The Confession Page 21

  “Because that worked so well before.”

  “Max will know you’re with me,” he said sharply. “If he wants to find you, all he has to do is follow me.”

  “Then let him,” I said. “Let him find me. I’ve got a few things I want to say to him.”

  He scoffed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I turned to face him, blood simmering. “I don’t? It was me he took, Alec. Me he drugged. My naked body he used for his porno pictures.”

  “Stop!” Alec slammed his hand down on the steering wheel.

  “I won’t stop!” I shouted. “I get to face him. You know what he told me? He said it wasn’t personal. He fucked up my life, and it wasn’t personal.”

  Alec slammed on the brakes, and I braced myself against the dashboard. I looked up. We were back at the apartment. Another set of headlights was pulling in behind us, and I ducked behind the seat before I recognized Matt’s car.

  “It wasn’t just you he took,” Alec said quietly. “I bled the whole time you were missing. I still do, every single day. I’ve thought of twenty different ways to kill him, Anna, and every minute that passes that I don’t makes me less worthy to be your man.”

  My rage hit a brick wall.

  “I’m sorry for what happened tonight,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”

  With that, he left the car, walked me to the door, and left me inside while he went to talk to Matt.

  * * *

  I paced around the apartment for ten minutes. Then twenty. I peeked out the curtains for Matt, but though he was in his car, with the lights on, Alec was nowhere to be seen.

  I moved to the veranda, and searched through the darkness. The rain had stopped its tantrum for the time being, and the sand on the beach was glowing a pale silver. After a moment I saw him walk around the edge of the darkened restaurant. He stopped as a motion-activated light flipped on, then pulled a chair from the deck beneath it. I watched as he climbed up to adjust the positioning.

  He checked all the lights, making sure we were safe. Then he disappeared again within the restaurant.

  I thought of what he’d said. How he’d bled for me when I was gone. I had no doubt that was true—Alec internalized his pain like no one I’d ever met. I could feel it when I’d tried to massage his shoulders and seen it in the shadows beneath his eyes. I thought of Frat Boy, and how Alec had been made into some sort of celebrity. Part of me wanted to find my cell phone and turn on the Internet feature, just to look up what people were saying, but I stopped myself. If there was anything that could make me homicidal, it was someone hurting him.

  I bled for him, too.

  The door creaked and made a suction noise as he entered. He looked tired now—it was close to two in the morning. He barely glanced at me as he put a plate on the counter.

  “I got some stuff for a sandwich from the restaurant,” he said. “I know it’s not what you had in mind, but . . .”

  “Alec.”

  He rolled back his shoulders, and slowly lifted his eyes to mine, as if this took some feat of strength.

  I moved closer. Closer, until the wariness in his deep blue eyes turned to curiosity. I reached for his belt, and unhooked it.

  “I don’t want us to hurt anymore,” I said.

  I lowered to my knees.

  “Anna.” He reached for my hair, combing it back with his fingers.

  I unhooked the button, slowly unzipped his fly.

  “Leave everything else outside,” I said. “All that matters is inside. You and me, right?”

  He whispered my name, a broken sound that made my heart lurch. I didn’t know what the future would bring, but I knew us. I knew he needed to regain some of the control he’d lost. I knew I needed him to take it.

  “Right?” I asked again, looking up at him as I tugged his still-damp jeans down his legs.

  “Right,” he said.

  He stepped out of his pants, and I pulled my tank top over my head. He leaned back to look at me.

  “Do you like the way I look?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I bit my bottom lip, liking the immediacy of his answer. My eyes lowered. Directly before me was his cock, covered by the thin cotton of his black boxer briefs. It looked huge, jutting up at an angle, the head barely still trapped beneath the elastic waistband.

  My mouth began to water. I’d done this occasionally before Alec, but I’d never enjoyed it. It was just a step in the dance, a means to the end. But with Alec, everything was different. I longed to touch him. I wanted to taste him. His body pleased me in so many ways.

  “Do you like seeing me on my knees?” My voice had changed to a soft rasp. It wasn’t deliberate. Something primal was taking me over. I could feel it transforming me, changing the way I moved, making my breasts tender and my skin more sensitive.

  He gave a throaty groan that I took as an agreement. The long, lean muscles of his thigh flexed as I placed my flat palms on them. My hands slid higher, moved to the front over his hard length. I stroked him like that for a moment. He tipped his head back. His breath came out in a huff.

  I crawled closer. “You think you’re the only one who likes this power?”

  Gripping the waistband, I began to pull his underwear down his thighs.

  “Take your shirt off,” I said.

  He reached over his shoulders, like men do, pulling it over his head from the back. It was tossed somewhere on the floor beside us.

  He stood naked before me. I hadn’t looked at him like this in months, and instantly I felt the arousal heat my veins. His body screamed sex. His wavy chocolate hair was a mess, like he’d just got out of bed. His perfect mouth made my nipples hard, made my center ache with memories of what it could do. His thick arms were made to lift my body, his fingers to tease me, his muscular chest to slide over mine. And his cock . . .

