by Katia Rose
He swears.
A lot.
When he’s finally recovered, I glance over my shoulder to see him line himself up behind me. I hiss when he runs his palms over my ass before wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and tracing the tip of it up and down between my legs. Whimpering, I let my head drop forward until it hits the pillow. I lower myself onto my elbows and grip the pillowcase so hard my knuckles turn white as I wait for him to slide inside.
He does it slowly, inch by inch, filling me with everything I’ve been craving. I clench around him, and he groans. We both go still for a moment, adjusting to the sensation, to the force of the connection.
We’re connected—not just our bodies, but our hearts and our minds. Our blood seems to be rushing in time. I feel it again: the weight of every moment that’s led us to where we are, the memory of every smile and sigh and stupid joke.
This is us. This is our story.
I thrust back against him to urge him on, and he doesn’t need any more encouragement. He starts off slow, and I can tell he’s trying to ease into things for me, but it only takes a few thrusts before he’s gripping my waist and pulling me closer as he drives himself into me as hard as he can.
It’s everything I need.
“Oui, oui. Yes. Don’t stop.”
He fucks me hard enough to make me scream, fucks me so good I know I’d beg for more if he stopped. I’d say anything he wanted just to get more of this. His fingers dig into my hips, the sting of pain just making me crave him even more. I need him everywhere. I need him to take everything I have.
Chasing the pressure, I raise myself up onto my knees so my back is flush with his chest. He throws an arm around my stomach to keep me from falling over, not slowing his pace as he lets his other hand cup one of my breasts. He teases my nipple, pinching hard enough that I feel myself start squeezing around his cock.
“Oh, fuck. Fuck.”
He takes one shuddering breath, and then he stiffens before falling apart inside me. He comes so hard he sends us both tumbling forward until I’m on my hands and knees again. He’s still thrusting, driving himself into me as he gasps for breath.
I don’t want him to stop. I want this feeling forever. I need it. I need him.
I need him.
The words echo in my thoughts as he finally pulls out and rolls onto his back, tugging me down on top of him.
I need him.
I nestle myself onto his heaving chest, shivering as his fingers trail along my spine. He sighs and presses his lips to the top of my head.
I need him.
I wrap my arms around him as hard as I can, and I don’t know what I’m more afraid of: that I’m holding him too tight, or not nearly tight enough.
Fifteen
Zach
TOP SHELF: a slang term for premium, high quality liquor
I try to sneak back into DeeDee’s room without Valérie noticing, but she pokes her head around the edge of the hall just as I’m reaching for the door handle.
“Well, well, well,” she drawls, stepping into full view and crossing her arms. “Looks like you graduated from the couch, strange boy.”
I feel my face flush. It’s just after eight in the morning, and the only thing I’ve got on is my boxers.
“Uh, yeah. Looks like I did.”
She smirks.
“We didn’t, uh, I mean, I hope we weren’t...I hope you could...sleeping?”
She squints. “Are you asking if you kept me up last night?”
I give up on speaking and nod.
“I’m just getting in now.” She laughs at my expense. “Tu es si mignon.”
She waves me off, and I close the door to DeeDee’s room with my face on fire.
“You roommate just told me that I am ‘so cute.’”
“Tell that bitch to back off,” DeeDee jokes from where she’s lying in bed, the sheet pulled up under her arms. I can see her nipples poking through the fabric, and my cock starts to harden in response.
Not now.
I already got off three times last night. The second time was from a blowjob that will go down in the history of my life as a supremely momentous occasion, and the third was from slow, sleepy sex in the dark when I woke up to the feeling of her ass grinding circles against my cock at 4AM.
I pause a few feet away from the bed. She looks gorgeous enough to stop my heart, lying there with the morning light falling on her bare shoulders. Her eyes are still a little heavy with sleep, and her mouth is stretched into a lazy smile. Memories of last night flash through my mind as I smile back at her. What we shared was more than physical. Last night, I took a dive into the deep end, and DeeDee jumped in right beside me.
It might be way too early to say it. It might be total sappy bullshit, but it feels like we’re finally becoming all we were meant to be.
“Good morning, my pink-haired princess,” I say, using the nickname some of the staff at the bar have for her.
Except for the ‘my’ part. That part’s new.
“Get back into bed.” She pretends to pout. “I’m cold.”
I slide in behind her, throwing an arm around her and pulling her tight against my chest.
“Do you want to go back to sleep?” I murmur next to her ear.
She shakes her head. “I think I am awake now.”
She clasps her fingers around my hand and yawns. Something tightens in my chest.
“What are you up to today?” I ask, fighting to sound casual.
There’s a thick lump of emotion threatening to lodge itself in my throat. Lying here with her in my arms has me wanting to say crazy things—things it’s definitely too soon for.
She lets out an annoyed groan. “Woooorking. I don’t want to.”
I put some husk in my voice. “You’d rather be here working for me?”
She laughs, but not before I hear her breath catch. “You wish. What are you up to today?”
“Ah, actually, my sister is getting here in a few hours.”
“No way!” She flips herself over and looks at me with wide, excited eyes. “Wait, which one? Is it Hope?”
