Page 27 of Hard to Forgive

I was on the edge. I could get what I wanted and give in, get that release I was so desperate for.

He slammed my prostate again, and it came even closer.

He could starve.

I was almost positive I could get off like this. I’d never done it before, but I’d never had anyone fuck me the way that Silas was fucking me now, like he was possessed. “C’mon Jonas, baby, tell me what you want.”

“Don’t call—shit fuck damn—don’t call me ba—” My words were incoherent, but I was determined. His devil dick was not going to keep me from telling him off for that pet name. “Baby.”

He slammed home one more time, and the world collapsed in on itself. My vision blacked out, and the stars exploded. Or maybe I just exploded. I shot ropes of jizz against my closet door. I let out sounds that were unnatural and probably had my neighbors calling for a priest. I’d never had an orgasm like that one in my life.

And I could feel the way it affected him. His cock throbbed inside of me, his thrusts grew erratic, and his dirty talk gave way to something I couldn’t even understand. It was fucking hot and I wished, suddenly, that we were back at the mirror.

I wanted to see him lose control, the way he had in my foyer before we gave into the heat between us. But I couldn’t see him, I could just feel him. Fucking both of us through our orgasms.

My legs were shaking as he collapsed against my back, pushing me against the wall. My spent cock complained at being squished against wet wood, but I couldn’t move to get him off of me. I was spent. Completely and utterly spent.

I felt the hot puffs of breath against my sweaty neck and felt his heart racing against me. Or maybe it was my own heart pounding against my rib cage.

We stayed like that until our breathing steadied, and then he pulled out. I didn’t look at him as he cleaned himself off. I was too busy wondering how I could ask him to leave. Because as hot as that was, it could not happen again.

I couldn’t stay in my bathroom forever, leaning against the sticky wetness on the linen closet door. I forced myself to push off of the wall and grabbed a clean washcloth from the drawer. I ran it under warm water and wiped myself down before begrudgingly passing it over to Silas. He’d been using toilet paper, and that was just uncomfortable. I’d been there.

He took it silently. His pale gray eyes were watching me intently.

For a moment, I could almost forget that I hated him.

Then he opened his mouth. “Apologize to Isabel Monday.”

“Fuck you,” I muttered. “You can leave.”

He didn’t argue. He tossed the wet washcloth into the sink and walked out of my bathroom.

I did not watch his perfectly toned ass as he walked away.

10

I was the worstfriend in the world.

After I left Jonas, the reality of what had just happened washed over me. I was a terrible friend. I’d gone over there to defend Isabel’s honor, and after I’d said my piece, I’d fucked Jonas into oblivion. I’d fucked the guy who had made the closest thing I’d ever had to a best work friend cry hours before.

I hadn’t even managed to convince him to apologize to her.

The anger I felt before I’d gotten to his apartment came back in full force, except now it was directed at myself. I beat myself up the entire drive back to my apartment. I beat myself up as I showered. I didn’t let myself think about what I’d done, because even if it was hot as hell that he’d cum on just my dick, I had fucked up by fucking him.

I wasn’t sure how Isabel would forgive me if she found out. First, she’d be pissed that I’d gone over there in the first place. Then, she’d be pissed that I’d fucked the person who made her cry.

How was it possible that two of my biggest mistakes had to do with Jonas?

I needed to talk to someone about it, but I didn’t have many close friends. I had a few friends, and none of them were people I’d call for something like this. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had a friendship that I could call about something like this. Instead of forming the big friendships in high school, I’d been content with a large group of guys that barely knew the real me and my relationship with Mariah.

Mariah.

The answer was obvious. She might judge me for hooking up with Jonas, but that was fine. I was already judging myself. What she wouldn’t do was make me feel like shit for it. I pressed her contact before I could talk myself out of it.

She answered on the second ring. “Two calls in a week? I’m starting to think the world might be ending.”

“Hello to you, Mariah,” I grumbled.

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