Page 17 of Clashing
I lifted her hips higher and licked around her clit, then plunged my fingers inside her pussy. She clamped around them, and I smiled against her clit. She was so sensitive that she was coming faster now. I continued pumping my fingers in and out of her, my other hand exploring the curve of her ass.
She’d had me in her mouth. I’d been in her pussy twice. There was only one other hole I hadn’t filled, and I wanted to fill all of her. If she was a virgin there, I couldn’t do it tonight. We’d have to build up to it. She seemed adventurous in other ways. Only one way to find out.
I slid my finger around her anus, and she stilled. “You ever try this, baby?” I asked, waiting for her orgasm to hit.
But it didn’t. And suddenly, I wasn’t touching her.
“Stop!” She scrambled to face me and backed away. “Don’t.” She wrapped her arms around herself and drew her knees to her chest. “Don’t hurt me.”
Jesus Christ.What did I do?Her whole body trembled.
“Scarlett.” I kept my tone calm and even as I slowly crawled toward her. “It’s all right, baby. I wasn’t going to do it without your permission, okay?”
Tears poured down her face, and she shook her head, dropping it to her knees. I carefully rested a palm on her hands that held herself so tightly her nails carved red crescents into her skin.
“Scarlett, it’s all right. Don’t be scared.” I pried her nails away before she cut herself with them. “What’s wrong? You’re all right. Nothing’s going to happen.”
Agonizing seconds ticked by. She stopped shaking as badly. Her head lifted slowly, and the fear mixed with embarrassment. “I’m—I’m sorry.” More tears spilled as she darted out of bed and ran straight to the bathroom, then slammed the door behind her.
What the fuck was that about?I replayed what happened in my head. It wasn’t until I touched hertherethat she’d stopped moving her hips against my hand. After I asked her, that’s when she freaked. I’d had enough anxiety attacks from PTSD to know one when I saw it. The fear was very real in her eyes.
That could only mean one thing. I grimaced at the door, head spinning with a mixture of anger and sadness. I bet it was the same fucking guy who put her in the hospital. I pulled on my boxers, then picked up my shirt and her panties.
Walking to the door, I tried to remember all the techniques they’d taught me to deal with PTSD. How the fuck I was supposed to translate that to her, I didn’t know. The best I could do was what I wished someone would’ve done with me.
“Scarlett,” I said, hoping my voice came out soft enough. “Baby, open up.” No answer. I knocked and leaned my forehead against the door. “Scarlett, come on. You can’t stay in there forever. I’m not going to hurt you.” I tried the knob, but it didn’t budge.
“Please go,” she choked. “I’m so embarrassed.”
My chest ached. I knew what that felt like. I also pushed everyone away, which was the worst thing I could’ve done. I sighed and glanced around her room. Bobby pins lay on her dresser. God help me. Hopefully it was the right move. I collected two bobby pins and picked the lock. The girl that’d asked me to fuck her harder now sat on the linoleum floor with a tear-stained face. I forced myself to approach slowly instead of gathering her in my arms like my instincts demanded.
Uncertainty danced in her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing, sugar. I promise.” I held my hands up and inched toward her. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re calling the shots, all right?” I draped my shirt and her panties over my shoulder, then offered my hands.
She hesitated but, after wiping her eyes, took my hands. I pulled her up and tugged my shirt over her before crouching and holding her panties open. She stepped into them, and I eased them up, avoiding touching anything but her legs and hips. I stood and opened my arms.
“What are you doing?” she asked, body still trembling.
“Just trying to comfort you, baby.” I beckoned her. “Come here.”
Her eyes glistened, but she obeyed. Cheeks wet, she rested her head on my chest and cried. I wasn’t great with crying, but I couldn’t do nothing. She was hurting in a way I at least partially understood. My trauma wasn’t the same, but it was still trauma.
Crying could get exhausting, so I carried her to the bed while she clung to me. I sat on the mattress, and she wrapped her limbs around me. Her crying stopped, but the trembling didn’t.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered into my neck. “I’m sorry I freaked.”
“Don’t be sorry, baby.” I rubbed her back. “A trigger’s a trigger. I’m sorry I didn’t know about it. I would’ve avoided it.”
“It’s not a trig—”
“I’m not an idiot. Was it your ex?”
She went rigid. I wasn’t sure she’d admit it to me, but after tense silence, she nodded into my chest. My arms tightened around her, and I rested my head on hers. God help me if I ever came across that motherfucker. The anger coursing through my blood could fuel me to beat him until his heart stopped. Eh, that wouldn’t be so bad. I had plenty of people willing to help me hide a body and be an “alibi.” Maybe Ididwant him to come around.
“I’m sorry, Scarlett. I’m really sorry.” I cradled her head. “I won’t bring it up again.”
“Don’t tell Dan,” she whispered. “Please, don’t tell him.”
