“You know it’s mine, Annie, don’t you? You’re mine.” There was nothing sinister in his declaration, and it wasn’t something in my capacity to deny. Yes, yes, yes! I cried out inwardly, because I was afraid that if I moved or spoke, the marvelous feeling that was coursing through my veins would be obliterated. My body writhed uncontrollably as his tongue replaced his fingers, and he licked me relentlessly, down into the darkest and most secret places. What he was doing to me now, nobody had ever done before, and the fire surging through me introduced new revelations to my body, which had previously been ignorant of what it was capable of feeling, knowing, surrendering to. It felt like I wouldn’t stop coming, but eventually he eased off me.
For a moment, I was afraid he was going to simply leave, and panic set in. I sat upright in his bed, reaching for him. He shook his head and smiled slightly, as if to signal he just wanted to look at me, to see me in this state of surrender.
“Annie, do you have any fucking idea how much you turn me on?” He moved closer when he said this, and pulled my head back so I couldn’t hide, so that he could gaze into my eyes. “Do you even know how sexy you are?”
My hunger took over, and the vulnerability of being so exposed melded into the ecstasy of being so close to him. A sense of urgency overtook me as I reached for his body, smashing my lips against his almost haphazardly. I was terrified at the sheer force of my longing. I moved my face down to his hardness and ran my tongue over the tip, then the whole length of him, and the salt of his body sent a new and piercing pleasure through me.
“Please, Chase, I need this, I need you,” I whispered, as his fingers tightened around my hair and he pushed himself into my mouth, to the back of my throat. Again and again, in a delicious rhythm. I would have been content to pleasure him this way if it was what he wanted—he nearly drove me to the edge as the gruffness of his moans intensified, his fingers entangling and tightening their hold in my hair whenever he hit the back of my throat—but I was still engulfed by a vague and mysterious longing to be fully possessed by him. Not missing a beat, he pulled me up into his arms. Now I could see the look in his eyes—devilish and completely in control—and the last remnants of my resistance were gone.
“You want this?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, yes! I want this, I want you!” I was breathing so heavily I could barely recognize my own words, but I could feel them in my body.
“How do you want it?”
“Any way you want me. I just need you inside me—I need you inside me now!” His mouth was on mine now, and I was sucking all of him into me, until I wouldn’t have been able to say where I began and he ended.
In one rapid movement, he pushed me down until I was on all fours. I could hear him rustling around in the darkness—then the sound of a condom wrapper being hastily torn open. I was relieved that Chase was responsible, since I had recently gone off the pill and hadn’t had sex in quite a while. I shivered in anticipation. I felt him behind me, pressing into me. I was so turned on that it was almost effortless, but his largeness still made me gasp, since it had been so long since I’d been filled this way.
The feeling of him inside me was like honey. My entire body wanted to swallow him, the beauty of him. I looked up through the skylight on the ceiling, which I hadn’t even noticed until now, and the stars in the sky seemed to flash and churn to the rhythm of our bodies. It was mesmerizing. His lips and teeth were on my neck, and his hands were grasping my hips and breasts, his fingers pinching my nipples. He took me with a violence and certainty that made me feel faint, moving his hips into mine and grinding in a way that made me feel parts of myself that I hadn’t even been aware of before tonight.
“Does that feel good?” he asked, his breathing growing harder as he pulled my hair back and drilled himself into me.
“Please, please, please,” I cried out, although I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to stop or continue. I could feel another orgasm building up in me, and my hips bucked against his in response.
He seemed to delight in my incoherency. He dug his fingers into my hips, and the pain mingled with the pleasure. “Oh, Annie, you have no idea,” he breathed. “You knew you were in trouble when you met me. . . . You knew I wouldn’t make it easy for you. . . .”
His words were pounding into my head, almost as hard as he was pounding into me.
“What do you want from me?” I screamed out.
“I want you to come for me, Annie. I want you to come harder than you’ve ever come before.”
