CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 17
I wake up, expecting a body in front of me and behind me, but there's only one. Before I even open my eyes, I already know who's missing. Jeremiah's arm is around me, and the tattoos on his chest appear when I open my eyes.

"Good morning," his deep voice rumbles beneath my cheek.

I start to sit up, but hiss, which only makes him smile and ask, “Sore?”

I squint at him. “You don’t have to be so happy.”

—I like the idea that you remember what we did with every move you make—.

—I'll do it.— I sigh.

—Damn. You don't have to sound so sad about it.

—I'm not sad. More like… confused.

\-Because?-

I threw my head back to give him an exasperated look. “Do you know me, Jeremiah?”

He chuckles. “Oh, you mean all your love is a disgusting facade?”

"Facade?" I exclaimed.

"Facade," he repeats. "Or whatever you want to call it, that prevents you from believing there's a heart beating in there."

—Oh, I know she's there, and I want her to be safe. That's why love isn't allowed.

He smiles at me. “Just so you know, I’m open to any emotion.”

"I highly doubt Ezequiel would say the same thing." When he frowns, I admit, "I heard them the night I spent at his house."

He must know exactly what I mean because his eyes sadden and his mouth tightens. “Oh.”

—Yeah, oh.— I sit up completely, looking down as I ask, —Where is it?—

—He left a minute ago to get us breakfast.—

—Ah, an easy reason to escape.—

His fingers reach my chin, tilting my face up so I have to look at him.

"Don't think it's you," he says in a low voice.

—It's pretty hard not to.—

—We were in a relationship with someone before. It ended badly.—

—Did she break your hearts?—

He shakes his head. "It's hard to explain. To me, she represented more what we wanted than what we needed. If that makes sense."

—If he does.—

But her departure left Ezequiel bitter and hesitant. He's afraid to trust again.

—Why did things end?—

She didn't feel like there was a future with the two of us. She felt uncomfortable if we all went out in public together, so we sort of ended up becoming a secret of hers. One time, we were at her house and a friend walked by. It felt like we'd been caught in the middle of an orgy because she was so embarrassed. She broke it off soon after.

—That's really bullshit.—

Especially when, of course, she knew what we wanted from the start and told us it was something she wanted too, what she was looking for. In the end, it felt like we were just an... experiment for her. A good time.

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt anymore?”

He chuckles. “No. I always felt something was wrong. That she wasn’t completely into me, but I had no reason to feel that way until she finally proved me right. For me, it wasn’t a loss, but a slap in the face that reminds us we’re not what society considers normal, and few women will want a future explaining their relationship to ignorant people. But for Ezekiel, it was about him trusting what she said, when, in fact, she meant something different. So now, I guess he’s wondering how he can believe anyone else would say it again. What’s to stop someone from lying with a smile like that? It makes him more reluctant to want anything more than sex.”

—And clearly reluctant to spend the night in bed with the woman he fucked all night.

—Honestly, I'm surprised you care so much.—

"Not as surprised as I am," I murmur. "I don't understand any of this. Why I miss you. Why I think about you so much. Normally, it's so easy for me..."

—Act as if feelings don't exist?—

"Not having any feelings," I exclaim angrily. At myself. At them, for awakening these emotions in me.

\-But isn't it that easy anymore?

I swallow to keep the emotions rising in my throat from suffocating me. Still, my voice is hoarse when I admit, "No."

She gives me a soft smile. “It’s mutual, you know. So you don’t have to be so nervous, Laury.”

For a moment, I let his words calm me, comfort me, but then Ezequiel's words from that night echo in my mind. His absence right now makes me retreat as far as my heart allows.

—Mutual means something a little different between us and Ezequiel, doesn't it? It might be mutual with you, but with him, I don't think it ever will be.—

Because Ezekiel is too afraid to trust, and I'm terrified of loving. Nothing can come of this, even though I hesitantly allow myself to think otherwise. Which means nothing can come of me sitting here with Jeremiah, having this same conversation, either. If I can't have one, I can't have the other. I don't love either of them, and yet, I feel an ache in my heart as I start to get out of bed.

"I'm going to take a shower," I say.

—Hey, hey.— Jeremiah looks at me with an expression that tells me he knows exactly what I'm doing and starts to get out of bed too.

You can go to my kitchen while I'm there and get everything ready for when Ezekiel arrives.

I try to soften the blow, but his sad eyes tell me I've failed. But I have to go. Right now. I need to get away from everything we just said. From everything I just admitted. From the openness Jeremiah offers me. I step into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Only when the water hits the tiles do I let out a shaky breath, certain Jeremiah can't hear it. I step under the water, close the shower door, and let the too-hot spray free me from my thoughts for a moment. I'm only in the shower for a few minutes, though, before I feel the cold air from the door opening behind me.

