Page 78 of Hate Wrecked

I watched him stroke, his movements becoming faster.

I fought the urge to slip my hands down, to join him, to chase whatever high he was feeling.

The lingering alcohol in my body made me warm and desperate. I exhaled, closing my eyes and leaning my forehead on the side of the building.

When I opened them and peered through the glass again, Rowan was finished. One arm rested on the couch, and the other was on his forehead, kneading tensions away. His eyes were closed tight, and he didn’t seem relaxed, like he had felt relief in the act.

I didn’t care then. I reached out and knocked on the glass. Rowan shot up, and my eyes devoured his disheveled appearance.

I heard him curse, then walk out of the room. I met him at his door and he grabbed me by my arms, pulling me in. I wasn’t able to speak before he slammed the door and pushed me against it, his forehead pressed to mine.

I could smell him, the heady scent of his desire everywhere.

His hands pressed into my shoulders, and I reached up, wrapping my hands around his wrists.

“What were you doing?” I whispered.

Rowan’s voice was low. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?” he asked. He sniffed, and I knew he smelled the liquor on me. “Did you drive? You’re drunk.”

He pushed away, and I took him in. He had only his boxers on, nothing else, and his red hair was wet from a recent shower.

I pushed off the wall, walking to him. “I’m not drunk. Just tipsy. I took a cab. What were you doing?” I asked again.

Rowan sniffed, walking into the kitchen. “I think you fucking know, Riley. Now what the fuck are you doing here? It’s your birthday.”

“Not anymore,” I said, walking to him. “It’s officially tomorrow.”

“Yeah. And I need to get some sleep. I have to be at your bloody house tomorrow.”

“What were you doing?” I asked again.

Rowan grabbed a glass, filled it with water, then walked to me. He shoved it into my hand. “Drink this. You need to sober up.”

I brought the glass to my lips, drinking it down. When I was done, I wiped my mouth and fought the urge to spit it back up. My stomach was too empty.

Rowan’s hands were on his hips as he stared at me, his blue eyes narrowed.

I reached for him, pressed myself close to him. Rowan raised his hands to his hair and turned his face away. “Riley, let me get you to bed.”

I kissed his chest and rubbed my body against his length. I could feel him getting hard again. The alcohol had me warm all over, and I knew his arousal still lingered.

Rowan still didn’t look at me as I leaned forward, pressing another kiss to his chest. “I’ve missed you. I can’t stop thinking about the pool. I can’t stop thinking about your fingers inside of me, filling me, fucking me.”

“Riley, please,” he whispered.

I kissed his chest again, swirling my tongue over his nipple, then reached down with one hand to stroke the length of him. “I still haven’t done it, you know? I still haven’t been fucked. Do you know why?”

Rowan reached down, grabbed me by my shoulders, pushed me back. His eyes were dark, and his jaw was set. I kept working him with my hand. “How should I know? I have no idea what’s going on in that head of yours. You want me one day. Want him the next. I can’t keep doing this.” His words said one thing and his body told me another.

“I only want you,” I whispered, bringing my thumb up to my mouth and licking it. He closed his eyes, exhaling as I reached forward again, slipping my hand into his boxers. I pressed my thumb to him, rubbed it over the slickness, and moaned as he shivered. “Were you thinking of me?” I asked as his grip on my shoulders lessened.

“Yes,” he exhaled, “I was thinking about what he might be doing to you. Wishing it was me. I’m always thinking of you. Always you, Riley.”

I dropped to my knees then, pulling his boxers down, taking him into my mouth. He cursed as I looked up at him, his hand in my hair, his other on the counter. It didn’t take long for him to be pulled from the dream. I lavished his head with my tongue, sighed as I tasted him, and gasped as he pulled out.

“What the fuck. Goddamit Riley,” Rowan whispered, pulling his boxers back up. I stood, reaching for him, but he pushed me away.

“No, not like this. You’re...how much did you drink?” he asked.

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