Going Forward by K.M. Galvin
Publication Date: September 8, 2014
SynopsisYou may think you know me. The truth is I wasn’t always a good person. Truth is I played in the dark. I did a lot of things I’m not proud of. Did a lot of things that many people should hate me for, things that you may hate me for. But one thing I know for sure is that sometimes in order to go forward, we have to go back. And so…this is my story. When Emily’s parents died in a car crash the night of her birthday she thought nothing could hurt worse. She was wrong. Choice. That’s the difference. They didn’t choose to abandon her, but her friends, brother, and the one person she loved more than life all chose to turn their backs. So Emily made the decision to shut off from life. She chose to find comfort in anyone who’d have her, anything she could drink, any drug that would give her just a moment of oblivion. But all that changes with two pink lines. Seventeen and pregnant? Not how she planned on finishing out her senior year. Jason and Declan both coming home? Not the reunion she was prepared for. But life doesn’t wait for you, and so you’re only option is to go forward.
“Please.” The word crawls out of my throat from somewhere I don’t recognize. It’s submissive and full of want, asking for things I’ve never experienced but have needed to with him. Only with him.
And finally, finally he breaks.
His mouth comes down harder on mine, punishingly so, and he holds it there for a second, waiting to see if I’ll stop, but there’s no stopping for me. I don’t think I could ever tell him no, and when he realizes it, his kiss changes. He consumes me. His grip moves from my arms to my ass and he grabs on like it’s the only thing holding him in place and drags me into his body, aligning us perfectly. And God do we fit perfectly.
His taste is just as I remembered. Drugging. I’d gladly become an addict for Declan. I would throw myself away for him and that’s sick and wrong and a kaleidoscope of fucked up, but it’s true. I’m lost to him and I never want to be found. I kiss him with everything I’m feeling, everything I’ve ever felt, and it’s no gentle thing. It’s teeth and tongue and rage. So much anger is in this and I know we need to slow down, but I want to draw blood. I want to hurt him, to make him feel. So I mark him as he has me and hope he feels it down to his soul. I hope I darken every recess until he dreams of nothing else but this.
His hand moves to my hair, gripping it tightly, and I hiss a breath and bite his lip in retaliation. He groans and shoves me against the wall, pinning me there with nothing but his erection and fuck. Fuck! I want to rip his clothes off and debase us both. My hands snake into that waistband of his jeans and I claw his ass. His hips jerk, shoving his jean clad cock right where I need it, and my head swims in sensation.
I begin to move. It’s a dance that not many seventeen years old know, but I’ve been taught the steps over the past months and I know I’m good. I undulate against him and his moan is my satisfaction. All of his responses are my satisfaction. It’s redemption, vindication, and jubilation all rolled into one mouth, one tongue, and it’s better than any hit, any drink, I’ve ever had.
Yes, I could be an addict for him. Easily.