His squeak from before had nothing on the moans coming from her. And dammit, he was proud of himself. Proud that he could do this for her. If there was ever a woman who deserved a release like this? It was Darla.
As her trembling stopped, he shushed her with soft sounds, stroked her with his fingers, released her from his grip.
"Um… thank you," she said as he pulled himself from her body.
He nodded, but he was absolutely off kilter. He ran his hands up and over his neck, holding onto the muscles she’d relaxed.
"It’s your turn," she said, moving to her elbows. "Do you want me to…uh…" She gave a pointed look at his fly and his dick stirred with hope.
What they’d just experienced was the kind of thing that made core memories. It wasn’t about… It couldn’t be about…
"It’s not about turns," he said.
She reached for his arm, gripping his biceps. "We’ve both got to…so…you know."
The room stopped crackling and everything in him seemed to stop.
"I know what?" he asked, and he did not like where this conversation headed.
Her face fell a little. "So it’s fair."
"I didn’t make you come so you’d make me come." Because that would make him an asshole and he was, surprise of surprises, thinking he might be done with that part of his life.
"You didn’t?" she asked.
And the way she asked, like she didn’t believe him capable of giving her something without asking for anything in return? That’s the moment his dick understood he was out of the game. That this wouldn’t end the way he or Darla wanted tonight.
Because with Darla, Mach realized he was not the guy who demanded favors in return for favors. At least… he wasn’t anymore. What did he do with that? If he wasn’t who he was, then who was he?
Was it warm in there? Because the room got wicked hot.
"Fuck it all, what am I supposed to do with all these fucking feelings," he said, under his breath but definitely out loud.
"These what?" Darla asked, but the room closed in; the air pressed too hard against his skin. He needed a moment so he could think. Some fresh air so he could breathe.
"All these… the way this feels." He pointed to himself.
"Mach?" Darla asked his name in a way that made him want to crumble and tell her everything he’d never told anyone.
"I’m, uh…" He needed a second. "Gonna head to bed. Catch up in the morning, yeah?" He needed some time in his own brain without her right there, reminding him of what he would never be good enough to have.
"Okay," she said, her expression going blank.
So he did what he promised himself he’d never do again.
He grabbed his shirt, and he left alone. Closed his bedroom door and dropped his head against the wood, uncertain of who he even was anymore.
Chapter Sixteen
DARLA
So that had happened.Mach gave Darla the best orgasm of her entire existence without even taking her pants all the way off. She changed into her pajamas—nothing special, just an old T-shirt and boy shorts. Now she sat cross-legged on the bed in her room, texting with her friends. Hoping they might have a better understanding of what the heck happened.
Patrice: He bolted!?
Honestly, if there’d been a chair there, he’d probably have tripped over it in his rush to get away from her. That didn’t feel good at all.
Darla: To his bedroom.
