My hands dive into his hair, running through the silky strands, my mouth covering his. This time, I control the kiss and I use the advantage. All the pent up frustration at him is taken out on his mouth.
I’m frustrated at not being what my parents want me to be, not being able to show them who I really am. I hate that I’m forced to hide who I am, who I want, because this town is still stuck a hundred years in the past.
I hate that he makes me feel like this. He’s using my sister to get to me and some part of me is flattered by it. I hate him for that too.
All my hate is taken out on Roman. He takes it all and pushes back; our teeth and tongues battle.
Roman grips my shirt and forces me to take a step back. He wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before crowding my space again.
“I was never here, understand?” he growls in my face.
Pushing against his chest with both hands, I force him to take a step back and release my shirt. “Stay away from me.”
“Act normal before you blow it,” he snaps back.
“What?”
“Act normal so no one suspects anything.” He steps into my space again. “I would hate to have to prove my panty dropping skills to Mary because you made her suspicious.”
His hand presses against my dick and all the air in my lungs disappears. His touch is gone as quickly as it appeared and he’s walking away from me, climbing back out the window.
Shit.
My dick throbs so hard I’m actually afraid I’m going to come in my jeans. With my fists and jaw clenched, I force myself to hold back. I can’t let him win.
My mind and body are at war with each other.
My body loves the way he touches me. It’s exciting, new, and everything I crave. But my head knows he’s dangerous. He’s going to ruin my life.
Chapter Fifteen
Jonah
I avoid my family for the rest of the night by falling asleep early. Mom tried to wake me for dinner, but all I had to tell her was that I wasn’t feeling well and she left me alone.
The next morning, I’m awake with the sun. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I listen to the birds chirping in the tree next to my room. For a few minutes, I can pretend like I’m normal. I can pretend that I’m not about to sit in a church pew with my sister’s date, whose kiss I’m almost desperate for.
Down the hall, I can hear Mom getting her day started by starting the coffee. The scent of bitter brew wafting to my room. Grabbing my church clothes from the closet, I head to the bathroom to take a quick shower. I need to scrub Roman from my skin. The need to be clean before stepping into the house of God is too strong to resist.
The pipes groan when I turn the hot water on and wait for it to heat. The house is old and pipes small, so it takes a while. Standing in front of the sink, I stare at myself. I don’t look any different, but I feel different.
A boy kissed me.
He’s a jerk. Cocky. Entitled. But he kissed me. Me.
And I want him to do it again.
The rush of having him so close, feeling how hard he was against me, it was powerful. Erotic.
My dick grows in my boxers at the memory of it. At the memory of lust in his eyes and his hands on me.
“Come on, Jonah! You’re not the only one who needs a shower!” Mary hollers as she walks down the hallway.
I take a deep breath and strip before stepping under the burning spray. She will be pissed when there isn’t any hot water left but, frankly, I need this more than she does.
The scalding water and soap cleanse yesterday from my skin, but I can’t wash it from my memory. I’m not sure I would if I could. Roman is the only boy who’s ever touched me, and as much as he’s a jerk, it felt so damn good.
Pleasure is addicting.
My dick is aching between my legs, my balls heavy, needing to be drained. I lean my head back into the water and stroke myself. I try not to touch myself, no matter how badly I want to, because it’s a sin and I don’t need any more reasons to repent. This time, I give in, knowing I need the release before I see him again. I need to be calmer, more in control.
My skin is sensitive from the heat of the water and the pulsating need strumming through me. With a tight fist around my dick, stroking, twisting, pulling, it’s not long before my hips thrust into my hand, images of Roman flashing behind my eyelids.
I bite my lip to keep the moans from escaping, but it reminds me of the way he bit my lip and I’m spraying cum onto the floor of the tub. My knees go weak and I lean my shoulder against the wall to stay upright.
Damn it.
I’m weak. Pathetic. An abomination.
I hurriedly clean up my mess and turn off the water. Using the towel to dry myself off, scrubbing at my skin harder than necessary. I’m disappointed in myself for giving in.
I get dressed, tuck my dark blue polo into my khakis, and buckle my brown belt. Knowing it will be hot today, I give myself a good coat of deodorant and comb my hair.
Before leaving the steam filled bathroom, I grab my pajamas to toss in the laundry and hang up my towel, then head to the kitchen for breakfast. The time on the stove says it’s barely seven a.m., but the entire family is up and getting ready. Mary takes off for the bathroom to shower and I’m hit with a pang of guilt. I know I used too much hot water and now she’ll be left with a cold one.
“Seriously?!” she yells when she reaches the bathroom. “Did you use all the hot water?”
“Sorry! You’ll get first shower tomorrow. Promise.”
“Ugh!” The door closes harder than needed and the water turns on.
Mom’s hand brushes my forehead a minute before her lips do. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah, I think I just needed some extra sleep.” I grab a bowl and fill it with scrambled eggs and top it with ketchup.
Mom sits next to me with her own eggs and a cup of coffee when Dad comes in, already dressed, with his Bible in hand. Just seeing the Book has guilt hitting me hard in the stomach.
Disgrace.
Pervert.
My breakfast sits heavy in my stomach, and after only a few bites, I’m no longer hungry. I don’t want to waste the food, but I don’t think I can eat it either. Looking down at the bowl, I move the eggs around with my spoon while I wait for Mary to finish in the shower. Maybe she hasn’t eaten yet and she’ll finish them for me.
“Did you have fun yesterday?” Mom asks, taking a drink of her coffee.
Heat crawls up my neck to my cheeks. Crap.
“Uh…” I swallow before I can get the words out. “Yeah, the movie was good.”
Dad sets a glass of water down in front of me, and I reach for it like a lifeline, needing something to do.
“Good. Roman seems like a nice boy,” she comments.
“Mm-hmm,” is my only response.
He seems that way, all right.
Mary comes breezing into the kitchen, dressed in a white shirt with a soft yellow skirt. Ever the girly girl.
I scoot my chair back and hand the bowl to her before she can grab one herself. “Here. I made you a bowl.”
She gives me a weird look, but takes it without comment.
“Hurry and eat. We need to head out soon,” Dad says, leaning his hip against the counter and reading over his sermon notes.