Tryst Six Venom

by Douglas, Penelope

  Pulling out her hand, she rolls her desk chair behind her and sits down, looking up at me. Spreading my legs, she hooks her arms around my thighs and yanks me down to her.

  I whimper, startled as she pushes up my skirt and sinks her mouth between my legs.

  “Don’t talk.” She bites my lip down there. “Just listen.”

  I tip my head back. Oh, fuck.

  My heart hammers, her tongue gliding up and down my pussy in slow, long strokes—taunting me, priming me—and I’m already so turned on, sitting here like her fucking meal.

  Like her fingers, her tongue learns my body. Feeling its way over my flesh, stopping and playing when she feels my body respond, and it isn’t so much what she does but how she does it. The little moans that escape her when she covers my clit with her lips and sucks, patting it with her tongue to taste. How slowly she moves, taking her time and savoring. Mixing it up with light biting before she dips her tongue inside me, the tip making my blood turn to fire and my lungs shrink so small I can’t breathe.

  She takes her time. She wants to know me.

  She wants to please me.

  “Clay…” I moan.

  I thread my fingers through her hair and tip my head forward, loving to watch her go to town on me, her mouth moving more frenzied and faster, because she’s wet too. Her fingers dig into my ass, hauling me harder onto her mouth. I grunt as she jerks me again and again until I take the hint and roll my hips, fucking her lips and tongue.

  “Come on, Jaeger,” she breathes out, grinning up at me. “Let me hear you. Make some noise.”

  We have the whole house to ourselves. Why not?

  She tongues me, I grip her hair, and we move in sync, my pussy grinding into her mouth.

  I moan.

  “Louder.”

  My breasts shake as her tongue flicks over me, sending shivers down my spine.

  “Fuck, Clay.”

  “Louder, Jaeger,” she orders, using my last name again to remind me she’s my team captain and our soon-to-be prom queen, and she really likes slumming with the bad girl.

  And I like it, too. Right now, her double life is such a turn on.

  She rolls her tongue over me, groaning louder and louder, and I start letting my moans loose, and I don’t give a shit if anyone hears us in here.

  She slips a finger just inside my opening, and I whimper again, watching her rise and press her forehead into mine.

  “Liv,” she whispers, working it in farther inch by inch. “God, you make me crazy.”

  “Fuck me,” I beg.

  She squeezes my ass in one hand and rubs my clit with the other while the middle finger sinks inside me. “Right there?” she asks.

  Her fingertip slips up low in my belly, and there’s an itch she almost reaches.

  “A little…farther,” I gasp. “Curl your finger into me a little.”

  She presses against me from the inside, burying herself to her knuckle, and I have to force my toes not to curl as pressure hits the spot.

  “Oh, God, that’s it,” I tell her.

  Yes. And in a moment, we’re kissing, panting, and she’s rolling her hips into me in time with her finger sliding in and out, caressing my G-spot.

  She kisses me hard, bites my neck, licks my lips as her hips piston harder and faster, pushing her finger inside me with each thrust.

  Where the fuck…?

  I narrow my eyes, even as my orgasm starts to tease. “Where the hell did you learn all this?” I growl.

  That fucking new girl Chloe wants her bad. I saw that with just one look.

  I don’t think Clay would do that to me while we’re…

  But she’s fucking good. How did she get so good? We’ve only done it a few times.

  When she doesn’t answer, I grab her jaw. “Where the fuck, Clay?”

  She startles. “I…I watched a…a movie.”

  “A movie?”

  She breathes over my mouth, thrusting into me and groaning herself, because everything is turning her on, too, and she’s liking this.

  “Porn, okay? I watched a couple of porn videos.”

  I cock an eyebrow. She’ll have to show me those. Most lesbian porn is made by men who do what they think looks good on camera instead of what actually feels good to women.

  “Two fingers,” she says. “I’m going to put two in.”

  “Clay…” But I don’t have to time to brace myself before she enters me again, this time thicker.

  “Oh, God,” I moan.

  She grinds into me, sliding in and back out and then in again, kissing and biting until the room is spinning.

