Illusions That May (Court High 2)

He gripped me, his throat bobbing. “I was there. I was there, and I told you that. We were out on Route 80, but she didn’t drink.”

“Why were you guys out there? Why?”

He had to physically grab my hands now, his jaw working.

“That girl left her fucked up,” he said, his swallow hard. “That girl she was seeing? Paige was angry, upset. She wanted to deal with it, but I was called away. My dad needed me that night for some stupid Court thing. I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed.”

He said that, again and again. My face scrunched up. “How did she want to deal with it?”

He said nothing, his thumb moving along my jaw. “She wanted Court intervention, but I swear, December. She was fine. At least I thought she was. The drinking must have happened after I left somehow. I never gave her any alcohol. Didn’t think she had anything, but she must have. The cops think she sent me the texts after she did attempt to leave, wandering the tracks to the next town, but she was drunk, December. Just so drunk.” He paused, a gasp in his throat. “The time stamp on the texts were literally an hour before the train came through that town.”

I dizzied then, dizzied until I fell into his arms. I hit at his biceps. I thrashed against them. I recalled my dad telling me something similar, that there was an accident and they found evidence my sister had been hit in a neighboring town, but how could I believe it? It contradicted everything.

Until it didn’t.

It all came crashing down in a wave of reality, a wave I wasn’t ready for and I wasn’t the only one.

Mighty arms secured around me like a lifeline, like I was the lifeline and needed as equally as I needed the embrace. Royal buried his face into my neck, holding on to me for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, Em,” he rasped, the words gasping over and over. He gripped my hair. “I’m so sorry.”

He did nothing, not his fault. Paige’d wanted his help and he probably would have done anything to give that to her. He would have ruined the very existence of whoever this girl was who screwed over my sister. He just hadn’t gotten the chance.

There were many times some of the things Royal did truly intimidated me and sometimes even scared me. He was intense and borderline lethal.

But he was also this.

He was caring, had a heart, and he showed me that with his vulnerability and comfort. He held me, consoling me when he himself no doubt was cut to ruins. I kissed him, his mouth pausing.

But then that stopped too, his hands coming down my shoulders until he had hands full of my bottom. I’d put on a T-shirt and bed shorts, and he pushed hands underneath the latter.

“December…” He kissed me hard, his mouth pulling apart my lips. He lifted me, my legs wrapped around his waist while he made me forget. He made us both forget, his hands pulling my ponytail holder out as he brought me to the bed. He set me down next to Hershey, kissing me.

“We shouldn’t,” he rasped, but didn’t stop. He cradled my face. “We can’t. I shouldn’t…”

Maybe he didn’t want to do this because of the situation. Maybe he knew we were both in pain, and clearly, this was an avenue to block any of that. But I knew something too. I needed him, and I know he needed me.

I pushed him back, only enough to place Hershey into her dog be

d. After that, I was pulling him with me, guiding him to his back while I worked my clothes off. I tossed my T-shirt, my breasts free, and he cupped one, instantly making me cry out. I think it was too much because before I knew it, Royal shifted the tables.

He captured my lips, the entire mass of his hard body pinning me beneath him. Working off his shirt, he exposed his chest, golden and perfect and hot when he pressed himself against me. He thrust into me through my underwear, kissing me deep into the sheets.

“Em…” He quivered, actually quivering over me. “Em, I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

He kept saying that, that he was sorry. Sorry for me, us? I didn’t know, but he was. He was sorry in this situation, and I was sorry too, sorry for us both. We shouldn’t have to deal with this, but this is what we had, each other.

I tasted his tongue and he let me, his hand moving into my underwear. He touched me where it ached, and as I rose up, his eyes rolled back. Like he loved touching me just as much as I loved to be touched. He guided my legs out of my panties, and after working his pants down, he got a condom out of his wallet. He made sure that protection was on good between us. He protected me, and when he eased my legs apart, I cried out again.

“Royal…” I gripped his biceps, the tears falling. He kissed them away, shaking above me with every thrust. He moved slow at first, picking up and hugging me to him. He wouldn’t let me go, apologizing again. He was really holding the burden and maybe forever since he’d been out there with my sister.

I cried while he apologized, the pair of us a complete mess, but we didn’t stop. We didn’t because it felt good. It felt close and loved, and I didn’t think either one of us wanted to let go of that. We both knew what would happen once we were out of this bed and away from each other’s arms. We did and we weren’t ready.

Royal kissed me hard as I reached my peak, his thrusts hard as he hit his. Even still, he wouldn’t let go. We both rode it out, tomorrow another day.

I hoped tomorrow never came.

Two