Lily’s hands move from my shoulders to the bottom of her sweatshirt, and her golden eyes level me with the kind of look that’s nothing short of a demand. She lifts the hem of her shirt up over her bare tits and I quickly help her pull it over her head, discarding it to the ground behind her. My mouth covers her left nipple as my right hand works the right, sucking and pulling her delicate skin into tiny, delicious beads. If she let me, I’d bite them off right now.
“Are you mine?” she whispers at my ear, her voice gritty and soaked with want.
“Fuck yes, I’m yours, Lily.” I push my cock against her thigh, and she reaches up and grips my neck, pulling my mouth to her. I kiss her raw, my hand kneading her breast while I rub against her like an animal.
That’s what I am. Lily strips me to my base core, until there’s nothing left but my singular emotions, felt one at a time. Right now, it’s lust. Right now, it’s my dick wanting to dive into a wet pussy. It’s a broken boy and a girl needing to feel something other than pain. To feel each other. To find ecstasy in the darkest of places. And as my dick swells and hot come soaks my jeans, I’ve never been more right to indulge.
Chapter19
Lily
It’s the first time the three of us have been in a car together since it happened. Brooklyn offered to drive; I think maybe she knew I wouldn’t be up for it. Besides, she drives a G-wagon. It’s a bit classier than an eight-year-old sedan.
“Everyone buckled?” She glances at me in the mirror, and I tug on my seat belt for proof. If there are three people on this earth who willalwayswear their seat belts, it’s us. If it weren’t for our safety belts, we would have smashed into the glass. There wouldn’t have been any of us to save or do the saving.
I’ve never been in the car when Brooklyn drove, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s always been so fastidious or if she changed her habits after the accident. She’s checked her mirror angles twice, at least, and I’ve never seen someone sit so upright behind the wheel. Her hands are at the literal ten and two positions.
She finally backs out of her parking spot and Morgan leans over to switch on the stereo. I’m not sure what Morgan was expecting to hear, but I for one wasn’t prepared for her speakers to blast the latest financial reports from the exchange.
“Are you seriously that boring?” Morgan teases, and I hold a fist to my mouth to cover my puckered lips that are dying to laugh.
“Are you seriously that out of touch with the important things happening in our world?” Brooklyn has stopped us in the middle of the parking lane so she can look Morgan in the eye and have a brainy stare-off with her. It lasts an awkward four or five seconds, and Morgan eventually gives in and sighs.
“Oh, yeah,” Morgan says, snapping her fingers and bringing her arms up. She sways in her seat and looks back to me. “Come on, Lily. Dance with me. Don’t you love the beat of this report on, wait . . .” She turns the volume up and cups her ear.
Oil futures were up a half point today, and many economists credit it to the ongoing negotiations with Walden Bennett, the president’s chief advisor, and refiners in . . .
Walden Bennett is Brooklyn’s father. She was listening for news about him. Probably has been all week during her drive to her internship at the mayor’s office. She turns the volume down quickly and presses a few buttons on her touch screen to pull up a play list with some real dance music.
“There. That better?” She glances to me in the mirror, and I shrink down into my seat. I feel like an asshole.
“B, I’m sorry,” Morgan says, reaching out to touch her friend’s arm.
Brooklyn merely looks at her touch then returns her focus to the road. I don’t know enough about her life to fully understand why this is sensitive, but I’m guessing Morgan knows more. Maybe more trips like this will help me feel less on the outside. I’d like that. I want both to trust me with their secrets. Of course, I could start by sharing some of mine.
“I went to second base with Theo last night,” I blurt out.
Brooklyn stops her SUV again, this time shifting into park. Thank God we aren’t on the street yet! Within a second, she and Morgan are turned in their seats, faces shoved in the space above the console so they can stare at me.
“Repeat that, and maybe with less grade school slang,” Brooklyn says.
My neck is hot, and sweat is building under my arms. Brooklyn seems to have moved beyond her tiff with Morgan of a second ago, though, so I guess this is worth it. This is how you get in, how you get close to people. Sharing the real stuff is something Anika was teaching me to do. No better time than the present, I guess, to practice her lessons.
“We’ve gotten . . . closer?” I eek out.
“Uh, yeah! Close enough for him to have his hands on your tits it seems,” Morgan says. Brooklyn elbows her but returns her waiting stare to me for more details.
“Yeah,” I breathe out in nervous laughter. “I mean, you know the issues. There’s . . .”
“Baggage,” Brooklyn finishes for me.
I nod.
“Baggage, right. And a lot of messy emotions. But I’ve always had this thing for him, and before . . . Anika.”
They both nod, understanding what I mean without having to speak about it. It’s a blessing that comes with our terrible shared history. Some incidents and references don’t need mention to be understood.
“We were sort of talking, and we had this connection. Or maybe more that wehavethis connection,” I say, feeling the smile stretch into my cheeks.