Eden

It’s a strangely thrilling sensation as his body tenses around me. I glance up at his face, and his jaw his clenched, his blue eyes flashing with need as they meet mine. There’s this desperate look to him that’s intoxicating because I’m the one causing it. I’m pushing him to his limits with just my hand, and I want to see him topple over the edge.

Leaning forward, I lap at his nipple as I continue to stroke him and he jerks in my hand. Peeking up at him from under my lashes, I can tell he likes this. I lick again, and again, his cock jolts. Putting my lips around his stiff peak, I suck as I jerk him faster and faster. He puts his hands on the shower wall to brace himself as I push him closer and closer to release. I don’t even care that I’m not getting off right now. Watching his reaction to my touch and being the tormentor for once in our fucked-up relationship is so, so satisfying.

He finally throws his head back and shouts as he comes. I keep stroking him through his climax, only slowing my hand once he starts to go soft. Without a word, I grab the loofa again and clean him up, then direct the spray of water toward the shower wall to rinse away his mess. He’s panting and he grabs the back of my hair to hold my head steady as he lowers his lips down to mine for a smoldering kiss.

Shortly after, we finish showering and he wraps me in a towel to dry me off. He grabs one for himself and slings it around his waist, then we walk out of the bathroom together. It’s late, and I’m tired, so I head straight to my bed. I’m afraid to ask Saint if he wants to stay, but he follows me and yanks my towel from me before pulling back my covers and ushering me in. He slides in next to me, grabs my waist, and pulls me back so my ass is resting against him. I hate how safe and warm I feel when he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. It’s unfair how easily he can disarm me and make me forget my anger toward him and every other fucked up problem in my world.

“You’re still an asshole,” I whisper, snuggling into him.

He chuckles and I feel his lips turn up into a grin against my neck.

“I know,” he murmurs. “Now go to sleep.”

I’m too tired to fight the order, so I close my eyes and let myself drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I wake up in the morning, Saint’s gone. I can’t help the disappointment that pulses through me, even though I tell myself that he likely had to go back to his dorm to get ready for class. We’ve spent the night together plenty of times already, and this one lonely morning shouldn’t make me feel abandoned.

I force myself to get up and get ready for my day.

I end up wishing I’d just stayed in bed.

My day is so shitty. Easily among the worst since I’ve had at Angelview, and that’s only because during every other terrible day I’ve had here, I at least had Loni in my corner. She’s still distant with me, which means she’s still angry, and though I still totally understand, I honestly have no idea how I’m going to survive this place without her. If that wasn’t bad enough, though, Laurel and her bitches are extra brutal to me, bringing up the meth explosion and tormenting me with that horrific memory whenever they catch me walk through campus by myself.

Finally, the cherry on top of it all is that Liam’s MIA again. I’m sure it has everything to do with Saint and me, and that makes me feel so guilty, I almost resent him for it.

By the time I trudge back to my dorm room that night, I’m exhausted and emotionally depleted. I’ve also never felt more alone in my whole life. I don’t have Loni right now, not really, Liam’s gone again, and Saint didn’t talk to me at all, in or out of class.

That last one shouldn’t hurt so bad, but it does. It really, really does.

I make it to my room, and all I want to do is curl up under my covers and shut the entire world out. Maybe also binge Netflix on the new laptop I was able to borrow from the school’s library. I lock my door and strip out of my clothes to put on a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. I grab my computer and a bag of cookies I have stashed away and am just about to crawl into my bed when a knock on my door makes me pause.

For a moment, I consider not answering it, but then the thought crosses my mind that it could be Loni. Dropping my computer and cookies onto my bed, I hurry across the room to answer the door.

It’s not Loni, though. It’s Saint.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice sharp.

His eyebrow quirks. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

Of course, he’s come for sex. That’s all I really am good for, isn’t it?

“What, so you want to get off and then abandon me again? Thanks, but no thanks,” I snap, then realize with horror that I’ve said something I had absolutely no intention of admitting to.

It takes him a moment to catch onto my outburst.

“Were you mad I wasn’t here this morning?” He’s gri

I stare at him blankly and pray that I seem indifferent. “It’s whatever. I’m just not in the mood tonight to be your fuck toy, okay?”

I go to shut the door, but he stops it with his hand.

“It never bothered you before when I slipped out early,” he points out.

He’s right, and I don’t have a good explanation as to why it’s bothering me now.

“It’s fine.” I give a stiff shrug. “You dip out early and don’t talk to me all day, that’s pretty standard, isn’t it?”

His expression lights up with dawning realization. “I see. You’re pissy because I didn’t give you enough attention.” He pushes through the door, forcing me backwards. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll remedy that.”

He grabs my waist and kicks the door shut, kissing me as he backs me toward the bed. I pound my fists against his chest a few times just so I can say I resisted, but then I give in and melt for him as he lays me down and strips me of my clothes.

Almost an hour later, we’ve given each other a couple orgasms, and to my surprise and delight, are snuggled under my covers watching a scary movie and munching on cookies. It’s the most normal thing we’ve ever done together, and I’m loving every moment of it.

“This movie’s shit. And I’ll never watch American Gods again without picturing the hot dead wife as a little ghost girl,” he mutters, even though is eyes are riveted to the screen.

I grin and shake my head, biting into my cookie.

“I told you we could watch something else…” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“You wanted to watch the one about dead people on a boat, so that’s what we’re doing.” His voice is gruff, as though he’s admitting to something he’d rather not be. My smile widens, and I blush.

Even though I’m pretty sure things will go back to normal tomorrow, I decide to relax and enjoy a taste of what it would be like to be in a normal relationship with Saint Angelle.