I nod at him. “I’m sure.”
He tugs my pants down my thighs until they’re off. I cover my face with my hands, feeling a sudden pang of embarrassment about my body. Extra weight in places I’ve kept trim for years. And the scars. The damn sca—
I jolt as Kevin kisses the old scars covering my hips. Each caress from his lips removes another layer of insecurity. His warm mouth makes me clench again.
“No more of this,” he whispers as his fingers graze the scars of my past.
Kevin climbs into bed and lies beside me. His lips find mine again, hungrier this time. He runs his hand down my stomach and toward my panties. Again, he stops at the waistband, just before his fingers can slip beneath it.
“Can I touch you?” he asks.
I bite my lip, grab his wrist, and guide him lower. His fingers slip into my panties, the heat of his hand against me. He circles his finger. My head drops back, and a small moan leaves my loose lips.
I gasp as his fingers push inside me. He stops and looks at me. I kiss him in response, urging him to continue with my lips. He plunges into me again. I moan into his chest as he slips in another finger, and finally, a third. I grip the sheet, warmth washing through my body as his fingers continue to fill me.
The zipper falls on his jeans. I open my eyes and watch him pull out his cock. He’s bigger than anything I’ve seen. Fear tickles my gut, tightening it. I’m not prepared for that.
“You can touch me if you want,” he says in a soft voice.
You can touch it if you want.
Just put your hand around it.
Do you want to make me feel good?
Breath traps in my throat, and my eyes snap shut. My body becomes tense and rigid.
No, no, no. Not now. I can’t panic.
Too late. I’m panicking.
Kevin withdraws his hand and pulls his boxers up. He grabs me and wraps me in his arms. “Shhh,” he whispers. “It’s me.” His fingers brush through my hair. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”
I melt into his touch. He zips his jeans with his free hand.
No. I fucked it up.
Fucking piece of shit still haunts me from the depths of hell where he belongs. Why did his words echo in my head instead of Kevin's? Why can’t I just hear Kevin?
Kevin hums as he rubs my back, dragging my body out of the hole that man created inside me. I open my eyes and blink heavily. His rich brown eyes look into mine with concern. Not anger, as I imagined. Even though he told me so. Even though he was right.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t apologize. We tried it, and we stopped it,” he says as he brushes my hair away from my face. He wipes at tears I didn’t realize had fallen.
“I don’t want to stop.” I sigh.
“You aren’t ready for this.” He gestures toward his crotch. He isn’t hard anymore. “And that’s okay.”
“I want to keep going,” I plead.
“I don’t, Skye.”
“Please? I’m sorry I freaked out.”
“Don’t apologize for that. It’s not your fault,” he says before crawling out of bed and leaving the room.
The door slams behind him, and I put my face in my hands, fighting the urge to scream. I’m so mad at myself. At my body. Most importantly, my brain. We weren’t doing anything wrong. There was no reason for his words to unlock and whip open the door to a flood of memories. Nothing he did should have made me start drowning.
He left, and now I want to cut. I want to punish my body for what it did. I deserve to feel good sometimes.
Sometimes.
I need this.
I grab the razor from the drawer and run my fingers along the scars on my hip. If he sees a new cut, he definitely won’t let us do more. I lost my one chance after weakening him until he agreed to try.
Footsteps come down the hall, and I toss the razor back into the drawer, closing it in slow motion as I try to avoid the sound of wood scratching along the track. The door swings open and Kevin stares at me from the doorway. His lips are pursed, as if he’s trying to figure out what to do with me. Or not do with me.
“I’m sorry I had to leave,” he says. He walks over and kisses me. His lips graze mine as his hand wraps around the back of my neck. “Do you want me to make you come?” he asks. Not in a sensual or seductive way, but as if he’s asking if I want to go to dinner. “You were okay with that.” He shrugs. There’s a hint of bitterness in his voice.
I was more than okay with him touching me.
I hesitate for a moment before nodding. He smirks at me, draws away, and kneels on the ground. He pulls me by my thighs until I’m at the edge of the bed and slips my panties down as I slide closer.
My cheeks flush with heat, and embarrassment washes over me again. Kevin squelches it with the warmth of his tongue as he drops his head between my legs. I gasp. My chest rises off the bed as he licks me. This is a fairly new feeling for me, and it’s intense. It's like nothing I've ever felt.
He swirls his tongue around my clit, and my thighs quiver. He slips his fingers in me, holding them inside me, and I clench around them. It doesn’t take long for me to feel the intense tightness of an orgasm, just how I always imagined it would feel. I draw my stomach in, my muscles tensing as I grip the sheets beneath me. My moans roll freely off my tongue, and the embarrassment at my sounds washes away as the feeling intensifies. I can only think of the tip of his tongue flicking against me. A blankness fills my mind. Is this what death feels like? A calm darkness?
But I’m not dead. The explosion of pleasure shows me just how alive I am. I come, and it’s fucking magical.
Once my thighs stop shaking, Kevin crawls over me, wipes his mouth, and kisses me. His hard cock presses against me. He doesn’t try to take it out or use it on me. He tenderly kisses me, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck and burying his face into me.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“No, thank you,” he says against my skin.
“For what?”
“I can’t explain it, Skye. That’s just what I didn’t realize I needed.”