Page 44 of You Had Me At Thirteen

‘Nothing, just get in the damn car, Matilda.’

I trail behind him, kicking my feet in the grass. I hate that Wren is right.

And that kiss.

My God. That kiss.

EIGHTEEN

Matilda

* * *

Ikeep my focus off Wren as he drives us home by texting Audrey to let her know I left, and I’ll speak to her tomorrow. She sends back a picture message of her, Clive and Trevor, all smiling, except Audrey has her eyes closed, her boobs spilling from her top. I cover my mouth to stop the giggle at how drunk my friend is, as I don’t want Wren thinking I’m in a good mood and he can speak to me. Not that he seems to want to talk to me.

What’s his problem, anyway? It’s not like some drunken idiot followed him around. That he thinks he’s some sort of saviour has me grinding my molars.

Although, I did need the help, it’s his attitude that pisses me off the most. If it had been anyone else who saved my arse, I would be thanking them. But this is Wren, and not anyone else.

I’m out of the car, marching across the grass towards my house before Wren even puts it in park. My heels sink into the dirt, which makes my attempted escape that much harder, so I yank them off my feet, trying not to fall in the process. The last thing I need is Wren seeing how wet he made me when he kissed me.

I hate it.

Not the kiss itself, but the fact I can’t get the damn moment out of my mind. It makes everything so much more complicated now I know what he tastes like. And fuck, I want more of it.

After slamming my front door, I storm up to my bedroom and throw my heels against the wall in my wardrobe. As I pace from wall to wall, chewing on my nails, I’m tempted to march right over to Wren’s house and tell him he can’t just kiss me like he fucking needed it as much as I didn’t know I did, then get angry at me and ignore me.

But instead of putting my big girl panties on and setting Wren straight, I opt to take a shower, deciding that it’s better I cool down before I do something I’ll regret.

Once I find my pyjamas, I head into the bathroom and peel the dress from my body. I feel as though I’ve been struck by lightning, everything charged up from my feet to the ends of my hair.

After standing under the spray, alternating between the hot and cold for half an hour, I shut the water off and drip-dry for a moment before drying myself further with a towel.

With my PJs on, I pull my hair up into a messy bun, then head back into my bedroom. My plan is to watch porn first, then maybe a horror movie or two. I’m calmer after the shower, but I’m horny as hell. Deep down I knew Wren would curl my toes, but damn, I didn’t know he’d suck my soul from my body with one kiss.

Heading to the window to close my curtains, my mind distracted, it takes a moment for me to notice the light is on in Wren’s bedroom. But that’s not what stops me dead. What has my heart pounding against my ribcage is seeing him, bare-chested, standing at his window, while some dark-haired female sucks his dick.

What. The. Fuck?

When the hell did she get there? And after he kissed me.

Prick.

My mouth falls open as I take in the scene before me, and if I said it wasn’t a turn on, I’d be lying. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

And hell, my pants feel like they are on fire. A pulsing sensation settles between my legs as my mouth forgets to make saliva. Who needs to watch porn when I have a real-life scene playing out in front of me right now?

The large window gives me an almost full view of his body, but I can’t see much of his bottom half with the naked woman kneeling in front of him. Each bob of her head sends tingles running over my skin, and I shiver involuntarily.

The heat between my legs has my wetness almost running down my thighs. I’m all too familiar with how my body reacts when Wren is around me, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes from his stunning chest.

When I do manage to pry my eyes away from his body and up to his face, I find it hard to look at him. I’m angry, jealous and turned on. All at the same time. For whatever reason, I’m not embarrassed as I struggle for air. I like it. A lot.

As I brush the tips of my fingers over my lips, the memory of our kiss not even an hour ago pushes its way to the forefront of my mind. Is this some sort of punishment? He kisses me, then uses some other bitch to get him off?

The braveness I feel, likely from the amount of anger I have right now towards Wren, has me reaching up under my shirt to take a nipple between my fingers, pinching it until it hardens. A wave of pleasure washes over me at the familiar sensation.

Imagining what it would feel like to have Wren’s mouth on that spot right now has me wanting revenge. I know it excited him when he kissed me. I felt it against my lower stomach when he pushed me against the wall of the house. So this is my way of enacting that revenge.

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