by Grey, R. S.
I have no idea how I should approach him. Guns blazing? Respectful and meek? That one nearly makes me chuckle. Yeah right. I settle on stuffing my hands in my pockets, narrowing my eyes, and waiting for him to speak first. It’s a power move in its own right.
“You have some nerve,” he says, spitting at the ground.
It’s like we’re in an old western and he’s about to challenge me to a duel.
“What can I do for you, Colt? I have a lot of shit to do.”
His upper lip curls and he steps toward me, finger pointing. Then he shakes his head and pivots to the side, cooling his jets.
“I’m not here to fight with you.”
That’s a surprise.
“I’m here because I want to talk to you about Madison.”
My stomach tightens at the mention of her name.
It’s been two days since I’ve seen her, two days since I’ve heard her voice or seen her in one of her colorful dresses. I wonder how angry she is with me for going radio silent. I wonder if she’ll understand when I explain my reasoning to her.
Colten keeps his gaze out on the parking lot as he continues, his tone is calm now, nearly civil. “You and your friends think this town belongs to you. You’re the gods and we’re just your playthings, here for your amusement.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Yeah? I seem to remember you being quite the asshole back in high school. You’re telling me you’ve really changed since then? That you’re not the same rich punk who used people however he liked?”
I throw my hands up, indignant. “Jesus, that was more than a decade ago. You think I’m still running around doing the same old shit?”
I used to think Sum 41 was the pinnacle of music. I thought long surfer hair and puka shell necklaces were going to be around forever. He can’t be serious right now. I was eighteen and stupid.
“I’m not the same person I was then.”
“Why are you messing with her?” he asks, gaze turning back to me.
“I’m not.”
“To you, people like Madison don’t matter. Not really.”
A trigger flips inside me and I’m in front of him, right in his face before I realize what I’m doing. I can smell the fucking coffee on his breath. I’m seconds away from grabbing hold of his collar and escalating this to a level neither of us want it to go to.
“She matters,” I say, so convincingly it’s like I’ve just chiseled the words into his chest.
He snorts derisively. “Yeah? Until when? Until another pretty girl catches your eye?”
I turn away to cool down, to regain some semblance of control.
I’m staring out at a tree in the parking lot. I stare so long my vision blurs and the leaves blend together into a mess of green, the exact color of Madison’s eyes.
“You think you deserve her?” he asks, voice nearly breaking. He sounds desperate. “What have you ever done in your life to deserve a girl like Madison? She’s good, Ben, better than you and me, and I won’t let you hurt her.”
When his car door slams and he peels out of the parking lot, I’m still staring out at that goddamn beautiful tree.
* * *
We accept the love we think we deserve. I’ve heard that before. Maybe I read it on the inside of a crinkled chocolate wrapper, I don’t know, but it’s stuck in my brain the rest of the day. In a sense, it’s true. It’s how I’ve operated in the past. This time, with Madison, I’m reaching. Colten asked what I’ve done to deserve her—what do any of us do to deserve love? Love should be given freely. I want Madison, and I think she wants me. I don’t know. Two days with no communication means a lot could have changed. Maybe her family finally convinced her to leave me in the dust.
Maybe she realized she could do much better than me. She could turn heads and break hearts if only she put herself out there.
The idea kills me.
I go by the library later that day prepared for two scenarios. I have a document waiting for Madison’s signature, outlining that I’ll be switching my volunteer location from the library to the soup kitchen. If things don’t go the way I want them to, I won’t keep forcing myself into her life. I’ll give her space.
I purposely wait to go see her until it’s nearly closing time. I hate having to go to her work at all for something like this, but I can’t show up at her dad’s house, so this is really my only option.
She’s not at her desk when I walk in. I ring the bell but there’s still no sign of her. I hear a heavy thunk, like a box of books getting shuffled around, and I head toward the hallway that leads to the storage room. That’s where she is, tidying up.
She doesn’t notice me at first. Her hands are on her hips as she surveys the space, deciding what to do next. She’s wearing the white sweater dress I love, the same boots she wore to the beach. Her hair hangs in dark undone curls and when I knock on the doorframe, she jerks around to face me and pushes some of it behind her ear.
She’s as perfect and angelic as I’ve ever seen her. Her skin is the exact shade of the cream I pour into my coffee.
She’s a goddess and I’m undeserving of her.
That’s what everyone thinks.
Her eyes light up when she sees me. She doesn’t know what this is about. Right now, she just thinks I’m here to see her.
Without a word, she turns and walks toward me. She doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of me, her boots hitting the toes of my dress shoes. Her hands slide underneath my suit jacket and she wraps her arms around my middle. Then she lets her forehead fall to rest against my chest. I haven’t felt so much comfort from a hug since before my mom died.
“Hello,” she says softly.
“Hi.”
“My brother said he went to see you at work today.”
My only view is the top of her head.
“He did.”
“Was it terrible?”
“Wasn’t great,” I concede, careful to keep my hands off her.
She’s gripping me with everything she’s got and I’m holding her at arm’s length.
She must realize it because she steps back and nods.
“So then do it already. Say it.”
I frown.
