Setting Fire to the Stars (a MM Sci-Fi Romance)

Chapter 13: Captured

(Not a new chapter, just separating chapters for reading break for readers length-wise. note: will contain slightly sexual material, forced drug use, and profanity.)

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Lauren
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What. The. Fuck.
What the actual fuck had just happened?

I did that with Peter Ducane. My bully. The fucking terrorist who pretty much ruined my life for the last several years, the very man responsible for the darkest moment of my life and my worst nightmares, had been practically humping me like a wild fucking animal. And I let him. I liked it.

But fuck, it was good.

Warmth crept up my neck while I grazed the side of my throat where Peter had licked and kissed. I couldn't help but grin like the idiot I was as my fingers prodded a tender spot, positive I was going to have a massive hickey there tomorrow. That little bit of knowledge brought forth a rush of . . . pride? Satisfaction?

Had I officially lost my marbles? I should be disgusted by him after everything, everything he'd done. But God, all I wanted in that moment was more of him, not less.

Dozens of questions rang through my mind on how we could have gotten to this point. I had always thought that Peter was straight. He had never shown an interest in men before. Since when did he start liking guys? No, it didn't matter what Peter's sexual preference was. All that mattered was that on some level, he wanted me just as much as I wanted him. At least physically. We'd been a breath away from kissing and doing .  .  . other intimate things. Things I had no experience with.

Unlike Peter, who I was sure was more than well versed in the art of sex, I still had yet to lose my virginity. I'd had a couple boyfriends, but they barely stuck around long enough to realize that I wasn't gonna be an easy lay. I wanted something deeper than a quick fuck in the gym locker room.

But Peter desired me. My nightmare wanted me, at least physically, and that had to count for something. And against all odds, against every logical fucking braincell that told me I shouldn't, I wanted him too. If Whitt hadn't interrupted us, how far would we have gone? Would it have just ended with a little messing around or . . . something more?

Swallowing thickly, I recounted the feel of Peter's clothed cock. His size was . . . intimidating, to say the least. My jumbled thoughts spiraled out of control, replaying the ecstasy of when our hips met, the brand of his hand lingering on my throat. What had just transpired between us had been hot.

Okay, fine, it was insanely hot.

Burying my sizzling face in the plush pillow, I groaned, the memory of his hard length still fresh in my mind. Jesus, the bastard was massive, annoyingly so. Of fucking course he was. It wasn't enough that he was hot as sin, of course he had to have a giant dick, too. How the heck could he even walk around with that thing? It was like a third leg. How was that even going to fit—

Whoa. Down, boy. Down.

Regardless of how hot and bothered he made me, I couldn't rush into . . . whatever this was. We had to talk about what he had done. I may crave him like a man thirsting for water in the desert, but I had still not forgiven him for all his torment. And we needed to talk about the rabbit.