by Ashley Munoz
I had told Taylor I would not be claiming this ridiculous home run. Besides, he wanted her.
God, the realization slowly hit me. He thought I was her. Did he not know what she looked like? Did they just draw names out of a fucking hat?
His eyes narrowed on me, like he couldn’t quite figure me out.
“Not really in the mood to talk tonight, babe. You good with this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in question.
Shit. Well, I mean…this was for the sake of the article. I could have a little fun for the story. I had to at this point—but I wouldn’t have sex with him.
I wouldn’t.
I swallowed, putting my hands on his chest. “Yeah, of course.”
A quick inhale filled his chest, making it feel…more emotional than it should have, like this affected him somehow.
Before I could unpack the idea, he leaned forward and slanted his head to the side. His eyes held conflict, like maybe he was trying to safeguard his decisions and not kiss me. I understood. This was just a hookup, and there was no need to be personally connected. Internally I agreed, but externally I arched my back, pressing into him, gripping his wrists. My fingers grazed that raised scar and the warm metal of the watch on his left. I felt powerful, holding him by the wrists. They were strong, and the position allowed him to tip my head.
Stupidly—so, so stupidly—I closed my eyes.
Heat flared between us as he pressed his body into mine. Then with my next breath, he was there, his silky lips closing in, caressing mine…coaxing them open with the slightest touch.
A sound came from my throat as my tongue darted out, unable to resist licking the seam of his mouth. He slanted his head to the side as my hands snaked up his chest, wrapping around his neck.
His hands moved down my neck, then to my curves, until he landed on my hip, where he pulled me closer, until I could feel his hardness against my stomach. He shoved his tongue into my mouth, tasting me…devouring me. My stomach tipped like I was on a roller coaster, which was the strangest sensation ever. I hadn’t felt this way since…ever.
He moved down the column of my throat with his tongue, tasting, marking, and lastly, inhaling.
He walked us backward to the bed, where I fell and he crawled over me, putting his knee lightly between my parted thighs, touching enough to leave me panting for him to push it farther so he’d be right against my center. His eyes seemed to watch my every move, as if my reaction and features would tell him what to do next.
Grabbing me behind my thighs, he lifted my dress while running his hand down to my ass, and then he squeezed.
Fuck.
Of course, I didn’t plan to scoot farther up the bed, forcing him to follow…but the way I begged him with my eyes, he must have known I needed him to press his knee into my center. He followed after me, pressing into me with the perfect amount of pressure against my increasingly wet entrance.
My eyes may have rolled into the back of my head, even as I registered on an embarrassing level that the simple touch shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. A carnal part of me wanted to beg him to fuck me, to demand he take off his clothes, pull out that cock, and let me wet it before he slid into me.
I was dying, overheating, nearly combusting just from having him part my legs and add that smallest bit of pressure to my center. Rising from the bed, I pushed my chest up, knowing he liked what he saw. His eyes narrowed when my breasts strained against the top of my dress.
I wanted him to pull down the material, shred it for all I cared. I just wanted to see that scarred hand hold my breast, see how it looked under these lights, his rugged perfection against my softness.
He lowered his head and pulled the strap of my dress down, freeing my left breast. The second it popped free, he claimed it with his mouth, sucking on the hardened nipple.
Fucking finally.
A low moan left my throat as I pressed into him, which encouraged him to tug down the opposite side of my dress. I was going to fuck him and screw this entire story. I’d get no answers, because he’d leave the second he finished.
This would all be for nothing. I had to stop, wrap my head around the job, and detach. Slowing my breathing, I tried to remain unphased by the thickness growing in his jeans. I could see the imprint, and all I wanted to do was run my fingers along the rigid line and see what he’d do—but no. I had to stop this.
“So, how long has this game been going on exactly?” I asked breathlessly.
His eyes rose to mine while his mouth stayed attached to my right breast. His dark brow rose like I was the weirdest person he’d ever met. Which was…fair.
