Saints & Sinners

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two:

"Stop it," I said, beckoning Tristan to silence so I could just sit, I didn't really feel like doing much else other than laze around. Except, with him there, it felt more like everything he did with me was monumentally important, I was cherishing the time I had with him in case something happened. It almost felt surreal, like one of my mad dreams, and I'd wake up sweaty and wet and panting heavily. Or maybe I was a little paranoid that he'd leave me.

"Why?" he asked, pouting. His pout was an ultimate failure that only made me laugh; I loved it.

"I'm trying to do my homework, so don't touch me so much, okay? I said I was sorry about yesterday, but I'm still not sure. This is just a study session, okay? So stop being so... touchy."

"Fine," he huffed, collapsing back down onto his bed, tossing his arms randomly behind his head to lie there like he didn't have an absolute care in the world. His eyes closed calmly, like he was in his own little world, and I tried to resume whatever it was that I was rambling on about for my English Literature essay.

And for half a second, I actually believed that he would stop nagging me, biting at my ear or sucking on my neck, or running his warm tongue over my collarbones - he knows my collarbones are a complete turn-on, something I didn't even know until about an hour ago - or playing with my hair, or just plain fidgeting with me in some sexually arousing way that he knew was teasing, and only made me more annoyed because I hadn't came over to his house to fondle, or be fondled.

Well, not entirely, anyway. We had homework to do.

Homework.

But then his fingers reached the hem on the sleeve of my jumper, trying to pull me back to lie with him. I was getting both sick of him and falling deeper for him. Whenever we were alone, and that became a lot over the last few days, he'd always do this.

I found myself at his house more than I was at my aunt's recently, mainly because I was still mad at her for letting me get beat up on my first week in town. She probably hadn't even noticed my absence, being so absorbed in her own world.

I'd spent the rest of yesterday at his, and we'd ditched school that day, we'd just been snuggled up in his room being fat and lazy and acting like such a honeymoon-phased couple. If I could see us and what we were doing from afar, I'd probably roll my eyes and think about how lame relationships are while also being totally jealous and unenthusiastically sighing because I would want it more than being alone.

But all Tristan did when I stayed with him was nag or fondle me. It was like a repeating cycle. Nag, fondle, nag, fondle, fondle, fondle.

But I wasn't complaining. Even though I was.

"Stop it, Tris," I told him.

"Why? I want you," he mumbled, sitting back.

As I sat on the edge of his bed with his laptop on my lap, his legs spread to either side of me and I felt his breath hitting the back of my neck, forcing me to shiver. His mouth came so close to my ear as he continued, "And you obviously want me, so let's skip the theatrics and pop your cherry."

"Excuse me?" I stuttered. "I am not a whore."

"Really? Could've fooled me," he mumbled, his mouth grazing over my neck. Softly, he planted sweet and tender kisses across my shoulder, my bare neck, even stopping to nibble on my ear, until he finally reached my ultimate turn-on. His tongue lapped over my collarbones, and I arched my back inwardly, dropping back my neck in pleasure. I felt his teeth tugging on the skin, and as he pulled back, he'd left another hickie among the dozen he'd already scattered over the top of my chest.