Page 67 of False Start
wire
sparking
in
the
rain.
I can’t get enough. The taste of her ruins me, and the sounds that come from her mouth are programmed to destroy. The way she bucks against me—her fingers winding through my hair and pulling me impossibly closer while she fucks my face—is everything I’m jonesing for.
I can make her see stars, even inside Skateland.
Her quiet moans turn louder with every stroke of my fingers, her hips moving in sync, extending her pleasure in any way she can. She whines when I pull out, but it’s onlyfor a moment, just long enough for me to bring all four fingers together. She’s tight, but I’m going to try anyway.
Bringing my fingers to her entrance, I push—just the tips—and when I pull out again, I go to the first knuckles. The gasp is more pleasure than pain, so I keep going, slowly pulling out and then inserting again. Each movement douses my fingers in her arousal as I push in further.
“Fuck.” She’s frantically gripping at my arms, my shirt, whatever she can when I have all four fingers in up to the second knuckle.
I slide my thumb over her clit with every push of my fingers, and she writhes in pleasure, knuckles white as she grips onto me while I send her off the edge. My fingers are flat now inside her, the webbing between my thumb and index finger meet with the base of her cunt; I’m as deep as I can go, and she squeezes around me so tightly.
She’s a bright cluster of hot, molten desire. Niaisthe stars inside Skateland.
The noises from her are unintelligible. She’s so close to coming, I could breathe on her cunt and she’d fall apart. Instead, I lower back down, continuing the pumping of my fingers as I lock my mouth over her clit and suck. The death grip of her thighs around my head is all I need to keep going, and I don’t stop until her pleasure spills out of her in a gush, dousing my hand and covering the track below us. Only then is my ego satiated.
Lifting up, I grin, watching her attempt to catch her breath under me. I wipe my mouth with the back of my arm before I roll off her to lay at her side, undoubtedly aware that this is my girl, and I’m going to take care of her at all costs.
28
NIA
Cat’s fingers entwine around mine, making it impossible for my brain to wander away from this moment, from the two of us. She’s good at that. The distractions, the keeping me busy, the knowing just what my brain needs to not overcomplicate every moment of my life, to not rob the joy out of every second I breathe.
Cat Harvey is oxygen in my lungs when I’ve been drowning. Cat Harvey is a coma dream I never want to wake from. Cat Harvey is the hand gripping me as I dangle from the cliff. She wants to save me when I’m not worth holding on to.
But I let her anyway.
“We still haven’t eaten,” she says after my breathing has finally calmed. “Let’s go get some trash.”
“The only thing open at this hour is?—”
“Waffle Station,” we both say in sync and then laugh.
The place is chaos. The kind where you’d likely see a patron throwing a chair at a cook over the bar, and there’s almost an unspoken law that you can’t eat there sober or before midnight, but the food is the kind ofmouthwatering greasy garbage that lights up your taste buds and puts Michelin star restaurants to shame.
“Fuck it.” I laugh, lifting my hips up as she helps me roll my shorts back on. “I need to at least clean up before we go.”
I start to stand, but she stops me, grabbing at my good wrist and shaking her head. “No. You can go like that.” She grazes her teeth over her bottom lip, like she’s remembering the way I sounded calling her name. “I want you sopping wet when I decide to fuck you at breakfast.”
I swallow, doing my best to play it cool, like that wasn’t the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I think she meansafterbreakfast, but I don’t correct her. Instead, I follow, hand in her hold as she leads me out of the rink, the mess between my legs ruining my underwear with every step I take.
Hunger is nota thing I’m capable of feeling at this time. Instead, I’m disgustingly nauseous, and the smell of fried eggs and bacon makes my jaw tingle with discomfort. I fake a smile, just grateful that when the hostess shows us to our booth, Harvey sits next to me and not across from me.
I’m safely tucked into the corner next to the window, but I’m leaning into Cat. She’s got one arm draped around me. I’ve never felt more whole in my entire life. I’m learning that when she says she doesn’t like to be touched, she doesn’t mean always. She’s never opposed to dishing out a beating on the track. She doesn’t mind when I’mcuddling up against her like this. If anything, sheencouragesme when I’m gripping her to death, because I might just fall off the edge of the universe from her making me come.
But when it comes to sex, her body is hers and hers alone.
My brain tends to overcomplicate things. It loves to turn a situation that has nothing to do with me into a three-ring circus where I’m not the ringleader, but the main attraction. I almost expect my mind to begin turning loops, finding new ways to make it all about me and that I can’t reciprocate how she makes me feel physically.
