by S. E. Hall
She shifts in her seat, rubbing her thighs together, obviously just trying to kill me. “Thank you for dinner, babe,” she coos, “and the trip. Feels unfair, though, you won the bet. I should be rewarding you.”
I shift madly into fourth. Come on, Elmhurst Drive.
“Oh yeah? What’d you have in mind?” I glance over at her, licking my lips.
“I’m not sure, but you won the bet, bought the place, the trip, the beds… I feel like I’m not giving anything. What can I do to even it out?”
Say you’ll marry me someday. Wear my ring for the next five years if that’s what it takes, but wear it, proudly, definitively.
Nope, not the time, she’ll spook.
Move in with me? Well no, I just got her a place of her own.
That’s the problem, I think more “adult” than Laney. Not to say she’s immature, she’s far from it, in fact. I challenge you to show me a woman her age who’s more put together. No, I think like a man who already owns an empire, who already has middle age responsibilities and plans. But I’m working on changing that, thus, I need to think like a guy her age, in her life mode. I need to think like a college guy, just starting out as an adult, with just the edge of the other Dane.
“Do you trust me?” I ask her.
“Completely,” she answers with no hesitation.
“Then give me tonight to be whoever I want. Don’t argue or question.
Let me do anything I want to you.”
“We’re still at like, twenty-four shades of grey, mister.”
Jury’s still out on whether her reading those books was a good or bad thing.
I chuckle. “I know, baby, but I want all twenty-four.” I can’t not look over at her, slowing down my speed a bit as I do. Her eyes aren’t scared or skeptical, but rather molten and intrigued. That tongue of hers is tracing her bottom lip as her hands rub slowly up and down her thighs.
My girl is turned way the fuck on. “Okay,” she whispers.
COULD HER HOUSE BE ANY FURTHER AWAY?
When we finally, and I am not exaggerating a fucking bit when I say it felt like centuries, make it inside, I deadbolt the door behind us. No one but she and I have the key and there will be no interruptions tonight. I dock my phone and turn on the music, just in case they’re home next door, and turn to her.
I bend a finger, beckoning her to me. “Come here, baby.”
She kicks off her shoes and pulls out her hair tie, letting her blonde locks flow down over her shoulders. She can’t not know she’s attractive, but I don’t think she has any idea how fucking sexy and sensual she is; not young-looking at all, a full-grown temptress.
I’d wanted to go crazy on her, but now “Unforgettable” plays, so I decide to take my time, slow and meaningful, like the song. I lift her arms and guide them around my neck, letting just my fingertips touch her satiny skin as I slide them back down her arms. I pull her by the hips until she’s flush against me and grind my hard-on into her stomach as I sway us to the music. “You have no idea how you captivate me, do you?” I ask low in her ear, nipping on its lobe.
“You do the same to me, babe.” She lays her head on my shoulder. “I love you so much, Dane.”
“Not like I love you, Laney. You couldn’t possibly.” I grab the hem of her shirt and whisper, “lift,” pulling off her shirt as her arms go up. “No one could possibly feel like this. It’s like an all-consuming need for another person, just to survive.” Next is her bra, which falls to the floor beside us. I look my fill, focusing on my favorite freckle in the middle of her sternum, my north star, then grasp one glorious breast in my hand, teasing the nipple with one finger. “To know you’d give up everything, anything else, but for that one person. Nothing else exists without them.” I deftly snap open her jeans, unzipping them, then backing up. “Off,” I tell her, then watch hungrily as she does what I say.
She doesn’t speak, waiting in silence, her chest deceiving her calm façade as it rises and falls rapidly.
“Turn around,” I tell her, loving the view from the back as much as the front. You can’t even airbrush that shit any better. The white string of her thong disappears between the two perfectly rounded globes and I rub myself now, biding my time. “Peel that thing off, baby, nice and slow. Tease me.”
