Every little sound that he makes fills me with even more lust. Every sweep of his chest and ripple of his back drives home the point that I’m his and he’s mine.

  Tentatively, I try to move under him, relieve this restlessness that’s pulsing. Like it’s alive, complete with veins and a heart.

  Zach snaps his head up. “Stop.”

  “W-what?”

  “It’ll hurt more if you move,” he says with clenched teeth and a somewhat agonized expression.

  I palm his sweaty shoulder, breathing in hiccups. “It doesn’t.”

  “What?”

  I move under him again, rock against his pelvis, and I swear I feel his dick jump inside of me. “It doesn’t hurt.”

  Zach’s astonished and I could’ve laughed. But in this moment, I’m so restless.

  Maybe the universe knew that our bodies were made for each other. So the nature took away all the pain. But I can’t explain that to him right now. I’m too needy.

  All I can say is: “Please, f-fuck me, Zach.”

  He watches me struggle under him, trying to get him to move, trying to rub my hypersensitive clit against his pelvis but he doesn’t come to help me. He doesn’t rescue me and I claw my nails along his biceps, his side, his back.

  “Please, Zach,” I beg again.

  And then, he gives a grind of his hips. “This what you want, Blue?”

  I nod, sighing in relief. But it isn’t even complete, that sigh. His movements drive the need higher. The craving doesn’t end.

  I know it won’t. Not until I come, and he comes with me. Inside of me.

  I’m dying to feel that. That splash, that splatter of his cum that I’ve tasted so many times before. My favorite flavor of popsicle.

  Zach begins to move. His strokes are slow but long. He goes out completely, leaving me empty, before coming back in.

  I moan out his name and his strokes become jabs. Short and thrusting and faster. I squeeze my thighs around his waist, biting my lip.

  “I thought you were lying,” Zach pants from over me, his eyes trained on my face.

  “About what?” I gasp as I start to push back into his thrusts.

  “I thought you wanted my dick so bad that you were lying about the pain.”

  “I do want it…”

  His pumps are harder now and my channel is slicker. I can’t believe that we haven’t been doing it all this time. How will I ever go back to the land of living when he’s killing me so beautifully with his cock?

  “I thought your pussy made you a liar, Blue,” he rasps, sliding his lips over me; my tongue peeks out to taste him. “But I guess she only made you a horny little slut for me.”

  My stomach clenches at that word and an uh comes out of me. As if in agreement.

  It’s true, isn’t it?

  I am a slut for him. I am horny for him. I’ve been horny for him for ages. For centuries, even.

  “You are, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah, you are. I’m an animal for you too, baby.”

  Shameless, I arch under him, feeling his pounds all the way to my teeth, and all the way down to my toes.

  His hips are slapping against mine and his balls are hitting my ass. My legs are jarring up and down his sides as Zach hammers into me. I hold onto his neck and try to keep steady but it’s useless.

  The entire bed is shaking, hitting the wall, making this the loudest fuck in the history of fucks.

  And hottest too.

  We’re sweating against each other, breathing hot puffs of air.

  Him and me.

  Two lonely people who belong to each other and no one else.

  I caress his stubbled jaw and he tucks his face in my neck like he can’t hold himself up anymore and I hug him to me, letting myself go.

  My breath hitches as I fall over the edge.

  This orgasm is hands down the best one I’ve ever experienced. It’s different. It starts up in my stomach and radiates out to every little corner in my body. It’s violent too. I’m shaking and twisting and arching, and chanting Zach’s name over and over.

  It’s like my body can’t contain the hormones. Can’t contain the avalanche of chemical reactions within me.

  When I come back down, Zach pushes himself up from my body.

  Still remaining inside of me, he kneels between my open legs and pulls me up, seating my ass over his thighs. This way he can see all of me, laid out in front of him.

  It should be embarrassing but it’s not.

  In fact, it’s the opposite of that. It’s thrilling. Because he’s watching his horny little slut, and she feels him swelling up inside her cunt.

  I arch up for him and press my breasts together.

  Moaning, I play with them as he resumes his drives.

  His face is a study of tight and beautiful lines as he pounds into me and watches me tweak my raspberry-colored nipples. They’re hypersensitive after my orgasm and I’m spasming every time I pinch them.

  His upper lip is pulled down, curled over his teeth, and he’s growling with every stroke. He’s never looked more ferocious, darker than this. More like an animal.

  And I’ve never felt more wanton and shameless.

  His breathing has changed, become desperate, and sweat is sliding down his chest and his abs. He’s close to coming; I know that. I know the signs.

  Just as I knead a bouncing breast and catch a droplet of his sweat at his belly button with my other hand, he tightens up. His jerks become uneven and his black eyes fall shut.

  His spine arches, throwing the ridges of his torso into stark relief, as he moans out my name to the ceiling and comes inside of me.

  I feel it in my slowly dying heart, that moan, that jerk of his dick.

  I sit up and wind my arms around him, bringing us both down on the bed. Groaning, he falls over me.

  I’m soothing his back, tracing it with my hands up and down as my channel absorbs his orgasm.

  And finally, my body goes limp, listening to his heartbeats.

