We had a good time.
But last night, that was . . . that was confusing. Gratifying. Beyond comprehension.
I have so many mixed feelings and thoughts that I actually feel sick to my stomach. What the hell did I do?
I glance over at Halsey whose hair is flopped over his forehead, his five o’clock shadow thicker, and his strong, muscular chest out in the open for me to stare at.
Touch.
Kiss if I want.
And that’s exactly what’s freaking me out. He gave himself over to me last night.
The man who would barely talk to me, who likes to have his nose stuck in a book, had the dirtiest mouth I’ve ever heard.
The things he said to me.
The things he did to me.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.
I glance back at him and know that I need a second to breathe after everything that happened last night, to let my brain process it.I thought he was pretending. But the moment his lips touched mine in the apartment, I knew he wasn’t acting. I could feel that kiss all the way down to my toes, and there was nothing fake about it.And man, can he kiss.
I slip out of the bed and tiptoe toward the door. Thankfully, he’s sound asleep, so I slip past the door and head to my room, picking up my dress in the entryway in the process. When I reach my room, I shut the door and lean against the wood as I stare up at the ceiling.
“Oh my God,” I whisper as I press my hands to my beating heart.
I need a warm shower to ease the pain in my body and then I need to get to work. I need . . . I need to talk to Penny.
I slip into the shower and let the warm water fall over me as I wash my body gently, making sure to focus between my legs where Halsey’s beard burn has rubbed me nearly raw. My mind runs over the number of times that man licked me—sucked me down there—and did it with so much pleasure, like it was his own personal feast.
No one has ever feasted on me the way he did.
I move my soap over my breasts where he controlled me so effortlessly with a pinch to my nipple, a nibble, a bite.
And when I wash my chest and neck, I can feel certain sore spots I know I’ll have to cover up when I get a good look at them.
I wash my hair, my face, and let the warm water rinse over me for a few more minutes before I turn it off and step out of the shower. That’s when I look in the mirror for the first time and feel my jaw nearly drop to the floor.
Holy.
Shit.
I look like a leopard, spotted and marked all along my neck, my collarbone, my chest, my breasts. Deep purple bite marks. Hickeys scattered all over me.
I approach the mirror, towel in hand, and examine the markings. “Oh my God,” I say as my fingers pass over them, one by one, examining every single way he claimed me.
And I know he meant to claim me because he said it. He gave me the play-by-play of what he was doing, what he was feeling, what he wanted me to do.
His dirty voice still rings through my head, his words sending a chill down my spine.
I want my cum on your face.
This greedy cunt wants more, doesn’t it?
Use me as your fuck toy.
My cheeks flame, and I look away from the mirror, embarrassment and satisfaction hitting me at the same time.
