Page 43 of Crash

Everett, always the rebel, is wearing black ripped jeans and a tight, dark gray t-shirt, boots, and a smirk. Leslie is in a tight sequin purple dress and Wyatt sports black slacks and a purple shirt. It’s cute how they all match. Everett is watching them as they dance, like he has the whole world at his fingertips, a moth drawn to twin flames.

Ezra has on, you guessed it, army boots and fishnet stockings. She also wears a nice, simple black dress, and her dark makeup is toned down, but her signature mauve lips are on full display. It is very Ezra. She smiles when she sees me. Smiles from Ezra are rare, so I bathe in the happiness of it all.

When I look across the sprawling lawn, I see him. In black dress slacks and a white button-up shirt that hugs his frame. His hair is unruly, dark stubble covering his strong jaw. When my eyes connect with his, an ache curls deep in my stomach, wrapping around my heart. Heat blossoms to my cheeks, catching fire with every sweep of his eyes over my body. I shiver. His eyes are intense, melting away every wall I have carefully constructed over the months away from him.

I break eye contact, going over to get a drink. The bartender smiles, twin dimples popping in his cheeks. “What can I get you?” He is good-looking with his black hair and honey eyes. He is fit and currently trying to hide a blush as I check him out, every single ripped inch of him. “Miss?” I jump.

“Shoot. I’m so sorry.” I blush.

He laughs. “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind being eye-fucked.” I snort, can’t help it. He grins, “So, what can I get you?”

“Piña colada, please.” He makes my drink, adding extra pineapples to the sugar-coated rim, handing it over along with his number. I pocket it, because I might call him, who knows? It would be nice to go out on a date.

I’m five piña coladas in. I feel the liquor coursing through my blood. I feel nice. So, so nice. I walk over to the refreshments table, grabbing a cookie. I really like chocolate chip cookies and Jessica’s are the best. The crunch of the outside, the softness in the middle. The way the chocolate chips melt in your mouth. Is it possible to orgasm from a cookie? Because I am, like, this close.

EASTON

I watch Jasmine as she moans over Jessica’s cookies. I mean, I get it, but if she doesn’t stop, she’s going to be moaning from something much bigger in her mouth. I watch her suck her fingers, pink velvet twirling around them. My dick jerks to attention. He’s loyal to Jasmine. I never thought I’d be a nun, but here I am, staring at the last girl I sunk my dick into. It’s been a long two years, but I couldn’t bring myself to sleep with another. Maxine was for show, I never slept with her or anyone else as I had Jasmine believing.

Turning around, I adjust him, before turning back around and walking up to her. She’s turned away from me, looking at the other cookies, probably deciding which one she’s going to moan over next. “So, no Africa this year?” I ask, snatching a cookie.

She jumps, hands on her chest, eyes wide. I bite into the cookie and then grin. She hasn’t changed much, still jumpy. “You scared me. And forgive me but I’m a little too drunk to…” She waves between us. “Do the whole small talk with my ex thing. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to choose my next victim.” She looks back to the cookies, mumbling something to herself.

I chuckle. “Fine, no small talk.” I ease closer to her and she looks up at me with her wide green doe eyes I love so much. “Dance with me.” She looks back at the cookies longingly. Fuck. Why is she so cute?

She nods, taking my outstretched hand as we join the others dancing. Well, everyone except Ezra and Everett are dancing. I wrap one of her tiny hands in mine, resting my other hand on the small of her back. Her free arm wraps around my neck, her head falling to my chest as “Let It Go” by James Bay streams softly through the speakers. The song is almost painful to listen to. If we had a song, it would probably be this weak-ass shit. I always thought my love would be like a Breaking Benjamin song. Like “So Cold,” a little weak but lethal at the same time. Not fucking James Bay. Christ, what has she done to me?

I did a lot of thinking while we were apart. I know now that I had overreacted a tad bit. Her mom was in the hospital, her life was being flipped upside down, and I wasn’t helping with my dramatic ways. I know this, now. When it was happening, I couldn’t think straight. The bet was messing with my head, and then her mom, and fucking Mark. Still hate that guy. I spin us around, rocking us back and forth to the beat. As I let my hand trail up her spine, she sighs. It’s not an annoyed one, but more like a happy one. I could work with that. I bury my face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her warm vanilla scent.

“I missed you,” I whisper, planting a kiss to her neck. She tries to push off me, to escape me. But I hold on tighter. “You can’t run from me anymore. I’ve already lost two years with you. And I won’t lose another second.” She sinks into me, her fight-or-flight gone as we dance some more.

Her eyes begin to grow heavy. “Can you walk me home, please? I didn’t think I drank that much, but I really can’t see.”

Nodding, I grasp her hand, walking her through the iron gate and across the street. She stumbles. I sigh, placing a hand around her waist and then under her legs, lifting her up. She squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck, snuggling against my chest. My body eases for the first time in years. This is where she’s meant to be, and I’ll make her see that. “I missed you too, Easton,” she whispers before her eyes close and she’s out.

* * *

I didn’t want to put sleeping medications in her drink last night, but it was necessary. Her long black hair lays over my pillow, her body curled under my covers. It wasn’t hard really. She was already wasted when I offered her that last drink between dances. Everyone was wasted. Except me. I had plans and getting drunk wasn’t in the cards for me last night.

She stirs, a tiny whimper escaping her lips. I sit up straighter. She pulls at the cuffs, eyes shooting open in alarm. “Good morning, baby.” I walk over, kissing her forehead.

She glares at me, tugging on the cuffs. “Release me right now, Easton.”

Instead, I position myself between her legs. “Can’t. I’m about to have breakfast.” I spread her folds apart, running my tongue through her wetness. Savoring the sweet taste I have been denied for too long. She was a liar. She didn’t want to leave, and I had the proof currently on my tongue. She thrashes against the restraints, so I smack her pussy. She whimpers, her head falling back, a moan leaving her beautiful mouth. “Be still,” I say, going back to devour my meal. I lick the inside of her thigh, gliding my tongue over patches of smooth and raised skin. I kiss the scars, tracing every jagged edge.

“Stop,” she whispers brokenly.

“Why?” I ask, going to suck on the skin and leave my mark next to hers.

“Because I hate them.”

I kiss the deepest scar, the one I witnessed her make after her mom was hospitalized. “I’m obsessed with them.” A slight gasp leaves her lips, and my head raises slightly so I can look at her. “I’m obsessed with every part of you, even your imperfections, your beauty marks.” Looking back down, I lower my face, rubbing my stubble on her inner thigh, flicking my tongue inside her.

She wiggles against my bed, her tits bouncing as she rides my face. Her release is loud, cries of pleasure between broken sobs, her orgasm drenching my chin and lips. Her pussy is clenching my tongue tightly. “Forgive me,” I say, unbuttoning my pants as I stare down at her. On a scale of everything I find breathtaking in life, Jasmine is at the top. There is no close second, nothing that compares. Her pale body a harsh beautiful contrast to my dark sheets. Her red, pouty mouth that is currently in a thin line as she watches me. But she can’t hide the undiluted lust that lights up her green eyes.

“Absolutely not,” she scoffs. I slap my dick against her pussy punishingly. She moans, again. “I told you I loved you. You said, and I quote, fuck you, Snitch. You’ve had two years to make this right. We go to the same college, for crying out loud.”

She isn’t wrong, but as I said, my ego—he was the problem. “I wasn’t ready then, you really broke my nonexistent heart,” I growl, putting my tip in. She gasps as I sink deep inside of her. My dick is so happy to be home, he almost comes. But I stop him. We are going to enjoy this. There was no feeling like being deep inside her.

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