  I felt a little dizzy staring at it.

  Thick and long, like steel encased in velvet, his cock was meant to fuck.

  That wild creature rousing inside of me tore free. There was no gentle teasing as I had intended. No slow seduction. A crazed need to touch shut off the power to my brain. I grabbed the base of his cock in my hands and licked his engorged head. I tasted salt and night and him, all of him, and I drew him deeper, wanting more.

  “Christ,” he sputtered. “What are you . . .” He groaned.

  I pumped my fist, reaching around his hips to his lower back. I dug my nails in a line down his spine, making him arch toward me. I took his cock as deeply as I could, until I gagged, and then I took more.

  His hands gripped my hair, and soon he was fucking my mouth. I could hear his grunts of pleasure. Hear the suction of my wet lips. I scraped my teeth down his length, and his hand tightened, searing my scalp with a brilliant flash of pain that bolted down my body like lightning.

  Frantically, I reached behind me to remove my bra. Shaking with need, my fingers fumbled, and the clasp only partially unhooked. With a cry of frustration, I jerked the cups down, letting my heavy breasts spill free. I rose higher on my knees, hating the emptiness in my mouth but giving into the sudden need to feel his dick on my chest.

  Still holding him in my fist, I rubbed him over my aching nipples, moaning with the bursts of pleasure that smooth, wet touch brought. Alec spread his legs a little wider so that he could get lower, and I tucked him between my breasts, shoved together by my impatient hands. I bounced on my knees, giving him that friction he craved, while I licked the head of his cock each time it poked through.

  “You like that?” I taunted. I knew he liked it. His cock had turned a deep shade of red, and his abs were flexing. His eyes were dilated, his jaw locked tightly.

  He swore. He muttered something about my beautiful tits. He said I needed a good fucking.

  “So give it to me,” I said, throwing out the ch
allenge.

  With a roar he grabbed me under the arms and hoisted me toward the couch. My hip hit the lamp, and it cracked against the wall. My feet seemed unable to keep up. It hardly mattered; he jerked my shorts down over my hips and bent me over the arm of the sofa. I wasn’t wearing panties—I’d left them off after our escapade in the car, and now I was bare and ready for him.

  “You tease,” he ground out. “You naughty little tease.”

  He slapped my ass. I yelped. My skin felt the sting for one second before he lowered and kissed me there. Kissed me, like he’d kissed between my thighs earlier. With his wet tongue lapping me up. He rose, and slapped again. The wet sound punctuated our heavy breaths. The strike made my pussy vibrate. He licked me again. Slap, lick. Slap, lick.

  He spread my buttocks. And I tensed for what was to come, a second before he spanked me.

  I jolted straight. Every nerve came alive. Every part of me quaked with the hard ripple of need.

  He pushed me back down, spread me open.

  And then kissed me.

  He massaged my buttocks. Squeezed my damp inner thighs. His thumb made a pressured arc around my entry and then forged within while his clever fingers gave my clit a series of hard pats.

  He kissed his way up my spine.

  “She’s quiet now,” he mocked. And then he positioned himself at the entrance of my pussy, and thrust inside.

  Twenty-four

  I don’t know when I started coming. There was no beginning to it, no breath before the fall. There was only the fire, consuming me, while he pumped into my body.

  “Is this what you want?” His voice was rough.

  I could hear us fitting together. Wet sounds. Slap, slap, slap. Like his hand on my ass. Like his fingers on my clit.

  “You need this,” he said, half in awe. “You’re grabbing my dick like a fist.”

  My muscles clenched around him, held him, even as he withdrew and entered again. All my senses focused on that place we connected. I didn’t know what I clung to, or even where we were. There was only his punishing cock, forcing me higher, making me his.

  He turned my head, swiping my hair back from my face. His chest came flush against my back as he watched my face.

  “Harder,” I demanded.

  His pace slowed a little, but he slammed back into me. The noise I made was something between a shout and a sob.

  “Yes. Yes, Alec. More.”

  His fingers dug into my hips. I arched my back. He was striking that place inside me that made my blood turn to fire. Each thrust felt like another orgasm.

  “Fuck!” I screamed. “That. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

  He went wild. Faster. Harder than ever before. The space between us was disappearing. The time we’d been apart was disappearing. We had always been this way. Nothing had ever come between us.

  Nothing ever would.

  He lifted my knee and pulled it onto the arm of the couch, situating himself even deeper. My shaking arms collapsed, my damp cheek fell to a pillow. I ground my clit against the leather, unashamed, riding the tidal wave of pleasure that seemed like it would never end.

  “Closer,” he said. “Can’t get close enough. Fuck. Fuck.”

  He reached around my body, clutched my breast. He pulled me to him so that we were back to chest, skin to skin. He swore. I reached over my head and gripped his sweat-dampened hair. I yanked it as he bit my shoulder.

  He came so hard I felt it like another hot thrust. His hoarse shout filled the room as he rode it out.

  Then he collapsed over me, and we both crashed sideways onto the floor.

