Page 81 of Powerless
And my need to take control is a beast I keep locked inside, away from the girl I’ve put up on a pedestal. I’m not keen to test that shit with the only girl I’ve ever cared about while we’re both feeling so raw.
Because what if I do and she leaves me?
I wouldn’t survive it.
With one last kiss to her warm cheek, I pull back, trying to wrap my head around what the fuck I’ve done in my several seconds of insanity. If four seconds were the goal post, I blew right the fuck past them.
“More,” she murmurs, voice thick with arousal.
My head tips back, and I stare at the ceiling praying for . . . something. My body riots. I want to give her more. Taste her. Roll her over and cover her body with mine. Watch her come apart over and over again.
Her hands reach for me, and my chest aches as I fight off the urge to reach back.
“That’s it tonight, Sunny,” I say, my voice soft yet firm. “Come here.” I open my arms, ready to shove that nasty mattress onto the floor and hold her all night long.
“What do you mean, that’s it?” She turns to face me.
“I mean, that’s it. For tonight.” I trail a hand through my hair, tugging hard as anxiety lances through me.
You’ve already fucked this up, you horny fucking idiot.
“I’m not doing more while you’re angry at me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You would never hurt me.”
A breath hisses out of me. Hearing her say that physically pains me. It undermines all the guilt I like to walk around with because she’s right. I wouldneverhurt her. “It’s complicated,” is my stupid response.
She sighs. “Things with you always are.” Her hand trails up my forearm. “Tell me what’s wrong, Jas. I can see you freaking out in there.” Her chin gestures toward my head. She’s always known when I’m freaking out. It’s like she has a sixth sense for it.
“I just . . . I like . . .”Fuck.I have no problem telling a random woman what I like sexually. It’s power. It’s control. It’s watching her do exactly what I say. It isn’t just sex, it’s proving to myself that when I tell someone what to do, the outcome is good. I can make it so damn good for them.
“You like what?” Her eyes are wide, her face so perfect, her tone so accepting.
I’d hate for her to see me differently. I want her, but I’m scared of changingusin the process.
“We’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s sleep.” My body hums. I may have lent her a hand, but all I’ve done is work myself up all over again in the process.
Her gaze searches my face for a few moments. A frustrated laugh bursts from her lips, her head shaking on the pillow as she reaches down to pull the sheet over her body. “Well, at least you’re consistent with being terrible at talking about your feelings.” She turns over in a huff, muttering, “Boys are so fucking dumb. Thanks for the orgasm.”
“It was a good one, wasn’t it?” She doesn’t need to confirm it. I know it was. I felt it too.
I’m met with a few seconds of silence and then a frustrated, “Ugh,” before she hunkers down and gives me the silent treatment.
I smile. At least she’s beside me. Pissed off and on a child-sized mattress over the top of the perfectly spacious king is better than across the room and uncomfortable.
I lie here thinking about how this entire night is quintessentiallyus.Highs and lows, pleasure and pain, happiness and sadness. Secrets and truths.
With Sloane the rest of the shit in the world doesn’t matter because when I’m beside her, it always feels right. It soothes me. She soothes me. She always has.
She’s that person for me.
I’m out of my depth with her but this is Sloane.My Sloane.No matter what, we’re there for each other.
My Sloane.
I think it again and god it feels good.
I wake up with Sloane’s body draped over mine. Her junky little mattress hangs off the edge of the bed because she clearly pushed it away in the middle of the night.
