Forever Consumed

Page 10

“What happens between you and me when we’re alone stays between you and me,” he continues. “I would never think any less of you no matter what you do to please me. I wouldn’t say a word—even if you wanted to play with handcuffs and whips.”
I snort. That’s a big call coming from Seth. He’s not into kink. “You’d put up with that?”
“If it makes you happy, I’ll take a lashing on the ass for breakfast every morning.”
“That’s good to know.” Laughing, I lift my sore hand. “On a more serious note, I think I broke something.”
All amusement fades from his features. “Can you move it?”
I close my fist and wince before opening it again. “I can, but it’s extremely tender.” I smirk. “He really does have a thick skull.”
Ignoring my joke, he puts me down on the sidewalk right next to our car and gently takes my hand in his. For a guy who’s downed as many drinks as Seth has, he’s impressively still.
“Ow!” I hiss as he bends it backwards. I snatch my hand away, cradling it against my chest. “I told you it was sore.”
“Sorry, give it back. I’ll be gentle.”
I inch forward then hesitate. “You’ll be gentle?”
His lips curl a little at the corners and he nods. I slowly extend my sore hand to him and watch his movements closely for any sign of impending pain. He drags his finger tips over the top of my hand. Like he promised, his thick, callused fingers move lightly and I barely feel it. In their wake, trails of tingles dance over the surface of my skin and my entire body hums. One by one, he bends my fingers, all while keeping his intense eyes on my face.
“It’s not in your hand. It’s in your wrist.” His voice is low and smooth as he slides his fingers over the back of my hand. Pain flares the lower he gets, and as his fingers wrap around my wrist, I wince and pull back again.
“We should get it looked at to make sure it’s not serious. I don’t think it’s broken, but a fracture is possible—or a sprain.”
“A fracture?” I spit, tilting my head to the sky and running my fine hand over my face. “I’m being punished.”
Seth scoffs. “You’re not being punished.”
“I am. This is why you shouldn’t assault people.” I look at him. He’s watching me—all of his features alight with amusement. “Karma has always liked the way I taste. She can’t get enough.”
His lips curve into a cheeky smile. “Well, it’s good to know Karma and I have one thing in common.”
Of course he went there.
“Sex jokes?” I deadpan. “You want to crack sex jokes right now?”
Suddenly, I’m frustrated. I’m frustrated in myself. I know better. I know that violence is wrong. I know that violence doesn’t solve anything… and yet, I punched Don in his stupid, fucking face. I don’t care how irritating he is, I shouldn’t have put my hands on him. My dad always told me that no one has the right to put their hands on anyone without permission and I hate that I disregarded his advice so quickly.
Seth shifts his weight and leans back against the car. “Don’t be so uptight, O. You punched Don in the face. The universe fucking loves you right now.”
“You’re right.” I sigh, tapping my index finger along my arm. “I did the universe a favor.”
I’m sure even Karma has a small list of people she’d punch in the face. Seth pushes off of the car. “Let me take you home where you’re safe and won’t have the urge to punch anyone else.”
Automatically, I glower. “Except Jackson. I swear if he brings another girl home tonight, I’m going to—”
“He’s just trying to fill a void,” Seth interrupts. “It’s how he copes. I’m sure Selena is doing the same thing.”
She isn’t. I spoke to Selena this morning. She’s a freaking wreck. I’ve never witnessed Selena cry over a boy until now, and the worst part is, she won’t even tell me. She refuses to open up about Jackson. His personal life is the one thing Selena can keep to herself. It’s the one thing that won’t slip past her lips. Jackson has been crashing on one of our couches. Jackson has also been banging girls on all of our couches, the kitchen benches, the floor, the stairs and the spare bathroom. He’s probably done the deed on the balconies and in my bed, too.
“This isn’t about Selena.” Not entirely. “We need privacy, too.”
“I know,” he simply says.
Seth doesn’t have the same issue with Jackson as I do. Mostly because he’s not too fond of Selena, but also because he’s used to Jackson and the way he does things. Seth sleeps through all of the begging, spanking, and eardrum bursting orgasms. Not me. Before Seth, I lived alone in a small apartment. It was quiet, it was peaceful, and it was refreshing.
