Page 57 of Fool Me Once

“Did I say you could come already?” I growl against his lips beforebiting his bottom lip gently and pulling it between my teeth. “No … I didn’t think so.”

I kiss him harder before moving my body up and pressing my tits into his face. He licks them, groaning loudly and making me pant.

I sink myself back onto him, inch by inch, and watch his pupils dilate and his hands struggle to stay on the mattress and not touch me. Electricity soars through my veins, reminding me that I have the control. I get to decide when or if he’s going to have a release.

“Should I fuck you slow?” I coo smoothly, gripping his shoulders as I begin to rock. “Or should I fuck you hard and fast?”

“Fucking A, Firefly,” his voice croaks. “Do you feel how hard my cock is right now? You’re killing me.”

I want to smile, but I fight it. I ignore his words, rocking my body hard and fast, and I ride him with one goal in mind …

To get off.

Part of me wants to toy with him again and edge him to the point of breaking before pulling back. But I’m too desperate for my own release, and I want to feel him coming right along with me.

“Be a good boy and come with me.” I barely choke the words out in a murmur as an explosion erupts inside of me, making my entire body tingle—from my belly right down to my toes.

My hips rock frantically. Warmth shoots from him and inside of me, somehow making me feel closer to him, even though I know it isn’t going to last.

It feels so good.

I almost feel normal for a few seconds as I cry out a slew of sounds and words before my rocking turn to trembles. As my orgasm leaves me, no longer holding me hostage, I drag in some shaky breaths and drop my head against his shoulder. I bury my face into his neck, squeezing my eyes shut.

Because, just like always, I know the demons will come back once the fun is over.

I’m in over my head.

I was stupid to think I could just … fix her.

She’s never going to be herself again, and yet I continue lying to her, telling her that she will be.

I can’t get rid of the thoughts that constantly run through my mind when it comes to the woman I love. I’m normally the joker on the team, yet all I do is worry about her day in and day out.

Three nights ago, she begged me to fuck her, and against my better judgment, I did. I couldn’t say no to her, even though I knew it wasn’t right because of the state she was in. For a few moments, I thought everything really could be okay. There was a light in her eyes that I hadn’t seen much of anymore, and I guess I just let hope take over, thinking that maybe all we needed was each other.

The truth is though … when it comes to Gemma and her trauma, I’m swimming in the deep end, and I don’t even have business being on the fucking splash pad.

Since then, I’ve fucked her, or she’s sucked my dick, or I’ve eaten her pussy because she asks. No, she begs. I want something deeper with her, and she’s using me for my cock. But I’ve given in because I don’t want to say no to her when she’s in pain and she needs me.

I don’t know anything about healing from abusive relationships. Still, I’ve researched enough to know that Gemma instantly jumping into something with me or using sex to heal herself probably isn’t the answer.

Every now and then, she’ll smile at me, and I’ll get a glimpse of the girl I knew when I was eighteen. But when we fuck, she’s a robot. She takes what she needs, and if I don’t give it to her, she demands it.

It’s almost like she’s on autopilot. I know she’s inside of there,but, fuck, I miss her so much. I miss her laugh the most and how she almost wheezes when she thinks something is really funny.

I miss everything.

“Dude, it’s been, like, a week since you played a prank on the team, and everyone’s concerned,” Ryder says, skating beside me as practice comes to an end. “Talk to me, brother. What’s going on?”

Gemma’s story isn’t mine to tell, and I’ve already spilled enough about it to Kolt. I can tell the guys on the team are confused about the entire thing. I went from being single to having a “girlfriend” who lives with me.

Doesn’t seem so fake anymore though. Just seems … complicated as fuck.

“Agreed,” Tripp calls from behind us. “Don’t get me wrong; it’s been nice. Now, we only have to deal with Sterns’s dad jokes. But, yeah, it’s weird, not having a fake doctor’s prescription for crab medication show up in my locker or a phone call from an angry dude saying I hit his car.” He skates beside me, smacking my arm. “Worried about you, Sawyer. You all good?”

“I’m good,” I say, continuing to skate forward. “What about you, Talmage? You’re the one who’s been taking off randomly. I’ve heard the whispers, you know.”

When I look over at him, his expression tightens.

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