Page 110 of The Golden Boys
“You don’t want to go back,” he rasps, making me come undone. “So, tell me what youdowant.”
There are words on the tip of my tongue, words I don’t have the courage to say out loud. But as if he hears that little voice inside my head, the one I’m trying to ignore and silence, his palm moves lower, resting at the base of my stomach.
My breaths are deeper now, louder as I let my head fall back against the firmness of his shoulder. Smooth fingertips trace the elastic at the apex of my thigh, like he’s contemplating his next move, unsure how far he’s willing to go. I know I should be the one to stop this, I know I should revoke the unspoken permission I’ve given him to touch me like this, but … I don’t.
Instead, as his hand slips inside my bathing suit, I say absolutely nothing at all. Well, nothing that discourages him, anyway.
Only a whimpered, “…Shit.”
My voice is quivering as his exploration begins. Heat from his mouth moves over my skin and drives me insane. A kiss is placed just beneath my ear, sucking first, then tracing slow, silken circles with the tip of his tongue.
“Shit.” The word falls from my mouth again, but this time it’s strained as he teases me with the tip of one finger. Then, finally, he slips it inside.
And then another.
I’ve completely given in. Completely. And he knows it. I push my hips back, pressing against him, in awe of how aroused he is from touching me.
“You’re making it very,verytough to hate you tonight,” I admit.
I didn’t mean to whisper this loud enough to be heard, but I’m out of my head and can’t stop myself.
“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Southside?” he asks gruffly, breathing the words into my ear while still touching me beneath the water. “If you had to choose between killing me and fucking me, you’d be on your back every time,” he explains, then a short, deep laugh vibrates within his chest. “And that goes both ways.”
A chill shoots down my spine when he admits that, knowing he’s so, so right.
His hand moves faster, and he presses against me, pushing his fingers deeper. Then, my breaths are coming faster. I’m panting while I squirm in front of him, hungry for so much more than what’s being given, but unwilling to admit that out loud.
We’ve added kindling to this wicked fire for months now, stoking it day in and day out with our warped fusion of cruel words and ceaseless lust. Now, I’m not so sure we can contain what we’ve created. It has a life all its own. A monster that thrives on our hatred and sexual frustration. And believe me, we have fed this beast well.
I can’t help but to question whether it will linger forever, breathing heat down our backs, forcing us to give in to it, one way or another. Like now, as the pressure in my core swells, becoming impossible to ignore. And even more as my thighs clamp tight around West’s hand. As I arch away from his chest and drop my head back against his shoulder.
He’s breathing in my ear again, making sure all my senses are overwhelmed by only him when he speaks next.
“Come for me,” he whispers, soft and deep, an invitation.
He gets his wish, almost on command. A soft cry leaves my mouth and I’m shuddering in his arms, proving how badly I craved this. And it had to be him. No one else.
His hand goes still when I finish, and then, eventually, he slips it out of my bathing suit. I’m kept close, though, which I don’t hate. The arm not latching us to the edge wraps around me and becomes something like an embrace. Despite myself, I revel in the feel of it and, after several seconds, my breaths slow to normal.
Silence creeps in and so does reality. Only, it’s not nearly as uncomfortable as I thought it would be.
I feel his heart racing against me and don’t fight when he spins me to face him. The sated look in his eyes is unexpected but fitting. This spark between us is unpredictable, untamed. It feeds into this obsession we have with one another. The one that causes us to make these erratic, split-second decisions. It’s also the reason I’m suddenly triggered all over again, wanting him like I didn’t just climax.
He grips the edge of the pool with both hands now, and I cling to him. Locking my ankles behind his hips, I bring him as close as I can, feeling the solid bulge in his trunks pressing into me. There’s urgency in our kiss when his lips find mine. In the moment, I want nothing more than to taste him like this forever.
But I’m not sure I can keep this up, going to extremes with him. One second, he’s hot, the next he’s ice cold.
The sound of a door opening barely registers, but when it slams shut again it’s slightly harder to ignore.
Reluctantly, West and I separate ourselves, but when I peer up, I don’t spot anyone. We’re still alone. I face West again and feel what he’s about to say before he even says it.
“I should go,” he announces with a sigh. “Practice probably ended by now, which is why I’m willing to bet that was one of my brothers coming to rush me.”
Not wanting to seem desperate, I nod instead of asking him to stay a while like my heart is begging me to do.
“Okay,” I say softly, reaching for the edge.
I’m trying to pull myself out, but West puts a stop to that, holding me in place. Just when I think he’s finished with me, I’m brought close again. This time when his mouth covers mine, I’m aware of how different it feels. This kiss is heavy, it’s emotional, it’s not steeped in frustration or some hidden agenda.