Page 174 of Crazy for this Girl

“We can’t keep doing this,” I argue because lines are starting to get blurry. I can’t rush into another heartbreak. My heart can’t do round two with him; it’s not strong enough after getting battered and beaten for years.

“Fooling around? I think we can.”

“Yeah, when you’re not the one that’s gonna get hurt.”

His lips brush against my cheek as his fingers trail past my panties and between my legs. “You’re hurting my feelings right now.”

One of his digits glides against my wet clit, and I whimper out, “How?”

“You haven’t said you wanted to fuck me yet.”

The back of my head defeatedly hits the metal door, and Cal takes advantage of me pinned along two solid surfaces, delving into the column of my throat. His wicked tongue is a weapon against everything I’ve tried to build to protect myself from getting my world blown up.

Without another word, he slowly shoves another long finger inside me, urging me to either deny him or argue about what I really want.

And I do want.

It’s just that the past repeats itself sometimes.

His mouth sluggishly, as if he has all the time in the world, moves against the sensitive part of my neck that makes me squirm. The wetness of his tongue playing along and teasing my flesh only heightens what he’s doing to me.

How he wants me to surrender and abandon my fears. That I need to face the demons that may be playing out in his head and fight them off if that’s even possible.

My hand grips the back of his neck, urging him where my words remain lodged. The other finds his hard cock beneath his black dress pants, and his growl is a mixture of appreciation and pain.

He rewards me, though, by brushing his thumb against my strumming clit while biting into my skin to give me multiple sensations I can’t get myself to put a stop to.

My body flushes at his touch. Each second that goes by is like he’s sucking all the energy out of me and claiming me like I wish he would’ve done years ago. Every inhale and exhale are matched by the last, being wanner and shortened every second.

“Cal,” I moan, feeling the flutters of my stomach begin as my orgasm starts to creep up and warn me it’s about to denote. “That feels so good.”

He pulls away to look into my eyes, studying the lust that I know is there. The pinkened cheeks and my parted lips. His sharp jaw tightens, hinting that he wants to do more here but we’re already on limited time.

Then something flashes across his features, and I recognize it from back in the day.

He needs to hear me say it.

It could be so many things; however, the main one is that he craves to hear that I need this too. I desire another step, more intimate relations, to bare my soul and heart to him again, but I’m not ready for the latter.

Shit, I’m not ready for any of them.

“I still care about you.” It’s not a mind-blowing declaration, but it’s all I got. Regardless, it seems to soothe any misgivings about that aspect because his lips crash into mine.

His shuddered exhale brushes against my lips before he opens them wide, wielding his tongue against mine and provoking another moan to form from my throat.

He regrets what happens…how much more do you need?

Yes, I wanted more then, but he was never in the right mindset, was he? He got shipped away to the Marines, lost his dad, and whether he wants to admit it’s a loss is another story. He went to war for a number of years that are unknown to me. Everything that he told me makes sense for why he wasn’t emotionally there for me. It was self-preservation. However, it didn’t coup any of my pain, and it didn’t take back the fact that he shouldn’t have taken my virginity with what he knew.

That you gladly gave him.

“You’re the only one, Laynee,” he whispers over the music down the hall. “You’ve always been the only one I’ve ever felt this way for.”

My body seizes at his admission, my palms falling to his biceps as I squeeze and ready myself for a mind-blowing orgasm.

Cal must feel it because he pulls from my lips and mutters, “Are you going to come all over my fingers?”

I bob my head furiously, and he smiles—cocky, confident, and mine.

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