Page 139 of Torn
“Damn, I thought it was a message in a bottle,” I say, frowning.
“Nope. Just some asshole’s garbage.”
There are no trash barrels around, so I have to put the bottle back down in the sand.
“I’m bummed. I’ve always wanted to find a message in a bottle.”
“Isn’t it only worth it if it’s written for you?” he asks, reaching for my hand again.
“That’s so true. Even if I found one, I’m not sure I could open it and read it. It’s so invasive. But how fascinating would it be to just see one? I’m curious how the paper and ink would look. I wonder how the ink and paper would hold up after years of floating inthe ocean, tossed around by storms, and then warmed by the sun over and over again.”
“Only you would think of that, Angel. But… here’s some food for thought—how will you know if it’s for you or not, unless you open it?” he teases, bumping my shoulder.
I gape at him in mock irritation. “Now that’s just mean and torturous.”
He gestures toward an ice cream stand in the distance. “Let me buy you some ice cream, and then I want to take you home and torture you in ways that are much more fun.”
My pulse speeds up as I go up on my toes to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Ice cream sounds yummy, but I really want to lickyou.”
He groans and puts his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. “You naughty thing. I may not make the drive home if you keep talking like that.”
As soon as we get inside his house, he backs me up against the wall. His lips cover mine hungrily, and his hands move slowly up my arms to rest on either side of my neck, holding my face to his as his tongue twists with mine.
“My body’s not that sore anymore, baby,” he says, his voice raspy from the kiss. “And it wants you in a bad fuckin’ way.”
“I’m all yours,” I whisper against his mouth, and slide my hand down his chiseled body to grope his cock through his jeans, squeezing gently. Any shyness I had about touching him has slowly faded over the past few weeks after taking care of him while he was recovering. Bathing and showering with him was the perfect opportunity for us to reach an even deeper level ofintimacy, and I took advantage of it to be able to explore every inch of him.
He sucks in a breath and watches with dark, lust-filled eyes as I slowly slide myself down the wall until I’m kneeling in front of him, holding his gaze as I slowly unzip his jeans and pull them down along with his boxers. His hard cock thrusts out, and I eagerly wrap my lips around the head and slide my mouth down his shaft, filling my mouth and throat with him. He leans one arm on the wall above me and his other hand cups the back of my neck, his thumb slowly rubbing over my cheek as I move my lips up and down the hot length of him.
“I love when you suck me.” The deep, breathiness of his voice sends tingles up and down my spine as he thrusts his salty crown against the back of my throat. I wrap my hand around him and grip his hot, velvety flesh in unison with my mouth, sucking him harder as I pull my mouth to the tip and then plunge back down on him, quickening the pace as I feel him growing harder and throbbing against my tongue. He fists my hair and pulls my head back, forcing me to look up at him as he drives into my mouth and then stops with a deep moan. Hot liquid spurts down my throat and I swallow, staring up at him. He looks completely content and sated with his hair hanging down over his face, eyes closed, as he catches his breath, his hand caressing my cheek.
“You just wrecked me,” he finally says.
“I hope that’s good?” I slowly stand and lean back against the wall where he originally had me, and he leans down for a long, slow kiss that takes my breath away. His hands sink to my hips as he settles his body between my legs.
“It’s beyond good.” He sucks my bottom lip between his and gently bites. “Now I need more.”
We move to the bedroom, where he makes love to me to thepoint of total exhaustion. After a nap, he sits up in bed shirtless and plays his acoustic guitar while I lay with my head on his thigh and listen in woozy bliss. He’s been playing a lot since the accident, and I love that it seems to be therapeutic for him now rather than a bitter pill he was forced to swallow years ago.
He plays the ballad he played at the bonfire, and while he doesn’t sing, I know the lyrics by heart.
I wanted your smile to be for me
I watched you from afar for so long
And finally when I had you in my reach
You got stolen away, right in front of me
Never good enough, always cast aside
“You wrote that song, right?” I ask.
He nods. “I did. In high school. Asher tweaked it a little, of course.”
“Is it about someone?” Curiosity about the song has been on my mind for a while, and I want to hear the story behind it if there is one.
He chews the inside of his cheek and then looks down at me lying on his lap. “It sorta is. Or was at the time, I should say. It was more about how people made me feel.”