Page 72 of If You Dare

He gives my ass a rewarding slap. “That’s right, little flower. You’re learning.”

A thrill of anticipation skitters along my spine as Wes leads me upstairs by the hand. He’s touching me in public. Not caring who sees or what anyone thinks.

My heart sings, and maybe my eyes would mist again if I could feel anything other than delight and anticipation at being led upstairs by Wes Novak.

Trey’s hungry stare follows us up the steps from where he’s still passing out drinks. I can’t possibly hear him over the shouts and music and laughter, but I swear he mouths,I’m next.

Now the feeling skittering down my spine is fear.

Wes finds an empty bedroom and flattens his hand against the base of my spine, pushing me inside before locking the door behind us.

I can hardly breathe, torn between wanting this with every fiber of my being and knowing I don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve happiness or forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, Wes,” I whisper as he grabs my hip. “I’ll say it every day if I have to.”

“I know,” he murmurs.

He grabs the red plastic cup I’m still holding and places it on a dresser behind him before running his hand through my hair and bringing my mouth to his. The kiss is tender but insistent. His lips moving over mine until his tongue parts them, sliding against mine and making my entire body thrum.

When I pull away to catch my breath, I finally ask the question that’s been gnawing at me. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”

His eyes fall briefly shut and he exhales audibly through his nose. “I’m trying.”

I’m not forgiven yet. Not fully. But he’s trying, and that’s all I can ask for. More than I deserve.

He guides me to the bed. My knees buckle and I fall back onto the mattress.

Wes climbs on top of me and hauls my dress up to my chest, exposing my breasts and panties. My head starts to spin. I didn’t feel this way last time, but maybe it’s just the beer kicking in.

“You’re so perfect. Fucking made for me.”

My heart nearly breaks. I feel like I’ve finally gotten the old Wes back. A glimpse of who he was before Chloe’s death broke him. Before I broke him.

Now it’s my job to help him put the pieces back together.

He squeezes my tits. “I fucking love these,” he growls.

Cool air brushes against my peaked nipples before he sucks one into his mouth, making me gasp and clutch at his hair. The warmth from his mouth and the wet stroke of his tongue makes the space between my legs weep.

“Wes,” I gasp, pulling him closer. He sucks my nipple deeper into his mouth, so hard I nearly wince.

The room spins for a second, and a small dose of panic shoots through me. I didn’t drink much, but maybe I drank enough to be sick.

“How bad do you want me, little flower?” He drops my nipple and moves to the other, and I hiss when he latches on. His cock drives up against my clit and I cry out, the pleasure sudden and intense. I feel his low chuckle all the way to my toes. “That bad, huh?”

He drops to his back beside me and tugs me toward him. “Sit on my face.”

“What? I thought you wanted to—”

“Sit on my fucking face, Violet. Now.”

Another order I don’t dare refuse. Wouldn’t dream of. Warmth pools between my legs as I straddle his chest.

His huge hands grab my ass and push me forward until I’m nearly falling onto his face. My pussy collides with his mouth, and he licks up the cotton panties between us.

He kisses and nibbles, the sensations sharp against my sensitive and aching clit. My mind starts to slip and I grip onto the headboard, trying to anchor myself to this bed, to this moment, to Wes.

Except the whole world is spinning now, flickering in and out.

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