I nod, laughing at how big of a deal this seems to be. It’s a big deal to me too; she was at her boyfriend’s for Christmas this year, so Hope and I haven’t seen each other in person since Thanksgiving. It’s a long time for a family that grew up super close.
I just didn’t think all that would be so interesting to DeeDee.
“Yeah, it’s Hope. She’s on her way in from Halifax right now, and I’m meeting her at the airport.”
DeeDee pounds on my chest with her fists. “That is so exciting!”
I make a spur of the moment decision before I can consider the risks.
“Do you, uh, maybe want to meet her? She’s here for three nights.”
DeeDee’s eyes get even wider than they already were, and her mouth shapes itself into a shocked ‘O.’
Shit. Too much.
“I can meet Hope?” she says on a gasp.
“Uh, I mean, only if you want to. No pressure. I just thought it would be fu—”
“I’m going to meet Hope!” DeeDee woops. “Mon dieu, I can’t believe it!”
I let out a nervous laugh. “You sound like she’s some kind of celebrity. I like my sister, but she’s not that interesting.”
DeeDee shifts her eyes down, cheeks flushing. “I just, ah, you tell me all those stories, and I kind of feel like...”
“Like what?” I prompt when she trails off, rubbing a hand along her arm to reassure her.
“It’s stupid, but I feel like your whole home town is this story book, and now I get to meet one of the people in it.”
The lump in my throat rises even higher.
“That...I didn’t—I didn’t know you felt like that.”
She shrugs. “I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.” I give her arm a squeeze. “DeeDee, that’s...that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.”
She still won’t look up, so I press my lips to her forehead and let them rest there for a moment. I hear her sniff, and I’m about to ask if she’s okay when she smacks my chest. Hard.
“You dork! Why didn’t you tell me she was coming? This is big news!”
I pull back, and she glares up at me.
“Well, it was kind of a last minute decision, and you and I weren’t...”
“Oh.”
A weight settles in the room. For all that happened last night, we still haven’t actually had ‘The Talk’ yet—the ‘what are we doing and where is this going’ talk. Part of me wants to just let it be, to stay in this bed forever and not worry about what comes next. After hearing everything DeeDee’s been through, the last thing I want to do is put her through more.
Only this conversation seems to be forcing itself on us whether we want it or not. The questions are always there in the back of my head, and I see them in her eyes sometimes when we look at each other.
I don’t understand how what’s between us can feel so strong and so fragile all at once, but I do know that this weight seems like it could crush us if we let it, and ignoring it only seems to make it press down even harder.
“DeeDee, I know that we moved kind of fast, maybe too fast, and—”
“Non.” She shakes her head, her chin tilting up with determination. “I needed it to move fast. I needed to feel...I needed to know...”
She reaches for my hand and twines her fingers through mine before bringing them to her heart.
“And now I know, but...I’m still scared. This is a lot. It’s so good, but...but it’s like the more good it is, the more I worry I’m going to mess it up.” She drops her gaze and murmurs the last part.
“DeeDee.” I cup her cheek with one of my palms. “DeeDee, you’re amazing. All of this, it’s...like you said, it’s so good. You couldn’t possibly mess this up.”
Her lips pull up into a sad smile, and I want to wipe it off her face. I want a real smile.
“This doesn’t have to happen overnight,” I assure her. “There are no rules for what this has to look like. It can be whatever we want it to be, and it can take as long as we need it to take.”
Her expression softens, but it’s still sadder than I’d like. “You are too good, Zach.”
It’s not the first time someone’s told me that. That’s what I was taught to be: a good person, someone who gives people what they need.
“Can we just...keep doing this for now?” DeeDee asks. “Can we keep seeing each other like this without making it more yet? I want to feel ready.”
“Of course.”
“And is it okay if we do not tell anyone?”
A bolt of pain runs through me. I’m ready to shout that DeeDee Beausoleil is mine from the rooftops of Montreal. I’d also shout the news that I’m hers, but I’ve accepted the fact that everyone seems to have known that for a long time. Hearing that she doesn’t feel the same urge to make wild and totally pre-emptive proclamations is a bit of a sucker punch to my pride.
Still, that can wait. It can all wait. This is more important.
“My lips are sealed,” I inform her. “Although not gonna lie, everyone is going to know something is up with me. I haven’t got that great of a poker face.”
“You have a cute face.” She strokes my cheek. “I really, really like it.”
“Imagine that. I really, really like your face too.”
She pulls me down for a kiss, and I hope Valérie has headphones on or something because we are about to head into round four.
“Brother dearest! It is I! Returned from a far land!”
Hope sprints across the arrivals area, brown hair flying and thin limbs flailing with her glasses slightly askew. She abandons her suitcase halfway to where I’m standing and leaps into my arms to tackle me with a hug that almost knocks me over.
“Hey, tiger.” I hold her tight before depositing her back on her feet. “Ugh, you’re heavy.”
“Asshole.” She punches my shoulder. “What’s with your beard?”
“What do you mean what’s with my beard?”
“You look like a farmer.”
