When No One Is Watching(65)
His mouth moves as desperately as mine, his tongue searches as frantically; a groan slips between my lips but I can’t pinpoint its origin—him or me.
He backs me up to the wall of the bedroom, one hand sliding from my shoulder to my neck and resting there—not squeezing, but simply restraining. Holding me, keeping me from falling apart. Heat sears through my body at his touch, at the fact that he understands it isn’t roughness that would hurt me right now, but coddling. His eyes are too kind for his touch to be gentle—I wouldn’t be able to stand that. So he holds me as his mouth crushes into mine and his hips grind against me, his arm wedged between us.
He glances into my eyes a few minutes later, face flushed and eyes stormy. His fingertips stroke under my jawbone as he asks, “Do you need more?”
When I nod, he lowers his hands to my hips and his mouth to my neck, sucking at my skin, rubbing his lips across my collarbone. My nipples are hard points through the fabric of my camisole and he teases them through the fabric with his teeth as I drive my hands into his hair. He uses his chin to drag the top of my shirt down, and his light stubble teases my sensitive skin before he sucks a nipple between his lips.
For the first time in months, my mind is gloriously clear, all of my troubles and pain hacked away by the pleasure of Theo’s tongue swirling over my nipples, first right, then left, of his hands pressing my hips against the wall so that when they lift involuntarily my ass is forced to remain against the wall.
“Theo.” I shove at his shoulders and his hands are off me instantly, his tongue a second later. He looks up at me, brows raised, and when I push him again, he tumbles back onto my bed with a grin, hands already reaching up to catch me to him as I scramble on top of him.
I fumble in the bedside table drawer for a condom and lube, and Theo takes advantage of my raised hips and shoves down his pants and boxers.
He follows my lead as I roll us over, but stops moving as I reach between our thighs to pump his veiny shaft, to slide the condom on and warm the lube using my fingertips.
He’s looking at me all gentle again, so I lift my head and kiss him hard as I hold his gaze, tease his bottom lip with the threat of a hard bite. I feel his grin between my lips, and then he thrusts into me.
He doesn’t push into me roughly, but I still gasp at the slow, teasing stretch of him. He’s thick, hot, and hard inside of me, his weight crushing me to the bed. He doesn’t move for a second, as if adjusting to being encompassed by my tight heat.
“Sydney.” He lowers his head and kisses me, and when I slide my hands into his hair and tug, when I nip his bottom lip again, he pulls out and drives into me hard.
After that it all moves too quickly, this almost violent desire caused by the care in a crescent of dirt. I’m half off the bed at one point, my head banging against the floor, then on my hands and knees. I flip him onto his back, riding his dick desperately because I need this release, need . . .
He brushes away tears I didn’t realize were rolling down my cheeks with one thumb and strums my clit with the other, and I buckle against him as the orgasm hits me like a cleansing wave.
Chapter 17
Theo
NOT THINKING TOO DEEPLY BEFORE I ACT HAS LED ME DOWN some pretty bizarre paths in life.
Committing crimes with my dad. Lying to get hired at some hot-shit company. Buying a house with someone I’m not married to while having no real knowledge of how owning property works. Trying to siphon money from rich people, and getting caught.
Searching for my neighbor’s mom’s body so I can move it to a safe location.
I’d thought about the first time I handled a dead body as I shoveled up humid mounds of dirt looking for Yolanda Green. My own mom had been watching back then, blood-spattered and angry at me, like I hadn’t just saved her from being the one on the receiving end of a shotgun blast.
Mom and I don’t talk about that.
Ever.
We don’t talk about how I was seventeen and had to leave town abruptly at the beginning of senior year. That’s when I moved in with my dad and learned some things from him that would have come in handy with burying that first body, or maybe would’ve put a stop to the situation before it got that far.
I don’t know where Sydney’s mother is, but I believe that Sydney put her in the ground. I could be wrong, but I’ve been wrong about worse things.
What I’m not sure about is what happened after I got to her apartment. She wanted me, I wanted her, but maybe it was just one of those weird emotional pressure-valve-release things and she was happy for it to end there.
We both passed out after that first round of sex, waking up hours later to the sound of afternoon noise on the block. She got up and had a cigarette, brushed her teeth, and then we did it again, more slowly this time but just as intense. Then we slept some more, until she pulled me into the shower with her after we lay sweating on her bed for a while. In her clawfoot bathtub, she stood naked and soapy beneath my hands, dodging the shower spray because she didn’t want to get her braids wet as she kissed me.
It seemed like some surreal dream outside of everything that’s happened over the last few days, but now we’re back in reality. My body aches from grave-robbing and weird sexual positions and she’s sitting across the table from me, mouth full of guava tart and wide eyes darting back and forth, everywhere but my direction, as she chews.
The air conditioner whines in the background and I fumble around for something to say. I don’t know the banging-after-attempting-to-hide-a-body-for-you etiquette.