Bad Boy Blues(37)

Everything inside me is… in chaos. The pounding of my heart, all the extra air that I’m sucking in, the tug in my stomach.

It’s like an earthquake.

I’m a victim of an earthquake. I’m a victim of him.

“He stretched… he stretched me out,” I whisper, looking at him with foggy eyes.

Except, aren’t victims supposed to be in pain? Aren’t they supposed to be either lifeless or close to it?

I’m none of those things.

I’m alive. I have more life in me than anyone else on this earth.

Zach swallows, his own eyes appearing glassy like mine.

“Don’t lie to me, Blue,” he rasps, clutching my hair with mean fingers.

I jerk when he says my name. Well, the name he gave to me. The name that I’ve always, always loved in secret. In fact, I never even acknowledged it to myself.

I’m acknowledging it now.

Maybe because Zach not only says it, he makes me taste it. I never thought you could taste a name, especially not your own. But mine tastes… musky and spicy.

As if it were a truth serum, words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. “You’ll find it. The… thing. Inside of me.”

His lips part too and he expels a pent-up breath. I take in his air, filling my body with what was once in his.

“Zach, I –”

My words cut off when he moves away from my lips. A moment later, I feel him on my neck. He’s nosing the line of my throat.

I grip his biceps. “A-are you smelling me?”

“Yeah,” he groans.

I flinch and my neck bends sideways. I’m nothing in the face of his aggression right now. The way he’s sniffing my neck, like he’s snorting a line of cocaine. I’m nothing in the face of that need.

Need of a junkie.

“Why?”

“Because you smell nice. Like sugar.”

And sugar is his favorite thing in the world. He’s eating up my scent.

God.

I arch my back when he gets to the triangle of my throat, and I take a deep sniff of my own. What I smell is exactly what I fell asleep to, in his bed.

His blueberry pie and musky scent.

“Y-you smell good too,” I blurt out, then clench my eyes shut in embarrassment.

Zach lifts his head and I have to open my lids when I feel his panting breaths over my lips.

He looks drugged up, I swear.

His pupils are wide, swirling like he really just took a hit of something potent, a narcotic that jacks up your heartbeat and sends you into the stratosphere.

“Do you know what else I’ll find?” he rasps, his fingers touching the pulse on my neck.

“What?”

“If I touch your pussy right now. Do you know what I’ll find?”

The P word is even more intimate than the V word and I can’t stop myself from arching my back even more and fisting his shirt.

And neither can I stop my pussy from clenching, opening and closing like a mouth. “No.”

Zach rubs our lips together. “Wet. I’ll find it wet. And swollen and slippery and fucking horny.”

Slippery.

I’m slippery.

I can feel it. The moisture, sticking to my panties.

“I can smell you from here. Your pussy’s wet, Blue. She’s so fucking wet. She’s leaking. For me. She wants me. She doesn’t hate me, does she?” he says, pouring his words down my throat, jamming it with them.

He’s right.

He is.

I can smell myself too. I smell spicy and musky, just like my name.

And then, I see myself.

Sprawled around him. My dress is hiked up to the tops of my thighs, my pale skin is glistening under the light. I’m holding on to his shoulders like he’s going to save me from everything bad in the world.

When he is everything bad in the world.

In my world. Him.

But what shocks me more than anything is that he’s… hard. His dick is hard and it’s pressed up against the most intimate part of me.

The bulge in his jeans is right up at my wet panties and I like the weight of it, the heat of it.

“I don’t. I don’t… want to…”

Finally, Zach stops and looks into my eyes and a tear breaks free, streaming down my cheek.

His thumb wipes off that tear with such tenderness that a few more shake loose and follow its path.

“You don’t wanna feel this way, do you?”

I shake my head. “No. Not for you. N-not for someone who…” I swallow as the words rip out from somewhere very, very deep inside of me. “Someone who makes me hate. Someone who doesn’t let me move on and let go. You change me. I don’t know how you do that but you change me into a worse version of myself.”

Something goes off in my chest, then. A bomb of memories.

Memories of that night three years ago when I said all sorts of things to him: the prom night.

You know how in love, you become a better person? You make me a worse person, Zach. I’ve never hated anyone the way I hate you. You’re nothing but a big, fucking bully. That’s all you’ll ever be. I’ll never forgive you for what you did tonight. For all the things you’ve done before. I’ll hate you till the day I die…

Zach breathes through his nose, clenching his teeth. “Yeah. I do, don’t I? So next time when I tell you to stay away from me, you do that. If I look at you, you look the other way. If you see me walking down the corridor, turn around and take a different route. Because the next time I see you in front of me, I’ll take it as an invitation. If you keep throwing yourself at me, I’ll snatch you up. And I’ll make you pay for it on your goddamn back.”