  “God, you’re so wet,” she whispers. “So hot.”

  I yank her shirt up over her head, peeling it off before I pull down her lacy, pink bra.

  I caress her breasts as she fucks me and leans down to suck on mine.

  Her thumb rubs my nub, and I move into it, our rhythm growing faster.

  A phone ring pierces the air, but neither of us stop. Her mouth on my nipple, I thread my fingers up the back of her scalp, under her hair, and kiss the top of her head.

  “Would that be your boyfriend?” I whisper, teasing. “Hmm?”

  God, what I wouldn’t give for Callum Ames to see his prom queen between my legs.

  She thrusts, her tongue licking my hard nipple, and I hold her close. “Fuck me, Clay.”

  The ringing keeps going, the pulse in my clit hammers, and heat pools in my belly as my orgasm crests. I brush my lips gently over hers. “He doesn’t need to know,” I tell her. “Just fuck me, Clay. Fuck me harder.”

  I’ll still be sneaking off to screw her ten years from now, because that’s how much I love this with her. It’s perfect, and I hate how much I’ll sacrifice to keep it, but I know I won’t be able to stop.

  She shakes, and I burst, crying out in the dark house, my orgasm exploding as her hips jolt into me like a car crash.

  I press my mouth down on hers, her own cry filling me as she comes, and I taste the sweat on her lips.

  I kiss her for a long time, her soft, wet skin feeding me food and water and air and I don’t need anything else.

  I caress her face, my muscles burning and my skin overheating.

  When her phone rings again, she pulls it out of her skirt and hurls it at the wall. I smile as she lays her head on my chest, and even though my arm is spaghetti and barely holding us up, I would never ask her to move. Not in a million years.

  She breathes into my neck. “I don’t want to ever stop this,” she says.

  I hold her to me and kiss her head again, my damp skin sticking to hers.

  Whether it ends badly or it ends at all, I’m not sure I would do anything differently if I could. This feels too good to not have had it at all.

  • • •

  I wake with a start, blinking my eyes open in the dark.

  It only takes a few seconds, but I register the sheer white canopy overhead, the frigid air conditioning, and the scent of Clay everywhere.

  Her bedroom. Clay lays plastered to my body, more on top of me than off, our naked skin pressing together and her head resting on my shoulder. Our legs are entwined, and I look down at her face, feeling her breath on my chin.

  I kind of have to go to the bathroom, but I don’t want to move her. My arms tighten around her, and I lightly brush my fingers down her smooth back.

  God, her bed feels like a cloud. I could get used to this.

  “You’re drunk!” a man yells somewhere down the hall.

  I freeze, training my ears. Did Clay lock her door?

  “Keep your voice down,” a woman snaps.

  I glance over at the clock, reading one-oh-eight a.m., and try to be as still as possible. I should get out of here before her parents find me.

  “Is she even home?” the man—Clay’s dad, I assume—asks. “Are you sure? I don’t think you know anything that’s going on with anyone but yourself!”

  “How dare you!” Gigi yells. “How dare you! I’m the one he
re. You’re gone! You’re always gone!”

  I hold Clay, wondering how often they don’t guard their volume to save her from hearing them.

  “Grow up, Regina!” Mr. Collins growls. “I support you. I pay for that closet full of handbags and shoes. Now I gotta dry your tears because you need attention like a five-year-old?”

  “I hate you!” she sobs.

  I stop breathing for a second, hearing the tears and agony in her voice. Like she wishes he was dead.

  “You don’t hate me,” he replies. “You hate that I finally decided not to let you drag me down with you.”

  I swallow, but my mouth is dry. Clay’s breathing has changed, and I look down at her, just making out her eyes staring up at me.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, hearing everything I just heard.

  “Don’t apologize, baby.” I hold her face and tuck her in close. “We all got our shit.”

