by Nyla K
We’re a chemical reaction. Explosively beautiful. Dangerously exquisite.
Gray eyes fall to my lips and he kisses me softly, humming out a noise of contentment as he deepens it, tasting himself in my mouth and totally loving it.
“Did I do good?” I whisper and he blesses me with a soft little chuckle, which rumbles out of his firm chest right into me. I swoon so hard I’m seeing stars.
“That wasn’t your first time,” he smiles on my lips. He physically won’t stop kissing me and it’s every single thing I’ve ever wanted.
This. This is exactly what I dreamed of all those nights.
“Yes, it was!” I squeal, and he shakes his head, giving me a shy grin paired with a skeptical look. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“I’m calling you a trickster,” he hums, pressing another quick kiss on my bottom lip.
“Well, I’m not lying.” I pinch his lips closed between my fingers so he can’t speak. “I only ever wanted to do that for you.”
His smile fades, and his head tilts, eyes studying me. I let go of his lips and feel his soft-yet-rough stubble beneath my fingers.
“You like taking care of me like that, Little Trick?” He asks quietly, partially serious and partially teasing. I nod. “Hmm. Maybe we should find a way to make it up to you then. Since you did such an amazing job.”
I lick my lips, and my eyes sparkle at him with desire.
He grins. “You like that idea?” I nod again, fast, and he chuckles. “Ohh Trix… You’ve got me wrapped around your little finger.”
Speaking of fingers, his are inside my shorts again, this time stroking a line up and down my wet slit. It feels wonderful, even better when it’s paired with the way he’s looking at me, and that his cock is still out and hardening again at a rate I honestly didn’t know was possible.
“Will you… fuck me?” My voice shrinks at how brazen I’m being.
Lazarus lets out another small, wicked laugh, and I can’t get over how unbearably beautiful he looks, smiling and carefree, eyes shining up at me like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.
My naïve heart is controlling my interpretations right now, and it’s seeing Lazarus as a boyfriend, not my dad’s business partner who’s theoretically too old for me. I know it’s dangerous to feel like this, but I can’t help it. I’ve dreamed of this for years, and now I have it. And I’m going to squeeze as much out of it as I can while it lasts.
“Yes, Traci, I will fuck you,” he murmurs, teasing me with his words and that deep voice.
My eyes light up, but a frisson of nerves runs through my belly. I want to lose my virginity to Lazarus more than anything, but I’m still a little worried.
What if I do it wrong? What if I cry? What if he hates it?
Before I can obsess over it any more, he kisses a trail across my jaw to my ear. “With my fingers, baby. I’m not having sex with you in a car.”
I pout in disappointment and he laughs again, but before I can call him an asshole, or maybe hit him, he forces two fingers inside me until I cry out a whimper.
“Mmm. So so tight,” he whispers in my ear then licks the lobe, sucking softly while easily pumping his fingers into me, slow and dedicated. “I can barely fit two inside.”
He sounds surprised, awed even, and despite how clouded with lust my mind is, I can help but wonder if maybe he doesn’t know I’m a virgin.
Does he think I’ve had sex before? I mean, how would he know, I guess…
My thoughts are silenced when he kisses behind my ear, gliding his tongue to the crook of my neck, all the while sliding his long fingers in and out of my wet walls, grazing his thumb over my clit again and again until I’m at the edge.
My body is wound up tight as I rock my hips on his hand, chasing the climax that is so damn close I’m shivering with the need for release.
“That’s it, baby,” he croons to me in between sucking and biting the soft flesh of my neck. “Ride my fingers.”
“Lazarus, please,” My hands roam all over him, feeling up the hard muscles in his shoulders, chest and arms. He’s so damn big, and I’m small, on his lap with his fingers inside me.
And he’s mine. Mine mine mine.
Lazarus….
“Come all over my hand, Trix,” he growls, almost in a plea, running his other hand up to the zipper on my sweatshirt. He tugs it down and moves his face to my tits, kissing and licking all over. “I want you to drench me. Come, Little Trick. Come for your man.”
He pulls my nipple between his lips and sucks hard, causing a jolt in my center, which he simultaneously presses on with his fingers. His words echo in my brain as I tumble over the edge of my own reality, falling through the cosmos into a convulsing orgasm.
His name pours out of my mouth over and over as I slump forward in his arms, biting on his collarbone, my walls gushing all over his hand. I’m gasping forever, spinning around like a top, twirling and twirling in pleasure.
Come for your man.
Lazarus holds me hard until I’m done shaking, stroking my hair and kissing my face, being so unbearably sweet I feel like I’m in a dream, wrapped in a cloud, floating over a rainbow.
When I can finally lift my head again, I look down at him and he up at me, and we just stare at each other for what feels like hours.
Until a banging on the passenger window makes us both jump so hard our heads hit the ceiling of the car.
I zip up my sweatshirt fast, terrified that it’s going to be the police. The car windows are all fogged up, so it’s obvious something’s happening in here. Lazarus doesn’t look worried, but he feels much more tense than he was two seconds ago. I reposition so I’m sitting on his lap with my feet in the passenger seat, to keep his dick covered while not necessarily looking like we’re screwing.
