His words do little to calm me. The blanket covers what we’re doing, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have ears. Luckily, the movie is loud, because I’m way too turned on to stop whatever it is that we’re doing. Holden could wake up at any moment, but I think the added element of fear somehow adds to the intensity.
“Show me those perfect little tits,” he says, curling his fingers, hitting a spot inside me I didn’t know existed. I tense up, arching off the couch with a moan.
“Shayne,” he all but growls. “Lift your shirt.”
I pull the hem of my shirt up, keeping my arms pressed to my sides to push my chest together for his benefit.
“Fuck, that’s good.” Thayer’s eyes darken as he lifts the side of the blanket up and dips his head to see underneath, watching his fingers pump into me. He licks his lips and then he’s disappearing beneath the blanket. Before I know what’s happening, I feel his hot, wet tongue dart out to taste me. I gasp, my hips jerking off the couch. Thayer’s free hand snakes up my stomach and covers my mouth as his tongue continues its ministrations.
I let my thighs fall open, drunk off the feeling. He fucks me with his fingers as he sucks and licks, and it isn’t long before I’m trembling beneath him. I can hear how wet I am with each pump of his hand, and when I start to clench around his fingers, he picks up the pace while simultaneously sucking my clit into his mouth.
I cry out, unable to hold back, and Thayer presses his palm harder against my mouth. I bite down on it, chest heaving, as he brings me back down to Earth with soft strokes with the flat of his tongue.
Holy shit.
My hair clings to my damp forehead, my ears still buzzing. That was hands-down, the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. I’m still catching my breath when Thayer’s head appears from under the blanket before he crawls on top of me, kissing me hard. I moan into his mouth when his jeans press into my still sensitive center, unable to keep from rubbing against him. Rough hands grip my thighs and then he’s lifting me from the couch.
“What are you doing?” I whisper-yell, my arms wrapping around his neck out of reflex as he walks away, his hands moving to knead my ass. Holden could wake up. Christian could still be awake, for all I know. Yet Thayer’s carrying me through his house half-naked.
“We’re not done yet.”
Thayer
I don’t know what the fuck I’m thinking. Shayne has a way of getting inside my head and making me want things I know I can’t have. Things I don’t deserve. The more time I spend with her, the more conflicted I feel. My misery doesn’t just want company. It wants Shayne. And for some fucked-up reason, she wants me, too.
She thinks I don’t care about her. She thinks I like to fuck with her body, her mind, and her emotions for the fun of it. What she doesn’t know is I’m fighting myself every goddamn day. Guilt for wanting her like I do. Guilt for stringing her along. Guilt for finding some sliver of fucking happiness in her when Danny is rotting six feet under. I’m drawn to her for the same reason I hate her.
She makes me feel.
I could’ve killed Holden when he streamed that fucking porn. I let it play out, just to see Shayne’s reaction, expecting her to protest. Instead, I watched her while she watched them fuck on screen, her lips parting slightly, a flush crawling up her neck. She liked it. Maybe even wished it was her. Her breathing changed, coming out in shallow, little pants, and the lust in her eyes mirrored my own. To say it backfired would be putting it mildly. I was hard as fuck, needing to touch her. To taste her. To be so far inside her that we both forgot about our families, our tragedies, our fucked-up lives, and everything that’s keeping us apart.
Since the day she wandered into the barn, there was something between us. We were all close—Holden, Grey, Danny, Shayne, and me. But Shayne was mine. And as I carry her tight little body down the hall to my bedroom, I know she still is.
Walking into my room, I kick the door shut behind me, then prowl over to my bed, dropping Shayne onto my sheets. She lands with a squeal, her light blonde hair a stark contrast against my black sheets. She frowns, sitting up and pulling my T-shirt down to cover herself.
“What?” I ask, my patience wearing thin. My cock is about to burst through my zipper.
Her little nose scrunches up, eyeing my sheets with disdain. She has a possessive streak. And it only gets me harder.
“No one’s been in here for a long time,” I say, crawling over her, my palms braced on either side of her head.
“That’s a lie.”
Oh, right. The chick from the night Holden decided to go rogue. I don’t even know her name. All I know is that while I was minding my own fucking business, she snuck into my room. When I told her to get the fuck out, she dropped to her knees, her fingers undoing the button of my jeans in record time. For a brief moment, I considered letting her suck me off. I figured she might be a nice distraction from the little devil underneath me. But she felt all wrong. Her tits were too big. Her hair the wrong color. In short, she wasn’t Shayne. And as it turns out, my dick didn’t want anything to do with her. No sooner had I zipped up my pants and told her to leave than I heard the commotion out in the hall.
“She tried it. I wasn’t interested.”
Shayne narrows her eyes at me, searching for signs of deception. She won’t find any. “If I let you touch me again, are you going to turn cold and leave me right after?”
“Probably,” I answer truthfully. Disappointment and maybe even hurt flash in her eyes and I feel a stab of regret for putting it there. “Unless…”
“Unless what?” she asks, her eyes locked onto my chest, avoiding my gaze. Her little fingers toy with the strings of my hoodie as she waits for my response.
“Unless you want to stay.”
What the fuck am I saying?
Hopeful blue eyes meet mine, and it’s that look right there that tells me what I already know. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s only going to make things more difficult when this thing, whatever it is, inevitably blows up in both our faces. Even if she didn’t know about Grey, her brother is still responsible for the death of mine. That’s something you don’t move on from.
“In here?” she asks, her tone slightly defensive. Guarded. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t trust her. And until that changes, the walls we’ve stacked up high over the past year will stay firmly in place.
I nod silently, dipping my head to kiss her collarbone. She arches her neck in invitation, turning her head to the side. She smells so fucking good, a combination of my shampoo and something uniquely Shayne. I slip my hand between her thighs, feeling her pussy still slick with the evidence of her orgasm. I tease her clit with the tip of my finger, working her up all over again.
“Are you going to sleep in my bed, Shayne?” I ask before catching her earlobe between my teeth, tugging. “Because I think it’s time that I get something out of this.” I throw her earlier words back at her.
Shayne shivers beneath me as she rocks into my hand, but she doesn’t give me the words I want to hear.
“Yes or no?” I ask, slipping a finger inside her. Her hands come up to grip my biceps and squeeze.
“Yes,” she breathes. “But we’re going to talk first.”