got started, there was no such thing as stopping?
She could still remember how much it hurt the next day, the bruises on her thighs, the feeling that something deep inside her had been torn. Shit, she’d been drunk out of her mind, but the marks on her skin were clear enough to tell the story.
“You okay?” Will tucked her hair behind her ear. The gentle gesture was something new. He never touched her like that, or maybe she never let him.
She said, “It was hard being there,” not telling him exactly where “there” was. “I kept thinking about my mom.”
Will stroked her hair and she wanted to close her eyes, put her head on his shoulder. Angie had taken him to see her mother a couple of times. Going to her mother’s grave would have been easier for Angie than seeing Deidre lying in that hospital bed, not knowing if somewhere behind those closed eyes she was screaming for help. Why did Angie love the one person she should hate the most?
“Come here,” Will said, pulling her close, putting his arms around her. He leaned back on the couch, taking her with him. “Just stay like this for a while.”
Angie wanted to cry, but she couldn’t let herself break down in front of Will. She pressed her face to his shoulder, smelling the detergent he used and the soy sauce that had dripped onto his tie. If she could stay like this, if she could just let him hold her, then maybe things would get better. Maybe they could make each other whole.
She turned her face toward him and kissed his neck. His skin reacted, and she kissed his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
He said, “We don’t have to…”
She cupped her hand around his neck and put her lips to his. Will was reluctant, but she teased the passion out of him, using her teeth and tongue until he started kissing her in earnest. His arms tensed as he gently lifted her up and laid her back on the couch. He kept his weight on his left elbow, his hand brushing her face as he kissed her neck.
The cuff of his shirt had slipped back, and Angie saw the angry pink scar on the inside of his wrist. She had taken him to the hospital that night, stayed by his bed as she waited for him to wake up and realize that it hadn’t worked, that he was still alive.
Tentatively, she touched his wrist, tracing her finger along the same path the razor blade had taken as it had flayed open his skin.
Will jerked away, staring at her in shock.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized.
He tried to sit up, but she grabbed his vest in her fists, pulling him back. “I said I’m sorry.”
“Angie—” He tried to pull away again, but she wouldn’t let him. They struggled but Will would never use his full strength against her. She managed to pull him down, pressing her lips firmly to his. She arced up into him and he stopped resisting. Angie kissed him deeper, rougher than usual, and to her surprise he returned it with the same intensity.
She felt her breath quicken, her mind blur. The weight of him on top of her was enough to bring tears to her eyes, and she slid her hand down into the waist of his pants, needing for this to go quickly before she lost herself.
“Christ,” she mumbled, pulling open his vest, tugging his shirt out of his pants, then his undershirt, so that there was room enough for her hand.
He had pushed up her shirt, his mouth finding her bare breast. When she wrapped her hand around him, he lost his rhythm. She took over, using her free hand to slide down her panties. Angie guided him inside her before he could stop her.
His breath caught as she thrust up to him, tightening herself around him, trying to make him come.
“No,” he whispered, struggling to slow down. His eyes were squeezed shut and he shook from the effort of restraining himself. She licked her tongue in his ear, bit the lobe, did everything in her power to force his release. He groaned loudly as he gave in, shuddering in climax.
“Oh, God,” he breathed. “Angie…”
She let him kiss her some more, stopping him when his mouth started to move down on her. “No,” she told him, pulling him back up to her face. “I need to go.”
He was sweating, his breathing hard as he kissed her breasts.