not the first time I’ve seen him do this, but we’re long past the slow foreplay we’d experienced that night in his room. He’s so close I could touch him if I wanted to, almost hovering over me, and if I could, I’d catch up to his quick movements. But by the time I shake out of the haze, he’s pulling his finger out of me, jaw tensing, eyes slamming closed as he heaves forward. His hand jerks to a stop. “Fuck,” he grunts, spilling over his fist, dripping hot and sticky on my stomach. His eyes open and he looks down with a grimace. “Fuck. Fuck, Sugar, I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, pushing up to watch the hot cum dribble down my belly. I reach for his neck and pull him down. “It’s fine.” I kiss him, because it is fine. The fact that he did that for me, and that I got to see him go there... it isn’t even gross. If anything, it just makes me like it even more, wearing him like this. Marked, again.
Bass grabs the discarded blindfold-shirt and uses it to clean himself, then me. When he returns to me, settling back between my legs, head resting on my chest, a stillness settles over us. We’re still breathless, my knees bracketing his ribs, and when I run my fingers through his hair, he hums.
“This is probably super shitty timing,” he says, propping his chin between my breasts to gaze up at me. “Because we’re down in a dungeon, and I just jizzed all over you like a goddamn animal—” He laughs when I clamp my hands over my face, groaning. He reaches up to tug a wrist away. “But the fact that you trusted me enough to come with me, to let me do that, even though you…” The skin around his eyes goes tight, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “And because you’re not scared off by literally everything about me, I just…”
“Just what?” My heart is pounding so hard in my chest, I can’t help but wonder if he can feel it.
Blue eyes bore into mine when he says, “I think I’m falling in love with you, Sugar.”
My mouth parts in shock, chest blooming with a sudden, fierce heat. He stares back at me, frank and sure, like he’s not even waiting for me to say it back. Like I could ignore it and it wouldn’t bother him one bit.
I don’t.
Voice trembling, I reply, “I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”
Some girls would get mad about the words ‘I think’ being added into it, but I get it. Love doesn’t come easy to people like us, especially when it’s muddled inside all these feelings—all these fears. What do I know about love?
His eyes, reflecting the flicker of candlelight, say the same thing.
“Don’t move,” I whisper, keeping still as possible as my hand roots around on the floor in front of the couch. Sebastian, who probably hasn’t stayed still a day in his life, does exactly that. And when my hand grabs hold of what I’m looking for, raising it between us, his only reaction is a slow, soft blink.
The camera’s click is the only sound in the room.
It’s true. I know fuck-all about love. What I do know is that Sebastian makes me feel safe. He makes me feel beautiful and sexy and strong, like I’m not just someone to be suffered. Like I’m someone to be wanted and had and cherished. I just hope that I give him back as much as he gives me.
“If it snows, are you still going home?” Georgia asks as we get ready for class. It’s Wednesday and the memorial is scheduled for tomorrow. Of course, the weather forecast is terrible—the first and probably only time this year we’ll get something like snow. Down here though, it’s more likely to be ice that results in power outages and slippery roads. You’d think my mom would change the day for the memorial, but I doubt even a nuclear winter would compel her. As if my dad will know we had to change dates.
“I don’t have much choice,” I tell her. “If I don’t show up, my mom will lose it. It’s really important to her.”
Sometimes, I still wonder why I care. I’m eighteen now. I’m an adult. I don’t live at home. I could never speak to her again, and it’d be perfectly legit.