The song now is “I Could Not Ask for More,” by Edwin McCain, a master of the moment, and I smile at the irony of his words. My Laney is holy fuck hot, her outside the wrapping to the most caring, humorous, witty soul you’ll ever want to meet. And when she bends over like that, sliding a virginal white thong down her long legs, reminding me she is, in fact, pretty inexperienced, also reminds me that she’s all mine and only ever mine. A feral growl escapes me before I even realize. No, I couldn’t ask for another damn thing.
“Come back to me now,” I grind out and spread my arms to my side. “You want me naked?”
She nods, biting down on her lip. “Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I want you naked, babe.”
“Then get me naked. Undress me.”
First she unbuttons my shirt and peels it down my shoulders, kissing every inch of skin she bares. I help her with the cuffs and let it drop onto the floor. She reaches up and twirls the cross around my neck in her fingers, then leans in, placing kisses all over my torso as her nipples press into me. “Keep going, baby. Pants,” I growl, needing to consume her, barely holding back.
She goes down to her knees, working my belt and pants open and easing them down my legs. I toe off my shoes and she takes care of my socks. Now I’m left in just my boxer briefs, my erection obvious through them.
She runs a finger over the outline. “For me?”
“For you,” I murmur before dropping down to her, cupping her ass in my hands and forcing her mouth open with my own, our tongues battling for power before we break apart to catch our breath.
If desire had a flavor, this would be it.
“Wrap your legs around me.” I stand back up, carrying her to the other side of the room and bracing her against the wall with my body as I make quick work of my briefs. Body to body, skin to skin, I breathe for a minute, staring into her eyes and calming myself down a bit. I can’t be too rough with Laney, as badly as I want to. But one thing I do want, been dying to have, I ask for now.
“Can I have you bare tonight, baby? Just you around me, nothing else?”
She nibbles on her lip, thinking. She’d started some shot awhile back, and ever since, I’ve wanted to really feel her. “I’ll pull out,” I practically beg, not even sure why all of a sudden I’m willing to risk this, but right now, it’s like a baser need in me.
She shakes her head and whispers, “okay,” and in one deep thrust, I take her up against the wall. Aside from the one time Laney and I forgot for the most glorious fifteen seconds of my life, I’ve never had sex without a condom, and the boxes that advertise “so thin it feels the same” are fucking fork-tongued liars. It feels nothing even close to the same. I can feel everything, every swollen muscle, every throb and pulse of her tight, wet, warm… I’m out of words, out of thoughts. It’s more than I can take, and I have to know if it’s this real for her.
“Does it feel different to you, baby?”
“Yes,” she pants. “Softer, sweeter. You?”
“Oh fuck, you have no idea.” I bury my head in her tits, delirious, inhaling and savoring the sweet tang of our comingled sweat on her skin. I suck, bite, lick, and rub incoherently as I pump into her like a madman. “Do your squeeze thing, baby. I wanna feel it like this, ahhh, yeah, ah— Laney!”
I try, Lord knows I do, but scared I’ll miss, I pull out, jacking myself with my hand a few times and unloading all over her stomach, and some even on my own.
Please don’t look at me like that, my love, I am well aware you didn’t get off, but I need some practice on this whole “you get to fuck an excruciatingly tight volcano bareback” thing. We’ll work up to the squeezing thing. She’s way too in control of her muscles t
o be milking me when I’m uncovered.
“Stay right there.” I point at her and then go to the bathroom, cleaning myself up before returning to her with a damp washcloth. I clean her off, kissing her face, her neck, and her shoulders as I do so. “Baby, you have no idea how fucking amazing that felt. I’d never—I-I didn’t know what to expect, but it damn sure wasn’t that.”
She giggles into my neck, climbing into my lap. “You should’ve seen your face. Your eyes rolled back in your head.”
“How foolproof is that shot you get?”
“Almost one-hundred percent. I’m not worried; you were out in time.”
“Oh, I know that. I’m asking because we need to try that again.” I lay her back and cover her with my body. “And again,” I kiss my way down her stomach, “and again.” I slip one finger inside her, curling it and rubbing against her inside wall.
