I pump and twist, fascinated by the way she mewls and whimpers for me, rocking against me like she wants me deeper.
"That's it, butterfly," I growl. "Fuck my fingers just like that."
She pants my name, her face screwed up like she's in heaven. "Sidney, I…I'm…"
"You think I don't know? You think I can't feel it?" I curl my fingers up, searching out that sweet spot. "I know, Hattie baby. Go on and give it to me."
"Don't let me scream," she begs.
"I've got you," I promise, dipping my head until my lips are inches from hers. "No one gets to hear my girl coming apart for me. No one."
She whimpers my name, her head falling back against the wall. Her inner walls clamp down, her body going rigid.
I crash my mouth down on hers, working her clit in furious circles as she catapults over the edge with a strangled cry. I swallow it, stealing that sound and her breath. She convulses, coming in waves. I don't let up, and I don't let her make a sound, not until she goes limp in my arms, her body wrecked.
"I've got you," I whisper, pulling back to press my lips to her crown. "Christ, baby, I've got you."
I feel her sweet sigh in my chest, working its way into my heart.
Chapter Five
Hattie
Ispend half the performance with my eyes glued to the stage…and the other half with them glued to Sidney, trying to remind myself that he isn't my type.
Except…
He glances over at me, his expression soft, and my stomach turns a somersault.
I think I'm in trouble.
This wasn't supposed to happen!
Wait. Whatishappening?
I'm not entirely sure. My brain is scrambled from the way he made me come all over his fingers. It's been almost two hours, and my body is still riding the high, doing its own ballet.
I want to do it again.
Maybe that's the solution. We just do this…pretend to date. Have sex. No biggie. It doesn't have to mean anything. We can just be two people, getting each other off. And then, when the wedding is over, we go back to our lives and…and what? High five? Shake hands? Pretend it never happened? Never speak to one another again?
I don't know!
Yesterday, I was convinced that Sidney wasn't my type. How can he be when I fit into his world like a square peg in a round hole? He's football royalty. I'm the girl everyone looks at like a science experiment gone wrong. Just look at what happened tonight. As soon as someone beautiful saw me on his arm, they thought it was some big, cosmic joke.
I don't want that to be the rest of my life, not when it's been myentirelife to date. Despite my brothers trying to carve out a space for me—and God, they've tried—I already know how it feels to be brushed off, ignored, laughed at, and looked down on in their world.
I've lived that experience since I was a kid. My brothers have fought so hard to protect me, but the woman who should have fought for me? The one who should have given me confidence and courage? She's the one who told me that I'm not worthy, that I don't belong, that I'm just not pretty enough.
I've survived by hanging on the fringes, by not getting too deep into my brothers' world, by staying in the stands and on the sidelines. I support them in the shadows because the shadows are less painful.
But actually dating Sidney is an entirely different thing. There are no fringes then, no hiding in the library or going home to my normal, boring life after the game ends. There's no being invisible.
Being seen long enough to get my mother off my back? Easy. It's not like being the joke is anything new to me. But being the joke forever feels soul-crushing,especiallyif Sidney has to endure the humiliation alongside me.
I don't want the whole world to look at the two of us and think it's just some joke, or that he is. I actually like him as a person, enough to want to shield him from what people will have to say. And they'll say plenty. They probably already are.
I already feel bad enough, asking him to tolerate it until after the wedding.
