Craving Resurrection
Page 19
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Like they hadn’t betrayed their own child by paying a stranger to divest her of her virginity.
For the most part, I was glad that they hadn’t tried to discuss it with me, not that I thought my dad would say a word about it. But a small part of me resented the fact that my mom continued on as if nothing had happened. What if it had been horrible? What if the man they’d sent me had hurt me? They had no clue what had gone down with the prostitute they’d sent, and they didn’t seem to care. While it wasn’t surprising, I couldn’t deny that it hurt like hell.
I fell asleep easily that night, my parents’ tired expressions divesting me of my worry about visitors in the house. I shouldn’t have been so confident of their plans since things had been changing so quickly, but the events of the day made my entire body sluggish, as if I’d spent hours crying. Even if I’d been afraid, I wouldn’t have been able to stay awake. I was exhausted.
When my mattress dipped later that night, my first thought as I slid into wakefulness was absolute disgust that I’d grown complacent in locking my door. But before that disgust could turn to fear, my arms were pinned by hands braced at my shoulders, pulling my blankets taut against my chest. Warm breath fanned my face as I opened my mouth to scream.
“Ye’ll wake yer folks if ye scream,” a familiar voice whispered, “It’s just me, love.”
I relaxed into the bed as relief rushed through me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed, pushing at the blankets that held me immobile. “How did you get in?”
“I told ye de locks were shite.”
“Let me up!”
He was silent for a moment while he considered my order. “What are ye wearin’ under dere?”
“Are you shitting me?” I paused, waiting for an answer that never came, then huffed loudly. “A tank top and shorts, you pervert. Happy?”
“No bra?”
My mouth gaped like a fish as I stared at him, my face heating. “You’re such a creep. No, I don’t have a bra on, what woman sleeps with her frigging bra on?”
“I’m holdin’ on by a t’read here, yeah?” he warned, leaning closer until I could see his eyes in the sliver of moonlight coming in through my window. “I know yer not seein’ much right now, but me eyes have adjusted already to de dark. I’ve seen what ye sleep in, lass, and I’ll not be seein’ it again tonight, yeah? Else, me good intentions will fly out yer window dere.”
“Okay,” I replied. He was serious, and I was a mixture of extremely pleased with his words and completely mystified by them. “You want me,” I commented stupidly to verify.
“Christ.” He leaned down and rubbed his stubbly cheek along mine, his lips brushing my jaw. “I’d give anyt’in’ to climb into dose sheets wit’ ye, but I won’t.”
“Why the hell not?” My voice was too loud in the quiet night, and he hushed me by putting his hand over my mouth, unwittingly freeing me from the blankets.
“I’ve no argument wit’ kickin’ de shite out of yer da, but ye might not want to deal wit’ de fallout of dat.” He pulled his hand from my mouth and ran his fingers gently through the hair at my temple.
“Sorry! God, you don’t make any sense. Why the hell are you doing this?” My body was heating from the way he was touching me, and it seemed really freaking cruel that he would continue to move his hand along the side of my face when he had no intention of following through. I jerked my head to the side and away from his fingers. “Quit it.”
His breath caught at my movement, and his head tilted to the side as he eyed the blankets that had pulled down my chest a few inches. They weren’t low, my breasts were still completely covered, but a wide expanse of my neck and collarbone were suddenly bare. He jerked as he processed what he was seeing, which was really just an innocent patch of skin. However, the expression on his face was like I’d stripped myself bare.
“Holy Mot’er,” he mumbled, lifting his hand to run it across my throat. “Do ye have any idea how appealin’ I find ye?”
His voice was thick with lust, and my heart began to pound in excitement. The tension between us seemed to grow stronger as he continued to run his fingers all over the skin of my chest, sometimes so incredibly soft that I could barely feel it and other times rough enough that I knew there would be faint fingernail marks from where he had dragged them across me. We were silent as our eyes met and held, but neither of us moved as he continued to caress me.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. My legs were tense under the blankets, my knees tilting slightly outward, and I needed so badly to arch my hips to try and find some friction that the restraint was causing my body to break out into a sweat. Before he could stop me, I’d shoved the blankets to my waist, the cold night air a relief that made goose bumps break out over my shoulders and my nipples bead tightly against my thin tank top.
He groaned deep in his throat and the sound gave me pause, realizing how far I was pushing him and the control he was exhibiting as he tried to hold himself back. His hand at my neck began to tremble as he watched it slide down to the top of my shirt. His eyes roamed over what I’d uncovered as he stood and turned toward me, his hand never leaving me.
His eyes finally met mine as he climbed on top of me, never removing the blankets that separated us from the waist down. My legs instinctively spread as his hips met mine. Perhaps I should have been more nervous than I was, but I was nearly eighteen years old. I wasn’t ignorant to male/female relationships and all that they entailed, and I’d never been more attracted to anyone. I wanted him there, between my legs—and though I may not have been ready to have sex with him, I knew deep in my gut that it wouldn’t get that far. I trusted Patrick implicitly, and it didn’t matter how hard I’d pushed him, he’d never go farther than I was comfortable with.
