“And then… he just,” Lilah leaned down to bite Caleb’s neck, “stopped saying anything. Went completely silent.”
She rested her head on his chest. She breathed deep & heavy, excited for him, but still concentrated on telling her story.
“I find that“ – Lilah paused to look up at him – “odd. Don’t you? I mean, if he were interested, he would say something, right?”
Caleb tilted his gaze down at her and snorted. She waited, restraining herself from speech simply because she knew the frustration would simply fuel her more.
“He wants to fuck you,” he told her, as if the answer had been clear as day all along. Lilah looked away as he said this. As the words hit her, her face snapped back up toward his.
“What? That doesn’t make any sense, Cale,” she barked, waiting for his reaction.
“To him, it does,” he whispered as he pulled on her hair to bring her lips up to his. “He’s manipulating you in order to get what he wants. Even if he loses, he still wins. No harm done. You’re wondering why he is ignoring you… so he’s automatically on your mind even though it may not be in a good way. It’s pretty genius, actually, sweetie,” he explained. She thought he sounded rude, tacking the pet name onto the end, so she slapped him, enraged by his condescension.
“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me, swee-” He kissed her hard, interrupting her sentence as his hands gripped her arms tight. She fell into the kiss. “Sweetie…” she breathed, glaring into his eyes.
“Well, that’s the truth,” he stated, trying to hide his smugness. “Take it or leave it.” She groaned, weighing the options.
“Of course, you could always stay here, with me…” Caleb suggested, the corner of his mouth slightly raised in a playful smirk. Lilah allowed her hand to glide over his skin. It made his arm hair stand up. She smiled.
“It’s your decision,” he said, his stern eyes warning her to not distract from the question this time like she always had before.
He was done with this bullshit. “Did you hear a word I –”
She cut him off. “I SAID… touch me, you sick bastard.”
She grinned, biting her lip in the process, and he knew she had captured him again. She was on fire. He followed suit, doing as he always had – mashing his body into hers until he was finally able to drive his iron into her bones, using sweat as their only adhesive. He only wished that she would just leave him alone, but as she moaned his name, all thoughts of heartbreak vanished. He was a victim, yes, but also a prisoner to his skin, and he knew it would take time to break free.