The high I felt as I approached the edge of my release vanishes as he backs away from me.
I blink several times, not understanding why he pulled away and then glare at him. I swear to God if he’s leaving me high and dry like this it’ll be the cruelest thing anyone has ever done to me.
“How much do you want me?” Liam asks in a husky voice as he shoves down his shorts and strokes himself.
My mouth waters and I lick my lips as a bead of precum forms on the seam of his head. If that’s what he wants, fine. I want him. Even more, I want him to know how much I need his touch. I have no shame in giving him the pleasure he gave me.
I try to get down on my knees, but he stops me, grabbing my wrist. I see hesitation in his eyes as he searches my face. “I told you, you don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to,” I whisper. He takes a step forward and grabs my ass in his hands, picking me up and pushing my back against the wall.
“This is how I want you,” he says, looking deep into my eyes. My heart races in my chest. He lines his dick up as his lips crash against mine with desperation. In one quick thrust, he’s buried deep inside of me and I scream out with pleasure.
My body heats as he slowly pulls out and then hammers his hard cock into me. His large girth stretches my walls, but he doesn’t give me a moment to adjust. My breathing halts, and my head thrashes. My nails dig into his shoulders. I want him closer and deeper, but I also need him farther away. It's too intense. It's too much. But it feels so fucking good.
“I fucking want you,” he growls as he picks up his pace. My back pounds against the wall with his merciless pace. A strangled cry is ripped from my throat.
I scream out his name as he ruts between my legs, kissing and biting my neck.
My nails scratch along his bare back as I try to escape the intense pleasure, but he has me pinned. My chest heaves, and my head slams against the wall as an overwhelming pleasure paralyzes my body. My toes stick out straight and I fall recklessly over the edge. My mouth opens with a silent scream as my body tenses and then my nerve endings come alive all at once, exploding with indescribable pleasure, and I find myself screaming out his name.
He groans my name in my ear and thrusts short shallow strokes, each one rubbing against my throbbing clit and prolonging my orgasm. My nails dig into his back and my teeth press down on his shoulder as my pussy clamps down on his dick and waves upon waves of pleasure rock through my body.
I sag against him, catching my breath, and he holds me for a moment before setting me down on the floor. I feel so weak. My entire body is limp and heavy.
I lean panting against the wall as Liam pulls his shorts up and heads down the short hallway to the kitchen. My pussy is sore, and my clit is still throbbing. I close my eyes and rest my hot cheek against the cool wall and try to calm my racing heart.
I pick my panties up and pull them into place. There’s a bit of cum on my thigh, but I try to ignore it.
The lust-filled haze quickly dissipates and I look down the hall and to the door as Liam turns on the faucet.
How pathetic am I? I wrap my arms around my shoulders. He dumped me, and I came over here and let him fuck me. My mouth opens as I realize that’s exactly what happened. I cover my face and try to keep myself from crying.
I should just leave before he has a chance to kick me out and give me another it’s-not-you-it's-me speech.
Before I can make my move, I hear Liam’s hard steps come down the hall. The old wooden floor creaks and he comes back into the foyer with a neatly folded, damp paper towel.
He stops in his tracks as he registers the look on my face. I keep my eyes on the floor. I can’t believe how pathetic I am.
“I’m gonna go,” I manage to say and take a step toward the door. He reaches out and grabs my waist, stopping me and forcing me to look up at him.
His mouth opens, but he doesn't say anything for a moment. My heart barely beats in my chest. Finally he says, “I have some cocoa,” he nods to the kitchen, “if you wanna stay.”
I look back at him, not knowing what to say. I only want to stay if he really wants me to. If he really wants me.
As if reading my mind, he takes my hips in his hands, pulling me closer and puts his nose against mine. “I’m sorry.” He kisses the tip of my nose and I close my eyes. “I’m sorry I texted you that. I want you, Elle.” He brushes the hair out of my face and adds, “Please stay with me tonight.” He kisses my hair. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Chapter 13
Liam
So much for ending it. I look over my shoulder at my Elle. I tried to do the right thing. That’s gotta count for something. She should’ve walked away. Now she’s mine. She has no fucking clue what she's gotten herself into. I don't give a shit though. I'm not letting her go now.
Elle takes a deep breath as we sit on the sofa. She’s got her mug in both her hands and she brings it up to her chin and blows. She’s not looking at me. I know she’s still feeling a certain way about me doing that shit. I made her dinner, and we ate in mostly comfortable silence with my arm wrapped around her waist. I don't mind eating with my left hand if that means I can give her some of the comfort she needs. But she's still not quite right. It'll take time, but she'll forgive me for being an ass. I know she will.
“You okay?” I ask as I wrap my arm around her hips and bring her a little closer. I’m careful not to tug her too hard so her cocoa doesn’t spill.
She looks up at me with her beautiful eyes and it breaks my heart. “I don’t know that I’m going to be okay.”
I lean forward and set my cup down on the coffee table. She will be, I'll make sure she will. “I said I’m sorry.” I put a hand on her thigh and keep eye contact with her. I wish she’d put her cup down, but she’s holding on to it for dear life.
