27. Harvey

27

HARVEY

Iknew something was wrong when she didn't show up to practice last night. Still, with no response from her and Kade giving me only blunt replies, I had nothing to go on.

"Can you eat?" I ask.

She shakes her head. If she used a couple of hours ago, she's just now on her way down, which means food is the last thing on her mind. I don't ask her anything anymore; she's past the point of making her decisions. That's why she came to me.

"When's the last time you ate something?" I just need to check.

"Yesterday, I think." She doesn't try to lie to me, and I appreciate that for what it is.

She trusts me.

"Come here," I tell her. "Let me fix your hair."

I grab a brush from the bathroom, and she sits between my legs while I get to work. She's fidgeting, anxiously bouncing and wiping her nose on the hem of the shirt. "I don't think I should stay here, Harvey." She's a little more alert now, and probably ready for another hit.

"Mmm. That's okay," I reassure her.

"No, I mean?—"

"You're staying here, Nia." I pull on the braid, garnering her attention before I finish wrapping the strands over each other.

It had been years since I'd braided anything before her. That first braid had been a comical joke of an effort, and now, here, with a few practices under my belt, I wasn't going to lie that I wasn't a little proud of the smooth plait running down her back.

"Thank you." She runs her hand over it like it's a soothing mechanism.

"Let's go skate." I stand, giving her my hand.

"Are you joking? It's nearly nine o'clock on a Tuesday night." She laughs at me, but I don't put my hand down.

"And who's going to stop us?" I ask.

Biting her lip, she tries to argue, but nothing comes out when she opens her mouth. "How are we going to get in?"

"Are you telling me you don't have a key?" I scoff, knowing damn well I have my own.

She reaches for her backpack and pulls the tiny key out of the side pocket before wiggling it in front of my face.

"Then let's go skate." I smirk, grabbing it from her hold.

"Wait, what is that?" She grabs my hand, and I try to pull away, but she's already got it in her grasp, examining the red ink on the top of my hand. The tattoo of teeth.

"Is that…" A small smile curves its way over her face, and I pull my hand back. It's been there for days but this is the first she's noticed.

She doesn't finish and I don't confirm, but we both know the truth.

It's the mark she's left on me, and I'm going to wear it forever now.

This is the Nia Lonnie wanted me to fall for, the one I get glimpses of every time she crosses one knee over the other and rounds the corner of the track. Her braid beats behind her, head chin tilted up, and her eyes are nearly closed. This moment is hers and hers alone, and I'm just privileged to get to witness it. She gets about three or four laps in before she notices I'm watching.

"Are you coming?" she shouts back at me, extending her arm my way as she passes once more.

I take her hand and let her drag me, knowing damn well it's more effort for her this way, but if she's not complaining, then I'm not either. She's pulling me, skating backwards now with a giant grin on her face.

She's fucking stunning like this, when all her feelings aren't being masked by the drugs she's trying to kill herself with. When she's allowing herself to be free, to do the things she loves. She knows it too; that's why the tears are falling from her eyes, drifting with the breeze and landing on my shirt.

We skate until she's so worn out, she's refusing to get up from the track. Her chest heaves up and down, and she laughs uncontrollably from sheer exhaustion. It's almost one in the morning. She rolls to her stomach and perches up on her elbows, panting to catch her breath.

"You didn't have to do this."

"Which part?" I don't know why, but I want to hear the words. From her, I need them.

"The part where you're trying to save me." She looks ready to break again, her eyes weepy, and I know it's the comedown fucking with her mood.

I pull her into my lap, laying her head across my thighs so she can look up at my face. "The problem here, princess, is that you're so fucking annoying with your self-esteem issues that you don't think you're worth saving, that I'm wasting my time on you." I don't wait for the nod that surely comes before I continue. "Well, get over yourself. I'm saving you for purely selfish reasons. I'm saving you because I want you for me."

She props herself up onto her hands, some of the weight sitting on her cast. If she's in pain, she doesn't show it. Her eyes don't move from mine. "You want me?"

I don't fight the smile on my face. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Not a lot tends to be obvious for me." She shrugs like she's embarrassed about it and looks away.

I place my hand on her cheek, cupping her face and turning it in my direction again. "Well, I'm telling you, then: I fucking want you." Throwing my helmet behind me before unclipping hers, I kiss her.

Her lips are soft and full, and they part easily when my tongue pushes its way through. A soft moan simmers the deeper I explore her mouth. It's the first time we've kissed, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I don't want this moment to end. Her hand finds my neck, but the touch is brief—within a second, she lets go. Gripping her wrist, I bring that hand back to my neck and deepen our kiss.

I lock my legs around Nia to flip her under me. It's a clean move, but she yelps in surprise once I'm straddling her. Reaching for the water bottle next to me, I take a swig and hold it in my mouth before lowering back down, her head lifting to meet mine. Just as she parts her lips, I spit the water into her mouth.

"Drink," I say.

Her eyes are jarred open now, pulling me into her as she swallows the water along with me in the next kiss. Nia grinds her hips upward, moaning under me, begging for contact.