He rolls down the window and I let out a sigh of relief, because it’s just Big D, one of the guys who lives across the hall.
“Can we help you?” Lazarus raises a challenging brow, but Big D ignores him, looking only at me.
“You okay, T?” He asks, taking in the scene in the car then he narrowing his gaze at an unbothered Lazarus.
“Yea, I’m good,” I smile graciously, while fingering Lazarus’s hair, to make sure he can tell I’m consenting to what’s happening in here.
I don’t blame him for being suspicious, since Laz is obviously older and always coming around. D and the guys from the building are very protective of me and Merci, and I think it’s sweet.
“Aight. Just makin’ sure,” he says, still not sounding one-hundred percent convinced. “Y’all been sittin’ out here for a while…”
“It’s really none of your bus-”
“We’re just hanging out, D. Promise,” I cut Lazarus off and give D another sweet smile, to which he nods.
“Well, holler if you need me, girl,” he says, then wanders off.
Lazarus rolls the window back up and squints at me. “Who is that guy?”
“He’s the neighbor.” I poke his chin with my finger. “You’ve seen him before.”
“Why does he care what you’re doing?” His tone is almost petulant, and it’s so cute I could squeal out loud.
“They’re just watching out for me,” I roll my eyes at him. “I thought you’d approve of people making sure I’m safe.”
He glares at me. “Those guys won’t protect you, Traci. They’re criminals.”
“They’re not rapists.” His mouth opens, but I cover it with my hand before he can keep arguing. “Just admit you’re jealous so we can end this stupid conversation.”
His eyes are like those of a dragon who’s trying to breathe fire at me, but I’ve tamed him, for the moment. So he gives up and sighs behind my hand. I take it away and he purses his lips.
“I protect you,” he murmurs, squeezing me tighter in his big arms.
I grin and nod. “Yes, you do.”
The mild humor falls suddenly from his face and he starts, “Traci, I…” But his voice tra
ils off, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. His eyes are wide and riddled with an overwhelmed look that makes my heart skip rope in my chest. Then he clears his throat, shaking off whatever he was going to say. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”
I stifle my disappointment. “You can’t stay?”
“That’s not a good idea,” he says firmly, resembling regular Lazarus once again.
The cuddly, teddy bear who laughs and smiles and teases me has disappeared. I don’t mind, because I got him for a while tonight. I just hope grumpy, resistant Lazarus doesn’t hide him from me for so long this time.
“When will I see you again?” I ask, trying not to come off as needy as I sound.
“I’m not sure.” He shifts under me, and I take the hint, crawling off his lap so he can redress himself.
I’m despondent as I fix myself up. I can already tell he’s going to disappear for days again, and I hate it before it’s even started.
“Lazarus, I know you don’t like lying to my dad, but it’s not fair to string me along like this.” I can’t believe I actually just said that.
He stares at me, bewildered. “I’m not trying to…”
“I know you’re not, but you have to admit this feels good.” My eyes beg him to reciprocate what I’m feeling with a look, or a word… anything.
He’s quiet for a while, before finally answering in a softly diffident voice, “It feels better than good.”
I want to let my massive smile fly, but I smother it and take his hand. “Don’t disappear on me. Please.”
“I don’t want to,” his head shakes a little, and to my surprise, he places my hand over his heart. “I have no idea what this is. What we’re doing… I know it’s bad, but I just can’t…” He pauses and breathes out slowly. “I can’t stay away from you.”
My heart swells, pumping hard enough that I feel it rattling my ribs. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’m afraid I might be hallucinating.
“I’ll wait if I have to,” I whisper, and he slants his head in the way that reminds me of a curious puppy.
“We might have to stay apart for a little bit, but I promise this time I’ll call.” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.
It’s the sweetest, most romantic thing he’s ever done, and I’m speechless.
So I nod like a fool.
A silly, love-struck girl.
Chapter Thirty-One
Traci
Against my better judgement, I’ve agreed to come home.
No, I’m not caving yet. It’s just for a few hours.
My dad and Lazarus are hosting a party at my home in Bayshore tonight for some new clients they’re looking to sign. Dad has been pleading with me to come because he wants to see me, and I want to see him, too. I miss him a lot, but the real reason I decided to make an appearance at this stuffy party riddled with boring investment guys and their Botox-filled dates is because Lazarus actually asked me to come.
I almost couldn’t believe my ears when he said it. I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
But nope. I was motherfuckin wide awake.
Sitting on Laz’s lap in his Maserati, both of us sated and sweaty after messaging around, his fingers trailing over the bare skin of my shoulder. I was dazed and floaty, memorizing the cadence of his heart, beating into me like the rhythm of a song made just for me.
And he whispered by my ear, “Are you coming to the party on Saturday?”
I turned my face up to look at his dazzling slate eyes, bewildered by his question. “You mean the Westright event my dad keeps inviting me to?” He nodded slowly, a pesky finger running a line up my throat. “I wasn’t really planning on it…”
“You should come,” he spoke in a calm rasp while his other hand gripped my thigh possessively.