“Not sure.”
“Surely there have been issues in the past with other…uh, participants, right?” I inquired breathily, my hands fisting his hair.
I wasn’t perfect.
He smiled up at me with a boyish grin and shrugged.
Moving down my body, he stopped when he was eye level with the black fabric between my legs. He gave me one last look before pushing my thighs fully apart.
This…I would enjoy this for purely selfish reasons. No one needed to know that I wanted it. I would enjoy him…then I would hate myself for it.
Using his index finger, he tugged my panties to the side. Just the barest touch nearly sent me into the unruly throes of orgasmic bliss. Surely, he saw how ready I was for him.
“Look at this,” he seemed to mutter to himself, carefully trailing a finger down my pubic bone then gently along my slit. I bucked my hips at the touch as goose bumps trailed down my skin. His touch was like fire and ice, soothing and burning. I needed more. I needed everything at once, and I didn’t want him to stop or slow down.
“Do you like this?” he teased, just barely brushing his finger back and forth over my entrance. He smeared the wetness along the sides of my pussy lips and up my pubic bone.
“Yes,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off him, relishing how he looked between my legs, that silky chestnut hair right at my knees where I could grab the strands and pull while he fucked me with his fingers.
“Do you want more?” The low lights of the room bounced off my skin, my bare breasts glowing. I liked how he looked at me with that same hunger and desperation I had for him. He continued to slide his fingers in and out of me, soaking me as need unfurled inside my lower belly.
“I need more,” I gasped, sounding like I was in pain.
God, I was though. My hips bucked as my chest heaved.
He watched me, nearly daring me, his eyes hooded with lust. A low hiss left his throat as he pushed three fingers into me.
“You’re so hot and wet, so ready to take me,” he murmured, kissing my thigh.
“Oh fuck.” I exhaled, tossing my head back. I brought my left hand to my breast and began kneading it. My dress was bunched at my hips, my breasts and thighs bare, and my hair was half over my shoulder, trailing down to my stomach.
He kept moving his fingers in and out of me, applying pressure on my clit while I rocked my hips into his hand.
“Yes, oh god, yes…” I breathed. I hadn’t ever felt like this, like I was about to catch fire if he didn’t finish me, if he didn’t fill me.
Suddenly it wasn’t enough.
“More,” I gasped as he let out a gratified sound from his throat.
Pulling me by the waist, he didn’t stop until I was at the edge of the bed and fitted perfectly to his mouth; then his tongue roughly licked up my slit. It was a desperate swipe, his eyes targeting mine while his thumb rubbed up and down the edges of my pussy lips. He pushed my thighs back toward my head so he had access to everything below, and his tongue devoured me like I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. I was bare down there and wasn’t nervous about him being there, but still…I was feeling so much. No other man had licked up my ass, but suddenly he was, and it was a sensation I knew I’d die to feel again and again. Every swipe of his tongue and press of his lips was like kerosene on the fire he’d lit.
Panting and wr
ithing, I moved my hips until I was fucking his tongue. He flicked his eyes up, unable to keep from watching. He moved his chin down, sucking my clit into his mouth. He added two fingers while he sucked.
“Yes, more…please,” I begged.
“You’re so fucking soaked…this isn’t enough, is it? You’re going to need me to fill you up. You’re going to need my cock completely inside you.” He lifted his eyes up to mine again. He looked like he owned me. His shirt was still on, the dark tee bunched at his biceps, his hair a mess from my fingers, and those lips glistening under the low lights. God, I wanted this to last forever. To always remember him this way. Whoever he was. Elias something.
My mouth went dry as he bent toward me once more. This time he pushed my hips up and moved his finger down my slit all the way, toward the tight bundle of nerves in my ass, and then, sucking my clit into his mouth, he pushed his finger into that tight space.
I moaned so loud I thought someone might come break down the fucking door.
