Words left Unsaid. [Wesley Stromberg.]

Chapter 8

I'm so sorry for the late update, I'm literally going through hell with my dumb ass boyfriend but I will be updating more regularly and expect lotta surprises cuz I'm just pissed and ok I'm weird.

Wes's POV.

Oh, my god. I have never been like this before.

I've gone through my fair share of break-ups. Then why is it only the first time when I actually find myself thinking about the relationship and all that we could have been, instead of just moving on and picking a hot rebound like every time, the way that Drew keeps suggesting? Why do I find myself feeling sad and depressed like I've never been before, like it's the end of the world and I don't wanna go out and see the positively gray sky, why?

Well, um, maybe I have picked a rebound; and a hot one, at that.

But, we're just like, friends, and Vicki most definitely isn't my rebound.

Rebound usually means when you're going out with the person. Right.

Right????

Vicki's POV.

"Oh my dear Gods."

I practically yell as he covers my mouth using his free hand, making good use of the other.

"You like that huh?" And with that, he plants sloppy kisses on my neck, and I clutch his shoulders tight.

"Oh, my God, Wessssss!" I yell as he pulls his fingers out of my soaking vagina, licking the fingers.

"Hm, well," he said.

"Payback's a bitch," I say, smiling as we walk out. "Just remember that."

"'Kay. Won't forget, sexy," he says, winking as we walk out into the daylight.

I love ice cream. There are only a few things in the entire world that I love more than ice cream.

And so, sex in an ice cream parlour is just about the best, most ecstatic thing for me.

And that's just what Wes and I just did, and basically it's a wild, wild memory for me.

It wasn't too uncomfortable like I'd anticipated, the washroom, it was quite okay. I mean, there could've been better places but.. Eh.

"I'll have a Choco-chip cookie, and..." Wes looks at me. He smiles and says to the redhead pretty girl behind the counter, "Bubble gum flavour. It's her fave."

She smiles and says something my ears don't catch, and Wes blushes severely, as she states our total. Wes pays her as the other boy hands him our ice cream.

"Ice cream!" I squeal as he hands me my bubble gum ice cream, just as he had said it's my fave.

"Mmmm, I just love ice cream, don't you?"

"Oh my god, I know right?!" I squeal yet again as we walk out onto the beach.

"Not as much as sex, though," he adds, and earns a punch from me.

"Hey!" He protests, as his ice cream drops into the sand.

"Wesley Stromberg," I say somewhat seriously. "Sex and ice cream are not to be compared and ranked, unless it's a tie. That is just plain criminal, mister."

"Really?" He says, and Knicks my ice cream out of my hand, too.

I widen my eyes and my jaw is agape. "No. You did NOT just do that, Wes."

"What'll you do about that? Punish me?" He looks over at me, and I feel a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach, anger and firmness all melting away with one look.

"Well," I say in a low voice just as Wesley had lowered his. "I did say payback's a bitch. Wanna find out?"

"Well, it'll have to come someday, I don't mind it to be now."

"Sex on the beach," I state. "Always wanted to try that one. Harry always thought it was too public and whatnot and just, no thrill."

"Bea and me never fucked," Wes states. That shocks me a lot, I am left flustered as he scoops me up and lays me down on the ground.

"Hope you don't mind a little bit of sand, hun." He winks and kisses me, and I kiss back, and he kisses me more, and he kisses me all over, and I moan, and his hands roam my body like a kid in an amusement park, discovering and reaching to parts of me I never even knew existed.

This is wrong. It's so wrong because he's my best friend's ex and we aren't going out and we're on a beach... but it's dark... but so what, it's still wrong, right?

But, tell me this: how do you simply KNOW it's wrong when it feels so right? It feels so good and heavenly and like Harry never made me feel, it's just not the same, it's better, it's so much more.. EVERYTHING. Thrilling, exciting, orgasmic. Risky, and well, I guess that is part of what makes it so good.

And I know, I know all of this. Which is why I hate myself for enjoying it so much. I hate myself for moaning, and biting my lip to keep myself from screaming, I hate my every part when I tug on his hair, I hate myself when I love it every time he groans.

No, actually: I don't. Because it feels so good and the rest doesn't actually matter when I'm having sex on the beach.

The boy that lays on top of me does.