by Jacie Lennon
Her ass jerks off the seat as she pushes up with her feet. Her moans spur me on, but I pull off her clit and lean over to nip the inside of her thigh.
“No, go back,” she groans.
She pulls my hair back toward her pussy, but I resist, smiling against her soft skin.
“So impatient,” I murmur against her, running my tongue along the crease of her thigh.
She shifts herself to put her aching core in line with my mouth again, but I hold her still.
“Dirty girl. Don’t worry. I’m going to make you come.”
I put my mouth back on her throbbing pussy as I rub my cock, still encased in my pants, along the seat I’m crouched over, trying to find relief. I push a thumb down on her clit as I keep pumping, waiting until I see her legs start to tremble again, and then I lean down, flicking and then sucking, drawing her over the edge. She cries out, pulling my hair and thrusting her hips up, deeper into my mouth. Her walls clench around me, and I don’t move until the spasms subside.
I sit up, mouth wet, and slowly pull my fingers from her. She watches me with sated, hooded eyes as I insert them in my mouth, sucking her off of me.
“So fuckin’ good. You taste exactly like I remember.” I smirk, and she lets her head fall back with a moan.
“Fuck, let’s do that again,” she says, biting her bottom lip, and I chuckle, moving her panties back into place.
14
Landry
His chuckle shoots straight to my core, making me wet again and desperate for another time with his face between my legs. He sits up with a groan, and I prop myself up, my eyes landing on his pants, where a bulge shows that I wasn’t the only one enjoying what we did. I pull myself up further, righting my skirt so it falls back over my legs, and rest my hands on his chest. We are sitting face-to-face, and I lift my eyes to his.
He’s never bashful with his perusals, eyes always laser-focused, and he doesn’t glance away when I catch him looking. I reach out, tentatively touching his leg, and he looks down, watching my hand move higher.
“Is this already our second date or a continuation of the first?” I ask.
His mouth quirks up in a smirk. “What do you want it to be?” he asks me, reaching to pull a lock of my hair from behind my ear, rubbing it between his fingers.
“Second date. I have a secret for you,” I tell him, and he goes still, his head cocking to the side. “I can’t stop thinking about what you would look like naked.”
“Is that a secret?” he asks, eyes searching mine.
I know I have to be red in the face. As much as I want to appear confident and calm, he shakes me up, makes me tumble head over heels into my feelings, unable to surface again.
“I want to take care of you,” I say, bringing his eyes back to mine. “You’ve been more than generous with me.”
“I’m a selfish bastard,” he says, running a finger along my collarbone. “Your taste is like fuckin’ crack to me. I can’t get enough.”
I warm under his admission. My fingers find his zipper, slowly trailing it down until his hand lands on mine, stopping me. I frown, confused.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to,” he says, a wrinkle appearing on his forehead, and I trace it with one finger. “But damn, I want you to.”
He smiles, and I giggle.
“I want to fuck you, Landry. I want to sink my cock so far inside you, and fuck if I’m having a hard time, holding back.”
“Why are you holding back?” I tilt my head to the side, biting my lower lip and waiting breathlessly for his reply.
“I told you before, you aren’t what’s best for me.”
“You said that, but I don’t know why. Talk to me.” I line his lips with my finger, and he lunges forward slightly, capturing the tip of it between his teeth and growling.
“I have goals, plans, and they don’t include anyone else besides me and Abe.”
“Is that why you tried to put a wall up between us back at the restaurant?”
He doesn’t speak for a second, the tapping of his fingers against his leg the only sound between us.
“Yeah,” he says slowly, almost like he doesn’t believe it himself.
He’s got secrets. Who doesn’t? But I wish he would be more open with me. I don’t truly know why he’s holding back. His goal explanation is bullshit. I’m not a leech. I haven’t grabbed on to him and demanded he do what I want.
I reach for his zipper again, ready to put words behind us for the moment and focus on making him feel like he made me feel. Amazing, phenomenal, fan-fucking-tastic.
I get his pants undone, and he leans back a little, allowing my hand access to slide in, cupping his hard length.
Damn.
My body heats at the contact as I think about his words. “I want to sink my cock so far inside you.”
I want that too.
“Get off the bike,” I say, pulling my hand out.
I jump off after him and look at where his pants are undone. The sexy V of his abdomen is showing slightly, where his shirt is riding up, and I lick my lips. It’s been a while since I’ve given a blow job, but it’s like riding a bike, right? No pun intended. I watch as he reaches in, cupping himself, and then I suck in a breath as he pulls his cock out, long and erect, the tip a darker pink than the rest, straining as it juts out. I lick my lips again.
“Hold on,” he says, taking out his uniform jacket from where he stashed it in the motorcycle compartment. He folds it, throwing it on the ground in front of him. With a wink, he stands straight again and palms himself, leisurely stroking as he looks at me.
“Looks like chivalry isn’t dead,” I joke as I sink to kneel on the jacket, taking him in my hand and staring up at him.
His hooded eyes are focused on where I grip him, lightly pumping him back and forth before I lean forward, licking right up the underside of him, stopping and pressing my tongue into the tight spot underneath the head. I relish in the powerful feeling I have as he jerks against me, pumping his hips forward.
