“That’s right, baby. Not Wyatt. Not anyone else,” he says, making my body wrack from the sensation of his lips brushing my wet folds. “All me. Don’t you forget who makes you feel like this.” He swipes his tongue over my pussy. “Who gets you wet like this.”
My knees shake as I’m overwhelmed by the sensations. It’s so much and my toes curl. I can barely contain the sounds escaping me.
“Please,” I gasp, angling my hips and reaching for his head, running on instinct and need.
Connor groans, eating me while his fingers dig into my thigh and ass. He pulls back to catch his breath and thrusts his fingers in me again, torturing my clit with his thumb.
“Oh my god,” I whine.
“You’ll always think of me, sunshine. Years from now, with your sweet college boyfriend who buys you flowers, with your wholesome husband who kisses you good morning—you’ll think of me fucking you like this.” He curls his fingers, hitting a spot deep inside that makes my body quake with pleasure. “Because you’ll always be mine. No one else’s,” he growls. “I’ll ruin you for anyone else, because I’m the only one who fucks you the way you like it, my dirty little mouse. There’s no escaping me.”
I fall apart on his fingers, tears pricking my eyes, almost losing my balance as I come. It’s way more intense than I was prepared for.
Connor catches me in his arms, putting me on his lap as he slumps to the floor. I can feel his hard dick against my ass as we both pant. His hair is a mess. I’m sure I look just as debauched. He gathers me in his arms, in no hurry to take care of himself.
I’m about to speak when a commotion at the door has both of us jumping. Connor springs into action.
“Go. There,” he points to the coats.
We shuffle into the shadows as an arguing couple comes into the coatroom. Connor holds me close, shielding me with his body.
“They’re starting to notice,” a woman hisses.
“You promised.” That’s a man’s deeper voice, angry. “What do you expect me to do when I see you kissing him?”
“He’s my husband. I’m still married to him.”
Connor tenses, glancing over his shoulder. I can’t see past him. He focuses on me once more with a mix of possessive protectiveness.
“I can’t deal with this right now. It’s already a risk to come in here. We’ll talk about this at home. Do not mess this up for me, Damien.”
My eyes widen as Connor steps closer, plastering his body against mine. “Shh.”
The door slams. I don’t dare breathe. Another piece of the Connor Bishop puzzle slots into place.
He cups my face, staring at me with resignation. “Let’s get back out there.”
“We’re not going to talk about that bomb? Are you okay?” I wrap my fingers around his wrist. “Did you know?”
He’s quiet for a minute. “I knew. Come on.”
We emerge from the coatroom and I stop by the bathroom to check my makeup and cool off from the aftershocks of the earth-shattering orgasm he gave me. As I leave the bathroom, I freeze.
Connor watches me, leaning against the opposite wall. His hair is fixed, my lipstick wiped from his face. Without breaking eye contact, he pats his pocket, where he stuffed my panties.
“Get through the rest of the night and you’ll get them back.”
“Connor,” I hiss. “Are you serious?”
He pops off the wall from his slouch and smirks as he closes the distance between us. He puts his lips by my ear and murmurs, “Be a good girl and I’ll do that thing you like again.”
Too flustered to respond, I spend the rest of the evening stewing on what we overheard in the coatroom with a million questions running through my head.
Nineteen
Thea
At the end of the night, Connor walks me to my front door.
Principal Bishop has already gone into their house. Connor’s mom and Damien rode in a different SUV, getting away with their secret without suspicion because he’s her right-hand man. I can’t believe what happened tonight, what we heard them arguing about.
After all my theorizing, I’ve finally worked out why he was forced to bring a fake girlfriend. I’m part of the elaborate distraction to further hide what Mrs. Bishop has been doing. Sadness pangs in my chest. The truth is worse than all the wacky reasons I thought up.
Connor brushes his knuckles over my cheek. Those intense gray eyes trap me in their hypnotic hold.
“Goodnight,” Connor murmurs.
“Bye,” I call as he walks away. A second later, I realize he still has my panties in his pocket. “Con—Damn it.”
He’s disappeared.
Unlocking the door, I slip inside. Constantine greets me, his whole hind end in motion as he tries to wag his tail nub. He dances around me in his excitement.
“Okay, okay. Come on, I’ll let you out.” I pat his head as I pass by him, kicking off my heels on the way to the back door and sighing in sweet relief as my sore bare feet hit the cool kitchen tile.
So many thoughts swirl through my mind.
On one hand, the girl I hide in my secret folder came out and it was overwhelming…and exhilarating.
I’m not ready to do it again unless Connor and I talk about our relationship, but I did like it. I do want more. Is it messed up that the boy who’s been my bully for so long is the same one who gave me my first kiss and so many other firsts? Maybe, but I’m not going to psychoanalyze myself.
I wanted it, so that’s all that matters.
Opening the door, I snort as Constantine tries to take off like a bullet, but skids on the back terrace and trips into a clumsy roll. He pops up a second later, perfectly fine and disappears past the pool of light into the backyard. I hear him rustling around as I lean against the open door to wait for him, hugging myself against the chill.
My mind goes to the fight between Mrs. Bishop and Damien we overheard in the coatroom. I know it’s important. It feels like the key to understanding Connor and the way his mind works. He said he knew, but for how long? Did he recently discover the affair? My heart aches for him as I picture their family friend over for dinner and how that must have shattered Connor’s trust.
He’s hiding pain behind those cocky smiles and the way he jokes at school. Does anyone see that? I hope his best friend does, at least. I know how hard it is to hide a big secret eating you up and pretend everything is fine around friends. It’s what I did with Maisy when I couldn’t tell her about Henry.
Constantine returns in a seventy pound blur and sits at the back door, waiting for my command to allow him in.
“Okay. Come.” The dog follows me inside and I offer him a treat from a jar on the counter—homemade peanut butter milk bones from a recipe I tweaked. “Take it.”
Constantine crunches down and trails behind me as I climb the stairs to my bedroom. My thoughts turn as I change out of my gown and wipe the makeup off my face.
The light never turns on in Connor’s bedroom. I watch from my chair for a while before I get into bed.
If Connor’s mother is having an affair, why is she hiding it? She has the whole neighborhood fooled. Why is this a big secret?