Reign (The Sainthood - Boys of Lowell High #3)(102)
“No.” He smirks. “I was yanking your chain.”
I slap his chest. “It’s mean to get me all excited like that.”
“We’re addicted to pussy, babe,” Saint says, rocking up inside me. “Your pussy, and that will never change.”
Roars and shouts litter the air behind us, and I grin at Saint as Caz and Theo audibly come together. Saint leans in, kissing me softly. “I love that you support them. I know how much that will mean to Theo, in particular.”
“Get the fuck away from me!” Theo screams, and the bed bounces behind us.
All the blood freezes in my veins.
“Theo.” Caz’s anguished tone slices through me. “Did I…” His choked voice trails off.
Galen and Saint stop thrusting, and we share a concerned look. I don’t know whether to intervene or leave them to work it out themselves.
“Don’t touch me!” Theo shrieks, and the headrest bangs against the wall. “Just leave me alone!”
“Don’t do this,” Caz pleads.
“I. Said. Don’t fucking touch me!” Theo screeches before a pained cry erupts from his throat.
I slide off Saint, communicating with my eyes. He nods, jerking his head at Galen. Climbing off the end of the bed, I pad around it, heading for Theo.
His back is flattened to the headrest, and his head is in his hands, his hair shielding his face, as his shoulders heave. Caz is standing beside the bed, looking dejected and full of remorse. I touch his arm, looking up at him, asking him to trust me with my eyes.
To let me talk to Theo and help him get out of his head.
The pained expression on Caz’s face guts me, and my heart hurts for him. “It will be okay,” I mouth even though I’ve no idea if it will. He stares at me with so much emotion, confusion coexisting with hurt and pain. Sweeping my fingers along his cheeks, I plead with my eyes, begging him to let me handle this.
Reeling me into his arms, Caz holds me tight. I squeeze my eyes shut to ward off the tears that are building when I feel his strong, powerful body tremble against mine. His mouth wanders to my ear. “Tell him I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice steeped in raw agony. Abruptly, he lets me go, not looking at either of us as he walks out of the room with Saint and Galen.
CHAPTER 41
THEO
BLOOD POUNDS IN my head, and my skin itches with an almost incessant need to crawl from this shell and inhabit a different body. I didn’t think it was possible to feel so lost and so together at the same time. To battle heart-soaring happiness, soul-crushing pain, and mind-skewing panic as if they are three parts of the same whole. But that’s how I feel in this moment. Powerful emotion crashes into me from all sides, battering me relentlessly, like an angry wave ravishing everything in its path, hell-bent on destruction, just taking and taking, until it feels like I’m drowning.
“Theo.” The bed dips as Lo joins me. “The others are gone. It’s just us.” Her silky, sultry voice swaddles me like a comfort blanket. “Please talk to me.”
Unshed tears stab the backs of my eyes, and my chest heaves as intense emotion presses down on me, constricting my airwaves, making breathing difficult. Lo places her hand gently on my arm, and that soft touch breaks the fragile walls around my heart, unravelling me. I fall apart as sobs wrack my chest, and my entire body trembles with a host of conflicting emotions.
“Oh, Theo.” Banding her arms around me, she holds me tight as I expunge years of pent-up longing, fear, and self-loathing.
I bury my face in her neck, clinging to her toned curves, allowing the heat from her body and the familiar spicy scent of her perfume to soothe me. She presses kisses into my hair, holding me close, supporting me with her empathic silence, her unspoken words.
When I’m all cried out, I finally face her, feeling both burdened and freer at the same time. I’m suffocating under a pillow of contradiction, and I can’t clear the haze from my brain long enough to make sense of everything churning inside me.
“Baby.” She brushes knotted strands of hair away from my face. “Please talk to me. What is going through that beautiful, compassionate, intelligent mind?” Cupping my face, she dots tiny kisses all over my chin and cheeks.
“My head is a mess,” I admit in a hoarse voice, my throat scratchy from crying. “I’m feeling too fucking much.” I gulp over the lump in my throat.
“Do you regret it?” she tentatively asks, caressing my face with her fingers.
I immediately shake my head. “No. No, I don’t.” I can’t regret something I’ve craved for years or deny that it more than lived up to my expectations. The act itself isn’t the issue. It’s the aftermath of wild, uncontrollable emotion I’m struggling with.
“Then what?” Compassion shimmers in her eyes. “Did it hurt? Or you didn’t like it or…”
“Fuck, no. It was …” I’m struggling to find the right words to describe all that I’m feeling, but I’m not sobbing on this bed like a basket case because Caz hurt me or I didn’t enjoy it.
Lo and I experimented a lot when we were together, and she’s used dildos, butt plugs, beads, vibrators, and prostate massagers on me. Tools I’ve continued using by myself because I wanted to be prepared to seize the opportunity if it arose. “I liked it. A lot,” I truthfully admit, because nothing compares to a warm, hard, real dick sliding in and out of my ass. Or the guy in charge of it, ensuring he took care to make it enjoyable for me. Honestly, I wouldn’t have wanted any other guy taking me for the first time but Caz.