Chris shrugs. “She's been through this shit before, babe. Mom stopped thinking things through when I was about five years old. I'll put air in her lungs, but I'm not gonna sweet talk her and tell her everything's gumdrops. Decided I was done with all that years ago.”
I'm so worried about my dad. Even though they're both gone, it's like there's a thick anxiety descending over the house, more stifling than the summer heat. It's a hot day, and this coffee isn't helping.
Part of me wants to bury my face in Chris' dragon and trident. I want to cry all over his beautiful skin until I can't anymore. The rest of me wants to reach between his legs, reignite what we had last night, finding my peace in having myself joined to his flesh.
“He really loves her, you know.” I tighten my grip on Chris' neck and stare into his bright green eyes.
I'm talking about dad and Evie, yeah. But really, I'm talking about us, and I think he knows it.
“Yeah, he's a good guy, even if he could really use some manning up.” Chris smiles bitterly. “It'll be a real fucking shame when she rips his heart out. They always do in the end.”
I frown. “Not always. Maybe this'll be a wakeup call. I don't like her either, but there has to be a heart in there somewhere behind all the ice. It's not right, marrying a woman who's so far away from everything he ever wanted. I can't believe my dad would –“
Chris cuts me off, laughing. He puts a possessive hand on my thigh and squeezes, so hard it makes me squirm, and not from the pleasure.
“Come on, babe. Don't tell me you really believe in roses and rings and all that 'til death do us part sales talk. It's bullshit. So's all the true love crap that goes with it.”
I don't know why it's so hurtful. I look up, running my hand along his face. His jaw feels so strong, so tight, a sample of everything he's still hiding underneath his gorgeous surface.
“If you believed that, I don't think you'd have come here last night. You'd have stayed away after Vegas, Chris. Just like we promised.”
It's his turn to caress my face. He reaches up, dominant as ever, running his hand along my cheek.
“Don't get too excited, sis. Truth is, I couldn't have stayed away from your tight little cunt if I tried.” Growling, he slides his hand the rest of the way up my thigh, shifts my panties aside, and shoves two fingers deep inside me.
I gasp, arching, feeling the raging hard-on rising in his jeans. “Don't ruin a good thing by trying to put shit into it that isn't really there. You're not my girlfriend, Delia. You're just the best goddamned fuck of my life.”#p#分页标题#e#
His words are like knives, but his fingers...holy shit. I should slap him across the face and run back inside, if only he didn't stroke me so good, tethering my body to him like I never imagined any man doing.
He's a bastard. He's relentless. And, of course, he's right.
I won't admit it to myself. I can't. It hurts too much to have this kind of pleasure with him, knowing there will never be any love behind it.
My body drowns out the ache in my heart as he works his hands deeper, stamping his hot lips down my neck. His hips push against my ass, aggressive as ever, rutting the erection in his pants. He fists my hair and holds me to him, finger-fucking me fast, hard, and angry.
I go flying right over the edge. The tears that have been building since last night burst out, and my cheeks are wet as my brain short circuits.
I come hard, bucking against his hand, loving the way he touches me, works me, owns me. And I wish he'd keep me too – wish so fucking bad there weren't so many awful things between us.
“Keep it going, babe. You don't stop 'til I say so,” he orders halfway through. My pussy clenches harder, and his thumb adds more pressure to my clit, forcing me to feel it all.
The hurt. The passion. The twisted romance between us, and the future that'll never be.
It's officially too much. So is this thing we're doing – whatever it really is – fucking like newlyweds and living like strangers.
He pulls me in close when it's finally over, holding me down with his powerful arms. His lips meet mine in a rough, forceful kiss.
“Stop crying, Delia. I won't be out on my next big tour 'til summer's over. We don't have to stop 'til you're heading back to school in the fall. One summer, baby. One summer of this, every fucking night. I'll teach you to stop worrying about Evie, and how to make some boy extremely happy whenever he settles down and I'm a distant memory.”
He wraps his fingers around mine, brings them to his cock, and I squeeze him. Harder than I intend, because he's still pissing me off. He growls happily, enjoying the roughness.
Why does he have to be so rude? He thinks he's doing me a favor – is that it? Like I'm some kind of shy little ex-virgin with nothing else going in my life besides his swinging dick?