“I’m coming, oh my god, I’m coming.” I closed my thighs around his face as I rode out the best climax of my life.
If he was this good with just his fingers and his tongue, what would it feel like when he…
He sucked me into his mouth with a ferocious intensity, wrapping his arm around my hips so I couldn’t move. I bucked against him until my toes stopped curling and the white lights stopped sparking behind my eyes.
“Holy shit, that was…” I finally sagged back to the bed, bringing my forearm to my forehead. He stood, unbuttoning his jeans, and suddenly reality barreled back into me like a freight train.
Holy. Shit.
I almost had sex with him…I can’t believe…
“Wait…I just…I have just a few more questions.” I rose to my elbows, placing my hands on his chest. I belatedly realized mine fell in heavy gasps. I wasn’t against repaying the favor as far as orgasms went, but I would not be crossing into coitus territory.
He froze, his hands on his zipper, his eyes the color of moss on a sunny day, staring down at me.
When I didn’t say anything more, he took a step back. His eyes narrowed like he’d returned to the puzzle table, giving it one last go.
“What kind of car do you drive?”
It came out as a whisper, just barely audible to my own ears.
I crinkled my eyebrows while that green flecked gaze studied me. “That’s sort of an odd question.” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear then licked my lips.
“Just humor me.” He gripped his erection through his jeans. My eyes darted there and my core heated, ready to push past all the reasons I had not to get into bed with him.
What had he asked me again? My mind tried to grasp it, but it felt like oil. Had that orgasm left me braindead? For a stupid moment, I considered this little romp lasting past this night, like he was trying to get to know me—as Mallory, not Taylor. Worrying my lip, dragging the bottom one between my teeth, thinking it over…I finally let out a small laugh and fessed up. “A shitty Honda.”
He seemed to stop breathing. He literally stared at me like he’d seen a ghost. His face paled, and his body went totally rigid. What in the hell?
“Shit.” He finally moved, covering his face with his hands. “Why are you here? Where is Taylor Beck?” he briskly asked, putting as much space between us as he could.
“Wha…what do you mean?” I hesitated, sitting up and covering myself. My nerves rattled and jangled like a billion of Hillary’s loose bracelets. I was so confused. How did my car have anything to do with this?
“Taylor Beck was supposed to be here tonight…you’re not her.”
He knew that by the type of car she drove?
“Nice to see that you know who you’re fucking before you get your dick wet,” I grumbled, getting to my feet. Why was he being such an ass about this?
“Fuck, this can’t be happening. You’ve ruined everything.” He tilted his head back and let out a frustrated sigh.
He gave me one last look before heading to the door.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” My voice went up an octave, like I might be on the verge of tears. I probably was, but this asshole… Dammit. Why did I care? Why was I suddenly that girl who felt jilted by the guy who was only here for sex?
“Go out and stay to the right, you’ll see a door in the back where you can sneak out. You won’t have to see anyone, and you can just head home. We’re done here.”
My mouth opened to say something, but he’d already opened the door and walked away.
Chapter Seven
“What the fuck happened?” Kyle yelled at me the second my truck pulled into my mom’s driveway. Three hours on the road and still it had done nothing to calm the storm raging inside my chest.
I had fucked up spectacularly.
“What do you mean?” I slammed the door of my truck harder than I needed to.
“Elias wasn’t supposed to come back, but he did. He showed up and…” My little brother faltered back a step, his face hidden under his hood.
I was on the bottom step when I noticed the shiner on his face.
“Fuck.” I stepped up and tilted his head back, letting the porch light reveal more of his face. Kyle tried to brush me off, but I held him firm. “What happened?”
