my focus shifted, but I knew the shift was fundamental. I knew every time I wanted to reach for Giana now, it wasn’t because I gave a rat’s ass about someone watching us and reporting back to my ex.
It was because I wanted to touch her, to hold her, to taste her.
But that wasn’t what she wanted.
I’d starved myself of her attention all week long to remind myself, to hammer into my thick skull that she wanted another man — and I was just the foolish punk who agreed to help her get him.
No, whose idea this whole thing had been.
Frustration battled with gratitude inside my soul all week long, no matter how I tried to work through it in the weight room or on the field. I was consumed by overanalyzing each moment we’d spent together, wondering how it’d taken me so long to really see it, to really understand what I was feeling.
And I didn’t know which emotion I felt more.
I was angry with myself, with her, with Shawn and Maliyah both. I was gutted by the situation, by even the thought of Shawn touching her the way I had been.
And yet, if this was it, if this was the only way I could ever have her… I was thankful.
I’d take every stolen moment, every fake kiss, every lesson she’d let me teach her. I’d ground myself down to sand and let her leave me behind in the end if it meant I got to soak up everything that she was right now.
A fool, that’s what I was.
A fool who wouldn’t stop playing the game he knew he’d lose.