I purse my lips together at the statement, and we sit in silence as it falls like a brick. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“Me too.”
I nibble on my lip, thinking about the note I found on my door the other day. “My mother . . .” I say softly. “Well, she’s around. But I’m pretty sure she hates me. She hates that I don’t model anymore, that she can’t pimp me out to older men. That’s how she used to always get the jobs.”
Mack knits his brows together, shaking his head. “Fuck, Jules. That’s terrible.”
“Yeah, and I still talk to her. Can you believe it?”
“Family is complicated like that. But sometimes we hold on because we don’t know if we have any other choice.”
I give a rueful laugh and kick the water so that it splashes on his ankle this time. “Yeah, and sometimes you have to know when to let go.”
He laughs too. That smooth, deep sound. “You certainly have a point there.”
Chapter 25
Beyond the horizon, the sun sets cotton candy pink, blood orange, and periwinkle gray. Mack and I finished our pizza a while ago, the boxes still open on the table where a few slices languish. I’ve never had the biggest appetite, but the excitement of the recent events has me starving for more and more.
Now, I’m stuffed. But also, I want more of something else.
Mack and I are sitting at the edge of the pool, our legs dangling over, splashing our feet into the water. I’ve taken off my pants, so I’m in my thong and my long-sleeve shirt. He’s just got his shorts on, but he may as well be naked.
Even though he’s wearing shorts, maybe for some kind of modesty for what he feels is for my sake, I can still get an eyeful of his cock. God, I wish I could tell him about the scales. I wish I could tell him about the green that’s been sprayed across my arm. But if I do that, he’ll probably never touch me again. Or he’ll freak out. Or he’ll ghost me. Our relationship is so tenuous in so many ways, hanging on by a mere thin hook.
There’s silence between us. He doesn’t seem to mind the silent moments we have that seem to make other people uncomfortable. He knows how to let a moment sit when it needs to.
And it gives me the continued bravery to reach my hand out and grab his. He squeezes my hand back and places our clasped hands on the hard muscle of his thigh. Keeping hold of him, I rub up and down his scales.
The feeling is one I’ve only ever felt on him before. His leg is both textured and smooth. Cool and warm. Everything at once. It’s satisfying just to touch.
He shifts a little when I let our joined hands trail a little farther past his shorts. Closer . . . and closer . . . and closer.
I’ve seen his cock, but I still haven’t ever touched it. He’s kept it away from me.
But I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Maybe too much. And even if messing around with Mack is what’s giving me scales, the damage is already done. I might as well go all in.
Plus, the pills, Jules. You have to tell him about the pills.
I will. I swear I will.
But I don’t want to ruin the romantic moment. Not yet.
I let my finger catch on the hem of his shorts, even with our hands still clasped together. I give it a little tug. “Come closer to me.”
His eyes glimmer a bit at the touch. And he abides, scooting over until our hips touch. “Like this?” he asks. “Close enough?”
“Not quite enough.” I roll up on my knees and move in front of him, in between the spread of his legs.
I unclasp our hands and rest both of mine on his thighs, pushing my weight into them, my knees and the tops of my feet flat against the concrete ground.
He was afraid of the consequences of our hookup, and this will only prove his fear true. I’m a little afraid of the consequences of our hookups too, but for a person who’s been living in the desert to experience water for the first time . . .
They’d be desperate for it too.
His hands creep up behind me and come to either side of my ass, squeezing the bare cheeks. His eyes glimmer darkly. “Take your top off. I need to see you.”
I bite my lip. Agh. What do I do? I want to take it off. But I can’t risk it. There’s too much he might accidentally see.
So, I switch strategies. “This isn’t about me, Mack . . .”
I let my fingers linger at the waistband of his shorts, just below his belly button. I pull the material away from his skin and then let it snap back.
He lets out a short groan. “What are you planning?”
But I’m already leaning over him, my face level with the fly of his shorts. “I think you already have an idea.”
He leans back a bit, an unsure but torn look in his eye. He wants this. I know he does.
I keep moving forward. I have to. I pull down the zipper and almost moan out loud when his cock springs out. I’ve seen it before. Yes, but now it’s right there in front of me. Right by my mouth. It’s flushed a pinkish red, but the scales are the same, smooth and almost shimmery.
It’s weird, but my mouth is watering. I’ve given blow jobs before . . . forced to, more like. But I’ve never absolutely, completely, in the deepest depth of my soul, yearned to give one before. Never. Never in my wildest dreams.
I dip down, letting my mouth circle the head. It’s large. Mack’s cock is larger than almost any cock I’ve ever seen, and I wonder if he was born with it or if it were the mutation. I’m still not sure if it will even fit inside me. I’m barely getting my mouth around it.
But I manage.
And as soon as I do, his head falls back, and a hissing comes out of his mouth, but his words are a near groan. “Fuck, Jules. Your mouth on my cock. Fuck.”