  “I finally gave up on you, because you know why?” her dad fires back. “We lost a son. We lost a son, and I needed you, and you know what you did? You went to a spa! You got a prescription! You spent Henry’s college fund redecorating this house and buying Clay a car! You wouldn’t come to me. You wouldn’t talk to me. You wouldn’t go to therapy with me. You’ve barely let me touch you in four years, Gigi, and when I did, you aborted the only chance we had to be a family again! I needed you! I needed that baby! I lost Henry, same as you!”

  I hear her sob, and I try to picture it, but Clay’s mom has always seemed like an icicle, and I can’t.

  “I run to her bed,” Mr. Collins continues, “because if I didn’t have that to look forward to, I wouldn’t be able to stick this out with you until Clay graduates.”

  A slap reverberates through the door, and Clay buries her face in my neck, breathing hard.

  A door slams and then moments later, another farther away, and a beam of headlights flashes out the window before disappearing.

  “Clay.” I nudge her chin. “Look at me.”

  But she shakes her head, her face still pressed into my skin as she shivers with tears.

  “Clay,” I urge her, trying to tip her chin up. “Don’t hide from me. Not in here.”

  I hold her for a moment and then look down at her, touching her face. “This could be it.”

  She sniffles and lifts her eyes. “What?”

  “The last time we see each other.”

  She looks at me, and I don’t know if she understands, but I know she’s like glass right now. One crack will splinter off into a dozen, and I can’t lose her yet.

  “Stay with me now,” I whisper. “Tonight is mine.”

  She touches her lips to mine and in a way that’s so soft, it tingles over my entire body, she says, “Okay.”

  We kiss, her fingers tracing the symbol on my bracelet, and I love being wrapped around her to the point where I don’t know my limbs from hers.

  How am I ever going to leave her for school?

  “Don’t sneak out before I wake up, okay?” she tells me. “We’ll go to school together.”

  I hesitate, knowing her mother knows me. She’s on the school board. She would be aware of me since they voted on renovating the showers, because of me.

  But Clay doesn’t want me to sneak out like I’d planned. “Promise?”

  I touch her face again. “I’m not going to leave.”

  “GOD, I NEED a shower,” Liv whispers, trying to slip a pair of my black leggings on as she hops on one foot.

  I pull my sports bra over my head, tucking my breasts inside. “I know.” I lean down and give her a peck on the lips. “I’d like to do that with you right now, actually, but we’re just going to get sweaty again in class.”

  It’s another morning workout today, and we’re going to be late if we don’t jam. I slip a rubber band around my wrist, grab my duffel, and shove a clean uniform inside, tossing Liv a skirt and a Polo, as well.

  “Thanks.”

  She doesn’t have time to run home before school, especially since we woke up late and then proceeded to just stay in bed even longer, not wanting to leave. After my father had left last night, I just buried my face in her neck, lying awake for a long time before I was able to fall asleep again.

  And I love that she just held me tighter, despite my embarrassment.

  Nuzzling into me, stroking my back, and kissing my hair… After a while, the shame dissipated, and all I felt was safe.

  “I’m just going to make sure…” I gesture toward the door, but she just nods, pulling on one of my sports bras before I find the words.

  I step into the hallway, closing the door behind me, and pad in my bare feet down the hall to see if my mom is up.

  Was my father telling the truth last night? Are they just holding it together until I leave for college?

  And the pregnancy… It was my dad’s baby, after all. How in the hell could she do that? Is she trying to destroy what little we have left?

  I sweep my hair back into a ponytail, but as I pass the gym, my mom calls my name.

  “Clay,” she says. “Come here.”

  I look inside, seeing her press buttons on the treadmill and come to a stop.

  I remain at the door.

  “Come here,” she says again.

  I shift on my feet, seeing the red rings around her eyes, telling me that she probably cried more than slept last night.

  “Just cut me a break, will you?” she says, stepping off the machine. “Come here for a minute?”

  She doesn’t snap. She just sounds…tired. I glance down the hall, Liv’s waiting for me, but I walk into the room.

  She sits down on an exercise ball, breathing hard. “I’m sorry about last night,” she tells me. “I know we were loud, and I’m sorry. I just….” She stops, thinking. “I’m just sorry.”

