Page 53 of Almost True
I try to gulp in deep breaths, but my lungs won’t inflate properly.
I can’t fucking do this.
My body isn’t functioning. Darkness is closing over my vision, and my palms are slick with sweat.
I’m having a panic attack. I know that now. But knowing doesn’t help me move past it. It doesn’t change the fact that I’ve gone right back to that moment when every belief I had in myself shattered and I discovered that I can’t fucking handle a real crisis.
I wrench the key out of the ignition and shove the car door open. Then I half-climb, half-fall off the seat. Somehow I’m on my knees in the snow, and since no one from Chief Rhodes’ house can see me behind the car, I let myself collapse onto my back. There I lie, head spinning, heart still beating much too fast in my chest.
I keep expecting Dex to find me like this, weak and trembling, incapable of carrying out one of the basic parts of adult life.
But he doesn’t.
Eventually the mesmerizing whirl of flakes above me, the stillness of the frosted trees, drags me back to myself. The panic attack has subsided to a threat lodged deep beneath my ribs, a tightness that says I’m nowhere near putting that behind me.
It probably doesn’t matter too much, since I’ve deliberately moved to a place where car ownership is rare, but it feels like a big step backward. My conviction that I was getting better has been shattered.
At least I don’t feel like this means my life is ending, I remind myself grimly as I drag myself to my feet, snow caked to my hair. Baby steps.
Chapter 37
Korren
By the time Dex finally gets back, I’ve raided his alcohol supply and am getting drunk. I know it’s not a good idea. But right now, everything in my life is starting to crumble around the edges, and maybe this will help hold things together a bit longer.
Partway through my third glass of whisky, my mind became fixated on another dare. It’s going to be a mistake. I already know it. But I can’t let the idea go.
“Hey, Korren,” Dex says cautiously as he lets himself in. “Are you doing okay? How was the house?” His eyes flick to the bottle of whisky on the coffee table beside my knee.
“It won’t work for me,” I say, and I know my words are running together. I’m drunker than I’d realized. “Too much money. Not enough privacy.”
I get to my feet and lurch toward him. When I’m right up in his space, I grab a handful of his shirt and pull him even closer. To my surprise, his pupils flare wide as he meets my eyes. Is that lust? Or just wishful thinking on my part?
“I dare you to fuck me,” I growl. “And don’t be gentle.”
Dex’s eyes lock onto mine. “Are you sure about this? You’ve had a lot to drink. I don’t want to—”
“Please, Dex.”
He doesn’t even hesitate. With a bruising kiss, he shoves me toward the bedroom and throws me back onto the bed. He unbuttons our shirts and yanks off my pants followed by his, leaving both of our shirts hanging off our shoulders.
I try to roll onto my stomach, but he grabs my arm to stop me. “Not this time. I want to see your face.”
That sends fire through my veins, and my cock begins to ache, as if a good fuck will drain all the poison from my mind.
He crawls onto the bed, his knees pinning my hips in place, and gives me another rough kiss, as if he thinks this might be our last time together and he’s going to take everything he can get from me.
I’m too drunk to pretend I’m not loving every bit of it.
I seize his hips and grind them against mine, our cocks rubbing together, and he kisses me again, devouring me with his greedy mouth and driving everything from my mind except desperation to have him inside me.
“More,” I beg. “Give me more.”
Dex falls back for a moment, leaving me dizzy and aching for everything he’ll give me.
Then his mouth is on my cock and two lube-slicked fingers are pushing into my ass, and it’s so fucking incredible I see stars. His tongue is soft as it grazes my length, and when his fingers hit the same sensitive spot I found inside him, I arch my back and nearly come right then.
“Fuck, Dex. Slow down.”
