Page 33 of Let Me
I run my hand up her body, away from her pussy and she whimpers at that, but I bring my fingers up to her mouth, over Benji’s arm, and slip them past her teeth. Instantly, her tongue twirls around them, tasting herself.
“How’s that taste, Riley?” I murmur against her ear.
She sucks my fingers harder, and I imagine her mouth around my cock. We never got that far.
I dip my head down, take her nipple in my mouth and bite it. She groans and I bite harder until it turns into a whimper. Until I taste blood. I hope my dad sees that shit.
Benji’s arm around her waist shifts a little lower, and my eyes snap to his, warning him. He smirks at me.
I drag my hands possessively down her body, over Benji’s arm.
My God, I’ve missed this.
I’ve missed tasting her.
But…
I stop.
Pull back.
My eyes lock on hers, then I look once again to Benji. He’s going to expect his after this. He’s going to expect it, if I get it, and I don’t know if he’ll stop.
I can’t do this.
Her eyes look sleepy, like she wants more. Like she wants both of us, even though she doesn’t know for sure who is behind her.
No. I can’t do this.
“Let’s go,” I say, the words harsher than I mean them to be. “Benji, let her go.”
He hesitates, eyeing her. He doesn’t want to let go.
This motherfucker.
“Benji,” I snap at him.
He looks at me with hard anger. I don’t give a damn. I just want him to let her go.
In my head, I count to three. If he hasn’t let her go by then I will break his fucking neck.
Attwo, he releases her. I let out a shaky breath, uncurl my fingers. He turns without waiting for either of us to say anything to him. He heads off into the woods, alone.
“Caden—”
“Don’t.” I cut her off with a glare, and then I walk back to the path in the forest, hoping to God she’ll follow. Because I can’t do this with her anymore. But I can’t leave her here either.
SIXTEEN
June, 3 Years Ago
I’M LYING IN BED, the pink blanket I’ve had since I was a toddler draped over my lower half, when I hear the footsteps. By now, I know my mom’s. I know her steps when she’s angry, when she’s desperate, when she’s crawling on her knees. I know what she sounds like when she’s sick, in the throes of withdrawals. I know when she’s excited, the excitement before the real high.
I know all of her steps.
But these steps don’t belong to her. And hers don’t echo after these on the cheap, linoleum flooring, so I know whoever this is, he’s alone.
There’s a bathroom here, right beside my room, and I hold my breath, hoping that’s where he’s going. I didn’t see him tonight. He came over after I’d gone to my room, straight from school. Because this weekend was going to suck.