She shakes her head gently and her long dark hair shifts slightly. “I mean…” She clears her throat and puts the cup down before lifting her feet onto the sofa and hugging her knees. I let my hand fall to the sofa. She doesn’t look at me. “About my dad.”
Her eyes go glassy and I don’t know what I should do. That’s something I just can’t make right. She needs time for that.
“I’m sorry.” I kiss her hair and pull her into my lap, shifting my weight on the sofa and leaning back. Thankfully, she leans into me. I gently run my hand up and down her arm. “He loved you so much.” I remember how he showed me her picture for the first time. He was so fucking proud.
It was the morning after I spent my first night in this place. I’d walked in with a bottle of scotch, thinking about my own father. I threw the key onto the counter and looked around the place. My old house kinda looked like it. But this place was almost completely empty. All that was here was the old kitchen set, joined by me and the scotch. And memories of my mother and father. Mostly of my dad, lying in that fucking hospital bed. I remember the beeping of the machines, and the lines on the screen that meant he was still alive.
I drank a bit too much and passed out in the living room. I don’t even know why I went to his house. I made up some lame excuse. Hungover and looking like shit, he let me in though. First thing he did after making a pot of coffee was show me her picture.
“Why…” She starts to ask something, but then shakes her head and reaches for the cup.
“Why what?” I ask her. I don’t care what her question is; at this point, I’ll break the damn vow I made to him. She needs closure. And if I can give it to her, I will. “Why did he leave everything to you?” she asks and her voice croaks.
She's quick to add, “It’s not about the money. It’s not that, it’s just...” She pushes away from me and grabs the cup again. She doesn’t drink it though, she just takes in a breath and stares straight ahead.
“I know, I know.” I pet her back, helping to calm her a little. “You wanna know if you did something wrong. And you didn’t. I know you didn’t. He…” I trail off, remembering the note on my desk at the office. I wish I’d re
ad it. Maybe he would’ve made some fucking sense in it. “I don’t know why. Maybe he felt like he owed me. He didn’t though.”
She looks at me for a long moment. “Did you know?” she asks. “Did you know he was dying when you met him?”
I can’t lie to her. “Yeah. I knew.”
She nearly spills the cup. I take it from her and set it down. “How long?” she asks in a voice cracked with sadness as tears run down her face. “How long did he know?”
“A while,” I answer her. I can see her heart breaking right in front of me. “Twelve weeks.”
Her shoulders shake with a loud sob and she covers her face with her hands, trying to climb farther into my lap. Like she can't get close enough to me.
“He told you, but not me!” she cries into my chest.
I kiss her hair and shush her. “He didn’t want you to see him like that. He was hoping the treatments would work.”
She takes in a ragged breath and says, “But I talked to him.” Her words are forced, and I can barely make them out. “He could have told me. I wish I'd been there. I would've wanted to be there with him!”
No she doesn’t. She doesn’t know what it was like those last few days. I hired the nurses to do all that shit, but in the last week and a half, he could barely move. I know what she means, and I still wish he’d given her that choice.
“He just wanted what was best for you.” I hold her for a while longer, while she cries it out of her system. After a while she looks up at me, pulling away from my embrace. Her face is red and her cheeks are tearstained. Somehow she looks even more beautiful.
“But why you?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” I answer her with the truth. “I offered him help. And he accepted.”
She takes a few minutes to calm herself down.
“I could’ve helped him,” she whispers. Her eyes close, but she doesn’t cry. She reaches for the cocoa and takes a small, cautious sip. “I wish I’d been there for him.”
“You were with him. Every day he told me stories about you.”
She looks back at me with vulnerability. “Can you tell me?” she asks weakly.
“Tell you the stories?”
“Please,” she whispers. I lean forward and take her lips with my own. My heart hurts so much for her.
When I pull away and look down at her, her eyes are still closed and she’s leaning into my touch. I rub my thumb along the bare skin of her thigh. I wish I could take all that pain away.
“Of course,” I say and tell her every damn story I can remember.
I hold her small body and start with the first one he told me. It's easy to remember that one. And I just keep going. Some of them make her laugh, and a lot of them make her cry. But she lets me hold her the entire time, and just telling her what she meant to him makes the weight lift off my chest.
When I finish the last story and look down at her, she’s passed out. Her chest rises and falls with steady breathing and I easily pick her small frame up and carry her to bed.
I hold her close to me while I try to fall asleep, but it’s not till she rolls over and grips onto me, resting her face against my chest, that I’m able to drift off into a deep sleep with her.
Chapter 14
Lizzie
I don’t know what I should do, I think to myself as I sit down at my computer desk in my bedroom. I haven’t checked my school email in days, and I intend to play catch up. But I can’t. I keep thinking about Liam.
There's also the dilemma that I have yet to receive any money, and I feel like a whore for even thinking about bringing it up.
One date. He hands over my inheritance. That was the deal, and he told me he talked to the lawyer.
It bugs the shit out of me. I don’t know why. I need the money. I have to pay this upcoming semester's tuition, but I don't want to bring it up. I'm so uncomfortable about the entire thing. I love it when I'm with him. I can escape from all this shit. But then when he leaves I have to face the real world. And that world needs money.