And in that moment, I’m sure I would have done anything for him.
He could have asked me to commit grand larceny, shave my head, jump out of a plane naked… Literally anything. And regardless of what it was, I would’ve said exactly what I said to him.
“If you want me to, I will.”
A small grin tugged at the perfect curves of his lips. “I do. I want…”
Without finishing his sentence, he leaned in and pressed those luscious lips to mine, kissing me so soft and so adoring, my brain turned to mush and I melted into a puddle on his lap.
I really couldn’t believe what was happening… I still can’t. It’s completely mystifying to me that I seem to be building something with Lazarus that I’ve been craving for years. This man has been my obsession since I was thirteen years old, and now we kiss and touch.
I went two weeks without seeing him after that first night in his car, when I lost my blowjob virginity and he admitted that he couldn’t stay away from me. It was torture, having him like that and then going without. Like a terribly painful withdrawal. The only things that made it tolerable were his nightly text messages, usually just to say goodnight. Sometimes asking me to touch myself for him, which naturally I did, without argument.
One night he even called me and filled my ears with hushed dirty words until I came on my fingers. It was deliciously frustrating, not being able to see or touch him, but hearing that growly voice rumble his fantasies while he touched himself for me.
Whether we could be together out in the open or not, I had a part of him, and it filled me with so much hope, I was walking on air.
And then, two days later, he showed up to drive me home from the club.
I’ve been trying to rein in my obsessive thoughts, because I know he could just be lusting after my body and the physical things we do together. But in my mind, we’re becoming more. With every text, every call, every time I step outside the club to see his Maserati waiting out front, he’s transforming from Lazarus Weston, my dad’s best friend and business partner who I grew up curiously wary of, to Lazarus Weston, my secret older boyfriend.
I know it’s foolish to think this way, and I’m struggling to keep it together when I look at him and talk to him, making sure I don’t pull a spazzy teenager move and tell him I love him or something. But inside I’m cherishing these moments. It feels like everything is falling into place; like all the broken parts of me are being snapped back together, all thanks to this man I’m not supposed to have.
And despite the guilt that subtly eats away at the outskirts of my mind from lying to and betraying my father, I refuse to say that I can’t have Lazarus. Because I can… And I will, no matter who says it’s not right.
Our souls are meant for each other, and that’s strong enough to overcome the forbidden of it all.
That night, after he drove me home, I gave him another practice blowjob in the car while he played with my pussy so good by the time he was throbbing down my throat, I was coating his hand with my own orgasm. Then, cuddled up and recovering our breathing, was when he asked me to attend the party my Dad had been inviting me to.
And I said yes for him. Not that I didn’t want to say yes for Dad, but the thought of showing up to their work event and having Lazarus look at me like some desperate clingy loser who couldn’t take the hint and stick to our secret arrangement held up my guards and forced me to play it cool. At first.
However, the second he told me he wanted me to be there, the shields dissipated right along with any aloof I’d been going for. Because no matter how much I give Lazarus sassy attitude to mess with him, the harsh reality is that I will do anything for him.
He’s had me hooked on him since he set my spirit free, like the Spice Girls song.
So here I am, done up to the max in a new strapless coral bodycon dress that makes my tits look fantastic and suits my golden complexion perfectly, hair effortlessly styled and just enough makeup to look natural and alluring without overdoing it. Stepping out of an Uber in front of my dad’s house. Or my house, I suppose.
It’s still my home, though I don’t live here anymore. This is the house where I grew up, and where all th
e best and worst memories of my life occurred. I’ll always feel connected to this place, even if I can’t live here.
I note all the cars in the driveway and along the street, the valet team moving them around and giving guests tickets before some more hired staff guide them inside. Everyone is dressed to the nines, and I’m instantly nervous, my mind drifting to my pills stashed away in my Chanel clutch. I’ll probably take another one soon to calm down, but first I need to see my dad.
I’ve missed him. We’ve been talking on the phone more regularly, but I’m still itching to see him and have him smile at me in that sweet, paternal way he always does that makes me feel comfortable and safe.
I click up the driveway in my strappy silver Jimmy Choos, grinning to myself when I see a few of the valet kids gawking. It gives me the confidence boost I’ll need to schmooze with these rich snobs I used to live amongst. Ignoring the butler guy who’s trying to show me out back, I use the front door, stopping in the foyer to take a deep breath. I don’t want to admit it, but it feels nice to be back in this house, if only for one night.
Looking around, I wander toward the kitchen, following the sound of my dad’s voice. He’s talking to a waiter about drinks, but his sentence stops short when he sees me. His face lights up and I smile a shy one as he stomps over, grabbing me in his big arms and swinging me around until I squeal.
“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re here, T,” he croons with his face in my neck.
It takes a lot not to burst into tears. I just love my dad so much.
A sudden pang of guilt hits me hard in the gut. I have to bite the inside of my cheek and close my eyes to force it away.
Instead of freaking out, I grip my father’s shoulders and groan, “Alright already, Father. You’re making me dizzy.”