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chapter twenty-one (smut)

!smut-warning!

"And why is that?", I ask him as he shuts the door behind us and he turns the key on the inside so it is locked. I get out of my jacket and shoes, placing them next to the entrance.

Clay doesn't give me an answer – his hands are still at the lock of the door.

I open my mouth, trying to ask again, but I get stopped before I can even start to think.

I screech out as I get pinned against the wall, both of Clay's hands grabbing my wrists, bringing them up – pressed on each side next to my head. My head hits the wall and the rest of my body gets pushed by his body.

"Clay!", I yelp out and look up to him, his face almost directly over mine.

But he only furrows his brows and makes a sound. "Shh."

I immediately get quiet, still staring up towards him. I realize why he told me to be quiet – I see light coming through the windows next to us. The car with the others is just leaving.

I wait until there is no light anymore – I hardly see the contours of Clay's face.

My heart is beating fast as I start talking again. "Why would I regret sleeping with Isaac?", I ask again. My breathing is heavier than I thought.

"Don't say his fucking name", Clay mumbles, gripping my wrists tighter.

I blow away a strand of hair, which has been hanging into my face. "Why?", I ask, not giving up yet.

Then I hear Clay chuckle. It makes me shudder – and I know that he felt it with his body pressed against mine.

"What about you answer me some questions first?" Clay's head gets lower. I can feel his breath against my face as he speaks.

I see him wet his lips as he comes closer to me and my lips automatically part a bit. But he stops right before our lips meet. I curse internally but try to keep it cool.

"And what are those questions?" My words are more of an exhale than a real language. I feel how my whole body gets heated up by his body just pressing against me. Just by imagining what could happen, I feel an anticipating feeling in my lower stomach.

"Why did he fuck you, peanut?" I shiver at his voice sounding aggressive and caring at the same time as he's using this nickname and the feeling in my stomach only grows.

"What if he didn't fuck me?", I counter – just instinctively. "What if I fucked with him?"

"Why did you fuck him then?"

"Because I wanted to."

Clay moves fast, pressing me harder against the wall. Air gets pushed out of my chest with a hitch and I exhale. My fingers curl helplessly as my wrists are still pinned at the wall.

Clay inhales through his teeth, creating a sharp sound. "You fucking...", he starts but doesn't finish the thought. Instead, he lets go of my wrists only to turn my body with a jerk, so that I'm pressed against the wall the other way now – chest and stomach jamming against it now.

My cheek hits the wall and I shriek from the feeling of the cold, hard stone. "Clay, I-", I start, wanting to say something. But he shushes me and I immediately become silent again. How can he do that and I just always... listen?

My hands might be free now, but I still can't do anything with them, given I'm turned around now – so they are just pressed against the wall as well.

But Clay's hands are free now.

My breath shivers as I feel his hand runs along my neck, leaving a line there before he starts collecting my hair until he's got enough. Then he pulls on it, softly, making my head tilt a bit.