Everything rose to a fever pitch at that moment, and a delicious release sent that stream of heat cascading through me. The wave of light nearly knocked me over, but it was accompanied by the dark vortex of his orgasm, which poured into and out of me. His heat mingled with mine, and we both collapsed into a heaving mass of flesh on his bed. As if the purity of my pleasure weren’t enough, I could feel him continuing to melt into me. His arms reflexively wrapped around me until he was spooning me in his bed, his warm breath nuzzling the nape of my neck. His hand cupped my breast, and I felt all of me sigh and sink back into him. It was perfect—this sensation of fullness and sweetness in the aftermath of that kind of passion. I could barely believe it, but I was so spent that I instantly felt my eyelids grow heavy, and before I knew it, we were both asleep in each other’s arms.
In the middle of the night, we found each other again, wordlessly.
I awoke to his hand running down my side, gently, lightly, to my hip, as if he were taking the time to memorize every contour and curve of my body. I turned to look at him, and his heated gaze instantly filled me with need. His touch was so light as it roamed my body that it drove me wild by the time it reached my thigh. My head leaned back, my neck arching, and I moaned, the sound emitting from deep within me. I didn’t know how much more I could take. I was about to plead for him, to say I needed more of him now, when he rolled on top of me. We were both already breathing heavily.
He ran his fingers gently along my neck, then placed tender kisses there and ran his tongue along it. When his face hovered over mine, our eyes met. His gaze spoke of longing and needing and wanting, as I’m sure mine did. Because I needed him more than I’d ever needed anything in my life.
He quickly put on a condom, and I opened myself to him. My body accepted him eagerly as I shifted to accommodate all of him. When he was fully inside me, he sucked in a breath and paused.
“Fuck, Annie,” he said, his head down, his voice harsh. “You’re amazing.” He looked up, our eyes met again, and I swear I felt a profound shift between us. That we were experiencing something ethereal.
He started moving slowly, and it was lovemaking through and through. Tender. Slow. Amazing.
The tormenting, slow-building tension reached a breaking point for me when I came first, running my nails up Chase’s back as the delicate muscles inside me contracted around him. Soon after, Chase cried out, “Aaaa-nnie!” as he pushed into me with several final thrusts. Then he collapsed on top of me as we both struggled to catch our breath.
When he pushed himself up to look at me, we smiled at each other, before I suddenly felt self-conscious and looked away. He turned my face back toward him, his smile gone, and kissed me deeply, intensely.
How did he have such an effect on me?
I didn’t dream that night. I experienced perhaps the deepest and most restful sleep of my life, but when I woke up, it was to the vague sound of sirens several blocks away and the feeling of warm sun pouring in through the skylight. I looked up through a haze of sleep and noticed that the skylight was spattered with droplets of paint, as if someone had thrown several paintbrushes up in the air.
The contents of last night began to flood my memory, and I suddenly shot up in the bed, realizing I wasn’t in my dorm room. Chase must have pulled the blankets up over us at some point, because, thankfully, my body was covered.
I could barely believe what had taken place between this beautiful boy and me. His hair was softly ruffled, and his green eye
s were both playful and soft, a combination I wasn’t accustomed to seeing from him. He smiled and scooted closer to me on the bed, then kissed me softly and warmly. I practically melted. Thank goodness he didn’t appear to suffer from morning breath.
“You sleep like the dead,” he said matter-of-factly, which made me giggle nervously.
“Actually, I’m a pretty light sleeper. I guess I just felt . . . safe,” I said, tightening the covers around me and wishing it were still dark outside. Chase seemed to notice, and in response, he tore the covers off me.
“Hey!” I squealed, feeling goose bumps forming on my skin in response to the cold gust of air. “Why'd you do that?”
He smiled sweetly and pinned my shoulders onto the bed as he lowered his weight onto my body, which instantly sent a wave of heat through me. “Because you’re sexy and I want to look at you.”
