Broken Knight (All Saints High #2) - L.J Shen Page 0,25

voices, our ability to speak our minds, robbed of being normal.

He mounted me on the horse and climbed atop, settling behind me. Josh communicated with Onyx by pressing his boot to the horse’s side or tapping its head. Adrenaline rushed through my veins. Onyx was huge, but gentle. Josh’s chest bumped into my back as Onyx galloped forward, and I heard my friend hissing voicelessly behind me. Josh’s groin bumped against my behind. Again and again and again. Until it stopped bumping and started…grinding. Not on purpose, I don’t think. I swallowed, trying to decode what I was feeling.

Offended? No.

Annoyed? Not that, either.

Scared? Not by a long shot.

Instead of being mortified of jumping from no-base to third-base, I was…enthralled.

It felt good. Him. Hot. Hard. Pressing against me. At first he tried to scoot back, give me my space. But when I wiggled my butt on purpose and looked over my shoulder with a smile, he deserted his inhibitions and ground into me with delicious intent. Heat burst in my chest, trickling down to my lower belly, exploding between my legs. I found myself leaning forward so my butt pushed against him, grunting as silently as I could. Josh and I had never discussed the circumstances of my muteness. He had no idea there was nothing wrong with my voice, but with my head.

When we got off Onyx, we were both panting. I pulled the hem of my hoodie down to cover lower body, because I didn’t know if my jeans now had a lust stain the size of my head. Josh led Onyx back to his stall and returned, looking down and shifting from foot to foot. I felt like I needed to somehow apologize to the horse for what had happened on top of him. Not that it was intentional…but, still.

“Hug?” Josh asked, probably as a peace offering more than anything else.

“Please.” I smiled.

Josh squeezed me again. Hugging like a parent. A hug that wasn’t to take, only to give.

“What do you want to do now?” his heart whispered as his hands signed.

I could read Josh fluently, because I understood his struggle. And he was a wonderful, open book I wanted to drown in.

I closed my eyes, hearing Vaughn’s words again. Edie’s. Dad’s.

Move on.

Use teenage as a verb.

He is happy. Be happy, too.

There was no menace in my next move, not an ounce of bad intention or vindictiveness. Still, I took Josh’s hand and pressed it against my breast, holding my breath and bracing myself. The world tilted, turning upside down, and as my stomach flipped, even I had to admit—he felt almost as good as the real thing.

I popped one eye open, the dull pain in the back of my head seeping through my skull. Wincing, I remembered the Everclear. I wasn’t even drunk, so I couldn’t blame whatever had happened between us on that. I was relatively sober, and a lot heartbroken, and Josh was…Josh. Perfect and safe and beautiful.

God. What have you done?

Rubbing my face tiredly, I examined my surroundings. My walls, my desk, my navy blue-sheeted bed.

Wait…blue?

I bolted upright in an instant, stifling a groan when my body reacted by sending a ball of nausea to my throat. Again—this must’ve been my lack of experience with any type of booze, in any quantity. I glanced to my right, and there lay Josh, bare-chested, snoring softly. His arm was flung over my thighs, and when I looked down, I realized I was naked, too. I scanned the rest of the scene frantically as I pieced last night together into a full picture. I remembered watching in awe as my nipple disappeared inside Josh’s mouth, imagining Knight doing it to Poppy. How, to shake off the infuriating visual, I’d pulled Josh closer, spreading my legs for him. His hands had stopped fumbling with my hoodie to ask me if I was sure. I’d nodded.

“I’m a virgin, but I want this.”

“Luna…”

“I’m tired of feeling precious, Josh.”

I hadn’t wanted to be left alone with my thoughts, and Josh’s mouth and hands were the perfect distraction. He’d sneaked me into his dorm room, and when we’d walked in, he’d taken off his shoes and stared at his socked feet, like he was trying to decide something, locked in an internal battle.

He’d shaken his head a little, chuckled to himself, and walked over to the door, taking one of his socks off and slipping it on the door handle.

We’d started kissing. Then he’d backed me to his bed, and we fell

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