Fuck! I don't want to bring it up. I really can't stand the fact that I'm going to have to ask him if he's sending it over soon. It's so awkward.
I have the urge to call Nat and tell her about my problem. At the same time, I don’t want to talk to her. She’s already told me to relax and to just have fun. I’m going to make myself look insane if I call her back, crying about how wishy-washy I'm feeling. I already know what I'm feeling for him this early is just crazy.
Nevermind looking cray cray, I think to myself. I’ll look more like a whore. Shit. Thinking about it makes me feel absolutely shitty. But as the saying goes, the truth hurts.
Trying to push my gloomy thoughts away, I log into my email and go through all the unread messages. Then I go about checking my schedule for next semester and looking to see what textbooks I need to order.
I figure if this thing with Liam crashes, I’ll be able to return to school and bury myself in my studies. Except I can’t even think straight. I’m so damn conflicted. About everything.
Relax, I tell myself. Breathe.
I practice a meditation exercise, trying to ease the stress in my body with deep breathing. It doesn’t work. Sighing in frustration, I blow the hair out of my eyes and look around the room. I hate this. I hate being here. This big, fucking empty house.
Tears pool in my eyes and I get angry. God damn it! I’m so fucking tired of crying!
I shouldn’t be here. I should’ve gone back already. I need to ask Liam for my money and just leave. That’s what I should do. What I feel for him is unhealthy and probably only because of my grief. I don't need a professional to tell me that. It's too soon and too fast.
I don’t need him. I don’t care how he makes me feel. A couple of months after I’m gone, I won’t even remember his name. He’s just a crutch. Someone to distract me from my pain. I can survive without him.
Pain stabs me in the chest. I don’t know if it’s from the thought of leaving Liam, or from the reminder of daddy.
I need to get out of this house, I think to myself. Do something other than wallow in misery. Like fuck Liam.
It’s horrible. I know it’s wrong to be thinking about sex with a man I’m so conflicted by. I just can’t help it.
I jump up from my desk and grab my coat. I need to get out of this house. Some time to think, and then I’ll decide. I either make a commitment to Liam and get one in return, or I leave him. I can’t use him, and I can’t let him use me.
And that's exactly what we're doing.
Chapter 15
Liam
I’m gonna fuck this up. Every day I'm waiting for her to tell me she's pissed about something. I fucking love what we have, but I know I'm gonna ruin it. I’ve never done this before and I’m not the kind of man who knows how to hold onto a woman. I've never tried to, and I don’t wanna put myself out there when they can leave me. That’s what people do, they leave you. I don’t want that. But for her, I feel like I don’t have a choice. Everything in me wants to be with her. And I'm just waiting for the moment she up and leaves me.
And it’s 'cause of Richard. The reminder of him brings me to the desk in the living room. It’s an old flimsy desk, nothing like what I have at work. Richard had asked me to store it here while he was sorting through his things, making preparations for the end. But on top of it is that damn note. I brought it home from the office and I still haven't read it.
I sit down and stare at it. It’s just a piece of paper. It’s fucking harmless, but it’s making my heart beat faster than it should. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. Why am I being such a little bitch about this?
What if there’s something in it for her? That thought has me reaching out and opening the letter. I don’t know what his last words to me are, but if they’re something she needs, I need to know right now.
The sound of the paper unfolding and soft crinkles as I hold it are the only things I can hear other than the blood rushing in my ears and the thud o
f my own heartbeat. I shouldn't have worked this up so much in my head, but I have.
Dearest Liam,
Well, the time has come to say goodbye, but I wanted to tell you a few things that I found hard to say in person.
You remind me of myself. I never told you, but my father passed when I was young. I didn’t take it very well.
If it wasn’t for Elizabeth's mother, I never would have loved in my entire life. I was filled with anger and hate. But worse than that, I just didn’t want companionship. I wanted to be alone.
Her mother forced her way in. But it was so much later in life, and she passed away only years after having Elizabeth. I wish I’d met her sooner. I wish I’d had more time with her.
I made a mistake, Liam. I need you to fix it. I know you’ve done so much for me, but there’s one last thing.
I regret it all. You were right. I wish I’d spent my dying days with her. It would have been selfish, because I know it would have hurt her to watch me die. Maybe that makes me an asshole, because I know how hard this was for you. But she isn't going to take this easy. And I can't stand the thought that she's going to live her life with pain and hate.
I need you to help her. I didn’t teach her how to want companionship. I don’t want her to live the way I did. I need you there for her.
I’m leaving everything to you. This will help. You’ll need all the help you can get. Without something to hang over her head, you’ll never get through to her.
If she wants to pound her fists on your chest, please let her.
I can see hurt in you, the same pain I had. Let her heal you, too. You’re a good man, and I want her to have a man like you in her life.
I don’t want you two to live the life I had. You deserve more. You deserve better.
I hope you’ll find that in each other.
Best wishes and blessings for you two,
Richard
Tempted: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance Page 10