Page 59 of Devils' Day Party
My orgasm sweeps over me, and I let my head fall back, the red-lace covered mounds of my breasts lifted up toward the sky, my back arched. Stars sweep across my vision as the sensation takes over me, and I collapse at nearly the same time as Raz does, groaning and leaning over me, his blond hair wet and dripping.
“Fuck, I forgot to pull out,” he murmurs, too tired for a brief moment to sound much like an asshole. There's a hint in his words of a different Raz, a hidden softness underneath all of those sharp edges. “Shit.” He stays where he is for several minutes, my own heart beating wildly as we both probably sink into hypothermia. It is fucking cold out here.
Gently enough, I push Raz in the shoulder and he steps back, breathing hard as he puts his cock back in his pants.
“Are you on the pill?”
“Do you have a vasectomy? Don't make assumptions, and get fucked, Raz.” I stand up, pushing my skirt back into place as he grabs me by the upper arm.
“Don't play with me, Trailer Park.” I tear myself from his grip and head for the steps leading up the small hill into the house. I'm very careful to step over the broken plastic from the headlights as I go, calculating all the while how long it'll take Raz to follow me inside. Three, two … I hear footsteps padding behind me as he makes his way into the warm, cozy interior of my aunt's house. “Where's the shower? I'm fucking freezing.”
Still, I say nothing, leading him into the downstairs bathroom with its two-level countertop, one portion set lower with a big mirror for makeup, a wooden stool parked underneath. Inside the glass door of the shower, there's a faux black marble surround with a cutout in the center, showcasing the limestone that makes up the foundation of the house. It's threaded through with the glittery white shapes of naturally formed crystals that were hauled in with the stone. It's worthless crystal, but beautiful, nonetheless.
I turn the water to a mild temperature, so we don't burn our skin, and glance over my shoulder.
There's only one shower in the house. Technically, there's a tub in the bathroom upstairs, but that's not what this is about.
I step back into the water, still watching Raz as he struggles with his own inner bullshit, torn between wanting to fuck me, and wanting to kick the shit out of me. He must come to terms with the former—that, and the fact that he's freezing his ass off—and steps forward, dropping his slacks and underwear to the floor before climbing in with me. He'd be naked, if he weren't wearing that mask still.
“This is goddamn weird,” he says as I stand under the warm spray in my skirt and shirt, my bra and even the shredded remains of my cum-soaked panties. As we adjust to the temperature, I crank it up so that it burns a little, shedding my skirt and undies, my shirt, my bra. But the mask, that stays.
We're so close that when I breathe, my nipples brush up against the front of Raz's chest, his red eyes straying to the point of contact.
“Whose house is this anyway? I'm not about getting busted for breaking and entering.”
“Shut up, Raz.”
He scowls at me as I place my palms on his chest, my heart racing wildly. What is this? What the hell is happening between us? How can he go from hating me to holding me like I mean everything?
“This is my aunt's house.” The words come out in a whisper, barely audible over the spray of the water, but I can't help it. I'm confused. I'm aching. And there's a fire in my core that I need stoked.
I thought I was in love with Calix Knight, but maybe that isn't true at all?
Because something very strange is happening here.
“She doesn't live here; she rents it. There aren't any guests staying today.”
“Why the fuck did you bring me out here?” he asks, reaching up his left hand to cup the side of my face. His thumb brushes down the crease in the center of my lower lip, and I bite down on it. A small sound escapes Raz's throat as I flick my eyes up to his. He's scowling at me again, but his cock is thickening as the pace of his breathing intensifies. “To screw me like you did Calix? Is this your version of a Devils' Day trick?”
“It's not a trick,” I say, tracing my own fingers down to his nipples. He sucks in a sharp inhale and mutters a curse when I begin to tease them, hot water sluicing over my gently parted lips. “And neither was last year. What happened with Calix wasn't a trick. Not for him and not for me.”