  * * *

  “Ow,” I managed when I had regained the power of speech. He’d taken the brunt of our weight in the fall, and had yet to move off his side. I was still tucked against his body, and his heavy arm was slung across my waist.

  A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

  I started to giggle.

  Soon we were both laughing.

  “What just happened?” I turned slowly, aware of every muscle in my body. It felt like I had just run a marathon. He rolled onto his back, running his hands down his face.

  “You,” he said. “You happened.”

  I crawled onto his chest, looking down at him.

  “Is that such a bad thing?”

  “The worst.” He smirked. I wanted to swat at him, but ended up just rolling my wrist limply over his pec. I nuzzled my cheek into his neck and slid my knee up his thigh.

  “Sorry about your bra,” he said.

  I vaguely remembered the rending of fabric as he’d pulled the last clasp free. I glanced behind me, finding it a tattered mess amidst our scattered clothes.

  “I guess this gives me an excuse to buy something new.”

  He hummed his approval.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “That was kind of rough.”

  “Kind of?” I said. “Tomorrow I’ll be walking like I just spent the last eighteen hours riding a horse.”

  He began drawing slow circles on my back with his fingertips.

  “It wasn’t quite eighteen hours.”

  This time I did swat him. But I laughed, too, and could feel his smile even though I couldn’t see his face.

  “I’m okay,” I said, when it became apparent he was still waiting for an answer. “I liked it.”

  “I got that.”

  “You’re awfully gloaty,” I said. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself, too.”

  He became still, and in that stretch of quiet, I grew vulnerable.

  “This is the best moment of my life,” he said.

  “Oh, come on.” He was grinning again. Maybe he’d never stopped.

  “What’s the best moment of your life?” he asked.

  He was serious, and as we lay in the dark, my fingers began their own exploration of his chest.

  “Like, ever?”

  “Yeah.”

  The first time you told me you loved me. The day you took me to the beach. Just now, when you finally let go.

  There were dozens more, but they all seemed too intimate, even after what had just happened. I didn’t want to scare him.

  It already scared me enough as it was.

  A memory came to me from years ago.

  “The day my dad told me what had happened to my birth mother.” It was two weeks after he’d been called to that fast-food restaurant where I waited for her to return. I’d been put in a temporary foster home, but he’d come to visit every day. We were sitting on the front porch swing when he said she wasn’t coming back this time.

  “Why?”

  “Because she died, Anna,” he’d told me gently.

  There wasn’t sadness, but anger. I hated her so much in that moment.

  “How?”

  He’d looked at me, and pushed the big glasses he’d worn up the bridge of his nose. “Drugs.”

  “You’re sure?” I’d asked. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes she just goes missing, too.”

  He’d told me he was sure. That it was a heroin overdose. He’d asked if I knew what that was, and I’d told him yes. We didn’t say anything more about it that day, but it wasn’t the last time we’d discussed it.

  Alec pulled me closer. “Why?”

  I rested my chin on his chest, surprised that I hadn’t been overwhelmed by the memory.

  “He was the first person who didn’t try to bullshit me.” I winced. “God. That was heavy. Sorry.”

  His brows pinched together, and I wondered if he was thinking about the times he’d lied to me.

  “If that’s your best, what’s your worst?” he asked, undeterred.

  I thought about this. There had been bad times, many of them since I’d met Alec, but he had a way of healing them.

  “That was my worst, too.”r />
  His hand came to rest on my lower back.

  “Your turn,” I said. “What’s your best moment? For real this time.”

  “I wasn’t kidding. Right now.”

  I smirked. “That’s cheating.”

  He wasn’t smiling. He stared up at the ceiling, and wove our fingers together.

  “Sweet talker,” I said. “You know you’ve already got me naked, right?”

  “Oh, I know,” he said.

  I rose up on my forearms, needing to see his face. He looked peaceful. No worry in his eyes. No tension in his jaw.

  “You mean it,” I murmured.

  His mouth quirked up on one side. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

  “Right now,” he repeated. “The day I got out and you were waiting in my clothes. The night I watched you touch yourself against the window in your old apartment. The first time I talked to you in your car outside the house.” He paused. “When you told me you’d never come with another man inside you.”

  I swallowed, swamped with emotions.

  He lifted our hands to my face. “Every single time you’ve given yourself to me. Every time you say my name. And when you bite your lip and scowl like you’re doing now.”

  I promptly stopped biting.

  “What’s your worst?” I asked breathlessly.

  “All the times I lost you.”

  “Alec . . .”

  His gaze returned to the ceiling. “If I wasn’t around, what would you be doing right now?”

  His questions kept throwing me off. I could hardly keep my balance.

  “I can’t . . .” I touched his lips with my index finger. “I can’t see you not around.”

  He studied me while the impact of this truth settled on us both. I’d tried living without him, but nothing worked. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do it, but that everything suffered without his presence. Life was less colorful, less important, and certainly less exciting.

  “I talked to a therapist,” I said. “Amy’s therapist. I called her.”

  Sometimes I was so smooth.

  “Yeah?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s great.” The genuine pride made me feel stronger.