by Ella Fields
“No samples,” she repeated, all breath as she swallowed. “I don’t know if I believe you, or that I even want to.”
Bold. She liked bold. “You will. In time.”
She smiled, and I wanted her lips on mine again. Never wanted to have them far from mine again. My obsession with this girl never waned. Never left me alone for a minute. I wasn’t stupid enough to call it love, but I wasn’t stupid enough to ignore something that had stalked me for months, years on end without exploring it further first.
And now, as her eyes dipped to my mouth and then back up to mine, I knew she was tempted to explore it too. Or me, at the very least.
“Do you need to butter all your snacks this much?”
A blunt remark sat tight over my tongue, but I withheld it. “You already know I don’t.”
My hand fell away as she stood and stretched her arms over her head, raising her short dress to crest the bottom of her ass cheeks.
My mouth dried, and I jumped to my feet when she headed inside the bedroom. “Where are you going?”
Daphne sighed, one hand around the door handle. “I’m sick of this.”
“Cotton …” I couldn’t find words quick enough. She was bailing. Again.
She shook the handle, then removed her hand and grabbed the hem of her dress, pulling the bright material up and over her head.
Stunned, I just stood there while she prowled toward me in nothing but a dusky pink bra and matching panties. “What?” My voice was dry air. “I didn’t mean—”
“Enough.” Her finger pressed to my lips as that maddening vanilla and minty scent unique to her infiltrated every part of me. My dick was so hard, I was probably leaking pre-cum, and all she did was touch my fucking mouth with her slender, perfect finger. “I don’t fuck just anyone.” Her lips quirked as my brows jumped. “But you can touch me, make me come, and then I’ll return the favor.”
I grabbed her wrist, gently pulling her finger from my mouth. “Daphne …”
“Or”—she tilted a shoulder, her inky hair sliding over her smooth skin—“we can try to come together. That’s always fun too, but I’m on top,” she whispered, sultry and scathing. “I don’t like to choke … too much.”
Something akin to knives stabbed at my stomach and chest at the thought of this girl coming with anyone, which was stupid. She wasn’t mine, and I wasn’t a saint. But fuck if I didn’t want her to be mine.
And fuck if I’d ever notice another girl again after having her all to myself.
I gripped her face, my thumb gliding over her cheek as I stared down at her, bemused and enraptured. “I’m not fooling around with you.”
Her brows bunched. “You need to.”
I chuckled, then dropped my head to hers, whispering, “Why?”
“Because you …” she sputtered to a stop.
My hand lowered, fingers finding her pulse, skittish and aflutter in her neck. “Because?”
“Then you’ll get over it.” Frustration mixed with desperation in her cracked voice.
I tilted her chin and grabbed the other side of her face to cradle it. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” Amusement etched my tone. I gentled it, continuing, “The money. The school. The social life. The boys. You think you know exactly who you are and what you want.”
“Correct. And that’s not you.”
I smirked. “Do your lies taste as pretty as they sound?”
Her eyes dared. “Why don’t you kiss me and see for yourself?”
“It would be another lie, the kiss, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t think it matters.” Her teeth grazed her bottom lip. “Do you?”
“Right now? No.” My lips dropped lower, tickling hers. “Not at all.” Then they collided, my hands shaking and tightening as our mouths crashed and split each other apart, our tongues touching and our breaths tumbling.
Her hands moved up my chest, grasping my cheeks with a grip that defied any words she’d ever spat at me, and I groaned, moving her back toward the wall where I sank my fingers into her soft hair.
“Lars, please,” she breathed when I tore myself away to kiss every part of her lips, her chin, and her throat, and lick at her pulse. “Just fucking touch me.”
I hummed against her rapidly heating skin. “I am touching you.”
A tiny growl reached my ears. “My tits, my cunt, my ass—something.”
If she said cunt again, I’d probably cave and do anything she asked or, rather, demanded. “No,” I said to her lips, then grinned before taking them in a bruising kiss.
Her hands clung to my shirt when they weren’t desperately clawing at my hair, and her body pressed into mine—hot, needy, and ready to undo me where we struggled to stand.
My heart roared inside my ears, thundering as my body trembled with the urge to lay her on the king-size bed and crawl inside her.
I had to end it before we were nothing but sweaty, overheated flesh.
It physically hurt, but I forced my mouth away and attempted to steady my breathing with my forehead on hers.
Daphne’s eyes remained closed, her lips swollen and her tits straining the cups of her bra.
Sucking in a searing breath, I kissed her cheeks and her forehead.
Then I hauled ass out of there, being careful to shut the door behind me so no fuckers caught a glimpse of her almost naked.
I woke up twice that night with the need to jerk off.
Daphne
Dad shoved the last of his steak into his mouth as his phone went off, then rushed around the table to kiss my forehead.
I bit down on my own steak, and the memories, unbidden and overwhelming, rose even days later.
“Are you staying in tonight?”
Not that I thought he really cared, but I still answered. “Not sure yet.”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then tossed it onto his plate while Mom stared into her glass of wine, her shoulders tight and almost sitting next to her ears.