I didn’t know how to respond, but when I noticed flecks of purple paint in his hair, I began to laugh. “Chase . . . you . . . you have paint in your hair!”
“Oh yeah? Well, so do you!” He wrapped a few tendrils of my hair around his fingers, and I noticed large flecks of purple in the gold. I groaned. We must have knocked over one of his cans of paint in our haste to get each other’s clothes off last night. Chase didn’t seem too miffed by it, however, as he curled his arms and legs around me and looked at me in a way that made me feel like I was a goddess, rather than a paint-covered mess.
I closed my eyes and sighed happily, then opened them to take a quick inventory of my surroundings. The space was one giant room, and Chase’s bed—a queen-size mattress with no frame—was in one corner. Overall, it was surprisingly less dingy than I’d thought. The place was filled to the brim with industrial trappings: distressed-brick walls, concrete floors fashionably equipped with self-conscious fault lines and exposed beams. It was surprisingly sunny and even somewhat cheerful, what with the tons of canvases lying around (which Chase had obviously been putting to good use) and the colorful murals that covered the walls with triumphant splashes of paint.
“Have you been living here long?” I asked, suddenly curious.
Chase shrugged. “I used to share the space with buddies—it was just a studio, kind of. But then it became where I spent most of my time . . . a place where Kyle and I could crash without feeling like we were just passing through.”
“Does Kyle live here, too?” I looked around for signs of a sixteen-year-old skateboarder but couldn’t see any.
“Nah. Too damn independent for his own good,” Chase chuckled. “He has friends he stays with, and sometimes he likes to hang out here . . . but whatever. I was sixteen not that long ago, you know?”
“Yeah, me too.” A spontaneous shudder of cold racked my body at that moment, despite Chase’s warmth, which made him curl into me even more.
“How are you feeling?” He looked at me intensely and brushed my hair back gently, which made me smile. I cupped his face in both my hands and let myself be held in his gaze.
“I feel . . . I feel amazing, surprisingly,” I said. “I mean, after that run-in with the cops, I thought for sure that we were screwed, so I guess I’m experiencing some kind of cathartic awesomeness.”
Chase shook his head, suddenly assuming a serious demeanor. “Uh-uh, Goldilocks. I don’t think that’s what the awesomeness is all about.”
I felt shy all over again, despite the fact that I’d had the most mind-blowing sex of my life last night. But I couldn’t tell if this was real or not, as there was one nagging question on my mind. “So . . . why me?” I asked almost reluctantly.
Chase studied me for several agonizingly long moments, which made my heart stop.
“I guess I like blondes.” He gave me a devious grin, which made me punch him in the arm.
“Seriously, why did last night happen?” I was almost afraid to ask, but I had to know.
He caressed my right arm with a lingering touch that made me feel all shuddery and weak-kneed. “I don’t know, Annie, there was just something about you. Your eyes, your walk, your hair, your smile, the way you held yourself, like you knew there was something better and truer than all the bullshit. I could see that from the moment I met you.”
“But you totally hated me!”
Chase rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You’ve never heard the old saw about little boys being mean to little girls not ’cause they’re trying to be dicks but ’cause they can’t express how they really feel?”
I brushed my fingertips across his jaw. “So you admit you like me?” I asked.
“There’s no way I would have done what we did last night if I didn’t feel . . . something for you.” He looked serious as he said this, almost as if he were pleading with me to believe him. “You know, I’m used to girls liking me not for who I am, but for who they think I might be.” The set to his jaw was hard as he said this. “With you, it just felt . . . like I could be myself, like I could talk about art without sounding like a complete dick.”
I smiled. “Well, to be fair, you were a complete dick from time to time.”
“If that’s the way you interpret passion—”
I put a finger over Chase’s lips, which felt soft and warm. I didn’t want this to descend into another argument between us. “I do appreciate your passion, Chase. And your talent. And your body.” To further my point, I reached for him beneath the covers, delighted to find him standing at attention.
“Okay, my turn—what about me?”