“Fuck,” he groans, raising his hands, clasping them behind his head as I repeat the action.
I wrap my lips around the head, humming a little as I suck right on the tip. I’m high on the noises he’s making, spurring me on, and I take him deeper. His hand finds the back of my head, setting a rhythm, and I open wider, taking him in further.
“God, Landry,” he groans again, gripping my hair tighter.
I flatten my tongue on the underside, working the sensitive spot every time I pull back, and he moans.
“Fuck yes. Just like that.”
I speed up, drunk on lust as I work him into a frenzy, and before long, he’s pulling back, his hands frantic.
“I’m gonna come,” he says.
I look up, taking him deep again with a wink, and he shudders. His head snaps back, and with a guttural sound, he comes. I drink him down and then wipe my mouth once he pulls out. I go to stand and let out a gasp when he grips my shoulders, pulling me to him, crushing his mouth to mine in a hard kiss. A kiss I never want to end. As he wraps strong arms around me, he nips my jawline and then rests his forehead on mine, eyes closed, breathing in and out.
“Fuck.” He doesn’t elaborate, but I nod, shaking both of our heads with the motion. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” This time, it doesn’t sound satisfied, but more of a plea. An angry plea.
I pull away and look at him as he stuffs himself back in his pants, zipping up and then handing me my helmet.
“Come on. I’m taking you back,” he says.
I stare, confused. I don’t know why though. This is how he’s acted ever since we met. Hot and cold.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He looks away, swiping one thumb across his lips. “Nothing.” His curt reply rubs me the wrong way.
“What the fuck, Corbin? I blow you, and this is how you react?” Tears gather in the corner of my eyes, but I blink them away, angry with myself for crying. He doesn’t deserve my tears. “Is this what you
wanted? You got what you came for, and now, you are back to being a closed-off asshole?”
He stops with his back to me. “Yeah, I guess so.”
A scream of frustration wells up inside me, but I refuse to let him know how much he gets to me. I hate him and like him, all at the same time, and I don’t know why.
“Fuck you, Corbin.” I seethe, and he doesn’t even turn to look at me, just dons his helmet before looping a leg over the bike we created great memories on. Memories that are now tainted by the douche bag in front of me.
I grip the sides of his shirt, hoisting myself on behind him, but as soon as I’m seated, I know I can’t do this with him. I can feel myself getting in too deep. He starts the motorcycle up.
Hell, I blew him and let him come in my mouth, and this is how he repays me? Asshole. Dick. Douche bag.
I pound his back, and he pauses, not taking off. I dismount, standing there, feeling lost. I can’t ride back with him. My pride is too wounded.
“Give me your phone,” I say, holding my hand out. I don’t have mine on me. I left it back in my room before I started the school day, figuring I wouldn’t need it during classes, and now, I regret it.
“Why?” He cocks his head.
I curl my fingers toward me. “Now.”
He fishes it from his back pocket and hands it to me. I stare down at it, realizing I don’t know anyone’s number to call. Looks like I’m going through his Contacts.
“Do you have Trixie’s number?” I ask, close to tears again, truly feeling alone now.
She’s the one person I have to call besides my mom, and I’m not about to sit in a car with her, explaining how I got myself stranded at the marina parking lot in a too-small uniform without my phone. Without a word, Corbin leans over and unlocks the phone, pulling up Trixie’s number, and then he shifts away from me.
His hands grip the handlebars, turning white, and I stare at them as I press the green phone icon, making the call.
“Corbin?” Trixie’s confused voice picks up after the first ring.
“Hey, it’s me, Landry,” I say, and there’s a beat of silence.
“What’s wrong? Why do you have Corbin’s phone?”
“Do you think you could come get me?” I ignore the questions, not wanting to go into it with him sitting right here, listening to me.
“Yeah, hold on.” I can hear shuffling, and she grunts. “Okay, where are you?”
“The marina.” I glance around, looking at my surroundings. “Toward the back.”
“Okay. Be there in ten.”
I nod even though she can’t see me and hang up, handing the phone back to Corbin. I wrap my hands around my middle, trying to keep myself together, holding my heart inside.
“You can leave now,” I tell Corbin, who hasn’t looked my way since calling Trixie for me.
“I’m not leaving you alone in the parking lot,” he says gruffly.
Lips thin and white, jaw flexing, he looks almost like he’s not happy about the turn of events, but he should be. They happened because of him.
“Well, at least go somewhere else. I don’t want to be here next to you,” I spit, and he flinches.
Good.
I turn away, but relief fills me as his bike starts up and the sound gets farther from me. I couldn’t breathe with him so close; he was stifling. I let the first tear fall as soon as he’s away. It slowly makes a trail down my cheek, but I don’t reach up to wipe it away. I want it there as a reminder of how foolish I was. How foolish I’m being. I thought I was special, but isn’t that the plight of those who forget themselves?
I forgot who I am and what I want to be. I lost sight of my dreams, focusing on a stupid boy. I’ve been sketching less and less this past week. I haven’t picked up my paintbrushes in that whole time, and that’s strange for me. I never go this long without filling a canvas.
