Page 10 of Beautifully Scarred

I’m not sure which of us moves first, but we crash together in a searing kiss. Her mouth opens for mine, and our tongues meet like the first spark on a nest of kindling. My hands roam her body, coasting over the thin fabric, and when I momentarily picture the guy who was in here earlier and the way he had his hands all over her, I grip her ass and squeeze. She’s mine even though I’ve never claimed her. I swallow her moan, wanting everything she’ll give me. I’m greedy for every last piece of her.

Her hand comes between us, and she grips my hard length through my pants, squeezing and rubbing it through the fabric until I’m on the brink of exploding. No woman can do for me what Lilah can. She has the singlehanded ability to make me lose sight of the past, the present, and the future. It’s always just us.

She drops to her knees without any preamble and makes quick work of my belt buckle and the zipper on my pants. Before I can blink, she has me in her hand and is pumping my rigid length.

“Fuck, Lilah.” I squeeze my eyes shut and let my head fall back. I dig my hands into her silky hair, wanting her lips wrapped around me.

She moans when she first wraps her mouth around the head and swirls her tongue. I straighten my head and look down at her bobbing on the end of my cock, then I look to the side at the full-length mirror to get a better visual of the two of us together.

I notice her purse strewn open on the counter and a little baggie of coke she must have bought off the guy. Through the mirror, I see a girl who is half coherent, sucking my cock. Her hair isn’t silky; it’s sweaty. Her mascara-smeared eyes stare up at me, and I want to bend over her to throw up in the toilet.

What the fuck am I doing?

I hoist her up under the armpits. I don’t screw around with Lilah when she’s messed up. In my mind for those brief moments, it was my Lilah, but this isn’t her.

She stands there for a second, looking shell-shocked while I do up my zipper and refasten my pants. “Jesus. Again?”

“You’re fucked up right now.”

“It’s not taking advantage of me if I want it.” She steps up to me and attempts to loosen my belt, but I push her hands away. Her eyes narrow. “Fine. I’ll go find Dan and see if he feels like having any fun.”

She tries to step by me, but I grip her shoulders and force her back. “The only place you’re going is home.”

“Pfft. As if.”

She tries to pass me once more, and again I force her away from the door.

“Why don’t you get back to your little date and leave me be?” she sneers.

“You know why.” I cup her face. I want to scream in her face that she’s better than this shit. What will it take for her to stop using?

She must notice something in my eyes because she falls back on her heels, her eyes casting to the ground. She’s ashamed. Still high as a fucking kite, but she knows I know what she did.

“Stay here, okay? We’re going to leave out the back door, so no one sees us, but I’m gonna need Tripp’s help. Give me a few minutes and we’ll leave together, all right?”

She stares at me for a minute and eventually nods.

“Who did you come here with tonight?” I ask.

“Trina and Courtney.”

Figures. Some of her cokehead model friends.

“Okay, listen. Stay. Here.” My voice comes out more authoritative than I mean for it to.

“I get it. All. Right?”

I stare at her for a beat before I stretch my hand out, my fingers closed in a fist with my pinkie finger extended. “Pinkie swear?”

She doesn’t move before she lets out a long sigh and hooks her little finger with mine. “Pinkie swear.”

“That’s my girl.” I kiss her forehead before leaving the room, being sure to shut the door behind me.

The pinkie swear is something we started when we were young and living in a small community on the side of a mountain in the Appalachians. Every time I left her, she made me pinkie swear that I’d return when I said I would. She was afraid that if I didn’t come back, she’d be left alone with her father. It is our most sacred promise. I usually don’t pull it out unless it’s something big, but something in my gut tells me that letting her out of my sight tonight will mean bad news. Lilah has never once lied to me or broken a promise when a pinkie swear is involved.

The music thumps through my chest as I step into the main room of the club and toward the VIP area.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Tripp yells when he spots me. His face falls when he sees my expression.

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