  He’s mine.

  The thought floats in my head.

  I should feel relief. I thought if I knew he was mine, I’d be happy. I’d be content.

  But now that I know he’s mine, I can’t help but think for how long.

  I sneak out from her room at dawn so no one sees me.

  She’s lying on her side, her cheek pressed to the pillow. Her blue hair’s spread all over and there’s a couple of strands just lying there.

  Creepily, I pick them up and wind them around my finger, kiss her forehead, before leaving.

  I head back to the mansion through the woods.

  In my room, I get out a notebook I bought for myself a few days ago. It was an impulse buy; I’m not proud of it.

  In fact, sometimes it makes me downright angry that I have it in my possession. I keep it hidden, out of sight like I’m packing drugs.

  I only fish it out when I’m feeling restless. When I’m… missing her.

  I sit at the desk, a desk that I haven’t used in years but I’ve been using it kind of frequently.

  They say it’s easier to type up words on a computer, recognizing the letters on the keypad rather than trying to make them yourself. Because dysgraphia messes with that.

  But I’m not doing this because I’m interested in making my writing better.

  I’m doing this because I can’t stop myself. Because she’s in my head. These days, she always is.

  So, I pick up a pencil. The strand of her hair’s still wound around the finger of my right hand as I open a fresh page and write:

  Cleopatra Marie Paige.

  I’m having the worst day.

  First of all, I overslept.

  Sometime during the night after the mind-blowing sex, Zach and I fell asleep. I slept through the entire night only to be woken up by the sound of his bike.

  Turns out it was in my dreams, but still.

  It spooked me something real bad. I don’t remember all of it, but I have a blurry picture of Zach leaving this town for good. And I don’t even find out about it until I wake up the next morning and hear all the gossip. Exactly like it happened three years ago.

  With a churning stomach, I arrived at work, which I was late for. Meaning, Mrs. S wasn’t pleased at my tardiness and on top of that, I missed breakfast with Zach.

  And then, I heard that no one had seen him all morning. He never came down for breakfast and his suite was locked when one of the girls went up to clean.

  I couldn’t ask more without the danger of raising suspicion, so I kept quiet and freaked out in private.

  Which I hated, by the way.

  I hated how he wasn’t there with me when I woke up. I hated that he probably had to sneak out in the middle of the night to avoid running into someone on his way back.

  He was doing it to protect me and my job; I know that, but I don’t like it.

  I’m starting to hate it more and more every day.

  Anyway, it’s lunch now and my appetite is nowhere to be found.

  I’m anxious and jumpy and all I want is to see Zach. For him to come back.

  God, please make him come back.

  I’m in the kitchen with Grace, Leslie and Tina. They’re all chatting Maggie up about the new guests who arrived this morning. Apparently, they have been here before and last time when they stayed over, there was this big scandal about some stolen china.

  I’m not even paying attention. In fact, I decide to leave in the middle of it because I can’t sit still. Thankfully, all of them are too absorbed to notice my exit.

  Where are you, Zach?

  Maybe I’m going crazy. Maybe losing my virginity has made me all emotional and girly. That’s the reason I want to take the day off and cry in my pillow.

  I’ve been thinking so hard about all the things that I don’t watch where I’m going and I bump into someone.

  Not again.

  This time though, it’s Zach.

  “You,” I say with wide eyes.

  His dark gaze watches me intensely. “Me.”

  “I was…”

  I should be relieved that he’s back. That he didn’t leave for good. But suddenly, I’m feeling restless. Breathless, even. My thighs clench and there’s an ache in between my legs. Where he was last night.

  “You were what?”

  His rough, heavy tone makes my toes curl in my boots. “I was, uh, looking for you all morning.”

  “I went out for a ride.”

  I notice his wind-swept hair, then. The slight flush on his cheeks and the scent of outdoors mixed in with his own sweet, delicious smell. He must’ve just gotten back.

  “Why?”

  “Wanted to clear my head.”

  “Of what?” I ask, distractedly as I watch his lips.

  “Of you.”

  I jerk my eyes up to him and I realize in the last few seconds, his breathing has escalated just like mine. He looks on the verge of something and I probably look the same. The verge of throwing myself at him, touching him, climbing his body, to reassure myself that he’s really here.

  That we really had sex last night.

  “Of me?”

  “Yeah.” His eyes bore into mine. “But I couldn’t.”

  God, I’m buzzing.

  My breaths are rattling my lungs and there’s a crackle under my skin.

  I don’t want to, but I break our stare and glance back. The kitchen hallway is empty and so is the main hallway. I can hear people chatting in the staff room but no one’s up and about. Which is super rare and I know it’s not going to stay that way. Someone’s bound to come, scurrying for one emergency or another.

  I grab his hand and pull him away from the mouth of the hallway. “Let’s go.”

  Silently, he lets me drag him into the closet just by the kitchen, as if he wanted to be alone with me as much as I did.

  It’s the same closet I hid myself in the first night he came back. I hadn’t even seen him yet and I could still feel him, moving around in my body.

  He is under my skin. Always has been.

  I shut the door and switch on the light, facing him.

