by Haley Jenner
“Mm,” he agrees. “You want my tongue to fuck you the way your fingers did, Squirrel?”
“God, yes.”
“That’s my girl,” he growls. “Get naked for me.”
Taking a deep step backward, he watches me undress. His hand rubs against his lips roughly, eyes tight with desire.
“I’m so hard for you,” he tells me as my shorts drop to my ankles.
“Dick is throbbing.” He speaks to the apex of my thighs as my panties follow the path of my shorts.
I step from the material.
“Cum leaking from my tip,” he groans when I pull my shirt over my head, dropping it to the ground.
“Your tits are bigger,” he observes. “I’m gonna fuck them.” His eyes flick upward, meeting mine before dropping back. “Take your bra off, Henley.”
I do as he says.
“It's sick, but a part of me just wants to jerk off while looking at you. I want to decorate every inch of you in my cum.”
I swallow heavily.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He smirks.
I attempt to speak, but my voice cracks. “Yes.” I try again, and his smirk turns cocksure, wide enough to take over the bottom half of his face and brighten his eyes.
“So dirty,” he whispers. Stepping forward, he holds a single finger just above the hollow part of my neck. Without touching me, he drags it down my body until he reaches my sternum. Pushing forward, he sucks my bottom lip between his teeth, letting it go on a growl. “Lie down and open up.”
I’m soaked. My thighs sticky from the effect of his words.
Once I’m positioned the way he wants me, he winks down at me before dropping to his knees.
“’Bout to worship this cunt, Henley. Ready to have your mind blown?”
I growl impatiently, and his soft chuckle tickles my already sensitive lips.
The first touch of his tongue is thick and heavy. Pushing up and against me. Back arching, I groan roughly.
Thumbs tracking down my lips, he massages them back up to open me and bare me completely.
He repeats the heavy lick of his tongue, sucking my clit between his lips as he reaches it.
I cry out his name, and it fires his ferocity. He laps at me desperately. Drowning in me the way he fantasized about.
“You’re not gonna come like this, Henley, so stop trying to fuck my face faster.”
With a whimper, I grab at his hair to grind against his unshaven face roughly.
“You’re gonna come on my cock, sweetheart. I need to feel your orgasm clenching my dick.”
“So close.”
I yank his face back when he pulls away.
“Henley,” he warns, biting my inner thigh hard enough to leave a bruise.
The perfect bite of pain distracts me enough that he frees himself from my grasp.
His face glistens with my excitement. My juices cling to his lips like a snack he wants to savor.
Catching my stare, he licks his tongue down his chin, collecting as much of me as he can.
My knees fall together, thighs clenching at the throb brought on by his vulgarity.
His eyes never leave mine as he tears open the condom wrapper, wasting no time in sliding it on before he’s on and in me in one sharp thrust.
I scream.
He snarls.
He’s lewd and rough and deliciously filthy, and I know deep in my soul that pleasure will never feel like this. Not with anyone else.
Only him.
For always.
Moving to his knees, he pulls my lower half with him, leaving only my shoulders and head on the mattress. A roll of his hips with every few thrusts and my vision blurs, my muscles tensing.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Fuck.”
“Yes.”
“Love the way your tits jump every time I—” He drives forward powerfully to demonstrate, and I grab hold, squeezing my nipples viciously.
“Yeah, baby,” he breathes.
“Brooks.”
“Come, Henley. Drench my dick.”
I can’t swallow the heady cries that fall from my mouth. Wanton sounds of pleasure echoed only by the loud slap of skin as Brooks fucks me harder and faster.
“Come,” he bellows, burying himself completely on one final drive of his hips.
It sends me over the edge, my body fragile like glass, shattering me into a million pieces I never want to glue back together.
“Holy fucking shit, Henley.”
“So good,” I moan.
“Good? That was the best fucking experience of my life.”
I laugh, and he smiles.
Dropping down onto me, he nuzzles my neck.
“For keeps, Henley.”
I kiss his shoulder.
“For always.”
“I need to remove this condom, but I just want to enjoy this for another minute.”
I smile against his skin.
Dressed only in his boxers, he pauses on his way out of the bathroom to drop a kiss to the top of my head as I pull on my panties and shirt.
“I can’t wait to show you around tomorrow.” I don’t even attempt to hide my smile. The wide grin making me look ridiculously giddy and maybe a little juvenile.
Brooks clears his throat, the look of discomfort on his face forcing my smile to fall immediately.
“What?”
Pursing his lips, he scrunches his nose up. “Henley, baby, I’m leaving tomorrow.”
I could swear my heart free-falls at that moment. Plummets from its place in my chest to my feet so fast I feel nauseous.
“I—oh. I thought . . .”
He waits expectantly.
“You thought what?” He pushes gently when I choose silence.
I shake my head side to side vehemently.
Pity overtakes his features as realization dawns. “You thought I was staying.” His eyes close.
Unsure what to say, I grind my teeth.
“Fuck, Squirrel. I don’t know what to say.”
