Sweet Filthy Boy(19)
“I feel weird that I told you everything and I don’t know anything about you.”
“We have plenty of time,” he says, tongue slipping out to wet his lips. “Till death do us part, in fact.”
He must be kidding. I laugh, relieved that finally we can be playful. “I can’t stay married to you, Ansel.”
“But in fact,” he whispers, “you can.” His mouth presses carefully to the corner of mine, tongue peeking out to taste my lip.
My heart seizes and I freeze. “What?”
“‘I want to love all of my life as much as I love this night,’” he quotes.
My heart dips and spills into my stomach.
“I realize how this sounds,” he says immediately, “and I’m not insane. But you made me swear I wouldn’t let you freak out.” He shakes his head slowly. “And, because I promised, I can’t give you an annulment. At least not until you start school in the fall. I promised, Mia.”
I pull back and meet his eyes just before he leans back in, opening his mouth to mine. I sense that I should be more wary of this entire situation but his effect on me hasn’t diminished even with the hangover and the alarming reality of what we’ve done.
He sucks at my lips, pulling them in turn into his mouth before he gives me his tongue, tasting of orange juice and water and grapes. His hands brace on my hips, and he bends lower, kissing me deeper, teasing me with a rumbling moan. “Let’s go back upstairs,” he says. “Let me feel you again.”
“Mia!” Harlow’s voice cuts down the hall through the stale smell of cigarettes. “Holy shit, we’ve been looking for you all morning! I was starting to worry you might be in a gutter or something.”
Lorelei and Harlow jog down the hall and Harlow stops in front of us, bending to brace her hands on her knees. “Okay, no running.” She groans. “I think I’m going to barf.”
We all wait, anxiously scanning the vicinity for a bucket, or a towel, or maybe just a quick exit. Finally, she stands, shaking her head. “False alarm.”
Reality descends in a curtain of silence as both Lola and Harlow study us with uncertainty.
“You okay, Mia?” Lola asks.
Ansel’s touch and his suggestion we should remain married, my headache, and my rebelling stomach all conspire to make me want to slide down onto the floor and curl up in a tiny ball of freak-out. I don’t even care how gross the carpet is. “Nothing a little death won’t solve.”
“Can we steal her for a few?” Harlow asks Ansel, and her tone surprises me. Harlow doesn’t ask before she takes, ever.
He nods, but before I can move away he runs his hand down my arm and touches the ring on my finger. He doesn’t say a word; it’s just that tiny touch that asks me not to leave this city without talking to him.
Lola guides me down the hall to the lobby, where there’s a cluster of enormous chairs in a quiet corner. We each collapse into the plush suede, lost in our own miserable hangovers for several long beats.
“So,” I say.
“So,” they reply in unison.
“What the hell happened last night?” I ask. “How did no one say, ‘Wow, we probably shouldn’t all get married’?”
“Ugh,” Harlow says. “I knew we should have been classier.”
“I’m going to blame the seven hundred shots we had,” Lola says.
“I’m going to blame Finn’s impressive cock.” Harlow takes a sip from a bottle of water as Lola and I groan. “No, I’m serious,” Harlow says. “And son is into some stuff, let me tell you. He’s a bossy little shit.”
“Annulment,” Lola reminds her. “You can still bang him when you’re single.”
Harlow rubs her face. “Right.”
“What happened with Ansel?” Lola asks.
“Apparently a lot.” Instinctively, I rub my finger over my bottom lip. “I’m not sure we actually slept. I’m disappointed I don’t remember it all, but I’m pretty sure we did everything.”
“Anal?” Harlow asks in a reverent whisper.
“No! God. Put ten dollars in the Whore Jar,” I tell her. “You’re such a troll.”
“I bet the French guy could get it,” Harlow says. “You look like you were pounded.”
Memories rise like smoke in front of me, just tiny wisps in the air.
His shoulders moving over me, fists curled around the pillowcase beside my head.
The sharp snap of his teeth when I licked across the head of his cock.
My hand splayed across the giant mirror, feeling the heat of his breath on the back of my neck just before he pushed inside.