My knees feel like jelly and there’s this deep buzzing sensation happening in the pit of my stomach that is the very opposite of unpleasant. There’s a reason I didn’t want to do this in a rush. The urge to touch her is overwhelming, but instead I’m tucking myself back into my pants, eyes tracking the way her chest rises and falls, nearly as rapid as mine. I pull her off the bed and tell her, “You didn’t have to do that.”
She shrugs and straightens her sweater, but I can see how flushed she is, the way her eyes keep dragging down my body. “I told you, I wanted to.”
There’s no such thing as an appropriate thank you in a situation like this. I mean, there totally fucking is, but there just isn’t time. I do the only thing I can; I kiss her on the mouth, slow and gentle, tasting myself.
“Now that we’ve confirmed you’re a thrill junkie,” I say, which elicits a smug grin, I fumble in my pocket for the stamp. “Let’s find this fucking thing and jet.”
She quickly agrees, eyes scanning the room for the portrait. “I think this may be our girl,” she says, nodding to a framed portrait that looks similar to one we passed in the hall. It’s quick work to take it down, flip it over, and add our two stamps to the back. After that, I grab her hand and lead her hastily out of the room.
It never even occurs to me to look back at the crystal devil.
25
Vandy
Reyn puts the Jeep into park and cuts the ignition. The parking lot is dark and deserted, nothing but the tall rise of buzzing sodium lights scattered here and there. Fleeing the Alumni house was easy. We hadn’t made a sound. But inside, I was a tangled mess of want, praying that Reyn wasn’t just going to drive me home.
I can’t believe that twenty minutes ago, I had Reynolds McAllister’s dick in my mouth.
I guess I always expected that giving a guy a blowjob would be tiresome and unpleasant. The reality was much different, though. Reyn pulsing hard between my lips, the way his hips kept hitching forward, like he couldn’t help it. The way his hand felt on the back of my neck, not pressing or insistent, but just there to make contact. The sounds he made—God—like something was torturing him. I did that. I made his knees tremble. I’m the reason his face collapsed into that agonized expression of ecstasy. I’m the one who tasted his release, the one he kissed so sweetly afterward with that wrung-out look on his face.
All of it coalesced like a lightning bolt striking right between my legs, and now I’m squirming, my core still throbbing in distressed wait.
Fortunately, he’d pulled the car into here.
Now we’re sitting in the dark, a sea of cracked concrete spread out all around us. He’d pulled his hood up to leave Preston House and it’s still like that, shielding his expression from me. I have no idea how to ask for what I want, because I can’t totally parse it myself. I just know if he doesn’t touch me soon, I might die.
I look over at him, but he’s already unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to me, pushing a sucking kiss to my mouth. I meet him in the middle, fingers tangling in his sweater, holding him close.
“Christ, you’re so fucking—” He sighs, hand coming down to cup me, right between my legs. He never finishes and I need to know what he was about to say, but the world seems to narrow down to the heel of his palm, rubbing rough and insistent against me. “Want me to…?” He trails off, fingering the button of my jeans.
My breath escapes in a loud gust. “Yes.”
He makes short work of it, pulling down my zipper and then stuffing his hand inside. I raise my hips into it, the feel of his fingers sliding through all my messy wetness. I take in his breath as our kiss stalls.
His eyes fall closed on a jaw-clenched groan. “Fuck, I love how wet you get.”
I’m too slack-mouthed and breathless to answer back, but when my eyes drop to his hand, I gasp a sharp, “Reyn.” His wrist is trapped beneath my panties, hand disappearing inside, and I can see the way he’s moving it beneath the denim, these tight little circles over my clit. The sight of it makes my brow screw