  There’s hardly any space between us. The closet was small to begin with but with him inside it, I feel like there’s not enough air for us to breathe.

  And then, Zach eats up that bare minimum space by pressing into my body. My spine’s stuck to the door and my front is flush with his.

  “There was blood. On the sheets. I saw it when I left,” he rasps, and I feel his cock, throbbing just under my ribs.

  I thread my fingers through his hair. “I know. I saw it too.”

  Pain flashes through his features. Pain and regret. Probably for making me bleed.

  “I’m...”

  “I like it,” I whisper when he trails off, craning my neck up to get closer to his lips. “It means I’m yours and you’re mine.”

  He swallows as he scans my face. “Are you feeling okay?”

  At this, I lose my breath and tighten my arms around his neck like he’ll leave right now, right this second. I haven’t been feeling okay all morning.

  “Blue?”

  Biting my lip, I shake my head once.

  His expression goes alert and so does his body. All tight and big and clashing with the softness of mine.

  “Do you hurt?”

  “I, uh, it’s not that.”

  His hands grab my waist. “Then, what is it?”

  I caress his stubbled jaw with my thumb, grazing the seam of his lower lip. It’s so soft and full. “Do you… where do you live in New York?”

  A frown bisects his smooth forehead and I go to caress that with my other thumb. “What?”

  I move lower and trace the arch of his strong brows. “I just never asked you. Do you have like an apartment?”

  He takes a few moments to answer as he watches me. “I share it with a couple of guys.”

  I smile slightly, rubbing the peak of his cheekbone. “Your friends?”

  The pads of his fingers dig into my waist. “Kinda. Just some people Scoot, the guy who worked here before, hooked me up with.”

  “They ride like you?”

  “One of them does. We, uh, perform at shows and stuff. I’m not home a lot.”

  I still remember the night I saw him jumping across the gap in the ground. It was scary, so fucking scary. But he was magnificent, too. Brave and shiny like a star.

  “You’re really good at it, aren’t you?”

  Some emotion moves in his eyes, making them liquidy, and I clutch his face with both hands. “Yeah. Took me a long time to find something I’m good at. Something that others think I’m good at, too.”

  Zach has a whole ‘nother life out of this town.

  I mean, I knew that already. But this gives it a concrete picture. An apartment he shares with friends. A job he’s good at. I bet everybody who watches him perform thinks the same way. That he’s brilliant and breathtaking.

  His eyes take on a distant look, then. “Took me a hell of a lot longer though, to realize that not every dad treats his kid that way. For the longest time I thought that this is how it’s supposed to be. A father is supposed to be mean and angry and I’m supposed to… just take it and hate him. I’m supposed to hate him so much that I become like him.” Finally, he focuses on me. “A bully.”

  “Zach, you’re not…” I begin with a determined and fierce tone. “You haven’t been a bully in a long time.”

  “It was you who made me realize it, you know that?”

  “Me?”

  He’s looking at me with something so akin to affection that I feel like I’ll burst out of my skin. I’m so restless and needy.

  So hungry for this elusive guy.

  “Yeah. What you said to me on prom night. How I change you and make you into a worse person. That’s when I realized I’d been doing to you what my dad does to me. I’ve been turning you into me, angry and vengeful.”

  Don’t be like me.

  His words from long ago make sense to me now. I get what he was saying. In his own way, he was telling me to move on, forget about him, live my life. He was telling me to be a bigger person, a better person than him.

  I grab the back of his neck and press our foreheads together. “You’re not like your dad. You’re better than him. You’re so much better and amazing and –”

  Zach moves his hand from my waist and clutches my face, arching my neck up. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

  His brusque tone makes something clench in my tummy. Something thrilling and delicious. And I wrap my fingers around his wrist, the one with the tattoo. For some reason, touching it sends a shot of current slamming into my core.

  “Why’d you come back to this town?” I ask.

  His demeanor takes on a dark turn, a mysterious turn. “Why?”

  Ever since he came back, I’ve seen him climbing out of tower one, where Mr. and Mrs. Prince live. It’s the only place in this mansion where the junior staff isn’t allowed. There have been so many rumors about why, but no one knows for sure and no one dares talk about it above hushed whispers. Mrs. S is super strict about it.

  Every time I see him coming out of there, he appears angry and agitated. I don’t know why. But I know it has something to do with his dad.

  God, I hate that man so much.

  “You were free, Zach.” I swallow with difficulty as his grip on my face increases in pressure and my neck stretches up even more. “Of this place. Of your dad. Why’d you choose to come back?”

  The little twinges of pain brought on by his possessive hold make my core spasm with arousal. Hungrily and violently. My breasts are throbbing, and my stomach is trembling with the rush of savage butterflies.

  “Why?” he asks me again, looking down at me with hooded eyes.

  Just tell me what’s going on so I can help.

  “Th-this place isn’t good for you, Zach. You don’t like it here. You shouldn’t be here.”

  I don’t know what I’m saying because I don’t want him to leave. Not yet. In fact, that’s the last thing I want.

  But if I don’t say this, I’ll probably end up asking him to stay. I’ll end up begging him to stay here. With me.

 

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