I feel hot. “So this was just a one-night stand? A quick fuck before you go back to your real life?”
He frowns, the crease in his forehead thick with uncertainty. “No.” His head shakes. “Yes.” He sighs. “That’s not what I mean. You sent me the video. You said you wanted me,” he tests on a shrug.
“I’m a booty call.”
"What? No. You’re more than that," he argues.
“It sounds like I made your dick hard, and you’re rich enough to get what you want, when you want it, and you wanted me. You wanted to fuck me,” I correct.
"I flew across the world for you!" he bellows.
"For a night with me," I correct him.
"What?"
"You flew across the world for a night with me. To fuck me, don't romanticize it."
His jaw shakes with unrestrained anger. “What do you want, Henley?”
He takes a poignant step backward, dropping his ass to the edge of the bed where we were only moments ago consumed by one another.
"Nothing." My bottom lip tips out dismissively. "Absolutely fucking nothing."
"Jesus fuck," he spits, rubbing his hands over his face. "I have work. A fucking job that I love, one that pays me really fucking well. One that lets me jump on a plane at any given opportunity to see someone I love. I can't just up and leave it. I have responsibilities."
“Taking photos of women in their underwear.” The heavy sound of my heartbeat perforates my eardrums.
He laughs. The sound full of animosity and judgment. "Says you, who pours booze down the throats of horny backpackers. A rewarding job, Henley?" he incites.
"You're an asshole."
He's quiet for a moment, my words sinking into pores and twisting his face horribly. "That's all you'll ever see, isn't it? How everyone fails you? Instead of feeling the way they love you. I dropped everything and flew to an entirely different country to see you, and still, it's not enough."
"Of course, it's not enough!" I scream. "I
love you. Why would you flying in for a quick and nasty fuck ever be enough?" I step forward, only to back up once again, needing to force a space of separation between us.
"Then come with me," he implores.
He begs, he pleads, with four simple words.
I shake my head.
He doesn't know what he's asking.
"Don't do that, don't fucking deny me before you've even thought it through."
His posture has moved from hostile to defeated. Elbows rested on his knees, body completely still, eyes downcast.
I hate that I want to reach out and touch him. “Of course, I’ve thought it through.”
His eyes lift lazily.
“I think about packing up my life and finding you so much, it’s embarrassing,” I choke out.
“What’s stopping you?”
"I'd be the only one sacrificing."
His body lifts in the same way his eyes did, slowly, methodically. Only this time, there isn’t anything lazy about the movement. It’s soaked in bitterness.
"Sacrificing what?” he barks. “The shithole you live in? The surface friends you meet and leave because you're too fucking stubborn to let anyone in?” He stands, stepping toward me. “What the fuck would you be sacrificing by being with me?"
"Me," I whisper desperately. "I'd be beholden to you the way I was to my parents. I don't want to be dependent on anyone again. I can’t . . . I will not build my life around you. I need a life of my own."
Scratching his neck, it reddens with frustration. "I'm not a fucking prison guard. I just want you with me."
“And I want to find my happiness on my own before I can trust it with someone else.”
“You’ve been searching for years,” he snarls, his resentment giving way to rage. “Don’t you think you would’ve found it by now?”
I refuse to swipe at the tears flooding my eyes, so I let them fall. Cascading down my face in a pain I never imagined Brooks would inflict. “Ouch.”
“You were happy with me.” He speaks through gritted teeth. “Why can’t you fucking see that? Stop chasing a fucking fairy tale.”
My chest aches painfully. “You think me being happy is a fairy tale?” I ask. “A ghost story?”
He growls loud enough to send a spike of unease up my spine.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s what you said.”
He doesn’t respond.
“You got what you came for, so why delay it?” I goad. “Why stay longer? You didn’t get your fill?” My voice raises as I speak. A fit of anger I have no idea how to place seeps through my pores and spews from me violently.
I told Jada he was forever, and he was looking at me like an international booty call.
He came here for one thing, and I played right into his little fantasy.
“You need more?” I rip my shirt from my body, letting my tits bounce free.
His nostrils flare.
My nipples harden.
“Let’s do it then.” I step forward, dragging my tongue across one of his nipples.
“Stop it,” he grits out.
Grabbing his hands, I use them to squeeze my tits, my breath coming out faster. “You don’t want this? You don’t want me?”
“No.”
“No?” I all but screech.
“I mean yes.”
“Then take it, Brooks,” I dare him. “That’s what you’re here for, to get your fill. You’re not interested in my life. You couldn’t give two fucks about my heart. You’re just salivating over my cunt,” I spit the word. “It’s yours, baby.”
“That’s not true. Your heart . . .”
I press my fingers against his lips and offer a quick shake of my head.
“We’re not gonna do that. You’re right. This started with sex, so let’s finish it the same way.”
“I’m asking you to come with me. Live the life you want with me.”
I reach up on my tiptoes. “And I said no.”
“You’re your own worst enemy, Henley Wright.”
With that, his bottom lip slips between mine, the cage of his mouth caressing my top lip in a gentle caress. His kiss utterly tender as his body buzzes with hostility and impatience.
