Page 21 of The Mountain
My heart thunders, a rhythmicwhoosh, whoosh, whooshin my ears, and something twists in my stomach. She’s come here for Liam I realize, and the twisting in my gut turns into a bitter ache.
Lily pulls up short. I can just make out the shape of her as she stops, deliberating in the narrow space between mine and Liam’s beds. I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my face in my Matty-scented pillow, not wanting to see the moment she climbs into Liam’s bed.
My mattress dips, blankets pulling aside as smooth, cool limbs brush against my own. One slender arm snakes around my shoulders, the scent of Lily’s shampoo filling my nostrils as her hair fans out across my pillow, teasing against my face.
“Lily,” I say—or at least, I try to, but it comes out sounding choked, strangled, a gasp punched out of me on an exhale, catching in my throat. I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry, and try again. “Missy. What are you doing?”
She stills, her breath fluttering against my face, fingertips freezing against my arm beneath the blankets.
“Ed… Eddie?” My name comes out half squeak, half whisper. “Uh… Oh.” An audible swallow, then the faintest huff of laughter, muffled against the pillow, ending with a groan.
For some reason, the sound of that stifled laughter goes straight to my cock, awareness of her body against mine buzzing like electricity. I can feel every point where her body touches my own as keenly as if it’s one of the electric fences on my family’s farm—a smooth thigh, soft fingertips, the swell of her chest, a cold foot—each brush burns through me.
She didn’t mean to climb into my bed. That’s fucking obvious. But she’s here now—her body warm and trembling against my own, every point where we connect buzzing like electrical contact points.
If I was a better man, I’d push her away. I’d tell her to go cuddle up with Liam. I’d tell her what I tried to convey by walking away at dinner earlier—that I’m not doing this with her, no matter how much she thinks she wants it.
But I’m not a better man.
Fingertips trace a trembling trail down my bicep, catching on a well-hidden scar, and the wall of resolve I’d spent all day building up crumbles. It’s like that precarious new snow, when the layers beneath crack and the whole face of the mountain comes sliding down, trees and boulders torn away with it, leaving nothing but raw, bare earth in its wake.
I’m not sure who moves first. But when we do, it’s like one of those avalanches. Completely unstoppable.
Our lips crash against each other, mouths somehow meeting unerringly in the dark. At first, the angle is strange, with both of us on our sides, but then she’s sliding one warm thigh over my legs, silky skin brushing the front of my boxers as she leans over me, deepening the kiss.
I reach around, pulling her on top of me, my hands gripping her hips until I have her right where I want her—those thighs straddling my hips, her chest flush with my own, my cock trapped almost painfully between our bodies. I rock against her, groaning at the feel of her, at the taste of her lips on mine. At the way her body trembles when my tongue delves deeper, tangling with her own, stealing her breath.
My hands trace the length of her spine, moving from her hips to her shoulders, pulling the flimsy sleep shirt she’s wearing up with it, until the fabric bunches under her arms. I feel the moment her breasts come free, the soft naked flesh against my bare chest, and just like before, I find myself wondering what they look like. Wondering what they’d feel like in my hands—the weight of them, the heat, the nipples against my palm, beneath my fingertips.
“Eddie.” She pulls back with a gasp, her lips brushing against my own. “Wh-what…”
I tug harder at her shirt, and she lifts one arm, then the other, until the shirt has slipped free entirely, leaving her body naked against my own, except for her shorts and my boxers. I nip at her lip, at her jaw, at the column of her throat, squeezing my eyes shut when her thighs widen, knees pulling up so that she’s practically straddling me.
“Lily,” I groan against her lips. “Fuck. Missy.”
There’s enough space between our bodies that I can just reach one hand under her, fingers outstretched as I cup one breast. It’s soft and heavy against my palm, and I trace the underside with my thumb, then drag my fingertips and thumb against a pebbled nipple, rolling it, smiling against her mouth when she gives a delightful little gasp, her body shuddering against my own.
“You like that?” I murmur, giving the nipple a little tug. “You like it when I play with these gorgeous tits, don’t you, Missy?”
She moans, and for a brief moment, I contemplate throwing her onto her back so I can devour those gorgeous tits, tease them with my mouth and hands until she’s crying out, begging. But then she rocks against me, her heated core damp against my cock. The movement sends a burst of white-hot pleasure rushing through me, darkening my vision, narrowing every thought onto one point:I have to get inside her.
I reach down between us, angling my hips and maneuvering to push my boxers down, just enough to have my cock springing free, my balls still trapped under my waistband as the head bobs against my stomach. I give the shaft a firm squeeze, then release it so I can grip the waistband of Lily’s sleep shorts, try to pull them down.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Lily stiffens at the sound of Liam’s voice, sitting upright, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle her own cry. A moment later and the room is filled with dim, warm light. The flashlight on Liam’s cell phone, I realize, propped against the wall. It casts Liam’s form in long shadows, making him look almost sinister, and when I dart a glance at his face, there is no mistaking that all of his darkness is directed entirely at me.
“I’m sorry,” Lily squeaks, scrambling off me.
I pull the blanket up, hoping to hide my exposed dick from view, my cheeks flaring when Liam’s gaze drops to my lap with a look of pure, unadulterated rage.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Lily,” Liam tells her, his voice strangely soft, a complete contrast with the way he’s looking at me. “I told you I’m okay with it, and I meant it.” His jaw ticks, those gray eyes narrowing slightly as he adds: “What I want to know is why the fuck Eddie has his dick out five minutes after disrespecting you.”
A defensive scowl curls my lips, and I open my mouth to protest.It wasn’t five minutes, and walking out after dinner is hardly disrespecting her,I want to say. But for once my brain-to-mouth filter seems to work, and the words die on my tongue, just in time for me to realize that they aren’t quite true.
I’ve been a complete cunt.
I shift uncomfortably—in part because my dick apparently hasn’t gotten the memo that play time is over—and throw one arm over my face to hide the embarrassment prickling against my cheeks.Well, that’s a fucking unfamiliar feeling.
