Page 29 of Bitter Lies

Vaguely, I watch as he pulls back and licks his lips wickedly, his eyes bright with intensity as he replaces two fingers inside me and suckles my clit into his mouth. The minute his lips cover my button, my orgasm, hovering just below my skin, erupts, and with a shout, I buck into his face, juicing down below.

He moans against my core and massages my clit, grinning at me fiercely when I arch into the air and keen.

“Yeah, sweet, show me. Come in my mouth.”

“Oh god, Griffin,” I moan, writhing beneath him. I don’t know if I can do it again, but he’s relentless, sucking and pulling and thrusting his wicked fingers until all at once, the pleasure becomes pain, and I fall off the cliff, crying out as I grind against his face and explode.

“Fuck yes,” he breathes, standing and sliding inside of me before I have time to come down.

But the pleasant tremors from before drop away as I slide back into the abyss and stare blindly at the sky, the stars shining grotesquely over my head. I can’t move. It hurts. What’s happening?

“Halsey,” Griffin says gruffly, and my eyes flash to his beautiful face pulled back in a snarl.

Dumbly, I stare at his feral expression as he pounds against me heatedly, but I can’t focus as I push against the wall in my head. It’s all around me, the darkness.

My fingers curl into the dirt. I’m dirty. It’s dirty.

“Look at me.” Griffin pulls back just enough to reach my core and runs his fingers gently over my clit. My eyes fly back to his, searching the hazel depths as I flip into the here and now.

Griffin stares at me with a strange light behind his eyes, and my heart burns in my chest. Once he confirms my focus, his mouth curves in a wicked smile as he pinches my clit gently, and I arch into him with a cry. The surge of pleasure pain that rushes through me causes tears to prick at my eyes as I look at him starkly.

He’s so beautiful as he chases his need, pushing my knees to my chin and groaning as he grinds against me wickedly. And in his glittering stare, I think I see the same want that surely shines from my own. Does he see me?

“Oh god,” I moan, meeting his thrusts, unable to look away from the intensity of his gaze.

He pounds into me once more, and my body tightens again as another orgasm barrels through me on wings of fire. With a helpless sob, I convulse around him painfully and collapse, watching through lidded eyes as he bottoms out.

“Mm, fuck yes, come on my dick,” he growls, shoving impossibly farther inside of me.

“Griffin!” I cry out, watching as his face spasms with pain, and he blows, painting me with his seed, but just as quickly, he pulls back from me as I lie dazed on the bed, still panting.

Shoving his semi-hard dick in his pants, he avoids my gaze as he backs away, and my stomach clenches awfully, dropping like a fucking rock.

Without a word, he turns to the door, denying me the stark look in his eyes, only to stop at the threshold. My heart jumps in my throat, then falls to my knees as he mutters sternly, “Don’t fucking miss class again.”

My jaw drops, and I huff out a bitter laugh, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that sex, phenomenal sex at that, isn’t going to repair the dead heart surely not beating in his cruel fucking chest.

Unbelievable.

Rolling over, I ignore the pulse of disappointment and stare at the ceiling, a smile creeping over my face because, despite Griffin’s total brush-off, I’ve proven that sex is still a possibility for me, and it’s a glorious notion, to be sure. I’m not wholly ruined, it would seem.

Chapter Nine

Feeling pretty is like fools good—it’s shiny and fucking neat until you get to the inside.

Of course, Griffin sets to ignoring the whole encounter like it never happened, and I’m confused and reeling in the aftermath.

When I was younger and stupid, I envisioned my first time with Griffin being soft and sweet. He would look at me with his adoring hazel eyes, and I would melt in his embrace.

Instead, it was rough and dirty, and although I orgasmed, more than once at that, I’m caught between the familiar feeling of being used and weirdly exhilarated that he fucked me.

That and the act itself has brought out an obsessive need to clean my skin that I’ve battled all morning, because although it wasn’t what I ever imagined it to be, it was still a connection with Griffin. I don’t know what this means, and I’m afraid to even wonder, but the pathetic part of me that has loved him since he looked at me with his shining eyes chooses to hold this close as a memory of what could have been.

And truthfully, I’m pleased that I was intimate with someone without freaking out and even found pleasure in the act. The only problem is that it was Griffin, and I lusted after him long before everything. So, was it because it was him? Or am I free from one more anchor weighing me down?

I won’t know unless I put myself out there and try with someone else, which I’m not sure I’m ready for, but maybe it’s what I need to do? Push myself?

Fuck, I don’t know, but we successfully ignore each other for the next few days until Friday when the guys take off for a party, and I remain home alone.

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