She screams when I cover her with my lips, and I laugh as she surges against me.

Very far away, I can hear my friend cursing, and then everything fades away until there is only her, and me, and this bed. Her hands in my hair and her voice, cursing and panting and begging as she moves against me. Her ankles on my shoulders, digging in as I lick her. Nip at her and suck on her clit, until she’s screaming again, her body moving in waves across the bed, and all I can smell is sugar and sunshine.

She comes like no one else, an orgasm so fucking gorgeous I could spend all day and night getting her off just to watch her fall apart. She’s panting, a sexy sheen of sweat covering her. I smile, place a kiss against her thigh and crawl up her body.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I whisper and she smiles, a drowsy, sweet thing as she pulls me to her lips. She licks across my lips, kissing me deeply, her tongue twisting into my mouth as her hips roll in tight little waves against me. The little purr of satisfaction she gives makes me groan, my dick twitching against her, and she laughs, reaching down to tug at my jeans. “Off,” she demands, and I scramble to obey.

She props herself up as I strip and I hesitate as her eyes go wide and hungry when I’m naked. She licks her lips and sits up, reaching for me. “I want you in my mouth,” she whispers.

My dick jerks, and I shove her back on the bed, rolling a condom on before I settle over her as she shifts restlessly. “Next time,” I say and push into her.

She screams and I laugh, a noise that sounds erotic and choked even to my ears. She’s tight and hot, so fucking wet it’s easy as hell to slip into her silky heat, and my dick has never felt so fucking good.

Sex has never felt so good.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I pant, and she whimpers. “How do you want it, sweetheart? You want slow and easy?” I slide out and she groans, whining as I slip back, so deep and slow it’s almost torture.

“Fuck me, Rike,” she hisses, her nails scrambling along my back.

She’s marking me and it’s hot as fuck. I shove into her, and she screams.

God, she puts on a good fucking show for them to listen to. It’s hot as fuck, knowing Scott is listening as I fuck this girl. I grin and let go, flying on the feel of her wrapped around me, the sting of her nails and teeth in my shoulder, the scent of her as she rolls her hips against me. It’s not going to last long—I’ve waited too long for this and I’m so fucking ready for her. I shift her, so I’m on my knees, her legs wrapped around me as I thrust into her, and slip a hand between us, rubbing her clit as I pinch her nipple.

She screams again, her pussy clamping down on my dick, and I growl, thrusting into her hard as my orgasm tackles me. All I can hear is her and the sound we make together, the scent of sex all around us, and it’s so fucking good I never want anyone else.

I fall onto her, and she puffs out a sigh, giggling as I crush her into the bed. I kiss her and roll to the side, pulling her with me so I don’t slip out of her. She makes a tiny noise of pleasure and arches against me a little.

For a long minute, all we do is stare at each other, and breathe.

She’s here. She heard my song.

She’s fucking here, in my arms.

“You think so loudly,” she murmurs, reaching up and running her thumb over my jaw. I turn my head just a little, nuzzling into her palm, and her eyes go soft and distant.

“What am I thinking?” She hesitates, and shakes her head. Retreating without ever moving. I run my fingers through her hair, and whisper, “I’m thinking that it’s amazing. That having you here is fucking amazing. Everything I’ve wanted and refused to allow myself to believe would happen.”

“I’ve offered,” she says, her tone dry.

I catch her face in my hand, studying it. The tiny nose, slightly upturned and dusted with freckles, the big eyes that are just now a little bit afraid.

“I’m not good for you, Fish,” I say.

She blinks, startled. “Did you just call me a fish?”

I nod and roll us. “It’s a quote I heard once. ‘People say there are other fish in the sea. I say, fuck you, she was my sea.’” I shrug. “It stuck with me.”

She propped herself up on my chest and gives me a frown. “Wouldn’t that make me the sea? Not a fish.”

I slap her ass lightly and she yelps, her eyes flying wide. “Shut up. Fish sounds better.”

She wiggles and, deep inside her, my cock twitches. I’m half-hard again, hungry for more of her, and as her gaze goes lazy, I know she’s with me.

She rocks slowly, and I grip her hips lightly, letting her set the pace as she works me. “What does all this mean?” she whispers.

“What do you want it to mean?”

Doubt flickers in her eyes for a heartbeat, and I pinch her nipple, jerking her gaze back to me and the moment. “What do you want?” I demand.

“I want you to fuck me. I want us to have fun and hang out and see what happens.” She hesitates. “I want to be that girl you sang about, Rike. But I don’t know if I can be.”

I shrug and pull her down to my lips, “You already are, Fish. But we can do easy right now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Gratitude flares in her eyes before I kiss her, a deep kiss that says everything she isn’t ready for—all the things I said in a song. That she’s everything. I would fucking hang the moon for this girl.

When I finally break the kiss, she’s panting, and her hips are moving in small, restless circles. I smirk at her. “Wanna give them another show?”

“You’re a kinky bastard, aren’t you?”

She grins and I nod. Groan when she rises on my dick, until only the head is inside her, and she’s panting, these broken little noises as she just lingers there. My hands are on her again, cupping her breasts, and I lick over a nipple.

She screams, her whole body shuddering as she slides down my cock, hard, and my teeth close on her nipple, and I laugh as she fucks me.

I might be a kinky bastard, but she fucking loves it.

Chapter 18 : After

The problem is that I am

Never content.

I want more than your smiles

and sweet words, more than your mind

I want to be your first and last thought,

the laughter in your eyes, and safe

haven you long for.

the press of lips you remember upon waking.

(Rike’s poems to Peyton)

Brody has grown up.

That’s the thing that hits me the hardest. My brother has grown up.

When he steps into the hotel room, he ignores it completely, his gaze narrowed on me.

In theory, I know what Brody should look like: a gangly, teenager with a sly smirk and laughing eyes.

That’s the brother I remember, the one who kept me sane through the hell that was high school and growing up as the daughter to a political family.

The man who stands in front of me. He’s taller than me, long and lean, with a buzz cut hairstyle that screams military, and a sharp gaze that misses nothing as it takes me in.

A smirk turns his lips and I let out a tiny sob. Because just like that, there he is. My baby brother. He opens his arms, and I crutch across the room to hug him. “God, I missed you,” I mutter. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Working,” he says noncommittally, and pulls back. “Why the hell are you in this shithole? I tried the house first, but it looks deserted.”

“Scott hasn’t been there much. I don’t know where Rike is,” I say.

His eyebrows go up and he frowns. “How the hell do you not know where Rike is? Why isn’t he here?”

Because I’m terrified, because I don’t know how to be with him, because I want him so much it’s scary. I don’t say any of that. Just chew on the inside of my cheek while Brody stares at me, and I can watch him puzzle through it, putting the pieces where they belong.