Deeper.
And then his name rips from my throat as I shatter into nothing and everything, exploding in all directions, from the heights of the most sinful heaven to the depths of the sweetest hell. Excruciating pleasure seizes every cell in my body, and I clench madly around him, my limbs clamping down on him like I can somehow pull him deeper into not just my body, but my very soul.
“Fuck, Bea,” David growls. “Motherfucking Christ.” He never stops, and it’s only as I start to come out the other end that I’m aware of his erratic rhythm, his smooth, tanned skin glistening with sweat as he chases release with a savage intensity that almost sends my body into an encore.
I come back to reality just in time to watch as he soars over the edge, his gorgeous features twisted in ecstasy or agony or both, as he drives himself as deep as he possibly can.
I am positively riveted.
“Oh, fuck, Bea!” he cries out. “Fuck.” And then he stills, burying his face in my neck as he takes from my body everything he just gave it, clinging to me just as fiercely, as if he can somehow weld us together.
And if only he could. Because the minutes he takes to recover are pure bliss. Even his crushing weight feels like heaven. The afterglow of mind-blowing sex fills every empty place inside me—including my exiled heart—but it’s the knowledge of the pleasure David just derived from my body that injects me with euphoria like a syringe filled with one of those drugs I’ve heard of but would never try. And this is exactly why.
Because even more than the incredible sex, this feeling—this is what is most dangerous. Because I could become addicted to this. And somewhere, in the darkest shadows of my mind, where my demons lie in wait, I’m afraid I already have.
Chapter Eighteen
Beth
My mind jolts awake, even as my body silently whines for five more minutes of sleep. My head pounds with the consequences of last night’s drinking, and, brushing the tangle of blond out of my eyes, I roll onto my back and stretch my legs.
A sudden twinge of soreness between them snaps me back in focus.
David.
Oh. My. God.
My skin flushes and my pulse skyrockets as every incredible sight, sound, and sensation comes flooding back. It takes me a moment to convince myself that it wasn’t a dream. Because, my God, I never knew it could be like that.
But as I rub my thighs together to feel the evidence of last night—or this morning—more sharply, I realize I’m alone. I’m still fully naked, covered only by a white bedsheet, which David appears to have pulled up to my chin. I wrap it around my chest and sit up in bed. I notice his backpack isn’t on its usual chair, and I frown as I see his jacket isn’t slung over it, either.
My heart sinks slowly into my stomach, and I don’t know why. Even mostly drunk, I knew exactly what last night was, and what it wasn’t. David was perfectly clear, even if he didn’t use so many words. I didn’t expect anything to be different this morning…but that’s just it. I didn’t expect anything to be different this morning, and David’s absence—waking up alone…that’s different.
Old demons of insecurity and apprehension rear their ugly heads, reminding me that I’m now two-for-two. Both times I’ve had sex, I’ve managed to send the guy running. At least Brian left a note.
I laugh openly at myself as I swipe a nonsensical tear from my cheek. Everything is fine, and nothing has changed, so why won’t this feeling of emptiness subside?
“Ugh,” I whine, frustrated with myself. I push off the mattress and pad to the bathroom, determined to go about my normal routine.
Because why wouldn’t I? Everything is normal.
It doesn’t mean anything that David doesn’t even have class until later this afternoon. Or that he didn’t send me a text, or wake me to let me know where he was going.
I shake my head at the thought. Of course he didn’t, because he doesn’t owe me anything. That’s not something we do. But as I apply my lip gloss, I squint at my reflection in the mirror, trying to remember if he’s ever left the apartment before I woke up before, and I don’t think he has.
The demons grow louder, and I try to shush them by telling myself he must have gone to the gym after all. Even though he hates going in the morning. And even though he’s probably still half-drunk.
But as more details from last night gradually return, it becomes harder and harder to rationalize anything about this morning. Not David’s leaving me alone in bed—without a word—just hours after having been inside me, and not my overzealous feelings.
Ugh. I hate feeling like this. I hate not knowing which emotions are reasonable, which concerns are justified. I make a mental note to schedule another video therapy session with Dr. Schall.
I just wish this morning didn’t emulate that terrible one so vividly. The one that saw me wake up in my family’s backyard gazebo, scared and sore and utterly alone, except for the handwritten note—the only one Brian ever wrote me—both swearing his love, and saying good-bye. I didn’t know then just how final it was. That he would blow off my calls and texts, and ignore me in the halls at school, treating me as if I was invisible until I started to wish it were true. Until I had no choice but to face the consequences of our relationship utterly alone.
No wonder I feel so bleak. I’m completely off balance, and I have Brian to blame—so I do. Because as pissed as I was at David last night, it wasn’t his hitting Brian that upset me. It was the babying—the overprotective treatment and distrust. Though in the cold light of day, I can admit that I may have earned the latter by lying.
But that punch? Brian deserved that punch, if perhaps not the ones that followed. Perhaps. He did call me a slut in the middle of a club, after all.
I meet my friend Toni, who lives on the first floor, in the lobby, and we make our way to campus, walking briskly in the crisp autumn sun. I can’t escape the feeling that I’m being watched, and I look over my shoulder as an eerie chill creeps down my spine.