She writhes and squirms beneath me, maneuvering herself where she needs to before her moans finally become shrieks. “Right there, you got it,” she squeaks, and I quickly add another finger and my mouth. “Oh, Dane, don’t you dare stop.”
I use my free hand to brace her hip still or she’ll scoot herself right out of ecstasy like a wiggle worm. She gyrates her hips as much as my hold will allow, grabbing my hair and fucking my face until she collapses, one long, satisfied hum echoing over the music.
“That’s twice for living room,” I say and we both laugh together. “We haven’t even knocked out the bed yet.”
I jump to my feet and bend over, scooping her up in a cradle hold. “Your wish is my command, baby.” I carry her to the bedroom and dip her towards the bed. “Pull back the covers,” I say. When she does, I toss her in with a squeal and crawl right in beside her, pulling the covers back over us.
We lay on our sides facing each other, me drinking in her beauty, ready to go again any time she is; her…she’s thinking.
“Do we have too much sex?” she asks. A chuckle busts out of me. “What?”
Told ya she was thinking, although that probably wouldn’t have been my guess as to what.
“Do we have too much sex? We do it a lot.” She scrunches up her nose, blushing my favorite shade of pink.
“A, there’s no such thing as too much sex. And two, we’re young and in love—we’re supposed to do it, like three times a day. If anything, we’re slacking, beautiful.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and kiss her chin, then the end of her nose, scooting closer to her. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “I just think maybe we forget about the other stuff sometimes. Before we started humping—”
I bury my face in my pillow, laughing hysterically at her. “Baby,” I come up for air, “humping? We make love, we fuck, but we don’t hump.”
She pushes on my chest. “You know what I mean. Before we started doing that, we had really cool conversations.”
I lay my arm out and she moves to lay her head on it. “We talk all day, every day. What are you talking about right now?”
She says nothing, fascinating with my necklace. Ah, here we go. Girl time. I get it, she needs the mental more than the physical, unlike myself.
Okay, I can do this.
“Would you rather…lose your sight or your hearing?”
There’s her smile that I love, the one that comes from the bottom of her heart and takes over the whole room. With one question, we’re back to us. See what I did there? Two gold stars in one—conversation AND a game, and Laney girl loves her games.
“Hearing, definitely. We could learn sign language, but I couldn’t stand not being able to look at you. Would you rather,” she taps her chin, “only sing the songs or only play them?”
“Play them. You could sing. What, where’re you going?” I grab her, saving her from falling off the side of the bed, and soon we’re both rolling in laughing fits. Laney can’t carry a tune for shit. Seriously, it sounds like someone’s torturing already dying cats. It’s a shame too, because she knows every word and really feels music. Seems only right she be able to sing them in at least some semblance of the tune.
We lie together, limbs tangled, and play another ten or so rounds, trying to think of things we don’t already know about each other, which isn’t a whole lot, since we never talk and all. I’m not pointing that out, though. Finally, on Laney’s turn, she rolls on top of me and sits up, my eyes taking in her naked form above me. Her eyes turn to slits and she circles one of my nipples with her finger. “Would you rather be on top or bottom?”
I answer by flipping her over and showing her now with my body what she just reconfirmed in the girly half of her mind.
I love her.
School starts in three days, so tonight, the Crew is all back together and The K is getting turned up! Evan, Whit and Zach are all back from the farm, Sawyer’s promised to be in attendance and Dane’s already got cars on standby for everyone to get home safely. We’re doing it big—one last hoorah before going back to the grind.
Bennett, Whitley and I are getting ready together at my place. I’ve already made up my mind—I’m letting loose tonight and plan to have as much fun as I can stand, so naturally the ladies think I need to look as good as I feel. We kicked the boys out, planning to meet them there, and we’ve got “Roar” on full blast and repeat while we primp.
Bennett’s in a blue, short party dress, her red mane up in a twist and silver heels on her feet that should seriously come with a manual. At least, I would need a manual if I tried to wear them. Not only are they hella tall, but they have a whole bunch of straps and I’m not completely sure which buckles attach to what.
