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world I’d rather be right now and that, right there, tells you all you need to know about how I feel.
How I fucking ache for this girl.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her quietly, rocking her in my arms. “How can I help?”
“Hold me,” she whispers, and I tighten my grip on her, as if she’s made of mist and will vanish the moment I let go.
“I’ve got you. Everything’s okay.”
“I want you to show me.”
“Show you?” What the hell is she talking about?
“You said you would.” She’s a soft, warm weight on my legs, on my chest. Her hair has come loose and is spilling like silk over my arms. “Christ, it’s as if I’m just not good enough. For anyone.”
“What the hell are you saying?” I pull her to me, a fierce embrace. She’s mine, and someone hurt her. I’ll kill the motherfucker. “Who told you such things?”
“Nobody did. But I know it.” Her voice cracks. “Mom left when I was little, didn’t take me with her, and Dad wasn’t there often. Said it was his job to travel, playing in concerts, but… I know, all right? When I’m not enough.”
“Shh, don’t say such things.” My heart is pounding. I know too fucking well what she’s talking about. “That doesn’t mean you’re not good enough.”
“And then the dance school cut me loose, and then Fred just…” She shivers.
“He’s a douchebag,” I growl. I don’t know what he did to her this time, what little assholery he cooked up to make her think so low of herself, but now I know what she’s been asking me ever since she came inside. “And I will show you. I’ll show you what you deserve. What a man should do for you. Because you’re so fucking beautiful, Manon, and you deserve the best. Give me one week to show you everything.”
Even if it breaks me to pieces when you’re feeling better and leave again.
***
I wake up some time in the early hours, stretched out on the sofa, a girl half-sprawled over me, smelling of sugar and vanilla, the bare skin of her shoulder soft under my hand.
It all comes back to me, bit by bit. Her appearance at my door last night, her tears, her request.
Manon.
Done it again, Seffers, boy.
She feels nothing for you. She’ll take what you give her and move on.
And so the fuck what? Not like I expected more. Not from a girl like her. I bet she’ll soon get over this Freddy and find someone real good for her—someone rich and safe and sane, in full contrast to me. Someone who isn’t me—a bum just off the street, with Native blood, tats and an attitude.
Someone without a criminal record. With a job. With knowledge of all the things she likes—ballet, music, art.
All I have are my sketches, and why would she care about those?
The gray dawn light coming in from the window outlines her form in silver. The soft roundness of her cheeks, her small chin, the wide arcs of her dark brows, her long lashes casting long shadows. A dark valley runs down between her tits, their softness ready to spill from her cleavage.
Fuck, I’m hard between our bodies, my dick a steel rod trying to push out of my sweats. She’s so sexy.
I’d draw her. I’d take photos of her. Sculpt her, paint her—hold her, kiss her, touch her until I’ve mapped every inch of her smooth skin.
Shifting helplessly against her, I hiss out in pleasure. My dick throbs, pressed between her belly and mine. I want her so much it hurts. I stroke my hand down her arm, and she buries her face in my shoulder and tightens her hold on me. Her dress hikes higher as she moves her leg over mine, rubbing against me.
Rubbing against my cock and balls, sending bolts of crazy need deep into me.
Shit. I throw my head back, press my lips together and struggle to keep back a moan, to keep from rutting against her until I come.
Christ.
