Page 57 of Foul & Fake
“So fill it,” she begs, wrapping her legs around me. “Give it to me, Elias.”
Goddamnit, I love you Riley Dattner.
I stumble over those words and come hard with a grunt, both of us watching in the mirror as my muscles tense right along with my throbbing cock. We look so good with our skin pressed together I never want to look away, but when I flick my eyes up in our reflection I find hers locked with mine.
She knows something just happened, it’s written all over her face. “Eli?”
Shame licks its way down my spine so deeply my forehead falls to hers, my eyes closing as words lodge themselves in my throat and nearly block my airway.
We’re at the point of no return and we both know it. There will be no public fake break-up on New Year’s, because we’ve reached the end of the tracks much sooner than we expected to.
And yet I’m still not ready to go.
Riley exhales hard, gingerly wrapping her arms around me. “Oh.”
Oh.
I nearly spiral from the word, but her embrace keeps me grounded. It feels like it could be home.
“Do you think we’ve met before? In another life?”
I’m positive I sound insane, but for some reason I need her to live in this fantasy with me even if just for a moment.
“Maybe,” she says quietly, running her fingertips along my skin. “Do you think we did it better last time?”
I nod. “I’d like to think I was a gentleman. That I courted you, spoiled you… maybe even deserved you. You think that’s possible for someone like me?”
She smiles, but it feels hollow. “Something tells me that next time, you’ll do everything right. You just have to find the girl worth being patient for.”
I already found her. I just lost her before I ever had a chance to truly have her. “I don’t think there’s a next time for me, Riley.”
I don’t want there to be.
Chapter 23
And Break
RILEY
It’s almost a relief when it’s time to say goodbye for winter break. Elias has been… different these past few weeks. Touchier, needier, but not necessarily in a good way. Sure he was cute as hell when I got my period, and played his part of doting boyfriend almost too well, but it’s like he knows this is ending soon and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Like everything he says and does is tentative, unsure, and not very Elias-like at all. I miss the weird little goofball who made me laugh as often as he made me come. Now I’m having more orgasms than ever — it seems like he’s made it his personal mission to mark me with as much of his cum as he possibly can, inside and out — but I’m hardly laughing at all. Every simple interaction feels like it’s being had under a blanket of sadness. And I feel it too, but this is ending soon. It has to, for both of our sakes.
Yet when I open the door and see him staring at the ground with his messy hair in his face, my heart stops. This might be the last time I ever see him standing there, happy or not.
I hate it.
“Hi,” I say lamely. “Do you want to come in?”
Eli nods, his lips finding my cheek as he passes me by, and for some reason the scent of his body wash makes me emotional.
His face is scruffier than it usually is, his curls fuzzy as though he didn’t put anything in it after his shower, but what really distracts me is the slump in his shoulders as he takes off his hoodie and sets it on my bed.
Before I can say anything at all, he’s crowding my space and wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace.
Not the kind that leads to sex or suggests something more, but the kind that says goodbye.
I don’t know what to say, so I simply hug him back and try to memorize the way it feels to be safe in his arms.
“You fuck me up, cupcake,” he whispers, and as much as I’d like to say something sarcastic or playful back, I can’t. I’m two seconds away from crying and joking will only make it happen faster.