Whitley’s rocking a black mini skirt and sparkly silver top with, wait for it… Black cowboy boots! Her blonde hair is in a French braid and she makes a perfect city-girl-got-a-taste-of-country.
And me? Frick and Frack have had way too much fun dressing me in skintight dark jeans, knee high black boots and a shiny red top that hangs loose and low in the front and is held together with one strap across the open back. I’ve already warned them that when Dane’s head blows off and spins into orbit, they’re to blame. My hair is down, eyes smoky and lips shiny. I’m ready to roll.
I’d say I was ready to party like it’s 1999, but Whitley made me swear I’d never say that out loud again.
Dane sent a car for us, and we may or may not have had a pre-game toast in the back on our way over. I mean, if you send a car with a bottle chillin’ in the back, it’s kinda like a note on it that says “Drink Me!”
The K is on full blast when we walk in, and even I feel excited butterflies in my stomach at the electric atmosphere. Dane’s tapping the door at one-hundred heads tonight; we want the club feel, but not overcrowding. He’s got amateurs behind the bar, too, so Tate and Sawyer can enjoy themselves, so there’s no sense overwhelming the newbies.
“Work Out” by J Cole is playing, my jam, and with the bubbly I downed on the ride over, I’m ready to dance like nobody’s watching. I should probably find Dane first, but something tells me he’ll find me, so I pull Whit and Bennett onto the floor.
One song blends into another, the three of us waving our hands in the air exactly like we just don’t care. I’m all about tonight, and being out on the floor with everyone dancing and having fun is great, but when random hands grab my hips from behind and pull me into a body I know by instinct isn’t Dane’s, I panic. I turn my head and am met with the watery, drunken eyes of a stranger and my heart starts to race uncontrollably.
I look around, but Bennett and Whitley are in their own little dancing world, paying me no attention. I try to pull away, but Handsy thinks I’m just dancing, or he doesn’t care, and pushes himself into me harder, firming up his grip on my hips. I turn my whole body now, fighting against his grip and slapping his arm. “Let go!” I say sternly, not wanting to completely cause a scene. “I have a boyfriend!”
“Huh?”
“Back off!” I try again, but he just smirks and grinds into my side now that I
’ve pivoted. “Seriously,” I yell, trying to escape his hold again, tears of adrenaline rather than sadness burning in the backs of my eyes.
“Chill, girl,” he slurs way too close to my face, beer breath in full effect.
I lift my knee, fight response kicking in when my knight speaketh. “I heard her say ‘let go’ loud and clear. How’d you miss it, asshole?”
“Fuck off,” McGrabberson smarts off, finally releasing his hold of me.
I turn just in time to see Dane rear back and punch the guy smoothly in the face, barreling over the top of him when he goes down. Dane pulls him off the floor by his collar, jaw clenched as he speaks inches from his face.
“If a lady says ‘let go,’ you let the fuck go. Get the hell out of my bar and don’t let me see you back in here.”
He drops him flat again and sticks out his hand for me, no room for hesitation in his scowl. I place my shaking hand in his and struggle to keep up as he pulls me off the floor. I turn back to check on the girls, seeing that Tate and Evan are now by their sides and Zach is escorting the now- bleeding dirty dancer out the door.
“All right, all right,” Sawyer says through the mic. “Sorry for that, folks! Next round is on the house! And the gorgeous blonde in the red— hands off, guys. Now have some fun!”
“Would you slow down?” I plead with Dane’s back as I trip on the stairs he’s literally dragging me up. “Dane, stop! I’m gonna fall!”
No preamble, I’m now flying through the air, tossed over the shoulder of one severely pissed off Dane Kendrick. Now I can’t see where we’re going, hanging upside down and staring at his ass, but we’re going there in big, fast stomps. He digs in his pocket and I hear a lock click, a light comes on, then I’m placed on my feet.
“Where are we?” I ask, looking around while I attempt to get my hair out of my face.
“My office,” he snarls, locking the door and keeping his back to me, forehead pressed against the wood. He’s taking deep, slow breaths in and out; I can see every muscle of his back and shoulders heaving under his white dress shirt.