Stain (18 page)

Chapter 20

Aylee

I don’t see or hear from him for days after what happened in the art room and realize mournfully I have no way of contacting him. I can’t show up at his home again. I no longer own a bike. Once or twice, I’ve thought about going to Noah to ask for Maddox’s number, but what little pride I have remaining keeps me from further acting like the desperate fool. Besides, last time I saw them together, Maddox was throwing punches and Noah was on the floor. I tried to be there for him, but I can’t force it. Can’t make him trust me. He doesn’t judge me, so I’m going to make a conscious effort to attempt to do the same. I don’t know what Noah meant when he said those things that angered Maddox, but the way I see it, everyone has secrets. And they deal with them at their own pace. That I do understand. I’m not happy about his disappearance, and I miss him. So I’ll wait. My days progress in perpetual limbo while I wait for him to reappear back in my life. Either in group therapy, in school, or even at my house. I’ve become
that
needy for his proximity. It’s the end of the week again, and with the last ring of the bell, the end of school, too. I have my humanities study group upstairs in the library so I make a brief stop at my locker to drop off the books I don’t need to take home tonight. It alleviates the weight from my backpack, making it a whole lot easier for me to carry.

The library is massive and is considered one of Brigham High’s greatest accomplishments. It’s emptier now that it’s the end of the school day, but there are still students milling around. Finding the four members of my humanities study group camped out on one of the solid oak, rectangular tables a little farther back, I hurry to them. Alex, David, Jen, Cory, and I rarely ever interact outside of class, but in class we do pretty well together. When we have an especially difficult test, like the one our humanities teacher is giving us next week, we band together and help each other where the other is weakest.

Which helps tremendously considering the course load we get swamps all of us, especially with just this AP class alone.

“Hey, Aylee, Jen’s going for a snack run. You want anything? It’s on Alex,” David announces with a grin as he leans back against his chair.

“No, I’m okay, thank you.” I set my bag on the table and take the seat next to Cory, who has his ash-blond head down while texting. 

“So, Aylee, I was just going over what we discussed in class today. You’re still up to tackling Greece, right?” David asks.

I nod, taking out my four-subject notebook, with its colorful array of Note Tabs sticking out from every other page. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Great, so we’re doing what we agreed on. We each research one of the historical eras, take notes, and then we’ll write up a master note with all the necessary events that’ll be on the test. We’ll run copies and study off of that.”

“You got it, commandant.” Cory’s snarky response earns a glare from the uncontested leader of our group.

When Jen returns with a bag full of food we aren’t supposed to have in here, she leaves it under the table to keep it from getting confiscated by one of the librarians. We work silently for a bit before splitting up to go research our assigned subject. It would’ve been easier simply using the Internet to gather all the necessary information, but Mrs. Keegan is against Internet research. As she puts it, ‘any Joe Schmoe can create a Wikipedia page these days, and mess with history. Whereas the words written in history books will never be altered to fit someone’s biased view.’ She has a point. But it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. Cory and I head to the second floor where more of the history books are kept. There’s no one up here in the stacks but the two of us.

“So, Aylee, I was wondering something,” Cory begins as we walk down the carpeted aisle and split to search for our section of history. I go right, while he goes left. Lost in concentration, I move through the towering shelves in search of books on ancient Rome, and am only half listening to what he’s saying.

“What?”

“What sort of music are you into? Because I have these Avicii tickets for Saturday and I know it’s last minute but I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out for a while now.” I hear him laugh softly, a noise that sounds both like relief and release of nervous tension. “So, anyway, are you free tomorrow night?”

I’m grateful that we’re separated by the rows of shelves because I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had a boy ask me on a date before. Heck, I’ve never had a boy be interested in me. Ever.

Except maybe for—

“No.”

One throaty word startles me to the core, and my mouth drops open as a gasp falls from my lips. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. I’d know that voice anywhere, even in a din. With eyes wide and a booming heart, I forget for an infinite moment how to breathe as he brushes my unbound hair to one side, exposing my neck to the delicious warmth of his wet lips. He’s right there, right behind me, pressing up so close I feel every inch of his hardened physique molding up against the softness of my backside. “Tell him no, Aylee.” It’s a whispered growl, heating with authority. Every inch of my skin crackles at his voice, at his nearness, like a livewire doused by water. With hands at my hips, he turns me around to face him. It’s been days since I’ve seen him and yet, the way my mind, body, and soul responds to the mere sight of him is astounding.

“Aylee?”

I can’t even think properly let alone reply when I hear Cory call me through the muddle in my head. “I’m...”

“Aylee?” I turn my head to the right to find Cory standing at the entrance of the aisle. I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s seeing. Probably me being squished up against the bookshelf behind me by a scowling, pierced, and tattooed guy who doesn’t seem at all inclined to release me any time soon. “Aylee, are you all right?”

“I’m…”

“She’s busy.”

Cory glares. “How about you let her talk?”

“How about you fuck off?” Testosterone brimming, he pulls away from me and makes a beeline for Cory. I have to run and maneuver my way in front of him to get him to stop in his tracks.

“Maddox, don’t…” My hand falls on his abdomen, just a few inches south of his rapidly-beating heart. When he looks down at me, it’s with storm clouds in his eyes. “Please,” I add.

“I need him to go away,” he answers, almost too quietly, like he can’t quite get around to tempering his rage.

I nod and attempt a smile. “I can do that. Just let me go talk to him.” When I move away, his hand whips out to grab my wrist.

“Do it from here.” He doesn’t let me go. His hold is loose enough to have me pull away if I want to, but I don’t want to. Not even a little bit.

Turning, I address Cory, who’s taken the entire exchange with a frown on his face. I can definitely understand how odd this must look. “I’m okay, Cory.”

