Wendy doesn’t seem so evil compared to Andrea.
“What about my sister?” I ask, a little defensively, considering her name will most likely crop up on their front pages soon. And not only because of the wedding switch.
“Andrea and I were discussing how great it is to have someone like Rose in the public eye. She’s a female figure that we believe a lot of women can rally behind.”
What…?
Off my frown, Andrea says, “She’s been with Connor Cobalt for over a year, and she’s stayed committed to him through everything.”
Wendy nods in agreement. “Especially after her ex-boyfriend tried to break them apart. It’s empowering to have someone like Rose out there—she’s independent, driven, and sexually open. I wouldn’t be surprised if women start asking her for relationship advice.”
Rose? Relationship advice? I never thought I’d hear those words. Or that a sex tape could be spun positively rather than negatively.
I don’t understand. Wouldn’t she be slandered and outcast like me? A weight just drops on my chest.
“That’s a great idea actually,” Andrea says. “Do you think your sister would be open to a short column on the blog? It can be about sex tips, a guide to dating, anything in that field.” Sex tips?
“I don’t know,” I say in a small voice. Rose is being lauded for having a boyfriend for over a year, for only sleeping with him. But I’ve been with too many no-named guys. She’s a model that other people can copy whereas I’m dirty, right? No one should follow my footsteps.
I never thought of it like that.
I never thought that she’d be praised and I’d still be condemned.
It’s not fair.
If I had been committed to Loren Hale all my life, would people love me more?
Probably.
Andrea and Wendy examine all of my reactions like they’re going to jot this down for an article. I think I mumble a goodbye, and then I just kind of drift away in a daze. Minutes must pass before I hear a familiar sound.
“Lily.” Lo’s concerned voice seems so distant. “I’ve been looking for you…Lil?” His hands go to my face, still standing in the ballroom, closer to the ornate wall.
“You were right,” I breathe. He was so right.
“Right about what?” His voice is low, like the hollow of a cave.
“Connor and Rose don’t need us.” They never needed us like we need them. Are we leeches then? We suck the life out of our friends and will never, ever be strong enough to pay them back.
I’m in his arms before I can even ask. He carries me in a front piggy-back. My legs tighten around his waist, sex sounding better and better. To at least give me a rush, a high of something good to drown out the bad.
But I know how this ends.
I will never satisfy this craving.
Very softy, I say, “We can’t have sex.” The words drive a nail into my heart. Because it aches to be denied it, even by my own lips. Because it’s all I feel like I need.
“I know,” Lo whispers, bringing me to an empty hallway with globes and more paintings overhead. He sets me on a bench and kneels in front of my spread legs.
My breath hitches, and I lean forward to kiss him, to grab a fist-full of his shirt and pull him even closer.
Just as my fingers clench the fabric, he puts his hands on my knees, shuts my legs tightly and rests one of his palms on my collar, pushing my back into the wall. The rejection stings. “Lo,” I say in a breath, his features sharp and severe and forceful.
A tear rolls down my cheek.
He’s not backing down from this. It’s like he could see this outcome from the very moment the wedding started. It’s like he was preparing all day for my descent.
Here it is.
I’m ashamed of myself and embarrassed. I just feel gross.
“The world is never going to understand us,” he tells me, his eyes so impassioned that I can’t look away. “But it doesn’t matter, Lil. We have each other, and I get your pain, I understand how badly it hurts, so I need you to block out the other people today, okay? They don’t exist in our world.”
Our world.
There is no going back to a life with just Loren Hale. Even though it’s harder to have real friends, real connections with other people, it’s the right thing. But it’s what causes so, so much agony inside. Every day in their presence, we stare at reflections of what we should be and know that we can never become them.
My shoulders relax, and I whisper, “Do we have superpowers in our world?”
“Yeah,” he says, “but you’re not invisible.”
Damn.
“What can I do then?”
“Fly,” he says, “with me.” He lifts me up quickly, onto his back like we always do. And he races towards a door, my hair blowing behind me. My lips rise in a weak smile.
He says, “Want to get lost with me in a palace?”
I rest my chin on his shoulder, a couple tears dripping but they come from a fuller place in my heart. “Yes.”
It’s a good kind of yes. The best kind.
One filled with a thousand I love yous, the type of love that can make you fly.
38
1 year : 00 months
August
LOREN HALE
Her lips swell underneath the pressure of mine, her fingers clenching my light brown hair, yanking hard. I slam her back into the bedroom wall. Our bedroom. Our wall.
She reaches out for stability, her fingers finding the wooden edge of our dresser. My c**k deepens in between her legs, and she lets out a sharp, ragged breath followed by a cry of pleasure. I kiss her strongly as I rock against her, and her body spasms with pleasure. Her hand slides, knocking a lamp to the floor.
The crash is barely audible.
My head bursts with light, overcome with her body, her sounds, and the emotions that we exchange through our lips. I never want to stop kissing her like this, while I’m full inside of her, our pulses in sync and this desperate urgency pumping our blood.
I don’t stop. The intensity smashes into me, black and white spots dancing in my vision. Nerves that I didn’t know existed explode, and my movements become hungrier, harder, eking out every ounce of energy she has left.
I hold the back of her head, pushing up into her over and over. Our lips are so close that our noses brush.
“Lo,” she cries out. She tries to grab onto the dresser again, but her hand, slick with sweat, glides right off.
In a heavy grunt, I say, “Up.” I lift both her thighs higher over my waist and let go to brace a hand on the wall, pinning her with my body.
Her legs limply slide right back to the floor. “I…” she trails off, too tired for words. But her eyes are alight with cravings, wants and desires.
I raise only one of her legs this time and hold it above my hip. The angle slices her breath and lolls her head to the side.
I slow my thrusts, and a moan escapes her parted lips. Tears crease the corners of her eyes. I wipe them away with my thumb as I begin the perilous ascent, speeding up and climbing towards that high.
I turn my attention onto her small br**sts, kneading one. Her body arches towards me, and I pinch her hardened nipple. She gasps.
“Lo,” she pleads. “Pleaseplease.”
“Almost, love,” I say and then let out a long groan. Sex with Lily Calloway just may be the most toxic, mind-altering experience of my life.
I do it pretty much every night and every morning, and together, we still manage to go into another dimension of pleasure. She clenches tight around my cock, and it’s over at that. My breath staggers, and my thrusts turn determined and even harder.