She laughs like I disgust her. “You think by staying silent, you’re not speaking, but I hear it all loud and clear, Ben. So do it.” She whirls around and tosses her hands in the air. “God, it’s so predictable. You’re so predictable.”
I can’t lie to her. I can’t tell her I don’t want her or say I’m not falling in love with her. So, I settle for the simple truth. We have to get it all out if there’s any hope of moving forward. “I’m not the man you should be with.”
She fists her hands. “Of course you’re not! I’m sure my father said that. Colten too, yeah? I bet I can recite the whole conversation word for word and get most of it right. They warned you to stay away from me? Not to break my heart? Big deal! They’ve said that to every guy who’s ever walked into my life. You’re not special. You’re not any more ‘bad’ than the rest. You…you’re—”
She rears back and shoves me with everything she’s got, her hands pushing against my chest until I hit the wall behind me.
“You’re a coward,” she says, spitting venom. “You’re scared.”
She’s a ball of rage.
I grip hold of her biceps to keep her fists from pounding on my chest. “Of course I’m scared! I care about you,” I say, voice booming. “I want life to be easy for you. I want you to be happy. You said yourself you want to be with a man your family approves of.”
“Well guess what?! I fell for you instead!” She groans with everything she’s got and then flings my arms off her. “I’m so mad I can’t even think straight.”
“Tell me the way forward then,” I say, coming up behind her, turning her around so she has to look up at me. I want her looking in my eyes as she lays out her master plan. “Tell me how this works. You defy your father and keep sneaking out of your house to see me? I want
more than that, Madison. I want—”
Before I can even finish that sentence, she’s on me, pushing me up against the wall, crashing her mouth against mine. I’m so angry I could shred her clothes, pull her hair, bite that lip. Clearly, so is she. I’ve had enough with the games and the silly shit. No more pushing her out of her comfort zone under the guise of a birthday resolution. No more pretending what we have is just a friendship.
She fists my shirt and kisses me back with an angry vengeance. Our mouths slant together and our tongues touch and I’m grinding into her, gripping her ass, pulling up her legs so they wrap around me.
The gloves are off. The time for indecision is over. I came here with two options: fight for her or give her an easy out, a chance to leave me behind. It seems we’ve made up our minds.
I’m not going to walk away from Madison. She’ll have to find a new family—I’ll be her family. I’ll take care of her and shelter her and if her dad doesn’t like that, tough shit.
She melts against me, gripping, writhing, moaning. Her hands are unbuttoning my shirt and my hands are up under dress, pushing beneath her panties. I have her ass in my hands and I grip it like I’m as angry with it as I am with the last few days. We’ve been in hell and this is our reward, our light at the end of the tunnel.
“Ben,” she moans as my mouth trails down her cheek, her neck, her chest. I spin us around so she’s up against the wall. I use it to my advantage, leaning back and gaining better access. Her sweater dress is just stretchy enough that I can tug the neck to the side and expose one of her shoulders. If she’s wearing a bra, it’s strapless. On Friday night, in the ocean, I didn’t appreciate what I had. I felt like she hadn’t given me permission to touch her, not really.
Now…
Now I’m going to make up for that.
“Are there cameras in here?” I ask, breathless. If so, I’ll find a gun and shoot out the lenses. We’re not stopping.
“No. Wait—I don’t know. Who cares? Lenny is old and probably needs some excitement in his life.”
She’s saying this as she works my jacket off my shoulders. It falls to the floor. My shirt gaps open.
“What are we doing?” I ask, wanting to get everything out in the open. If this is some foreplay bullshit, I need to know now.
“What are we doing?” she mocks. “I thought you’d done this before…” She leans forward and takes my earlobe between her teeth. “I’m supposed to be the innocent one.”
Of course when she says that, in that tone, while dragging her tongue across my skin, I am gone. I’m the evil version of Ben everyone seems to want me to be. Poor Madison. For her first time, she deserves candles and rose petals and a Phil Collins playlist. I tell her that. I give her the out.
“I’ll take you to a fancy bed right now. I’ll make it special, memorable—scrapbook-worthy,” I promise as I hold her against the wall and start to bend to my knees.
Her eyes watch me as her head falls back. Her hand fists my hair. She knows where I’m headed and there’s a little blush on her cheeks that I want to kiss off.
“Madison?” I ask with a raised brow just as my lips touch her inner thigh. “Should we—”
“NO! We’re staying! This wall is really soft—cloud-like, even,” she says as I tug her dress up to her waist to expose her panties.
Lilac.
I let my face fall against them and the silky material tickles my nose. I want to die in this spot.
“Ben?” she asks, concerned.
“Who’s Ben?”
She laughs and yanks my hair, pulling me back just far enough that she can see my eyes.
“I’ve spent a lot of hours in this library, a lot of time with my nose stuck in a book. I want a memory that will make me blush every time I walk into this room. I want to do something bad…something very, very naughty.”
The edge of my mouth hitches up. “Naughty?”
Her laugh is cut short when my fingers catch on either side of her panties. Her stomach quivers as I give the first little tug. They slide down an inch and more of her creamy skin is exposed. Another inch and I can’t wait. I’m not a patient man. The panties can stay. I drag my middle finger down the very center of them, right over the silkiest part. Her resulting shudder is gas to a flame. I do it once more and her eyes flutter closed.
