More Than Lies (More Than #1)(70)

I’ve never felt this kind of frenzied need prior to him. I’ve always enjoyed sex; well, except the night I lost my virginity. That was an inexperienced mess, not to mention a waste of my time. But right now, I need him inside me again. Especially if this will be the last time. I want to savor him, relish every part of his body. My mind may have accepted my reality, but my heart and body isn’t ready just yet.

I reach out and grab his shaft. Shawn lifts his body slightly, allowing me to move my hand up and down his length in its entirety. I do so with slow strokes.

“Fuck, Tara. Shit that feels . . . fuck.” His right arm disappears underneath the covers, his palm running down my bare torso until it meets the top of my legs. He slows, wrapping his hand around my thigh and pulling it back to part my legs. My body is open for him to explore once again.

Jared and I have had plenty of sex, but never four times with five orgasms in a matter of hours. Who the hell even knew that was possible? Not this girl. Shawn’s mouth is just as skillful as the cock I’m stroking right now.

“Tara, baby.” I could get used to him calling me that. I know not to. Shawn’s palm moves back to my center. He doesn’t waste any time and runs his middle finger up and down the length of my folds, disappearing inside me.

“Ahh,” I moan on contact with his swift entry. “More.”

“Tar . . . oh shit don’t fucking stop, baby.” I increase my pace, tightening my grip a little. “We used all the condoms last night.”

Shawn adds another finger then starts a pumping motion, exiting and entering me over and over again. It feels divine. His lips find mine, and I open my eyes to peer into his. I’ve never shared eye contact with someone during an intimate moment before Shawn. This is like nothing I’ve ever experienced; it’s erotic, passionate, uninhibited, and yet vulnerable. This kind of intimacy is so different that it scares me. And it feels so good.

Before I can make another plea for more, his thumb brushes against my clit. I want to scream, but instead I clamp my teeth together. His thumb begins to circle as his middle and ring finger pump into me, faster and harder. I feel the beginnings of my free fall starting. I increase my speed on Shawn’s cock. I want him ready to come when I do.

Between the kissing, our tongues molding together, my legs spread and accepting his assault, and intense strain on my hand that’s pumping him to his own orgasm, I don’t realize the door to Shawn’s bedroom is opening until Mason’s voice halts us both, ruining what I was seconds away from receiving.

“Hey man, have you—” Mason stops. “Holy, fuck.” Shawn’s head and mine turn to see Mason and Shane standing in the doorway. Mason is shocked. Shane looks distraught, and perhaps even angry. He’s the first to leave, turning and disappearing. Mason just stares like he doesn’t know what to do.

“Get the fuck out, dude!” Shawn yells as he rips his fingers out of me.

“Yeah, sorry.” Mason turns, closing the door.

“Ah, fuck.” He whispers and then rolls off me, away from me. I look up toward the ceiling. I don’t like it, but there’s zilch I can do or say. Realization has probably dawned on him. He told me last night not to regret our night and I don’t, but I don’t think he can say the same.

I sit up, holding the sheet against my chest to start looking for my clothes, but all I see are my panties and Shawn’s T-shirt. I stand, getting dressed in my underwear and his tee.

“Tara,” he pleads. I don’t look at him. I’m scanning the floor for my clothes, but I still can’t locate them.

“I need a shower. I’m—” Shawn cuts me off.

“Tara,” he says my name again. I’m not doing this. I know what it was, and I know what it wasn’t. There is no need to hash anything else out.

“Don’t, Shawn. Let’s leave it here.” And in my head where I’ll replay every intimate moment from our time together in his bed. Later. Right now I need out of this room. Shawn doesn’t say another word, and I give up looking for my clothes. I leave, heading to my room so I can shower and prepare for today. I don’t want to face it, but I’ve got to stop living in a fantasy.

My brother is gone, and I’ll never get another second with him again.





Once I’m dressed and my wet hair is pulled back into a ponytail, I head downstairs. The steaming shower did nothing to ease the pressure bearing down inside my chest, unfortunately. It’s back at full force, as strong and severe as it was last night before Shawn got home and temporarily took away the pain.

I hear the racket in the kitchen before my feet land at the bottom of the stairs.

“Would someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Mason demands. His voice has none of his normal playful tone. I enter the kitchen and all three—Shawn, Mason, and Shane—turn to face me. I look directly at Mason.

“Trent . . . he’s gone. He’s dead.” The last word comes out choked. It’s the second time I’ve verbalized that word, and it’s as gut wrenchingly painful as the first. I don’t want it to be my reality, but it is. My brother is gone. Why?

“What?” Mason’s question tears me away from my thoughts. His eyes bug. Turning toward Shane, he says one word, asking about his sister. “Kylie?”

“At your parents’.” Shane’s response is a mere whisper.