I cradle my arm and step closer to him. “If we ever have a break or an argument, don’t do to me what he’s doing to Selena… I don’t think I could ever come back from that.”
He frowns, and it’s a frown that absolutely terrifies me. “Don’t ever assume our relationship is like theirs. We’re different. You and I fix things when they break, we don’t damage them further… that’s what they do. They break things beyond repair. They’re not like us. Our love is healthy, theirs is…” He pauses as he ponders the right word. “Poisonous.”
“Poisonous?” I mutter.
“I have no idea what’s going on between them, but whatever it is, it can’t be healthy.”
I nod ever so slightly and Seth expels a heavy breath. “Anyway, if Jackson is home, he’ll be able to tell us what’s wrong with your hand. I’ve inched too far past the ‘tipsy’ mark to make sense of anything. In the meantime, support it and keep it straight.”
“Straight? How?”
He glances around and I pray that it’s not to find a stick that he can tape to my arm. Giving up, he glances at his own chest and pauses.
“But I like this one…” He sighs before pulling his shirt over his head.
Jesus. Even in the dim light his body looks fantastic. It pools in all of the right places, heating all of my ‘right places.’ Then he pulls on the collar, tearing the perfectly fine shirt in two. My mouth drops open.
“Really, Seth?” I gasp. “You had to rip your shirt?”
“Yes.”
I give him my arms and he tightly wraps his shirt around my hand, wrist, and arm. I clench my teeth together every time he tugs a little too hard.
“I’m being romantic,” he tells me.
“Romantic?”
“I ripped one of my favorite shirts for you. That’s pretty fucking romantic, Olivia.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
He ties a knot at my elbow. “Most men give jackets or umbrellas to their girls, but they always take it back when it’s over. I’m giving you my shirt and now there’s absolutely no way of me getting it back. I think it’s extremely selfless and sickeningly romantic.” He ties a second knot and pulls his hands away. “I want you to keep your hand still and straight until we get home.” Seth strokes my cheek. “Also, I’ve had a lot to drink, so you’re going to have to drive.”
My eyes widen. “Me? Drive? My hand is busted.”
He nods, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling comfortingly at me. It’s not convincing, he looks terrified.
“I know your hand is busted, but you’re our only option. You didn’t drink. I drank too much and that makes you the designated driver.”
I avoid driving in Vegas at all costs. Shit is crazy out there on the roads—especially at night. “But—”
“I know, I’m scared too, but if you keep your eyes on the road, stick to the speed limit, and try really hard not to crash, we’ll be just fine.”
He pulls the keys from his pocket and hands them to me. I take them with a groan and drag myself around to the driver’s seat.
It’s going to be a long drive home.
Chapter Five
Seth
I let the hot water gush over my fingertips before it splashes into the bath. Bubbles touch my forearm, threatening to fall over the edge of the porcelain tub. Olivia needs a bath—a nice, relaxing bath. If dealing with Don wasn’t enough, when we got home she was lucky enough to see Jackson receiving a blow job against the kitchen bench. I laughed when I realized he didn’t make it to a couch or a bed—that has to be some kind of record for him. While I found it amusing, Olivia was mortified. With a glare in my direction, she stormed up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door.
“You said you lived alone, asshole!” the girl shouted, wiping her mouth and drawing herself to full height. She was tall, lean (easily a nine) and embarrassed as all hell. Jackson opened his mouth to explain, but she left before he got the chance to. I looked away as Jackson fixed himself up and placed all pieces of flesh back behind fabric. When I glanced back at him he nodded, reading my expression. It wasn’t an angry expression. It was neutral, pleading even. Whether he liked it or not, what he did was disrespectful to Olivia, and although he was my best friend, my loyalties lay with my wife. I had to make it right with her. I’m the man of the house, the husband—fuck it—I’m the king, and I had to make my queen happy.
“I get it.” He exhaled, reading my mind. “I’ll crash at Darryl’s.”
Which brings me to now.
