Those Cold Eyes ✓

Chapter 26

Dylan pressed me down on the bed, his otherwise soft hands suddenly rough. I tried to breathe but it was still erratic, still labored – I was still close to tears. I had been so fucking worried, and that alone scared the hell out of me. How the heck had I let him in so far so soon? How could he have me wrapped so tightly around his little finger?

I groaned as he pulled up my t-shirt – finding my skin underneath. His tongue and lips caressing me, stealing my thoughts. I wanted to forget. I wanted to let go.

"Zach, tell me if you want me to stop, okay?"

I didn't want to listen. I just wanted to feel – so I didn't answer. He didn't understand. He stopped...

I whined, and tugged at his hair, pushing him into my body again, driving him closer. That did the trick. He went back to work, creating a sense of peace, a place for just the two of us. A place where no one else was welcome. I took a deep breath and relaxed against his touch. I let him take charge completely and nothing had ever felt better, calmer.

He was both my anchor and the storm.

His palms found my heaving chest, and all I wanted was to get him even closer, feel more of him. Feel less of everything else.

I didn't want to open my eyes, but when he started to unzip me they suddenly flew open by themselves – bulging when I saw the blazing heat in his eyes. He looked straight at me, focused only on me. I gripped the sheets and my head fell back, a moan leaving my lips as he kissed along the hem of my briefs. I was so freakishly sensitive there – to the point where I couldn't lie still. My hips began to gyrate but he just chuckled and continued. Relentless in his plan to drive me off the edge...

Suddenly his touch was gone and I opened my eyes again, seeing him hovering over me, putting his hands on my pants – pulling them off in a swift tug. He dropped them on the floor and fell on top of me again, kissing me senseless with his soft but demanding lips and I got lost in the sensation and didn't let go of that feeling until we were lying in a heap on the bed – panting and relishing in the post-coital glow.

I had never ever thought that it would feel like that. I had never thought that it would feel good. I had definitely thought that this was a one-time thing, that I would never submit to Dylan like that ever again, but now I wasn't so sure.

"How are you feeling?" he asked tentatively.

I grinned slowly, the smile taking time to form, but it didn't seem to matter. He kissed me in response, snuggling into my side – his skin as damp and hot as mine.

"Do you want to tell me?" he asked against my neck.

His question set of an array of thoughts shooting back and forth in my mind, jumbling around without making any sense at all. I didn't know if I wanted to tell him. I had never told anyone about it. I had never told my parents what Clara had told me, what she had told me even if she knew I shouldn't have heard her story while so young. I hadn't understood. I hadn't been enough to support her. To her defence she hadn't meant to tell me. I'd read her diary – sneaky little brother. Then I had asked her and she had broken down, crying for hours and hours – begging me to not tell anyone.

"Hey, calm down, you don't have to tell me..." Dylan mumbled softly, and that's when I realized I was shaking in his arms.

"I was eleven when it happened. She was fifteen. So young. Of course then I thought her old. The way younger children look upon those who are older... She told me, afraid to get in trouble she told her little brother why she was so scared all the time, why she couldn't sleep. She told me I couldn't tell mum and dad. She made me swear on it."