Ecstasy

“Take me upstairs.”

His fingers dig into my skin. “Zara, what are you on this time?”

“Take me upstairs,” I say again, more urgent this time. “Take me upstairs, Alex, please.” I can feel his erection against my back, but I need it touching me, no clothes between us. I want him in my mouth, his hands all over my bare skin, completely naked with him inside of me.

I want him again. Always.

He takes a deep breath. I feel his chest rising and falling behind me, hear his indecision in the sound against my ear. But finally, as I keep swaying against him, feeling as if it’s just us at this party, no one else, not even Eli, he says, “Okay.”

And then I spin in his arms, eyes flying open, and he picks me up. I wrap my legs around him, cup his face in my hands and kiss his lips. His grip on my thighs tightens and he kisses me back, opening his mouth for me.

It’s intoxicating, this kiss. I almost don’t want to go upstairs. I almost want to love him right here, right in this kitchen. But he breaks away from our kiss and I lay my head against his shoulder as he carries me down the hall. There’s a lot of noise coming from the living room. I hear people shouting his name and someone whistling, but the music is really loud, too, and I focus on that, swaying in his arms as he carries me up.

I don’t think about Eli. Don’t look for him.

Alex takes me down the hall, toward his room. He shoulders open the door, kicks it closed behind us.

He sets me on my feet but keeps an arm around my shoulders as he slides up the dimmer on the lights, a soft, dim glow barely illuminating the room.

His bed—decked in Caven-blue—is opposite a flat screen TV mounted on the wall, and angled beside his bed is a loveseat, but otherwise, the room is clean and empty.

I glance at his nightstand.

The Bible is still there.

Alex steps toward me, his hands moving down to my hips as he stares at me, blowing out a breath. “I’m glad I got you away from everyone,” he says, his voice rough.

I smile at him, gripping his biceps. “You can invite some people up here if you—”

He puts his hand over my mouth, startling me. “I’m not like you,” he informs me, taking another step toward me, forcing me to concede one. My mouth is dry again and I think maybe I should have had more water but it’s a little late for that now.

Besides, when my legs bump up against the bed, all I want to do is tell Alex to lie down on it so I can ride him. So I can make him feel good, because he deserves it. We deserve it.

“I don’t want to share,” he keeps talking, his warm hand still clamped over my mouth. “I’m not going to. Ever again.”

I stroke my hand lightly up his forearm and he lets his hand slide down over my lips, to my throat, resting it there gently. “No sharing,” I lie to him.

He smirks at me, his eyes trailing down over my chest and his hand following. He cups my breast over my tank top. “No sharing?” he repeats, gaze finding mine again.

I bite my lip and nod, slipping my hands under his shirt. He’s all hard muscle and sharp lines but his skin is so fucking smooth. I want it on mine.

“Zara,” he says, my name a whisper on his lips. “Are you sure you’re not going to regret this? Your eyes…” He trails off, staring into my eyes.

I know they must be dilated right now, but I know what I want.

“I’m not going to regret it. I know what I’m doing.” It’s true. I do. MDMA doesn’t impair judgement in the way the shots of tequila I chugged down will. It just makes everything better.

He still looks unsure, and I can’t help but think it again. He didn’t hurt that girl. I need to find her. I need to know what happened. I need to ask her. Maybe someone hurt her, but him? I don’t think so.

Either way, I know he won’t hurt me right now.

He’s not even moving. He’s just staring at me with this pained expression on his face like he’s torn between fucking the shit out of me or ru

I vote for the former.

I grab his shirt and pull him, spi

He sinks down onto the mattress, in a seated position, trying to bite back a smile but he can’t quite do it.

“God, I’ve fucking missed this.” His hands come to my thighs but he’s still staring into my eyes.

“Take off your shirt,” I tell him.

He flicks up his brows. “Commanding, huh?”

I grab his wrists, make him drop his hands from my thighs as I take a step back and then let go of him. I want to pounce on him. I want to feel him everywhere. But right now, I want to watch him take off his shirt.

I cross my arms, still swaying slightly even though the music is just the sound of the bass up here. I want to change that. I know there are wireless speakers in his bedroom, we always had something playing when we were fucking around in here.

Did Eli listen, then? He said he heard us, and he saw me…

I push him from my mind. Not because I don’t like thinking about him, but because if I think about him too much, I’ll go find him and bring him up here and I’m positive Alex doesn’t want that.

And right now?

I want to give Alex everything he wants.

He crosses his arms, lifts his shirt over his head. I swear to God my mouth starts watering when he drops his white shirt onto the floor, rests his hands on his thighs and stares at me, almost defiantly.

I find every freckle over his long, lean torso, his abs still visible and defined even though he’s sitting down. Those veins in his biceps are like another fucking drug, and even though I meant to make him strip down completely, I can’t stop myself.

I kick off my socks and shoes, unbutton my jeans, tug them down my thighs. I go to slide my fingers under my bright green lace panties, but Alex reaches for my wrist, stopping me.

He doesn’t wait for permission anymore, doesn’t ask me if I want it.

Instead, he holds my gaze while he leans forward and uses his teeth to pull down my underwear, his mouth scraping against my skin. His thumb pulls down the other side until the lace just falls to the floor and I step out of it as Alex sits back, watching, one hand still on my thigh.

I wonder why he never noticed my scars.

Now’s not the time to ask. I don’t want him to notice. I didn’t want Eli to, either.

Eli seems to have a habit of noticing things he shouldn’t.

“Your turn,” I tell Alex, smiling brightly as he takes in every inch of my skin from the waist down.

His touch lingers, but slowly, he slides his hand away from me, reaching for his belt. He undoes it and flicks open the button of his pants.

But he’s moving too slowly for me.

I stand between his legs, yank down the zipper.

He adjusts his position, letting me pull down his pants and his boxers, to his knees.

I can’t get any further than that before my hand is wrapped around his dick, and I lean over, my mouth on the head of his cock. He tastes so fucking good, so fucking hard and soft at once, my fingers barely touching, circled around him.

I stroke him while I suck on the tip and he groans, his fingers in my hair.

“Fuck, Zara.” He doesn’t move his hips, just lets me suck him how I want to, and in this moment, I’ve never wanted to do anything more.

I try to deep throat him, which has always been a fucking challenge. And just as I think it’s too much, just as I think I’m going to choke on him, he shoves my head down and my eyes water as he hits the back of my throat.