I clench my fists, resolving to get back to me, to who I am as a person and an artist. I won’t let green eyes, a chiseled body, and a wicked mouth sway me again. I hear him take off again, and I look up to see a car entering the lot, driving toward where I’m sitting. I don’t understand him, why he would even care enough to sit around and wait until Trixie arrived, but I’m not going to allow myself to wonder.
I jump up, opening the passenger door as she pulls up. Her concerned face greets me, and I cringe, not even wanting to rehash the events of today. What a horrible, then great, and then horrible day today was.
“Hey, babe. You okay?” She hits the gas, pulling out of the marina.
I throw my seat belt on and then wipe under both eyes.
“Just peachy,” I say, trying to joke and smile and lighten my heart.
“What happened? I waited outside for you after school, but you never came out, so I went back to our room.”
“Corbin and his fucking motorcycle happened,” I say, staring out the window as the trees flash by. It’s not the same feeling as watching them go by on the back of a bike.
“He let you on his bike?” She sounds shocked.
I glance over, taking in her wide eyes watching the road. “Yeah. Why?”
“He never lets anyone on his most prized possession. I’ve never heard that he’s ever invited anyone for a ride.”
My stomach flips as I realize that I might have been the first, but I steel myself.
You are no one special to him, I think as a reminder. I can’t forget that.
Maybe he’s turning over a new leaf, going to start taking girls on his bike by the dozens and treating them to his delicious mouth before he’s on to the next one. Maybe I was the first trial, sending him on his new mission to mouth-fuck the entire female population of Almadale. I know I’m being dramatic, but I can’t help the thoughts that come to me.
“Come on. I’ve got ice cream, and we can find something to watch on Netflix—no chill though. I don’t swing that way.” She shoots a grin my way, and I find it in me to smile back.
“No romance. Let’s watch a horror movie,” I say, and she nods. “We can cuddle your creepy doll at the same time,” I say.
She shudders and then laughs. “Let’s not and say we did.”
I giggle with her.
Yep, a horror movie is exactly what I need right now.
15
Landry
The days pass without anything eventful happening, and before I know it, I’ve been at Almadale a month and a half. Early October seems a little anticlimactic on the West Coast with no seasonal change so far. I’ve kept my head down, gone to class, and ignored Brock, Bodhi, and Corbin as if my life depended on it, and I think that’s the smartest decision I’ve made since I arrived.
I can’t fully ignore them when I have one of them in each of my classes, but I pretend like they aren’t sitting behind me, beside me. I should win an Oscar for my performance.
My attention is drawn to the whiteboard, where Mrs. Fisher is writing our homework for the day, but I’m having a hard time concentrating when I know I won’t be in class tomorrow because of Senior Skip Day. I hastily scribble which pages of our textbook to study later and shut my notebook, waiting for the bell.
Once it rings, I grab my backpack and go to stand, but I’m stopped by a body. Peter Matthews sits next to me in class, and I look up into his face. He’s classically handsome—blond hair, trimmed short, and a nice face. A face that is currently aiming a smile my way, and I fight the urge to glance behind me to see if he’s really looking at me.
“Um, hi,” I say.
He smiles wider. I’m aware of classmates giving us glances as they file out, but Peter rests against the desk beside me, looking relaxed.
“Hey,” he says, the smile on his face disarming.
I haven’t received much interaction from students here, especially those of the male variety.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask, wanting to stand up so I can get out of here but he has me blocked in.
“I hear you are pretty good at English,” he says, and I nod.
I am good at English, but I’m not sure who he would have heard that from.
“Teach gave me your name, said you might be able to tutor me.”
My eyes widen. “Uh, yeah.” I clear my throat before saying more resolutely, “I can help you.”
“Great. What are you doing now?”
“Now, now?” Looks like shock has addled my mind because I can’t comprehend the most basic of sentences.
“As in right now since classes are over,” he says with a smirk.
I watch as he moves his shoulder up, adjusting the strap of his leather satchel, and then I jerk my eyes back to his face.
“I’m free,” I say.
He steps to the side for me to get up. “Want to get a bite to eat in the commons and study there?”
“Sounds good to me,” I say, wrapping a hand around my backpack and looping it through the strap. I glance over my shoulder, afraid there will be students filming me or snickering about the ass he’s going to make of me. I’ve spent too much time checking my surroundings here. But I don’t see anything, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe he does need the help.
Once we get to the commons, he throws his bag in a chair and asks what I want to eat. After giving my order, I sink into the chair across the table and watch him make his way to the food area. I twiddle my thumbs for a moment before I think that maybe I should get my English textbook out along with the assignment.
Before I can reach for my bag, chairs are scooting out around me, and I look up. Brock, Bodhi, and Corbin sit down, boxing me in, and I roll my eyes.
“What do you want?” I try to keep my voice calm, but it ends up coming out a growl.
“What does Peter want?” Corbin asks, sitting forward in the seat to my right.
He’s so close that I can feel the fabric of his pants rubbing my bare knee right above where my stockings hit. It makes me shiver for a moment, and then I meet his eyes.