Page 78 of Wicked Surrender

Laura:I know it’s not a tutoring night, but with your test coming up Monday, I can help you prepare for it if you don’t have plans.

I sighed.

I had her. In a twisted, confusing way, I had Laura in my life. And I needed her.

Jason:Come to my room to study.

Jason:Please?

I furrowed my brow, watching the screen.

I needed her. I was desperate for her presence to comfort me, to remind me that until I fucked it up with her, too, and she’d dismiss me again, I had her support.

Please.

Laura:Be there in ten.

25

LAURA

The last time I’d gone to Jason’s frat house hadn’t ended well for me. But tonight, I had his exclusive invitation. He’d texted back to just go straight up to his room, saying that he’d alert one of the guys downstairs who’d be near the door.

There was no party going on, so I slipped in and walked up the same stairs I’d run down the last time.

No partiers were clogging the rooms or hallway. Music wasn’t blaring. The stenches of booze, sweat, and weed were absent.

It almost looked like a normal college space where students could live and gather to hang out.

I lifted my hand to knock on Jason’s door, nervous to be here with him again. The second I touched my knuckles to the wood, it opened.

He was there, reaching out to pull me into his room so suddenly that I squeaked in surprise.

Laughing lightly as he closed and locked the door behind me, I smiled at his holding me in a half hug, as if he didn’t want any space between us at all.

“Were you looking out for me or something?” I teased of his prompt welcome.

“Yeah. Something like that.” He hugged me close, breathing in deeply as he buried his nose against my neck. “I needed you.”

“Hmm.” I lowered my hand toward his dick. I was so on board with that.

“I need you too.”

He caught my fingers, stopping me from feeling him up. Instead, he framed my face and kissed me tenderly. Slow and sweet, he brushed his lips over mine as though he wanted to memorize every detail.

I sighed and accepted his sweetness, relishing how he was treating me like I was something precious and delicate. Someone to hold close and worship. It wasn’t a status I was used to, always relegated as being second-best, always told what to do and embrace, and always dismissed as never being good enough.

Like this, with him kissing me so gently while I urged him toward his bed, IknewI was good enough.

It wasn’t only sex between us that convinced me that he liked me and approved of me. It wasn’t only because we gravitated toward each other so spontaneously and intensely in a physical sense that I could tell that I was good enough for him.

It was this.

This more sensual touch and awareness of just fitting with him.

When I was with him, I didn’t have to try to impress him or wonder if he was enjoying my company. I felt how much we complemented each other. His habit of bullying me didn’t make sense, but if I let it go as some kind of challenge thing, or something to get my attention and get a rise out of me like a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails, then it almost made sense. Because it was weirdly thrilling when he pushed me. It almost seemed like a form of needing control and dominance, and I would submit to him each and every time.

Yet, this surprised me.

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