For the most part, I was glad that they hadn’t tried to discuss it with me, not that I thought my dad would say a word about it. But a small part of me resented the fact that my mom continued on as if nothing had happened. What if it had been horrible? What if the man they’d sent me had hurt me? They had no clue what had gone down with the prostitute they’d sent, and they didn’t seem to care. While it wasn’t surprising, I couldn’t deny that it hurt like hell.
I fell asleep easily that night, my parents’ tired expressions divesting me of my worry about visitors in the house. I shouldn’t have been so confident of their plans since things had been changing so quickly, but the events of the day made my entire body sluggish, as if I’d spent hours crying. Even if I’d been afraid, I wouldn’t have been able to stay awake. I was exhausted.
When my mattress dipped later that night, my first thought as I slid into wakefulness was absolute disgust that I’d grown complacent in locking my door. But before that disgust could turn to fear, my arms were pinned by hands braced at my shoulders, pulling my blankets taut against my chest. Warm breath fanned my face as I opened my mouth to scream.
“Ye’ll wake yer folks if ye scream,” a familiar voice whispered, “It’s just me, love.”
I relaxed into the bed as relief rushed through me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed, pushing at the blankets that held me immobile. “How did you get in?”
“I told ye de locks were shite.”
“Let me up!”
He was silent for a moment while he considered my order. “What are ye wearin’ under dere?”
“Are you shitting me?” I paused, waiting for an answer that never came, then huffed loudly. “A tank top and shorts, you pervert. Happy?”
“No bra?”
My mouth gaped like a fish as I stared at him, my face heating. “You’re such a creep. No, I don’t have a bra on, what woman sleeps with her frigging bra on?”
“I’m holdin’ on by a t’read here, yeah?” he warned, leaning closer until I could see his eyes in the sliver of moonlight coming in through my window. “I know yer not seein’ much right now, but me eyes have adjusted already to de dark. I’ve seen what ye sleep in, lass, and I’ll not be seein’ it again tonight, yeah? Else, me good intentions will fly out yer window dere.”
“Okay,” I replied. He was serious, and I was a mixture of extremely pleased with his words and completely mystified by them. “You want me,” I commented stupidly to verify.
“Christ.” He leaned down and rubbed his stubbly cheek along mine, his lips brushing my jaw. “I’d give anyt’in’ to climb into dose sheets wit’ ye, but I won’t.”
“Why the hell not?” My voice was too loud in the quiet night, and he hushed me by putting his hand over my mouth, unwittingly freeing me from the blankets.
“I’ve no argument wit’ kickin’ de shite out of yer da, but ye might not want to deal wit’ de fallout of dat.” He pulled his hand from my mouth and ran his fingers gently through the hair at my temple.
“Sorry! God, you don’t make any sense. Why the hell are you doing this?” My body was heating from the way he was touching me, and it seemed really freaking cruel that he would continue to move his hand along the side of my face when he had no intention of following through. I jerked my head to the side and away from his fingers. “Quit it.”
His breath caught at my movement, and his head tilted to the side as he eyed the blankets that had pulled down my chest a few inches. They weren’t low, my breasts were still completely covered, but a wide expanse of my neck and collarbone were suddenly bare. He jerked as he processed what he was seeing, which was really just an innocent patch of skin. However, the expression on his face was like I’d stripped myself bare.
“Holy Mot’er,” he mumbled, lifting his hand to run it across my throat. “Do ye have any idea how appealin’ I find ye?”
His voice was thick with lust, and my heart began to pound in excitement. The tension between us seemed to grow stronger as he continued to run his fingers all over the skin of my chest, sometimes so incredibly soft that I could barely feel it and other times rough enough that I knew there would be faint fingernail marks from where he had dragged them across me. We were silent as our eyes met and held, but neither of us moved as he continued to caress me.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. My legs were tense under the blankets, my knees tilting slightly outward, and I needed so badly to arch my hips to try and find some friction that the restraint was causing my body to break out into a sweat. Before he could stop me, I’d shoved the blankets to my waist, the cold night air a relief that made goose bumps break out over my shoulders and my nipples bead tightly against my thin tank top.
He groaned deep in his throat and the sound gave me pause, realizing how far I was pushing him and the control he was exhibiting as he tried to hold himself back. His hand at my neck began to tremble as he watched it slide down to the top of my shirt. His eyes roamed over what I’d uncovered as he stood and turned toward me, his hand never leaving me.
His eyes finally met mine as he climbed on top of me, never removing the blankets that separated us from the waist down. My legs instinctively spread as his hips met mine. Perhaps I should have been more nervous than I was, but I was nearly eighteen years old. I wasn’t ignorant to male/female relationships and all that they entailed, and I’d never been more attracted to anyone. I wanted him there, between my legs—and though I may not have been ready to have sex with him, I knew deep in my gut that it wouldn’t get that far. I trusted Patrick implicitly, and it didn’t matter how hard I’d pushed him, he’d never go farther than I was comfortable with.