I'm holding up all my weight, gripping at the hem of her shorts. I begin pulling them down with her fishnets, but she protests. "W-wait, I'm so sweaty!" She laughs through broken pants. I don't stop. I pull the shorts down to her knees, not breaking eye contact until she's fully exposed. Then, I shift my eyes to where the magic is. Sure, she's sweaty, but she's glistening with arousal, and I'm desperate to lick it off her.

"Do you think I give a fuck?"

Her eyes widen further with shock.

"I wanna know what you like, Nia," I say, our eyes still locked as my fingers play with the sticky mess between her legs, never fully committing to the touch.

"What I like?" She's already breathy, looking up at me with that lust-ridden look on her face. "Everything you do feels good."

Finally, I slide my fingers back and forth, making contact with the bundle of nerves between her legs and forcing a hiss from her. She drops her head back with closed eyes. "Look at me," I command. "I want you here, with me, fully aware of who's making you come undone."

She nods, surprising me and propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look.

But I'm still only teasing, just barely touching here and there, torturing her until she answers my question. "Please." It's barely a whisper.

"I'm still waiting." I space each word out along with my movements, making the torment nearly unbearable. "Tell. Me. What. You. like."

She's panting, squirming her hips, like she could possibly steal from me what I won't willingly give. I pull away, placing each hand along her hip and pinning her down. She's frustrated now, rubbing her legs for friction as she tries to fight under my hold, but it's useless.

"Cat," she grunts. "Just fuck me, please."

I'm laughing. I can't help it, and God, this girl is fucking hot beyond belief, even if she's a tragic mess. "Then tell me what you like, baby, so I can do it for you." I lean in close, until our noses are touching, and then I lean further down so that my mouth is in line with her ear and whisper, "No one else has to know."

I release a hip and run my fingers over her clit again, eliciting that gasp I've come to love so much. She bites her lip, shutting her eyes tight before she leans up as far as I allow.

"IIIIII…" She drags it out with so much hesitation that I lean in, hoping that if she doesn't have to say it loudly, she'll be brave enough to tell me all her dirty little fantasies. "I like to be stuffed."

I try to mask any sort of reaction, but I can feel myself getting wet at her confession. The smile gives me away, finding its rightful place on my face. I raise an eyebrow; I want the confirmation.

"Like… really stuffed." Her breath hitches when she says it, and then she lowers herself back down to the floor, covering her face with her hand and her cast.

I hover above her, pulling her arms back and pinning them to the ground, being careful with her injured side. "Not with me, Nia. You're not allowed to get embarrassed with me. Okay?"

With a small nod, she leans forward, pressing her lips to mine and initiating a kiss. It takes me by surprise, but then again, she always does. Nia Da Silva is unpredictable. I think it's why I crave her so badly.

She breaks up the monotony.

Everything I've ever desired waits for me, so I lower past her belly button, my tongue trailing its way to her center, licking up every salty droplet of sweat on her flesh. She's humming in approval, but she's burning with need. I know, because the minute my tongue laps up the nectar between her legs, she's crying out for me.

She

is

an

exposed

wire

sparking

in

the

rain.

I can't get enough. The taste of her ruins me, and the sounds that come from her mouth are programmed to destroy. The way she bucks against me—her fingers winding through my hair and pulling me impossibly closer while she fucks my face—is everything I'm jonesing for.

I can make her see stars, even inside Skateland.

Her quiet moans turn louder with every stroke of my fingers, her hips moving in sync, extending her pleasure in any way she can. She whines when I pull out, but it's only for a moment, just long enough for me to bring all four fingers together. She's tight, but I'm going to try anyway.

Bringing my fingers to her entrance, I push—just the tips—and when I pull out again, I go to the first knuckles. The gasp is more pleasure than pain, so I keep going, slowly pulling out and then inserting again. Each movement douses my fingers in her arousal as I push in further.

"Fuck." She's frantically gripping at my arms, my shirt, whatever she can when I have all four fingers in up to the second knuckle.

I slide my thumb over her clit with every push of my fingers, and she writhes in pleasure, knuckles white as she grips onto me while I send her off the edge. My fingers are flat now inside her, the webbing between my thumb and index finger meet with the base of her cunt; I'm as deep as I can go, and she squeezes around me so tightly.

She's a bright cluster of hot, molten desire. Nia is the stars inside Skateland.

The noises from her are unintelligible. She's so close to coming, I could breathe on her cunt and she'd fall apart. Instead, I lower back down, continuing the pumping of my fingers as I lock my mouth over her clit and suck. The death grip of her thighs around my head is all I need to keep going, and I don't stop until her pleasure spills out of her in a gush, dousing my hand and covering the track below us. Only then is my ego satiated.

Lifting up, I grin, watching her attempt to catch her breath under me. I wipe my mouth with the back of my arm before I roll off her to lay at her side, undoubtedly aware that this is my girl, and I'm going to take care of her at all costs.