Wicked (A Wicked Saga #1)(29)
Author: J. Lynn

I woke suddenly, thrust out of the dream and into the real world. An empty bed. No hands or mouth doing decadent and delightfully naughty things. No soft hair gliding between my fingers. I was alone as I stared up at the ceiling, seeing the thin slivers of dawn sneaking through the small gap in the curtains, but my body hadn’t recognized that. I felt feverish. Sheets were twisted around my waist. My breasts felt heavy and the tips hard, sensitive against the thin cotton of my shirt. Between my thighs, I ached in a way that felt entirely unfair, and dimly I realized I hadn’t been this aroused since Shaun.

Honestly, I didn’t think I was ever this turned on by anything we’d done. Not that there had been anything wrong between us, but we were young when we took our childhood friendship and turned it into something more. We fooled around a lot in the first two years, but he . . . Shaun had been a good guy, and he respected Holly and Adrian to the point where I was the one to push the issue. It wasn’t until we were eighteen when we had sex, and that was only once. It was good and nice, sweet and awkward in all the ways first times could be when you were with someone who cared so strongly about you. I imagined if we’d been given more time, it would feel like this—like my body was aflame and I’d go crazy if I didn’t find release.

I slipped my right hand under the sheets, hesitating as my fingers brushed the band on my shorts. I hadn’t done anything since Shaun, not even this. I hadn’t been enticed to do it, and on the rare occasion when I wanted to, it hadn’t felt right. Like I was betraying Shaun somehow, and I realized how dumb that was. But grief twisted things. I knew that.

I bit my lip then let it pop out. Drawing in a shallow breath, I slipped my hand under the band. My stomach fluttered, softly at first, and then deeper. I closed my eyes as I extended my arm.

My breath quickened then caught as the tips of my fingers glided through the wetness and unerringly found the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. A shot of pure electricity lit through my veins as my hips jerked. A soft cry pushed past my lips. I knew what to do. I’d done this before. I’d actually done it with Shaun while we’d existed in the no-sex zone.

But it had been so long.

I ran a finger up my center, and my back arched in response. My toes curled. Without warning, an image of Ren appeared in vivid detail, bright green eyes and a full, sinful mouth. I didn’t want to think of him and I attempted to wash his image from my thoughts, but it lingered in the background, and my hips were moving against my hand. The fire inside me was flaming and I was burning hotter and hotter. I tried to keep his image at bay, desperate to not think of him as the ache built and the pressure coiled inside me. My hips rocked, and I pushed my head back against the pillow, losing control of my thoughts. In my fantasy, my hand wasn’t my own. My thighs weren’t tightening around my hand—but his. They weren’t my fingers. The tension broke; like a cord pulled too tight, it snapped, the release whipping out through me. I barely swallowed the cry as my body and thoughts shattered into blissful little pieces.

I collapsed back on the bed, my thighs relaxing and my heart rate slowing from its frantic pace. I was staring at the ceiling again, but this time I was wondering why I hadn’t done this in three years.

If I woke up every morning like this I’d probably be a better person.

Breaths shallow, I closed my eyes and let the peace drift through my muscles as I told myself I hadn’t been thinking of Ren on purpose while I did that. It was purely accidental it was him that appeared in my thoughts. After all, it made sense since he was the last dude I’d seen, not counting Tink. Seeing him in my mind while I . . . while I did that didn’t mean anything.

Not a damn thing.

~

I texted Val in the morning, knowing we needed to talk, and I met her at Lafayette Cemetery at noon. The location was her choice. She claimed the peace of the tombs helped her think. She was weird like that, but I loved her enough to make the twenty-minute walk to the oldest of the cities of the dead that existed in New Orleans.

Most people knew not to venture into the cemeteries once night came, but it was usually fine to roam about during the day, especially since they were typically staffed at that time and there were tours in and out.

Plus, she wanted to go to the bookstore around the corner, and I was so down for that. I needed to get another Marked Men novel.

Val was waiting outside, near the archway that led into the cemetery. Today she was wearing a black skirt and a teal green off the shoulder peasant shirt with more ruffles than a wedding gown. Only she could look that good.

She pushed off the wall, coming forward and wrapping her arms around me. "Chéri, you’re here!"

Pulling back, I laughed at the French term she only broke out once in a while. "You’re calling me darling. What do you want?"

"Nothing." She threaded her arm through mine. "I’m just glad we’re finally getting to chat about what the hell is going on." Then in uncharacteristic seriousness she added, "You have me worried, Ivy. Some of the members are talking and . . ."

"And they’re not saying great things?" I surmised as we stepped under the iron archway.

She patted my arm. "Well, depends on how you look at it."

I gave her a wry grin. "They’re saying I’m crazy, thanks to Trent."

We passed tombs on either side of the pathway. The walkways formed a cross. I wasn’t sure if that was on purpose, but I assumed it was. "Trent said you told Harris the night you were shot that it was . . . an ancient that did it," she explained softly as she guided me to the left, and I knew where she was leading us. "And he said you confirmed it Thursday night."

Thursday night seemed forever ago. Straightening my sunglasses with my other hand, I gave myself a moment to change my mind. I hadn’t planned on telling Val anything until I talked to Merle, but I needed to talk to someone.

We passed under a large tree with gold and red leaves. The smell of autumn was heavy here. "I did see an ancient, Val."

She didn’t respond immediately. "How can you be sure?"

I told her what happened with the ancient. "As you can see, that’s not something that would happen with a normal fae." I paused as we passed a group crowding a tomb. "I stabbed him. He pulled the stake out like it was nothing. And I told David, but I . . . I don’t think he really believes me. I know he doesn’t. He thinks I missed or something."

"God," she said, slipping her arm free from mine.

My stomach dropped and I stopped walking. "I’m not making this up."

Her tight curls bounced as she shook her head. "I know you’re not, but . . ."