Page 39 of Finding Delaware

Why is this happening to me?

My teeth catch his bottom lip, pulling a whimper out of him. He thrusts against me, and I can feel his hard dick inside his basketball shorts rubbing against mine. The friction is delicious, little zaps of pleasure skittering across my shaft with every roll of his hips. We devour each other, entangling and melting together until his ending and my beginning fuse.

He moves backward until he collides with the shower wall, bracing himself between it and my chest. When I open my eyes and pull back to breathe, the expression on his face almost sends me to my knees. He looks fucking wrecked, lips swollen andjaw red from where I gripped him. His eyes look more blue in this moment, darkened with anguish and brimming with…

Tears.

My heart skips a beat.

“Touch me,” he whispers desperately before I can speak, pressing his lips to mine. “Touch me, Huck.”

But I hear the uncertainty in his voice. His body stiffens, and his fingers twitch nervously against my neck, almost like he’s forcing himself to do this. It feels like a kick in the chest.

“You’re drunk, Taylor.” I go to pull away, my face hardening with disgust at myself for letting him play me like this again, but his hold tightens, and he presses his face into my shoulder.

“Please, Huckslee. I need you.”

“Let me go.”

He shakes his head, hair tickling my chin, before grabbing my hand and placing it on the waistband of his shorts. I try to back away again, but when his fingers wrap around my cock, any fight left in me goes out the window.

“Do it,” he whispers, kissing the side of my neck as he strokes me slowly. “I want you to do it.”

So I give him what he wants, despite every warning bell blaring inside my head. Despite the sinking feeling in my gut screaming at me that this is a bad idea, I slowly slip my hand into the hem of his shorts and wrap myself around him.

And fuck, he’s enormous. Bigger than what I initially thought when I’d felt him with just material separating us. He gasps against my wet skin as I work my hand from base to tip, running my thumb over the slit of his swollen crown. He hisses, shuddering, but doesn’t raise his head. Doesn’t pull away. So Itake that as my cue to continue, jerking him inside his shorts while he jerks me. Our heavy breaths fill the shower, both of us fighting to keep our groans quiet. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, brushing against my throat, and I decide that I want those lips on mine before I come.

However, when I pull back to lift his face to mine, what I see stops me completely.

Taylor’s lips are tight, his eyes squeezed shut, and his brows furrowed as if this is physically painful for him. And right at that moment, I realize that his cock is going soft in my hands.

I’m on the other side of the shower in an instant, my back pressed against the opposite wall, embarrassment flooding my cheeks.

“Wait, Huck—” He steps toward me, shame filling his eyes, but I hold up my arm in a defensive gesture as I shake my head.

Am I that ugly to him? Is my touch so revolting that it makes him look like he wants to vomit? My stomach churns at the thought.

“Leave,” I try to snap, but it comes out hollow. My throat feels like it’s on fire.

“Please, Huckslee, I don’t—” He thumps the back of his head against the wall twice. “I don’t fucking get it.”

A harsh, disbelieving laugh leaves my mouth, realization dawning on me. I don’t need to ask him what he doesn’t get because I already know. I’ve been nothing but an experiment to him, a test subject to quench his curiosity. He used me.

Maisie’s voice comes from the bottom of the stairs, and we both freeze.

“TAYLOR! Did I say five minutes or five hours? Get down here now.”

“In a minute,” he shouts back, his eyes watching me cautiously.

Pointing my finger toward the door, I bare my teeth at him. “Get out. For good this time, Taylor. Touch me again, and I’ll hurt you.”

Because I will, so help me, God. I’m done being his punching bag. For almost four years now, I’ve dealt with this.

He opens his mouth as if to protest but thinks better of it when he meets the resolve in my eyes. The outrage. The pain.

Nodding resignedly, he licks his lips slowly as if to savor my taste one last time before stepping out of the shower.

“I’m sorry, Huck,” he whispers, then he’s gone—leaving me to pick up the pieces of myself in his aftermath, like always.

---