I drop my arms to my sides and throw my head back to proclaim to the ceiling. “Why does everyone say that?”
“Because it’s true. Don’t worry; it’s cute.”
Hope skips away to pick her bag up and starts leading the way out of the terminal.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” I ask as she forges on ahead of me.
“I’ll figure it out.”
That’s Hope for you, always rushing headfirst into whatever situation she finds herself in, acting fast and only asking questions once she’s stuck.
She got stuck—literally—every second day when we were kids. I was always pulling her out of crawlspaces or tunnels or whatever totally dysfunctional object she decided would make a good flotation device. She once jumped into a lake with three battery-powered fans strapped to her back, thinking they would help her swim faster.
They did not.
We take the bus back into the city, and Hope talks non-stop about how things are going in Halifax. She’s in the middle of finishing her undergrad, and she’s the lacrosse star of the campus. She answers my brotherly and slightly menacing questions about her boyfriend and has just finished telling me about all the drama in the lives of her three roommates when we get off the bus and switch to the metro that will take us to my place.
“So!” she exclaims, loud enough to turn the heads of half the people in the metro car. “Tell me about you!”
“Ah, me.” I shrug. “Same old, same old.”
“Zach!” she complains.
“What? We talk all the time on video. You already know what’s up with my life.”
“Yeah, and you already knew everything I just told you. It’s different when you say it in person.” She stops talking for a moment and squints at me. “You’re hiding something.”
I huff. “Me? Hiding something? You know I have a bad poker face.”
“Yeah, exactly.” She rolls her eyes. “Spill.”
“I can’t spill if there’s nothing to spill.”
“Hmm.” She pats her suitcase where it’s sitting between her knees. “Good thing I brought some east coast liquor with me. You’ll be telling me everything in no time.”
I fake a gasp. “My own sister, trying to drug me into a confession.”
“Ha! So you admit there’s something to confess.”
We continue like that all the way to my apartment. Paige’s lair is firmly closed off, but there’s a light shining through the crack under the door.
“Do I get to meet her?” Hope asks in a whisper. The last time she visited Montreal was before I’d moved in with Paige.
“If you remain very still, she may choose to emerge,” I whisper back. I laugh at Hope’s wary glance at the door and continue in a normal voice. “She usually comes out for a late dinner. She also always has headphones on, so don’t worry about making noise.”
I give Hope a quick tour of the place before pulling a lasagna out of the freezer and turning the oven on.
“Mother would be ashamed of you,” she informs me, nodding at the cardboard box.
“Yeah, well, I was going to grocery shop this morning, but—”
“But what?”
“I, uh, ran out of time.”
Hope gives me a look to say she’s having none of my shit before leaving the kitchen and plopping herself down on the couch.
“Oh! You know what you should tell me about? Your business! How’s it going?”
“It’s, uh, it’s good,” I answer distractedly as I slide the plastic tray into the oven.
“Zachary Hastings, you are being infuriatingly evasive today.” She pats the cushion next to her, and I make my way over to collapse down beside her. “Come on. Give me the deets.”
As an economics major, Hope is one of the few people I’ve met who can keep up with my ecommerce explanations. By the ti
me I get past the concept with most people, they’re either too confused or too bored to listen to any more. I reel off some of my latest accomplishments and nerd out over the traction I’ve been gaining as Hope congratulates me.
“Let me show you this drop shipping meme about—”
“Wait. No.” Hope holds up a hand to cut me off. “No more of your memes. You’ve already sent me like, five memes today.”
“Yeah, but they weren’t about drop shipping,” I protest.
“I’ll just take your word for it that it’s funny.” She pats me on the shoulder, and I resign myself to shoving my phone back in my pocket. “Seriously, though, that’s incredible. Are things still moving as fast?”
“Well...”
It’s not like she’s my boss; I’m my boss, but I can’t help feeling guilty admitting how much I’ve been neglecting things lately.
“I’ve been working at the bar a lot, so I’m not as on track as I’d like to be, but as soon as I have a little more time on my hands, things should get back to where they were and keep growing.”
Hope frowns. “I thought you went down to part time at the bar?”
“Well, that was the plan.” I shrug and chuckle, but her frown only deepens. “Things got a little crazy after Dylan left, and Monroe only just got a new manager fully trained. I’m one of the most senior staff members now, so it’s been important to have me around.”
“Your business is important.” She jabs a finger at my chest. “You always do this, Zach.”
“Do what? Help people? That’s not a bad thing, Hope.”
The words come out sharper than I meant them to. Hope raises her eyebrows.
I blow out a breath. “I’m sorry. You’re here to visit, not fight. I’ve just...I’ve had a lot going on lately, and I already feel bad about not working on the business. Can we talk about something else?”
“Of course.” Her face softens. “How about you tell me more about your friends? You mentioned Dylan came to visit. How was that?”
“It was great. We didn’t get much time together since it was a quick trip and he was mostly here to see Renee, but we grabbed lunch. We actually almost got kicked out of the diner. We were sitting next to this family, and Dylan asked, like, really loud if I’d had sex with DeeDee—”