“I’ll see you ladies in the morning. We’ll do breakfast?” he asked, leaning down to smack a kiss on Mom’s cheek.
She forced a smile. “Sure.”
He left, and I squished my peas with my fork, feeling some of my own tension fade as they popped and smooshed. It’d lingered since Lars had left me breathless, half-naked, wanting, and all alone last weekend.
Only, this time, he’d actually been in touch since.
Every time I posted a picture online, he was on it, leaving stupid heart emojis and kisses. Every time I thought I could maybe fall asleep without my mind retracing the shape of his lips or his cheekbones, he’d message me on Instagram or Facebook, saying good night with more annoying hearts attached.
Mom drained her wine. “You’re getting bags under your eyes.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
She didn’t snap at me or huff and leave the table, which surprised me.
I figured out why, when she said, “You haven’t seen Ellis lately, have you?”
With enough sense to guard any reaction other than an innocent, forced one, I said, “Hmm?” I gave her my attention, furrowing my brows. “Why would I have?”
Her blue eyes crystalized, then she smiled and waved her hand. “One of the gossips at the gym swears she saw his car leave our driveway the other week, that’s all.”
“Okay,” I said, drawing the word out. I began gathering my utensils and set my empty glass on my half-eaten plate. “Maybe he came by to see if we were home?” I pushed my chair back and stood.
Mom hummed. “Maybe, yet he didn’t respond to my text.”
“So just call him and ask,” I said as I left the room. I could’ve kicked myself for not thinking to suggest it sooner.
She entered the kitchen a moment after I finished loading the dishwasher and grabbed her phone from the countertop.
I washed my hands and wrung them on the towel as the sound of her laughter and clipping heels dispersed down the hall.
Close
. That was too close.
We’d have to be more careful next time.
I stumbled at the thought and pressed a hand against the wall to steady myself. There shouldn’t be a next time. There should never have been a first time.
Inside my room, I changed into a tight yellow dress and grabbed a baby blue shrug with sparrows on it, then began fixing my hair. I didn’t know why I was even bothering.
Peggy was too busy moping over her failed attempt to kiss Byron at Wade’s party.
Willa was still trying to hide the fact she wanted to stay home and fool around with her brother, erm, stepbrother. I had nowhere to be but could do anything I wanted.
So I finished curling the ends of my hair and applied a light layer of mascara and blush, resolved to finding a party somewhere.
My phone rang, and not recognizing the ringtone, I paused before walking over to pick it up from my nightstand.
Lars Bradby.
He was calling via Messenger.
With a laugh, I answered. “You know, asking for someone’s number is still a thing.”
“Would you have given it to me?”
I rolled my eyes and took a seat on my bed. “Probably not.”
He didn’t even wait a beat. “Meet me down at the pier.”
“Uh, no.” I was about to hang up when his next three words made me stop. “There’s a carnival.”
“A carnival?” I repeated like an idiot.
“Yeah. You ever been?” It sounded like he was walking, the wind muffling his deep voice.
I had gone once when I was a child. My father’s parents took me, and that was the last I ever saw of them before they had a falling out with my mother and told my father they couldn’t stand to be a part of his life any longer if she was in it. Any love they’d harbored for me wasn’t strong enough to make them think twice before making such a preposterous decision. They used to call for a time, send postcards, and Christmas and birthday presents, but it all stopped years ago.
I shouldn’t do it. It was a stupid idea.
But I didn’t really have any plans, and I knew myself enough to know that he couldn’t take anything I wasn’t willing to give. I was doing okay so far.
So far.
I once thought a man would get the better of me, and he came close, but in the end, he never did. And Ellis was a man, not just a boy intent on playing with things that could never belong to him.
Fuck it. I was going. “Fine. But if you buy me cotton candy, I’ll shove it down your throat.”
I hung up, cutting off his laughter.
I found a parking spot on the outer edge of the lot and locked my car, glancing into the lamplit gloom.
“Hey.” Lars’s voice came out of nowhere.
I pivoted to find him chaining his bike to a small metal fence opposite my car.
“You rode here?” I didn’t know why I’d vomited the obvious and withheld the urge to smack myself.
Lars grinned and rose, wiping his hands on his ripped jeans. He was wearing a black shirt with a bright zombie-looking princess on it and his Vans in their usual worn and dusty shade of maroon.
After spending what little time I had with him, I’d come to realize I’d never paid much attention to his attire before now. I surmised he could probably wear anything and get away with it. It wasn’t just his looks; those too sharp cheekbones that captivated and confused. Nor was it the thick mop of straight, milk chocolate brown hair atop his head, or the matching long lashes, or those ever-searching, almost black eyes.
It was him.
He had this casual air about him that said he was who he was, and he gave zero fucks about whether it met anyone’s standards.
If I was confident, then he was walking certainty. I was beginning to wonder if the two would always be destined to clash when they collided.
“Shall we?” he asked, stopping mere inches from me and holding out his hand.
I eyed it, then looked up into his face, walking around him.
He laughed and caught up within a second, his arm brushing my shoulder. “This is a date, you know.”
I scoffed. “It’s not.”