Jackson has taken his business elsewhere, but Olivia is still wound up and pacing around the bedroom, trying to decide if she should call Selena or not. Naturally, I advised her against it. She didn’t like it, not one bit.
I shut the bath off and relax into the armchair. I dragged an armchair into the bathroom from the reading corner in the bedroom. It really hurts my ass to sit on the tiles and Olivia’s baths can take anywhere from fifteen minutes to three hours. I like to watch her while she bathes. Don’t ask me why, I just do.
At the sound of the bath shutting off, Olivia strolls into the bathroom. Her hair is disheveled, her bottom lip puffy and red from biting it too much.
“I should tell her.”
I shake my head and Olivia’s shoulders square. She’s ready to contest anything I say to defend Jackson, but honestly, I couldn’t give a shit about Jackson or Selena right now. Their relationship is exactly that, theirs. I want no part of it.
I relax in the armchair and tap my knee. “Forget them. Let me take a look at your hand.”
“Forget them? Selena is my—”
I narrow my eyes and she purses her lips together. With the smallest nod, she steps forward and drops onto my lap. I tear off the makeshift bandage and toss it away as I take her soft, tiny hand in mine. Already I notice how swollen it is. It’s not too bad, but a hell of a lot bigger than her other hand. She sighs as I run my fingers over the back of her hand.
“Does it hurt?” I ask, resting my cheek against her shoulder. I bend her wrist and this time, she doesn’t wince or pull away.
“Not as much as it did before,” she mutters.
“I think it’s a sprain, but we’ll have Darryl check it out in the morning just to be safe.” I poke her in the side and she jerks away from me. Smiling, I say, “Clothes off. Your bath is waiting.”
With an eager smirk, Olivia slides from my lap and pulls at the knot behind her neck that holds up her shirt. The ties fall along with the shirt, exposing her perfect breasts.
“Stare much?” She giggles, turning away from me. I drag my gaze down her spine and over her hips as she curls her fingers underneath the hem of her shorts. She pushes them down her legs, taking her underwear with it. Her whole body is exposed to me and I admire her new softness. Her stomach is softer, as are her thighs and her ass. Her curvier body only enhances my attraction. She’s put on weight because I make her full, wholesome meals and have banned those shitty ‘snack bars’ from the kitchen. I’ve always been a fan of soft, feminine figures and now I have one all to myself. She smiles sweetly at me as she turns and heads for the bath. As she passes my chair, I snag her waist and pull her into me. With a squeal, she falls into my lap. I immediately notice how her soft skin feels like silk against mine.
“Your bath is waiting,” she mocks me with her best Seth impersonation.
I smile against her skin as I nip her shoulder, moving my lips along the top of her back and into the base of her neck.
“I suddenly feel like getting a little dirty first.”
She shivers on my lap, sending an intense surge of arousal through my body. Of their own accord, my fingers dance along her thigh, moving inwards, until the tips of my fingers touch the top of her bare core. She inhales sharply and I catch her sight in the reflection of the shower door. Her big, green eyes widen and she catches my hand, stilling it against her flesh.
“I don’t think here’s a good place to do that.” Her voice is breathless—needy—and I wonder if she can hear it.
“You’re not going to deprive me of watching now, are you?”
She catches her lip between her teeth, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. I lick her shoulder, keeping my eyes on hers and watch as they narrow into lusty slits. That’s all the coaxing it takes for her hand to slip away, allowing me to move and touch her freely again. I shift my position, pulling her legs apart with my knees. Her whole body tenses while her breathing deepens. She looks away from the reflection, but I can’t. I’m stuck, completely mesmerized by the scene—by her. My cock is hard, ready to burst through my zipper and take what it wants—what I want. But this isn’t about me… What I’m about to do to her isn’t about me and what I want. It’s about her—about relaxing her and winding her down after a stressful night. Even with her legs apart, her lips stay close together. Everything is tight and in place—a mere slit in an otherwise smooth, bare portion of flesh. I run my fingers over her clit, moving my rough pads around her sweet bundle of nerves. A few minutes in, her lips part as she expels heady breaths and her hips rock to the same tempo as my fingers. Her eyes are closed, her head against my shoulder and angled away from the reflection.