Page 31 of Beautifully Conflicted

“Ugh, God,” he groans, chest heaving against mine as I bring him closer to the precipice.

Since this is the first—and hopefully not the only time—I’ll get to witness Bennet coming undone, I pull back enough to see his face. It’s pinched with tension. Lips slightly parted, eyes squeezed shut, like he’s warring over whether to hold out for a bigger release or give in and let his body find the relief it craves.

Water ripples down his sculpted torso, and even though I know gravity is the driving force, I can’t help feeling like those pear-shaped droplets are speaking to me, telling me to focus my gaze lower. To indulge in the carnal view I’ve imagined countless times over the years, and when I do, I nearly lose my control.

Though I’d need x-ray vision to see Bennet’s length inside my fist, I can see subtle flex of his abs as he chases my grip, the sinfully sexy ‘V’ that points to the cock in my hand, and the dark hair that frames the base of his dick.

Hot damn my dark angel is beautiful.

My vision lingers low until Bennet starts chantingOh Godover and over, and I feel his warm release coating my length. Milky white liquid seeps through my fingers, triggering my own explosion, and after watching long enough to sear that image into my brain I tear my eyes away to find Bennet’s face.

It’s partly obscured since his head is tilted to the ceiling, though I can tell his lips are parted on a soundless scream, his Adam’s apple protruding alluringly as he struggles to fill his lungs with air.

Sinful. Sexy. And everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

Bringing my lips back to his ear, I whisper, “Is that all of it Lucy, or do you have more to give me?”

Bennet’s head snaps forward, eyes tinged with a level of malice I’ve never seen in them before. Like a broken spell, all traces of his earlier euphoria are gone, replaced with rage.

The hand that had been pawing at me for support makes its way back to my throat and squeezes, hard. “Take your hand off my dick.Now.”

Like it’s scorched me, I drop Bennet’s cock without objection, taking a step back so mine doesn’t inadvertently brush against his. The poor thing, which was still tingling excitedly after that orgasm, wilts to a shell of its former glory as I wait to see what Bennet will do next. I’m guessing it won’t be that kiss I wanted to steal earlier.

“Touch my dick again, andI’ll end you.”Bennet shoves me away with such force I nearly lose my footing and end up slamming my hip into the wall of the shower. By the time I’ve got myself back upright, he’s nowhere in sight, and I have a sinking feeling I might’ve ruined my chance with him before it really got started.

I guess it’s a good thing I don’t scare easily, because after a finish like that, I refuse to believe he doesn’t want me to touch him again. I just have to keep finding ways to remind him how good it was.

Bennet

My torso twists and turns as I try to get my sweatshirt over my dripping wet skin. I might even pop a seam or two in the process as I violently tug the fabric over my chest.

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

I need to get out of here before Damien finishes his shower, because if I see his face, there’s a pretty good chance I’ll try to smash it.

Unless there are beads of water trickling down that sharp jaw. Those I might want to—

Do not think about a wet Damien.

It’s bad enough I didn’t shove him away when I had the chance, to think about him inthatway—dripping and gorgeous anddemanding—no.Just, no.

I’ve always found him attractive, but to find him sexy? To have let himtouchme… I must’ve hit my head during one of those plays. That’s the only explanation.

I’m pulling on my shoes when the water shuts off, and after slamming my locker shut with shaky hands I bolt, making it outside without having to see him. I’m not ready for that.

Fucking Damien.

Those five minutes in the shower play on a loop in my mind, so vivid it almost feels like Damien’s hand isstillon my cock. And I don’t hate it as much as I should.

The strength of that grip, the way he pulled me off balance… but I apparently liked the rough way he handled me. Enough that I can’t stop thinking about it.

I need to though. I need to purge it from my memory and stay away from that fucker, so it doesn’t happen again.

Zipping my coat against the chilly January air, I hunch my shoulders and pick up the pace, hoping to make it home before my wet hair starts to freeze. Even though it’s not actually cold enough for that, having sopping wet hair makes it feel like it is.

That’s it. My head’s about to freeze, so my thoughts are frozen too.

No wonder I can’t stop thinking about the filthy things Damien whispered in my ear, and how they made me explode with astonishing force. My brain literally isn’t firing on all cylinders. Once I warm up, it’ll be better. I can think of ways to avoid Damien rather than re-playing a situation that never should’ve happened in the first place. I just need to get home.

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