“It is.”
I glared. “You don’t get to do that.”
He stopped and grabbed my hand, squeezing gently. “Do what?”
“Think you can just boss me around or control me.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” he said, his tone blunt and cutting. I was about to storm off when he sighed. “Sorry. Look, I don’t want to do anything that’s going to piss you off. I just want to see you.”
“Well, you’re staring right at me.”
His lips thinned and then spread with a glowing smile. “So I am.”
I removed my hand from his and marched to the ticket booth, handing the gum-chewing attendant a fifty before Lars could even open his wallet.
“Keep the change,” I said, taking our tickets and walking on.
“Whoa,” Lars called. “What the fuck?”
“What the fuck, what?” I asked, my eyes widening when we entered the gates, absorbing hundreds of bright lights as my ears pricked at the sound of children screaming and laughing.
“Daphne, I have a job. I asked you out. I can and want to pay.”
“I don’t care,” I clipped, then almost jumped three feet into the air when I saw one of the first vendors. “Oh, whack-a-mole!”
Lars cursed but followed when I raced over and joined the small queue. “Will you at least let me pay for this?”
I pursed my lips, pretending to think about it, then laughed when his nose twitched and his eyes flashed with warning. “Okay, fine. As I said, I don’t care.”
He grumbled something I didn’t hear.
“Excuse me?” I leaned closer.
“I said you’re going to kill me. I can already sense it.”
That had me turning to him as we shuffled forward in line. “Why do this, then?”
All annoyance fled as he searched my face, the wind brushing tendrils of hair over and around it. He reached out to remove a lock from my lips. “Something tells me there’s no sweeter way to die.”
I swallowed over the knot forming in my throat. “Are you a closet poet or something?” I’d meant for the question to be a barb, but it came out breathy and curious.
He stepped closer, his arm banding around my waist as his teeth appeared, perfect save for the two bottom teeth, which hugged each other too tightly. “No. But I do like to draw.”
That surprised me, though it shouldn’t have. “Sketching, painting?”
His lips wiggled side to side. “Yes, but mainly street art, I guess.”
“Graffiti?” I all but shouted.
He sucked his teeth, then nodded.
I let that sit there, staring up at him while his arm tightened around my waist and his feet shifted over the dirty boardwalk. “Will you show me?” My heart raged at me for daring to ask, for the way Lars kept me waiting as he looked down at me over the slender, straight slope of his nose.
“It’s kind of private.”
My heart fell, screaming in shock, and I turned to collect myself as the line moved again. “Right.”
“Just saying so you’re aware,” he murmured to my ear, his breath warm and words chilling.
I turned my head, our mouths an inhalation apart, and my eyes searched his smiling ones.
“Next,” the man shouted.
Without looking, I knew Lars’s lips were pinched to keep from laughing as I slammed the mallet down on every mole I could, missing many. Eventually, it broke free, and I turned to slug him in the arm with it instead.
He howled and took it from me, and my stomach and face hurt from laughing as I watched him frantically try to whack every mole that appeared.
Afterward, he argued with the carnie over the fact we’d been one point off from winning the giant rainbow teddy bear.
“It’s fine,” I said, still laughing while the carnie chomped on a toothpick, his face weathered and crumpled wi
th annoyance.
“It’s not. I won that fucking bear,” Lars said, leaning forward to spear the older man with his cold gaze.
Seeing as we were not leaving anytime soon but wanting to, I plucked another fifty out of my purse and tried to discreetly wave it at the carnie.
He saw it and sighed, raising his hands. “Fine. No need to be a little asshole about it.”
Lars lurched forward. “Oh, I’m the asshole, am I? Come around here and say that shi—”
“Shh.” I slid my hand over his mouth and my body in front of his. Lars pulled it off, but I moved my other one in place. “Stop.”
“No, he’s being a fucking—”
I pressed my mouth to his, swallowing his next words.
The lights faded into a shimmering bronze behind my eyelids as his arms slowly folded around me. I felt his body relax with each sweep of my lips over his until his tongue was trying to gain entry, and his hands grew firmer at my back, moving to my hair and ass.
“Okay,” I said, breaking away and taking the bear from the blinking carnie. “Thanks.”
He took the fifty from my hand, Lars too busy pawing at my hips to notice, and we turned to sweep through the small crowd behind us.
“I know I said I didn’t want to piss you off, but I’m beginning to think it’s the fastest way to make you kiss me.”
I tilted the bear up to take a closer look at him, then brushed some dirt from its cheek. “Keep pissing me off, and I’ll just refuse to see you.”
“Ah,” he said, his hand grabbing mine when I tucked the bear under my arm. “So you’ll keep seeing me then.”
It was a statement.
And as I glanced over at him, and his hand tugged me closer to his body for his arm to loop around my shoulders, it was fair to say I probably would. At least for a little while.
I’d just need to be careful, I thought as that clean scent of his reached me. Extremely careful.
Streams of people littered the pier, and it was like swimming against the tide while Lars directed me through them and toward a ramp that led to the bay below.
I stared down at my heels, pouting. “I’m not equipped for sand.”