“Wait—” Nope. I’d have to be quicker than that.
“Cal, oh God, you feel so good,” she said, letting me breathe after a long kiss.
I stationed my hold on her hips, unsure if I wanted to keep her close or push her off.
Come the fuck on, I scolded myself.Make up your mind.Do you want this?
She invaded my mouth with her tongue and the sweet taste of watermelon, moaning loudly, completely over-the-top. This should be nice. This was familiar. Sasha crawled her small body into my seat and straddled my lap, moving her hips in an imitation of sex against my confused-as-fuck hard-on.
Jesus. Sasha wasn’t the one I wanted. The one I wanted to lose myself in.
This wasn’t right.
“Sasha—” I said, rearing back as far as the seat would allow, but not nearly far enough. She tangled her arms around my neck, latching on, plastering herself to me.
“Just … Let me—”
“Shut up and kiss me,” she interrupted.
I moved my hands to her arms, ready to tug them loose, but she clawed her nails into my hair and gripped a fistful.
What the fuck should I do? She had me covered like stink on shit. The hand not in my hair shoved into my jeans and circled my shaft.
“Touch me,” she moaned.
Fuck! “Sasha— Stop—” Every word was interrupted with her wet lips and a sloppy kiss.
I cringed. This didn’t feel good. My stomach rolled.
“D-don’t …” I managed to stutter, mind and heart going a hundred miles per hour, veering dangerously off course when she reached farther and clutched my balls. I coughed, hard and wet, pain choking me and blurring my vision.
“No—mmph.” I reached for her wrist. “Sasha, no,” I said and circled the breakable bones.
God, help me.
What happened next was an uncoordinated mix of yanking and slapping, of screeching and clawing. I didn’t want to hurther, but how could I stop her? She was determined, her touch multiplying. I freed myself from one finger, and two more dug into my skin.
“Ow, fuck—” I’d have to survey the damage later.
Smack!
“What the hell is this?” Sasha seethed from her place on my lap, but at least her hands weren’t on me. No, she rubbed one of her wrists while my cheek stung like a bitch.
“Dammit, why the hell’d you slap me?”
“Why’d you break my wrist?”
“I didn’t—” Shame and doubt cut me off. Had I hurt her badly? Jesus, why couldn’t I handle her better? “Get off,” I muttered.
She did, thankfully, no longer babying her wrist but complaining the entire time. “You’ve got some nerve, Calvin Winters. I should tell my daddy on you.”
I rubbed a hand down my face. “Sorry, Sasha. I’m just not …” I trailed off, not really knowing what to say. I wasn’t into it, wasn’t into her, wasn’t into this relationship.
“You’re sorry? For what? Ain’t you a bit young for ED?”
“That’s not what—”
“I can’t believe this. What is your problem, Cal? You’ve been acting like a baby ever since your parents split. That was last year. Get over it.”