His skepticism comes through in his next question. “Is he your boyfriend or something?”

“Or something,” Maddox growls.

“Aylee…”

“I promise, I’m okay. Maddox is just kidding around. I really wish I could go out with you this weekend, but I’m going to be painting Maddox for my art portfolio. That’s actually why he’s here. I need to talk to him about it.”

“Oh,” he says, reluctantly. “All right. I get it. Just…maybe some other time then?”

I nod slowly, chewing the inside of my bottom lip, “Maybe.”

“I’ll see you downstairs?”

“Yup, be right down.”

“I’d give him an hour tops, before you lose interest in him,” he injects with a cocky grin.

“Maybe, but at least I’ll be entertained for a good hour,” I answer back, meeting his narrowed gaze head-on. But because he’s too good at this game and the intensity of his stare strips me bare, I avert my eyes. “You’re here,” I say, inanely looking down at his large hand still encircling my wrist.

“I’m here,” he echoes.

Blinking fast, I take the chance to look up at his face. “Why?”

Without warning, he yanks me to him, and I gasp when he pushes me up against the bookshelf behind me and traps me there with his body. Sweeping a large hand behind my hair, he takes a strong, possessive hold of my nape and lowers his head until his breath fans my partially-opened mouth. “Because I want a kiss.”

Yes! Please, yes!

I anticipate the urgent brush of his mouth on mine like it’s a drop of water after years and years of drought. “I want you on my tongue, Aylee.”

I don’t fully grasp the implication of his words. All that matters to me is him satisfying the craving I have for his drugging kiss. I lift my head up more, close my eyes, and wait…and wait…and wait...

He chuckles softly, “Not here, for now.” His thumb glides along my bottom lip in a sweet, torturous caress. “Turn around,” he commands but doesn’t give me the chance to do it myself as he turns me to face the bookshelf. “Don’t move,” he adds hoarsely. His heavy breath along my ear produces a slow crawl of heat low in my abdomen.

I feel the absence of his warmth instantly and I want to turn around so badly to see where he’s gone or what he’s doing. But something keeps me from doing so.

So I wait and ask instead, “Wha…what are you doing?” My voice quivers in a whisper only to choke on a gasp as I feel his strong, firm hands at the waistband of my dark blue maxi skirt and then slowly he tugs it down. A current of cool air in the room sweeps across my exposed butt cheeks. Reaching down, I slam my hand on his to stop him from going any further.

“Maddox…” The
stop
catches in my throat at the feel of his soft, warm lips whispering along the curve of my butt. His fingertips skim up the sides of my trembling thighs and slip beneath the band of my cotton panties. With his breath steaming-hot along my cheeks, he slides the panties down my legs in a languorous motion and they fall on top of my skirt, pooling around my feet on the carpeted floor.

Panic has my head moving left and then right out onto the open aisle. The sudden idea of someone walking by at any moment to find me with my skirt down, my bottom half exposed, and Maddox on his knees behind me shoots the most electrifying thrill down my spine, invoking a soft moan.

Good Lord, what’s wrong with me? Do I actually want someone to see us?

Yes.

The answer is a dark little whisper in my mind. It ripples like a caress through every crevice in my body.

This is scandalous.

Wicked.

Wrong.

But how can something so wrong feel so intensely right? So astonishingly good? If this is sin then I’ll gladly burn for just a stroke of his tongue along my most intimate place. For him, I’d burn for eternity. I want his touch. I welcome it, crave it, in fact.

It takes everything I have to fight the impulse not to look back. But I need to. I
have
to see what he’s doing. “Maddox…someone might come.” I look over my shoulder and down to find him staring up at me, a devilish grin pulling at the corners of his wicked mouth, while pure mischievousness glints in his smoky gray eyes.

“Yes you will,” he murmurs, “I’ll make damn sure of it.” The promise in his voice melts me.

My breath tap-dances in my lungs, coming out hot and fast against the books in front of me as I feel the all-too-thick intrusion of his finger slip between the V of my slick flesh.

He makes a guttural sound and it’s so primal, so animalistic that everything female in me responds to it, my core throbs reflexively, my breasts grow fuller, and my nipples pucker inside my bra, demanding the warm relief of his mouth. “Damn, Aylee,” he says, throatily. “You’re so fucking wet, baby.” His finger glides up and then down, and up and back down, playing in my slickness. 

“Arch your back and stick your ass out for me,” he directs silkily, masterfully pulling on my strings. Pushing slightly against the bookshelf, my back bows and I thrust my hips back for his total enjoyment.

He grabs the globes of my butt between his hands and parts my cheeks, stripping me completely of any sense of modesty. And then him breathing me in, his face so close to my swollen, pulsating flesh is…indescribable. When his mouth touches my lips, my knees weaken, and it takes gripping the shelf to keep myself upright.

He kisses me there where wetness drips like honey. He uses his tongue that’s so hot, so wet, and so firm to slowly, thoroughly eat me. He feasts on my flesh like it’s ambrosia from the gods. He’s in deep, and I’m bent practically in half, my butt cheeks spread wide. Soft, gasping moans tumble free from my open mouth as I try to pull away from how intense it is. But his grip is so strong that it keeps me exactly where he wants me. My entire universe condenses down to where his beautiful tongue nibbles, licks, and flicks over the incredibly-sensitive nerves of my clitoris. Pleasure I’ve never known, so fierce and astonishing, wrenches a stunning cry from me as my body spasms from my incredible release.

My knees buckle and this time I don’t have the strength to keep myself up. But then he’s there. Strong, muscular arm encircling my waist as he holds my body tight against his. He turns me to face him and covers my mouth with his in a hungry, toe-curling kiss. I taste my essence and I taste him, and the combination of us is deliciously intoxicating.