I was confused. “What about you?”
“I told you why I felt something for you, but you haven’t said why you deigned to give me the time of day after I was such a dick to you,” he said half-jokingly. “So enlighten me—why me?”
I looked up at the ceiling, enjoying the spattering of radiance coming through the painted skylight. It felt good to be this honest with Chase, this intimate. I could tell he wasn’t accustomed to sharing his feelings with women, that he and Daisy had probably seldom indulged in pillow talk after a hot night. I felt both tender and flattered.
“I guess . . . when you told me more about your family, about your brother, it made me realize you and I aren’t so different from each other.”
He raised an eyebrow. “We aren’t?”
“Look, I don’t know what you think about me, but I didn’t grow up with servants or a silver spoon in my mouth or anything like that. My dad walked out on me and my mom when I was a baby. Mom was a waitress in shitty truck-stop diners, and most of my clothes came from those charity drives they do around the holidays, when people collect winter coats for the poor and needy. I came from a small town, so I didn’t have to contend with the mean streets, but it was always a struggle.” I paused. “The only thing I ever wanted was to immerse myself in art, so, despite all the bullshit, I was focused. I knew there was something better out there for me.”
Chase closed his eyes. “Awww, Goldilocks. I had no fucking idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Are you kidding me? You were too busy lecturing me about the forlorn state of gallery art to listen—I mean really listen—to anything I had to say.”
He looked genuinely hurt when I said that, which made me throw my arms around him and squeeze him. “Hey,” I said softly. “It’s all water under the bridge. What’s important is that we’re here right now.”
Chase nodded. “Annie, when we met a few weeks ago? That’s not really me—it’s the armor I have to put up to deal with all the fucking hacks and opportunists I run into. So . . . I’m sorry.”
I widened my eyes in mock surprise. “O . . . M . . . G . . . Stop the presses! Chase Adams says he’s sorry?”
Chase growled and pulled my hair back so that he had better access to my breasts, which he covered with little bites. I squealed at the sensation.
“So, you ready for breakfast?” he asked.
I took a glance around the large room. “Um, yeah, I’m starving—but I don’t see a kitchen in here.”
Chase gave me a wicked grin. “There ain’t
one. I’m taking you out, Goldilocks. But first, I want an appetizer.”
Before I could say or do anything, Chase dove beneath the blanket, and I could feel his fingers and tongue set fire to me. I looked up at the skylight, letting the sun shower down over my face and shoulders. I noticed the paint on the skylight was arrayed in different colors, like an accidental rainbow that had been created in the fury of Chase’s creative process. I closed my eyes tight and let out a moan as I dug my fingers into the mattress.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Although it took us a while to muster the willpower to get out of bed and keep our hands off each other, we eventually did. After a long, luxurious bath in a clawfoot tub (which was, for some reason, hidden away in one of Chase’s massive walk-in closets), we ended up at a mom-and-pop diner not far down the street. I was astonished at my appetite—I had a massive cheeseburger, which Chase seemed to approve of (“No salads for any girl of mine,” he insisted). Apparently, the adrenaline rush of the night before had made me burn more calories than I could afford to lose. Thankfully, I didn’t have any classes today, so I could go back to the dorm and catch up on all my projects, but it was still painful to have to part ways with Chase.
As he dropped me off at the subway station, I began to wonder if any of this was too good to be true. I was amazed at how sweet and funny Chase was being, but I also hoped it wasn’t his way of keeping me on a string. I wasn’t that experienced in the realm of sex and dating, but I knew all about guys who used their charm and good looks to their advantage. Given all the warnings I had received, from both friends like Kendra and enemies like Elsie, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat guarded. Chase noticed and grabbed me by the shoulders so we were facing each other.
“You okay?” he asked, searching my eyes. “You got all quiet.”
For some reason, as much as we’d shared, I had no interest in airing my insecurities. Besides, I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe our night together really had meant something to him—he didn’t give me any reason not to trust him.
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