"Morning," I whisper, my voice thick with sleep. "How long have you been awake?"
"All night," he says.
I think he's joking, but when I shift around, so I can turn my head and see his face, the first thing I notice is the exhaustion. He looks like I did at a few points the past two weeks. I reach back, wanting to smooth away the bags under his eyes. "Couldn't sleep?"
"I often can't," he says. "And if you're wondering, Darth Vader over there staggered in about an hour ago and went straight to sleep."
Shame stirs up inside of me. "Oh God, we're naked."
"She didn't notice," he says. "She didn't even look over here."
"She could've."
"So?" He removes his hand from my stomach to brush my tousled hair aside. I feel his lips against my neck, soft and warm, tingles flowing down my spine at the sensation. "You can't tell me the thought doesn't turn you on."
"What thought?"
"The thought of being seen," he says. "The thrill of maybe being caught. Of someone watching you as you get pleasured, wishing they were you, or that they were the one fucking you, drowning in jealousy because they know they'll never be that lucky. Never. They'll never have you, Karissa … never be you. Because you're mine-mine and mine alone."
His arm snakes around me again, pulling me back tighter against him. I shiver when I feel his erection pressing against me from behind, his hand traveling to the spot between my thighs. My eyes drift closed as he strokes my clit, his lips still on my neck, sucking and nipping his way to my shoulder. Heat engulfs me, my body flushing as I grind against his cock. He groans, stroking faster, rubbing harder, as soft whimpers escape my throat.
It's wrong.
It's wrong.
Oh God, it's so wrong.
So why the hell does it feel so right?
Melody's snores are barely loud enough to conceal my moans. I should stop him, should pull away as my hands grip his arm, but I can't. I won't. I don't want him to ever stop touching me.
I can feel the tension building, the sensation sharpening, and rushing toward where he's rubbing. My breath hitches in anticipation, and I'm close … so close … so fucking close. My toes curl, my entire body wound like a tight coil ready to spring loose, when a faint set of beeps rings through the room. All at once Naz stops when he's doing.
My eyes snap open, the sensation fading as he pulls away and sits up. "No, no, no," I chant, rubbing my thighs together, desperate for friction. I flip over onto my back, my gaze seeking him out. "Please."
It's torture, the ache spreading through me. Naz glances at me as he brings his phone to his ear, answering the call with a quiet, "Hello."
I start to pout when he tucks his phone in the crook of his neck, listening to whoever's on the line. He presses a single finger to his lips, shushing me, as his other hand slips beneath the blanket only partially covering me. My breasts are exposed, but I don't care. I can't care. Not when he touches me again, his free hand rubbing circles around my achy clit. My eyes roll in the back of my head, and it doesn't take long for my body to tense again, the feeling returning.
"Yeah, I'm handling it," he says, his voice quiet, and stone cold serious, the gritty, callous tone pushing me further toward the edge. I can feel it creeping up on me and fist the sheets, toes curling again. "I'll be there this weekend."
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh my fucking God.
My lips part, my breath hitching, a silent scream burning my chest as I struggle to keep from making any noise. Pleasure sweeps through me, my body convulsing.
"I don't think I'll be alone," he says. "I'm sure she'll be more than happy to, uh … come."
He tries to hide the amusement in his voice but he laughs lightly. I peek over at him as the tension recedes, my body relaxing against the bed. He stares down at me, the look in his eyes nearly making me come again.
His hand leaves that spot, drifting up my stomach to my chest. He palms a breast, sweeping his thumb across the erect nipple.
"Yeah, I know," he says. "I'll see you then."
He hangs up, tossing the phone down on the bed, and leans down to kiss me. His lips are hard against mine, frenzied. I reach for him, my hand snaking beneath the blanket, wrapping around his cock. I stroke it once, twice, before he pulls away and snatches ahold of my wrist, stopping me. His eyes regard me peculiarly, a smirk slowly turning his lips. "Huh."
"Huh what?"
"You're good at being quiet."
"I didn't want to interrupt your call," I whisper. "Or, you know, wake Melody."
He curves an eyebrow. "Huh."
Huh. Again. Him and that fucking word that's not even a real word. "What?"
"We might have to test that out some more," he says, kissing me again, softly this time, before climbing out of the bed. I stare at him incredulously as he stands in the middle of the room, completely naked. His movements are unhurried as he gathers up his clothes. "Not now, though. I'd love to stay, but you know … "
I pull the blanket up around me, covering my body, as I sit up and watch him dress. He pulls himself together with ease, running his hands through his hair to tame the locks, before sitting down on the edge of the bed beside me.
"Come with me this weekend," he says, slipping on his shoes. It's not a question. It's a request. I've noticed that about him. He asks things of me without ever really asking. It's cool, and confident, like he already knows my answers so he doesn't bother bullshitting.
"Where?"
"Away," he says.
Another thing I've noticed. He doesn't ever seem to answer my questions, either.
I shake my head. "I shouldn't."
"But you want to."
Of course I do. "Why?"
"Why not?"
I laugh as he stands back up and fixes his shirt collar. "I don't know."
"Your classes are over, aren't they?"
"Yes. I took my last exam yesterday."
"Did you pass?"
I shrug. "I hope."
"I'm sure you will," he says. "So why can't you go with me?"
"Well, Melody and I talked about going out on Saturday to celebrate."
"To celebrate classes being over?"
"No," I say quietly, drawing my knees up to my chest as I wrap my arms around them. "To celebrate my birthday."
He freezes as he stares down at me, a look of surprise passing across his face. It's the first time I've ever caught him off guard, the first time he didn't seem steps ahead of me. He shakes his head after a second, stepping closer, and leans down like he's going to kiss me again. I stare into his eyes as he pauses there.
"Come away with me this weekend," he says again. "I'll show you the time of your life."
"You already have," I whisper. "A few times."
"Sweetheart, you haven't seen anything yet."
His kiss, when it finally reaches my lips, is nothing more than a peck, a soft touch before he stands up. He says nothing else, and doesn't wait around to hear my response.
The cocky bastard just walks out.
I sit there for a moment, clutching the blanket around me, before I start laughing. I just laugh, shaking my head, as I stare at the door. He turns me upside down, making all the blood rush to my head, and then he just leaves me sitting there, lightheaded and inebriated by the essence of him.
Standing up, I grab a towel and some clothes, dragging the blanket with me to the bathroom to take a shower, hoping to wash away the lingering guilt I feel as I stride right by my sleeping roommate, snoring and clueless.
Have I mentioned I'm a terrible friend?
I wash up and pull myself together, getting ready for a day where I have nothing planned. I'll do some packing, maybe, some sleeping, definitely, and probably just drown myself in mindless television all afternoon. I should really find a job, find somewhere else to go, seeing as how I have to be out of the dorm in seven days.
Summer break. I was looking forward to it months ago, counting down the hours until the semester was over, but now I dread even thinking about it. I anticipated going back to Watertown to spend the summer with my mother, but after the visit a few weeks ago I'm not sure how plausible that is.
I'm not even sure how long she'll be there, to be honest, or if she's already gone.
I try not to think about it, try to clear my head as I stand under the warm water, but it lurks in the back of my mind, an ominous rain shower in the distance. My future is as hazy as a storm cloud.