“Has a man ever touched you like this before?”
“No.”
I do it again, slower this time, making sure I hit the most tender spot.
“But I’ve touched myself before.”
My heart lurches in my chest. My dick strains against my zipper.
I stand back up and cover her body with mine, finding her mouth, kissing her at the exact moment my hand slides down into the top of her panties and I find her wet, wanting.
One finger glides inside smoothly, and Madison has never known the meaning of naughty before today. Her fingers dig into my forearms as I taunt her, running one finger up and down her seam. I drag that wetness up, up, up and swirl the pad of my middle finger while she loses brain cells.
My lips touch her neck, and the contact is too gentle to douse the flames. No, I’m fanning them. With my tongue. With my finger as it spins circles just slow enough to make her arch her back. I drag my hand up her over stomach and then back down. I’m talking to her, teaching her.
Do you want me to keep going lower? my fingers ask as they still on her hipbone.
Her skin is so flushed it’s a wonder she isn’t feverish.
She’s rolling her hips against me. Her body is telling me all the things she’s too shy to say.
She’s growing impatient.
She wants a release.
Friction.
Heat.
It’s only been a few seconds since I touched her there, but it must feel like forever.
I brush her hair off her forehead and cradle her face. She looks at me like she’s about to swoon.
“More,” she demands with a lusty, choked voice, and I smile, happy to oblige.
This time, I use my mouth.
I bend back down on my knees, and there’s no more tiptoeing around this. My fingers hook on either side of her panties and I yank them down her thighs. They pool on the floor and she steps out of them. Her dress covers her, barely. One of my hands pushes up the thick sweater material and the other wraps around her thigh, tugging, goading her legs apart.
I expect her to protest, and she does try to push her dress down a little.
“I’ve never…” she says, letting the sentence hang.
I glance up so my gaze locks with hers and I kiss the inside of her knee. Then I peel her dress up and follow its path with my mouth. The material drags across her skin, goose bumps bloom, and I kiss them away, lapping her up until I reach the spot between her legs. I’m too tall for this angle. Her legs are long for her height, but still, I need more room. I wrap my hand around her calf and lift it up so her foot perches on my shoulder.
Her hand flies up to cover her eyes, like if she doesn’t look at what’s happening, she doesn’t have to be embarrassed by it.
I smirk.
It’s cute. All of it—the idea that she would turn this down because it’s out of her comfort zone, the idea that when my mouth connects with her soft, wet flesh she won’t crumble into a million pieces.
My tongue slides across her and I watch that hand curl up into a fist and fall away. Her eyes stay closed though. Her mouth drops open. So does mine. I lean in and her legs spread wider. My hands were keeping them apart, but there’s no danger of her closing them now. I let go of her thigh and bring one hand between her legs to compliment my mouth.
If I had a timer, I’d start it.
She won’t last another minute.
My middle finger slides into her and I start to pump slowly.
Madison’s eyes squeeze tightly. Her hand fists against her mouth like she’s scared of what will fly out. My tongue swirls faster and my finger matches its rhythm. That timer is counting down and Ma
dison is grinding against me, rocking her hips, taking it and taking it, trying to stave it off as long as possible, but I’m better at this than she is. I pump faster and my tongue speeds up and the first shudder I feel is followed by a second one that’s even more powerful. Her orgasm rocks through her and she cries out, fisting my hair, keeping me there, ensuring that I help her milk every last drop of pleasure.
I kiss her and soothe her as she comes back down to earth. Her eyes blink open slowly and I’m smirking, very pleased with myself.
Her sweater dress falls back into place, the rest of her still in complete disarray. Light-socket hair. Flushed cheeks. Wide, crazy eyes.
She opens her mouth to say something and a giggle escapes instead. She presses the back of her hand to her mouth, shakes her head, looks away. Apparently, she’s having a hard time piecing herself together, so I decide to help her. I pick up her panties and slide them back up her legs. When they cover her again, I pat her butt and step back.
“You’ve done that before,” she says, impressed.
I laugh.
Her brow arches. “I could return the favor, you know. I’m not opposed.”
My dick says yes, but my brain thankfully wins out.
“It’s probably best we don’t stay down here. Besides, it’s late—I’m sure your dad is wondering where you are.”
“Oh, about that…I moved out.”
She’s biting down on her lip to contain her smile.
I blink in shock. “What do you mean?”
She’s innocent now, playing with her dress, acting as if this isn’t monumental information. “Mrs. Allen has a garage apartment. She’s letting me stay there and pay rent. Well, technically, I haven’t convinced her to take my money, but I will. It’s nice. I mean, it definitely hasn’t been lived in since like the 70s. There’s green shag carpet and a smell I can’t quite seem to locate the source of, but it’s my own place, at least.”
“You moved out.”
She smiles. “I moved out.”
18
Madison
I’m in the bathroom of the library, freshening up before we leave. I try, very hard, to remove the blush from my cheeks. I fan my face, splash some cold water on it, shove my head down under the hand dryer. It’s no use.