My arduously open best friend.
Loving to his own detriment. Merciless to mine.
He hates himself right now.
For wanting this. For needing to touch me even when he hates me.
He despises himself for letting the poison of our union affect him the way it does.
“I can’t look at you,” he seethes. A complete contradiction to the way his tongue laps at mine eagerly.
Breaking our kiss, I take a step back, not in the least ashamed of how disgustingly desperate I am for this man.
I turn without a word, my hands grasping my panties to slide them down my thighs.
I can feel his breath on my neck.
Watching.
Waiting.
I step forward, lifting a knee to slide it along the bed, but his hand grips at my hair.
“Just bend over the bed. No need to get comfortable.”
My throat tightens with emotion the same way my pussy does with anticipation.
I do as he says, arms sliding into the mussed sheets in front of me, bent at the waist, ready and waiting.
Is this what rock bottom feels like?
The farewell of our self-worth?
This isn’t hate fucking, but it sure as hell isn’t making love.
This is nothing but a selfish sorrowful attempt to erase our pain.
We’re brokenhearted fucking, and as Brooks slides urgently inside me, I conclude it’s the saddest, most depressing moment of my entire existence.
I want to cry.
I want to sob.
But I don’t want him to stop.
I’m a fucking mess.
He barely touches me as he thrusts in and out of my body, and I’ve never felt so detached from anything or anyone in my entire life.
I think that’s what hurts the most right now.
Brooks is the only person I’ve ever felt connected to, and now, he’s taking that away from me with every aloof drive of his hips.
A low growl sounds in his throat, but he clears it as quickly as it comes on, a small sniff giving away the thick roll of emotion coursing through him.
I chance a look over my shoulder, and our eyes collide.
He holds my stare, the blue of his eyes almost black with disaffection.
“Your body responds to mine with limited touch. My cock alone is enough to make you throb,” he seethes. “Do you feel that, Henley?” He slams forward, and I choke on my own breath.
“You clench every time I pull out,” he tells me. “Begging me for more.”
I swallow his words, knowing he’s right.
“Even when my heart is bleeding all over your tipped-up ass.”
I work to ignore the glisten of tears in his eyes.
“Even when your eyes are begging me to tell you I love you. Even when I deny you,” he whispers. “Your pussy begs for more.”
My chin wobbles.
“Your body knows how badly you want me, how fiercely you need me. Your mind is just too weak to take notice.”
My body spasms at the infliction in his tone.
His head shakes. “Fuck. You’re messed up, Henley.”
“I-I know,” I stutter.
“So come for me, baby. Make your pussy apologize for the way your heart tells me you don’t need me the way I need you.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I come apart beneath him, letting my tears stream down my cheeks. I bite my lip, refusing to make a sound as I do as I’m told, and come.
He follows soon after, just as silently and just as broken.
Pulling out, he leaves me cold and alone as he moves to the bathroom to clean up. I use his absence to crawl into his bed, pulling myself under the covers to cry.
He joins me a minute or so later, shutting the room into darkn
ess before settling beside me.
I open my mouth to speak but pause, afraid to talk.
He shifts in the bed, giving me his back.
“You’re punishing me.”
He knows it as well as I do. He’s overcome with frustration at my rejection.
“Just go to sleep, Henley.”
I should tell him I’m sorry.
I should demand the same from him.
Because I know . . . I know when the sun breaks in the morning, he’ll be gone, and my heart won’t just be splintered. It’ll be shattered beyond recognition, large Brooks-sized holes forever hindering the possibility of it ever being whole again.
He says he loves me, but then he leaves me.
How do you walk away from someone you love time and time again?
As I lie there, his body stretched out next to mine, close enough to touch, I think of all the times we’ve almost made it, and it’s only when my eyelids become heavy that realization dawns.
He leaves the same way I do.
Out of necessity.
Because in the end, our individual desire to escape has been more important than our love.
22
HENLEY
AGE 24 (TWO YEARS LATER)
“Addy, that was such a beautiful ceremony.”
I nod along with Evelyn, afraid to speak as the limousine bumps along the road.
I readjust my dress over my knees.
“Are you okay, Hen?”
I glance up at Addy too fast. “Of course. Just completely overwhelmed by all the love,” I lie easily. “In a good way,” I add on with a smile.
I ignore the way Evelyn’s stare burns my profile. My peripheral lets me see the way her eyebrows pull together for the briefest of seconds before releasing as a slow, calculating smile crawls onto her face.
Andrew leans down, kissing Addy’s temple, and she reluctantly turns her inquisitive gaze from me to kiss her husband.
I’m sure it was a beautiful ceremony. There were tears of happiness from the bride and groom. Shit, even Evelyn’s eyes looked red-rimmed following their vows.
I’m ashamed to admit that I spent the twenty-five minutes it took Addy to marry Andrew standing stiffly by her side.
I didn’t hear a single word.
I couldn’t see an inch in front of me.
Every morsel of my mind, body, and soul was consumed by the dark-haired boy from my past.