Page 126 of The Golden Boys
He has zero response and it burns me up.
“You aresucha damn fuck-boy,” I hiss. “You think you can do and say whatever the hell you want and just—”
I go silent when his mouth covers mine. He swells in my hand and I grip his length tighter, knowing some bruised part of his soul just enjoyed that insult, enjoys being verbally destroyed.
“Tell me what else,” he insists, pushing his tongue inside my mouth right after.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this angry with someone, but for some reason, I can’t put distance between us.
“You’re a walking tragedy,” I continue, speaking my mind in a trance as his lips move down to my neck.
“What else?” His breath is warm against my skin when he asks, making me lose my foothold in reality a little more.
“You’re stubborn and I hate it,” I say next. “Sometimes, I get so frustrated I think I could actually kill you.”
A soft laugh leaves his mouth after I speak this time, the reaction vibrating against my neck, but he doesn’t stop kissing me there. Instead, he sucks the hollow of my throat and I’m officially losing this battle. He pushes the top of his sweats down a few inches and I feel more of him, skin-on-skin, but he hasn’t exposed himself completely. Not yet.
“I need a second,” I manage to choke out before pulling away.
He’s quiet, panting, but there aren’t words.
Those godlike features of his are highlighted in faint light and I don’t miss the desperation that’s overtaken his expression.
“I’m not leaving,” I rush to tell him, although I know I should. “I just … I need a second.”
The rims of his nostrils flare as his need becomes even more apparent, but he gathers himself and nods. He steps aside and I rush to the bathroom, close the door behind me, and turn on the light.
Staring at myself in the mirror I’m not even sure who I’m looking at. The Blue I knew a few months ago wouldn’t be here tonight. Not with someone like West. Someone who definitely doesn’t deserve her company.
And yet, not a single part of me wants to leave his room tonight.
I rinse cool water over my flushed cheeks and feel drawn to the other side of the door, where temptation on two muscular legs is waiting for me to return. It dawns on me that West and I have accomplished nothing here tonight. We haven’t worked out any of our issues, and I wonder if this is the only possible way to have him.
Broken.
Twisted.
But maybe I’m willing to settle for that.
His words ring inside my head, his declaration that the only path to unearthing our truth being between the sheets. I also can’t deny the part of that statement concerning the two of us being far from normal. On that point, he’s right. Possibly aboutallof it.
Maybe intimacyisthe only way to tell if any of what we suspect the other feels is real. The only way to tell if what we, ourselves, feel is real.
My gaze shifts to the door again and I ask whether I’m willing to be denied something I want so badly, but I don’t have to wait long for an answer. Knowing my fate is sealed, I turn off the light when I’m done, and easily see my way to the bed.
West is seated on the edge. When I step between his knees, he slowly peers up and I see more of him than before. The tender parts of his soul he keeps hidden beneath everything else. I’m reminded of what Joss said, about him being a sweetheart underneath it all. For now, I’ll have to just take her word for it, but by some miracle, maybe I’ll see that for myself one of these days.
He grips the back of both my thighs and draws me close. I watch as he undoes the button of my jeans and slides them down my legs, along with my underwear. I step out of them and lift my hands when he takes off my shirt next. Reaching back, I undo my bra as he stands, towering over me, too beautiful to really be human.
He holds my gaze, daring me to look away when he pushes his sweats down toned hips, baring himself to me completely. I only have a moment to steady my breath before the soft flesh of his lips meets mine. He kisses me deep, gripping the back of my hair. My head spins every time his tongue moves over mine.
A crinkling sound catches my attention and he backs away, only long enough to roll a condom into place with one hand. Then, I’m pulled down onto his lap when he sits. Heat moves through my back where he holds me tight. His hips flex between my thighs as I straddle him, feeling him all but begging to be let in. I show no sign of intending to make him wait, so he reaches between our bodies, aligns himself, and then guides me down onto him by my hips.
A whimper leaves my mouth and it’s steeped in relief, finally feeling him completely, in ways I’ve longed for since the first time I laid eyes on him. My lids fall closed and I ride him slow, drawing a deep moan from his lips.
“Your eyes,” he rasps. “Open them and fucking look at me.”
I meet his gaze, taking in the sex-drunk look set on his face. He’s barely coherent as our bodies move together, him wanting my full attention. He has it all, just like he wants. And, suddenly, I understand why I’m not allowed to turn away.