“Elias tried to fucking kill me when he found out I was responsible for what happened to his precious little brother. Pathetic attempt if you ask me—he didn’t even manage to put me in the hospital, stupid fucking pussy, but…”
Stalking past him, I trudged up the steps toward the house. I didn’t want to hear my little brother trying to act tough in front of me. I had heard how his voice shuddered when he explained himself, and the fact that this was on me…it just dug at me in all the wrong ways. I’d known it was a dangerous idea to ask him to cause the car accident, knowing Elias’ little brother would be driving the other car. I hated myself for doing it, but I hadn’t been able to think of any other way to get Elias away from his room tonight. Kyle and Jason had grown up together, just like Elias and I had, and their relationship was just as tenuous.
“Mom!” I called, stopping briefly at the small entryway table where our bills usually gathered. There was a bundle of white envelopes that hadn’t been touched. I started shuffling them, knowing already they would each be at least a month past due. I tried to grab the bills whenever I dropped in to visit, but occasionally they’d slip through the cracks.
“Duggar, sweetie,” my mom responded from the living room.
I heaved a steadying breath, trying not to inhale the scent of my childhood—of my dad. Every single time I walked through the door, I still smelled that baseball glove he’d shoved on my tiny hand for the first time. That white and red striped leather he’d tossed in the air, smiling brightly as he ushered me outside to play catch. It still shredded me when I walked in this house, still ripped me open as raw as it had that first time after the funeral.
“Hey Mom.” I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms.
My mother sat on the fading blue couch, a photo album in her lap, an old comedy show playing on the small flat screen in front of her. She still had her scrubs on, her hair tied in a low bun at her neck, concealing her frizzy chestnut hair.
“Come sit with me.” She patted the space next to her.
She still didn’t understand that I couldn’t sit on that couch, or why I couldn’t stay in my old bedroom, or why, if I had to stay the night, I preferred to stay in my truck or on the other side of town under the stars.
“I’m good over here…can’t stay long.”
I never could. She was probably thinking the same thing. I never missed the way her smile fell, or how she cleared her throat and her voice came out strained after I informed her how short my visit would be.
“Kyle was hurt?” I asked, trying to gauge how much she knew. Or if she even cared.
My mother hummed in response, flipping the page in her photo album, retreating to that space in her mind th
at was surviving her grief by reliving memories as often as she could. She used to come home from a shift at the hospital and take a long bath. Dad would finish dinner and tell us baseball stories while she finished up. She’d come out in her fluffy robe, her hair in a tight braid, and then she’d spend the whole evening with us laughing and playing.
Now, she came home and just sat. No dinner, no bath…dark house, no life.
When Dad died, it was like she did too. Now it was just a phantom…a wraith who roamed these halls and sat on that old faded couch. No one to check my little brother for skipping classes, no one to ask how his day was or how his baseball game went. Had she even cared that Kyle dropped out of sports the year before? Did she even know he was currently failing two of his classes?
“Boys will be boys,” she said softly, flipping another page. “Remember when you two slid down that big hill over off Orchard Lane?” Her eyes lit up as she watched me.
I wanted to scream. I didn’t like remembering my life when my dad was alive. I didn’t want to think back on how happy my childhood was because it was fucking happy and good and full of smiles and laughter. So much so that now…now it was unbearable to go back, to remember it all.
“Have you been paying the bills online, like I showed you?” I rubbed the back of my neck. I needed her to start taking this over; I couldn’t keep doing it forever.
“Decker, you know what…” She clicked her tongue in that way she did when she tried to start a story. “I went to log in, and I did that thing you told me to do with my fingerprint.” She pointed at me as if I didn’t know what a fingerprint was. “But for the life of me I couldn’t get it to work.” She shrugged, snickering at her failed attempts.
“Did you ask Kyle for help?” I looked over my shoulder to see my younger brother trudge in, heading for the freezer. He pulled out a bag of frozen peas as his eyes slid toward me in that knowing way. It spoke volumes. No, she hadn’t asked for help.
I noticed when he opened the freezer that there were at least twenty frozen dinners piled inside. My gut twisted, that familiar wound of grief flaring to life, gaping open.