Page 69 of Beyond the Lines
“I mean it,” I continue, needing her to understand. “That night in class—I was angry, jealous. Your work is raw. Like I can see the pain and hope in every stroke.”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and the intensity in them nearly undoes me on the spot. My hand cups her face gently, thumb stroking her cheek where it’s hollowed around me.
“I don’t want to fight with you anymore,” I whisper. “I can’t stand knowing I hurt you.”
She makes a sound—halfway between a moan and a whimper—that vibrates through my entire body. Her pace quickens, and I know I’m not going to last much longer. The sight of her on her knees, taking me so deep, is pushing me rapidly toward the edge.
“Lea,” I warn, my voice tight. “I’m close.”
She doesn’t pull away. Instead, her eyes lock with mine asshe takes me impossibly deeper, and the sight of her—defiant, beautiful, her makeup streaked by tears, and with my cock buried in her mouth—is too much. I groan, louder than I intend, my fingers tightening in her hair.
“Fuck, Lea,” I say. “I’m going to?—”
She presses her tongue flat against the underside of my cock, and I’m lost. The orgasm tears through me with an intensity that makes my vision blur at the edges. My knees nearly buckle from wave after wave of pleasure, a tsunami-like force that I can’t resist.
Lea stays with me through it all, swallowing everything I give her, her puffy red eyes never leaving mine. It’s the most intimate moment I’ve ever experienced, and it’s happening in a cramped bathroom with a woman who supposedly hates me.
When it’s finally over, the last aftershocks fading, she pulls away slowly. I reach down and help her to her feet, pulling her against me without thinking, needing to hold her. For a moment, she stiffens in my arms, and I think she’s going to push me away.
But then she melts against me, and we stand there in a fragile embrace. But there’s still reservation in her eyes, a guardedness in her posture, that tells me this—whatever this is—isn’t resolved. We’re standing in a minefield, and neither of us knows where it’s safe to step next.
I brush a curl from her face, tuck it behind her ear, then lean in to kiss her forehead. “Where do we go from here?”
Her lips press together, and I can see the conflict playing out behind her eyes. “I don’t know.”
Before I can respond, a knock at the door makes us both jump.
“Excuse me?” An impatient female voice calls through the door. “Some of us actually need to use the bathroom.”
The noise shocks Lea back like someone has slapped her in the face. Her eyes widen with horror, and she pulls away from me so fast she nearly trips. Her cheeks burn scarlet as she looks down at herself, as if only now realizing exactly what we’ve done.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, frantically pulling up her panties and her jeans. “Oh mygod.”
Her fingers are trembling so badly she can barely button her jeans, and I find the transformation jarring—one moment ago she was confident, in control, and the next she’s a panicked mess.
“Lea…” I reach out to help her, but she flinches away from my touch.
“Don’t,” she says sharply.
The impatient knocking comes again, more insistent this time. “Hello!”
“Just a minute!” Lea calls out, voice cracking.
Knowing she’s on an express lane out of here, even while I’m trying to slow her down, I adjust myself quickly, tucking everything away and zipping up. My fingers feel clumsy and uncoordinated, the post-orgasm haze making fine motor skills a challenge.
“Lea,” I say again, not sure what I’m going to say, but needing to say something.
She won’t look at me. Instead, she turns to the mirror, recoiling at her reflection. Her makeup is a disaster—mascara streaked down her cheeks from her tears, lipstick smeared beyond her lips, and the hickey I left already darkening on her neck.
“This was a mistake,” she says, voice hollow as her hands grip the edge of the sink.
“It wasn’t?—”
“Look at me!” She gestures at her reflection. “What am I doing? What arewedoing?”
The truth is, I don’t know what we’re doing. All I know is that it feels right despite all the reasons it shouldn’t, and that I want more of it, and that I’m willing to fight for it. But it’s clear she doesn’t feel the same.
Or not right now, anyway.