A moment later, Jeremiah's hand brushes my hair, his beard brushing against my skin as he kisses the back of my neck, leaving goosebumps all over my skin. I close my eyes at the touch.

"Do you want me to go?" he asks against my skin.

I should say yes. I know I should tell him to leave. Use this time to regroup, to strengthen myself. But instead, when I open my mouth, a different word comes out than the one I should say.

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"Stay," I whisper.

His arms wrap around me, and like a fool, I reach for him, seeking his closeness, more embrace. His penis is hard between my buttocks, drawing my attention from our conversation to the heat that surges through me in an instant. As if sensing it, or perhaps his desire is a reflection of mine, he lets go of one arm so his hand can travel down my belly. I moan when he reaches my clit, his middle finger circling it as I rub against him.

—Are we allowed to...—

His dark laugh hurts me. “Yes, Laury. Does it hurt a lot?”

—Not for you. Never for you.—

I reach down between my thighs to touch the tip of his cock with my fingers, bringing it closer to my pussy as I rock my hips, causing his penis to slide between my wetness. His moan in my ear seems to be what drives us both to move faster; his finger moves harder against me, my hips jerking. Then I turn, my face lifted so there's no doubt what I want. His mouth meets mine, licking, his hands rough on my ass, pushing me toward him.

I walk back, leading him to the wide bench at the back of the shower. Our mouths separate as he sits down, and I waste no time climbing onto his lap, straddling him as I lean between us to circle his penis with my hand. I kiss his lips again, and our kiss this time is soft, sensual, and slow; my sigh mingles with his moan as I slide down onto him.

I'm still sore, but I find I like the pain, that it only increases the pleasure of him filling me. His arms wrap around my lower back, pulling me closer to him. He arches into me, and I rock my hips forward to meet him. This is how we fuck, or maybe it's more, but I don't let my mind linger on that thought for too long. I don't rise and fall onto him; there are no sounds of our bodies meeting. Just him arching to make his cock slide deeper into me each time I roll my hips forward. Just our lips parting, but our tongues peeking out to circle each other. Just soft sighs and moans from me and deep, dark groans and grunts from him.

The water sprays my back, increasing the heat already within me. My clit rubs against his with every movement, my breasts against his, his fingers digging into my lower back while mine tangle in his hair, pulling his head back so we're eye to eye. His eyes are filled with lust, but also with something else that I'm honestly too afraid to decipher, especially when every moment we spend like this starts to feel more like intimacy than sex.

"Tell me how you feel with me inside you, Laury," he says softly.

I move my hips harder as I begin to speak, giving him the words I know he needs. The words that intensify my desire without me even saying them yet. Just thinking about them brings me closer to orgasm, knowing how he'll respond.

I feel you deep inside me. I feel how perfect we are. I feel my wetness coating you from how turned on I am. I feel your cock stretching me, filling me, taking over me. I feel my pussy squeezing you, desperate for more. Desperate for you to cum inside me.

At that moment, I realize, and apparently he does too, that we didn't use a condom. His eyes and mouth widen, but I silence him by repeating my words.

—I'm desperate for you to come inside me.—

He lets out a strangled moan and begins to arch against me harder. I press my forehead to his, my body shaking in his arms as pleasure surges through me, coursing through me, promising more if I keep riding him. If his cock keeps hitting this spot inside me that now leaves me gasping, but unable to make a single sound. And when it does, when a sigh of Jeremiah's name escapes my lips, it's while my pussy spasms around him. While my hips jerk without rhythm. While my nails dig into his scalp.

He arches against me so frantically, so wildly as my hips move, his fingers digging into my ass now, pushing me harder into him. He closes his eyes and then curses as he comes inside me. And just knowing he's coming inside me only takes me higher, gives me a few more seconds of an orgasm that seems to consume me with its silent bliss. Quiet seems like the right word, though the bliss feels no less than any other time I've been with him and Ezekiel. But this time, with the words whispered between us, me pleading for more and him saying my name like a prayer. With our foreheads pressed together, neither of us moves, neither wants to be apart, not at all. With both hands gripping the other, holding onto the other. Silent bliss seems like the best explanation.

We slow down together, gradually, until only our heaving chests touch. Jeremiah opens his eyes again and pulls away, but only to kiss me gently. His hands move from my butt and move up to caress my face, but his fingers are gentle... loving. When we break away, one hand falls to my chest.

"Don't be afraid of what's happening here, Laury." His finger points right where my heart beats. "Maybe it's not fair to ask, all things considered, but I'm asking you anyway."

I swallow as I look into his eyes. Hope, longing, frighten me as much as they soften me.

"I don't know how not to be afraid of him," I admit.

Does it really scare you that much?

—It terrifies me, Jeremiah.—