  Water bottles sit on the glass table next to me, along with some towels and a prescription bottle.

  “I’m almost happy you’re going off to North Carolina soon,” she says. “Your dad and I will fix this. I promise.”

  She can’t promise that. She’s saying that so I’ll concentrate on my senior year and being young and all that.

  I look over at her, seeing the sixteen-year-old from the picture at Mimi’s house yesterday. She had no idea then that this was where she’d end up. She thought she knew everything, probably.

  North Carolina is hundreds of miles from where Liv will be. Hundreds.

  “Maybe you should go away,” I tell her, my voice soft. “Take Dad and just get away for a while.”

  We lost Henry, but for some reason, I don’t want to lose everything else. Even if it’s broken, it’s all I know.

  “You should leave and take him,” I whisper. “Get out of this town, somewhere where you both can see something new, away from distractions.”

  Her head falls, and I see a tear spill.

  “I abandoned him,” she finally says, shocking me. “He’s right. I couldn’t think about anything else other than my pain, and I couldn’t muster a care for my daughter or my husband.”

  I listen, having wanted to see her façade crack for so long, but I’m not sure I like it now that it is.

  “He’s going to leave me, Clay,” she says matter-of-factly. “And part of me understands why. And the other part can’t forgive him.” She looks up at me. “How could he think about anything else? How could he want a woman when our son is underground?”

  Because it’s not about the sex.

  Liv feels good to me. Everything feels good with her, and I crave her every moment, but it’s not about the sex. It’s about everything that comes with it. Talking to her. Touching her. Her scent and the promise of more. The feel of how she loves my body, and how being with her and doing things that make her breathless reminds me that I feel just a little bit lonely with everyone else in my life, except her.

  It’s about having someone to look forward to who wants your love.

  She approaches me and takes my face in her hands. I blink away my tears, co
ming back to the present.

  “Fuck the dress,” she tells me. “And fuck Mimi.”

  I have to hold back my laugh. Excuse me?

  “Wear what you want to the ball, okay?”

  I nod, not really caring about the ball anymore, but I like this side of her, so I keep my mouth shut.

  She kisses my cheek and starts to move around me, but then she stops, like she’s listening for something.

  That’s when I notice the sound of running water.

  Oh, shit. Liv’s washing up in my bathroom.

  She steps back, eyeing me. “Did you have someone over last night, Clay?”

  I guess I hesitate too long, because she gives me a look.

  “Clay…” she chides.

  “It’s Krisjen,” I blurt out. “Don’t worry.”

  But she cocks her head, and I know it was stupid to say Krisjen, because all she has to do is call her mom and I’m caught.

  “It’s Liv Jaeger,” I finally tell her.

  Her brow narrows. “Olivia Jaeger? The…”

  The… The what, Mom?

  “The motorcycle girl from school?” she finally asks.

  Yeah, Mom. The motorcycle girl.

  My mom stares at me. “You’re not going over to their house, right?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Am I not supposed to hang with the help in Sanoa Bay, Snobby?”

  “I’m just saying my plate is full at the moment. No trouble, Clay,” she warns. “Can I ask that of you? Please?”

  Yesssssss. Even though it’s usually the Saints who cause the trouble over there, but okay. “No trouble,” I tell her.

  “All right, have a good day,” she says, kissing me again and leaving the room.

  I blow out a breath, thankful she doesn’t press that more. Which is kind of weird. I thought for sure she’d be like ‘I don’t want you hanging around her and absorbing her gayness,’ but she was actually cool about it.

  Minutes later, Liv and I are out the door, carrying our bags and her wearing my clothes and shoes as I toss her the keys.

  She gets in the driver’s side, and for the first time ever, I’m a passenger in my own car. Callum can’t drive my car. Liv can.

  “Are you okay?” she asks as we near school.

  The streets are still quiet, classes not starting for over an hour, and I check my neck in the mirror, dabbing on some foundation to cover the hickeys. She went to town on me again after we got into bed last night, and I pull up my bra a little more, hiding the little one on my breast.