His tongue pulled back for the barest of seconds, his eyes on me as he murmured, "Give it to me, angel." Then his tongue ring pressed over my clit again and I did, I gave it to him. My orgasm coursed almost violently through my body, starting like a white hot spark where his tongue met me and exploding outward, making my body tremble as it collapsed back on the bed and I groaned out his name.
He didn't move away right at first. His tongue stroked over me for another minute, avoiding my too-sensitive clit, lavishing up my taste, before his head tilted, kissing down my other thigh. His body started to move over mine, his head dipped to kiss up my belly and chest, then up my neck.
I slowly came back into my body, feeling weighted, but in a good way, and calm. I didn't expect to feel calm. I always thought that after I finally did something with someone, that I would feel shy or insecure or regretful. But none of those feelings came. I just felt... satisfied.
My hands drifted up and down his back for a long moment before I heard it: a knocking. It wasn't at my door, it was at his. He either didn't hear it or was ignoring it so I decided to as well. That was, until I heard a female voice calling his name.
My body jolted, but had no way of escaping his body pressing me into the mattress. My hands moved between us, shoving hard at his shoulders. He pushed upward, frown lines between his brows. "What's wrong?"
I knew she was still out there. I couldn't hear her, but I knew she was there. And her presence was taking something that had felt good and special and right... and tainted it. And I only had myself to blame. I knew better. I knew how he was. I knew I couldn't let him in. And then I did it anyway.
Stupid, stupid girl.
"Get out," I heard myself say, my voice a strange, hollow version of itself.
"What?" he asked, his brows furrowing more. "Darlin' what's wrong?"
"Just go, Johnnie," I said, shaking my head at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but I shook my head. "I said go."
He pushed backward, sitting on his ankles, his shoulders slumping as he searched my face for something. Whatever it was, he found it and his entire face looked like it fell. I felt a fist wrap itself around my heart at the sight. But it was too late; the damage was done... for both of us. And he was leaving. So the sooner he left me, the better everything would be.
"Whatever I did, angelface..." he started, getting to his feet.
I turned my face away from him, feeling another rush of tears well up behind my eyes and needing him not to see them. He didn't finish his sentence. In fact, he said nothing at all. He just left. I wouldn't even have known he was gone except for hearing the click of my apartment door.
The achy, hollow feeling started in my chest again and I put my hand there to ease it.
But, of course, it didn't work.
There was no fixing it.EightShooterI stepped into the hall, raking a hand down my face. What the hell was that? We had something there. When she turned in my arms and I really got a look at her, sans grief, I saw her. I actually saw her. She wasn't hiding anymore. And the way that she responded to me, each tiny touch sending off sparks through her whole system... fuck. I didn't even want to get started on how she tasted, like sunshine, like something I could taste every day for the rest of my life and never get sick of it.
"I knew it was her!" Alex's voice said, surprising me.
"What?" I asked, watching her leaning against the wall beside my door, her arms crossed.
"The girl in that apartment. I saw her the other night when she was coming in. One look at her and I knew she was the one that has you with those moon-eyes."
I looked back toward Amelia's door. "You saw her?"
"Yeah, she kinda stopped dead when she saw me, like I surprised her. I said hey; she said hey. Then she went into her apartment."
I looked up at the ceiling, shaking my head. "Fucking Christ."
"What?"
"She thinks we're fucking, pumpkin," I said, letting out a long breath.
"Ironic, huh?" Alex asked as I opened the door for her to step inside.
"What is?"
"The one time you're not being a slut and you get accused."
"She didn't accuse me. She just... avoided me all day yesterday. Probably would have done that today too but she was sad and lonely and I was there."
"Comforted her, did you?" she asked with a coy smile, making wide birth around Millie on the floor.
"Sure. Until she kicked me out."
Alex was silent for a moment then let out a humorless laugh. "Losing your skills, huh?" she asked, trying to ease the tension that had worked itself into my shoulders and jaw. "Shooter," she tried softly, reaching out to touch my arm. "Go explain; or I'll go explain. Don't just stand here looking like a kicked dog."
"What the fuck does it matter?" I asked, feeling frustration flood my system. "I'm out of here tomorrow anyway."
"Don't leave it on this note, Shoot. She was wrecked today. She wasn't thinking straight."
I felt myself nod tightly. "So you and Break heading out tonight?"
"As charming as the accent here is, and believe me, it's charming," Alex said, shrugging. "I want to go back to a place where no one talks to me when I pass by them on the street. Do you know how many people stopped us and asked us how we knew you the past two days?" I went to shrug, but she kept going, "Thirty-nine, Shoot. Fucking thirty-nine people. I don't think I've talked to thirty-nine people all year back home. I miss that- everyone being an asshole."