The Failing Hours Page 62

“Yes…” Her mouth forms a tiny O, lips parting. “Yes, I-I love it.”

I grind and grind my pelvis into her, my balls and her pussy pressed together so tight there’s no room for even a finger to slide in.

“I need to fuck you, Pix, I have to…”

I’m begging now, wanting to rail hard, no shame.

None.

“Please, Violet, fuck, please let me fuck you hard.”

“Yes. Yes! Do it Zeke, Zeke, this is driving me crazy.”

I pull out slow.

Thrust in fast.

Pull out slow.

Lips clamped shut, the anticipation and steady build are far more intoxicating than the quick, fast fucks I’m used to giving to nameless, faceless co-eds.

She’s so blessedly tight. I’m not a religious man, but Jesus, she’s so tight I throw up a prayer thanking my maker; I could die inside her and be in heaven.

The telltale sign of my balls tightening has me tensing up.

Oh shit, I’m going to come.

Shit, fuck, shit.

It’s only been five fucking minutes, tops.

“Oh Christ,” I curse. “Shit.”

“Wha…?” Violet is dazed, still holding on while I jerk my load inside the condom. “What was that?”

Oh my god.

My sweaty forehead hits the pillow over her shoulder. “My orgasm,” I mumble into the mattress.

“You came?”

I grunt.

“Already?”

Seriously, does she have to say it out loud? It’s emasculating.

“Yes.”

I don’t wait around to make small talk.

Pulling out of her, I climb off, throw back the covers to hit the john, and toss the condom. Wash my hands.

Return to the bedroom and slide into bed, pulling the black sheets over us. Rest my arms behind my head while Violet watches me, uncertainly, from her side of the bed.

“Come here,” I tell her, dragging her flush into my body so she can lean into me, resting her head on my shoulder. Reaching over, I stroke the silky strands of her blonde hair, letting the locks fall through my fingers.

Tentatively, she lays a hand on my chest, fingering the dark hair between my pecs, face tipped toward mine.

I kiss her nose.

“Are you sore?”

She wiggles her legs beneath the blankets, rubbing her knees together. “I don’t think so? Maybe.”

“I heard sometimes when it’s rough, it burns when you pee afterward.”

Why the hell did I just say that? Since when do I blurt out random shit? My body needs to do me a favor and chill itself the fuck out now that it dumped its load in under five minutes.

Vi doesn’t reply, only traces my right nipple with the tip of her index finger, round and round, in small circles. I know she’s not doing it to be suggestive, so I take a few deep breaths, body beginning a slow buzz. Every little touch a spark to ignite me.

I fiddle with the single bracelet circling her wrist—the sunflower charm catching the light from my desk lamp.

She clears her throat delicately. “So, do you normally…you know…so fast?”

I grimace. “If you’re asking if I normally come so soon, the answer is no.”

She hums, finger moving from my pec to my clavicle, slowly dragging it along my skin.

“Did it hurt?” I find myself asking.

“A little, but it felt good, too. Real good.” Her pretty face buries itself in my armpit, embarrassed. “It’s been a while.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, girls always know shit like this. You probably know down to the day.”

“All right, fine. It’s been fourteen months, ish.”

“Fourteen months? That’s over a year.”

Wow. That sounded smart.

I plant a wet kiss on her parted lips, slipping my tongue inside, wanting to devour every inch of her.

“Is that a goodbye kiss? Is this the part of the program where you ask me to leave? Is that what usually happens with you? You kick people out after you’ve slept with them?”

She fires off a litany of questions, the answer to each one of them yes.

I try to make light of a conversation I don’t want to have. “Yeah. It’s what I would normally do.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

I’m quiet then, because the actual truth is, while I was in the bathroom before, I considered how this would end for us if I kicked her out.

Thought about it while I was tossing the condom in the trash. Thought about how I could use a good night’s sleep, alone in my own bed—considered it in the least douchey way possible.

But then I’d taken a long look at myself in the mirror, a good hard look at my reflection. The gray, lifeless eyes that normally stared back at me weren’t lifeless at all; they were sparkling, which is the best goddamn way I can describe it without sounding cheesy.

And there was a fucking smile on my face. An actual smile, with teeth and everything—and that has to count for something, right?

So, like a good little boy scout, I pulled back the quilt and slipped back into bed beside her. Pulled her body close and thanked fuck she was still naked so I could fondle her tits without having to do it under her shirt.

“No, don’t leave. I want you to stay.”

Something—or someone—wakes me in the dead of the night.

A warm slumbering body pressed into my back. A willowy arm thrown across my waist, resting on my hip. A nose buried in the crux of my neck.