The Wicked Collection

by Vivian Wood

  Henry. I want you to be my first. He also couldn’t figure out if her saying she was a virgin was true. Could it be? She'd dated Sean for a couple of years, and surely there were shorter relationships and flings between that. I mean, look at her, he thought to himself. And she wasn’t overtly shy. He remembered her at sixteen, bold and flagrant enough to come up to him even when he was talking to a woman his own age. She had no qualms about cutting in and claiming a dance. Surely her confidence had flourished even more since then.

  But why would she lie about such a thing, especially in her state that night?

  There was no denying that being with a virgin was a turn-on. Hell, it was for any man, right? But the idea of Ellie being a virgin—and wanting to give herself to him—that was more than he could handle. She’s still Ellie, he told himself. She’s still Eli’s sister, the president’s sister! And she always will be.

  “Hey.” He turned in the office chair to see her draped across the doorframe. “I’m lonely out here,” she said. “You want to watch a movie or something?”

  “Oh, hey,” he said, adjusting his jeans. He’d taken to wearing them unless he was changing for bed. These days, he never knew when she’d do something to make him hard, and he already was, sitting there thinking about her. “I just—yeah, give me a minute. I need to finish something up.”

  “What are you always doing in here, anyway? We don’t even have Wi-Fi.”

  “Just working on some stuff,” he said.

  “Well, yeah. I figured that,” she said, smiling at him. “What kind of stuff?”

  “Personal stuff, Ellie.”

  “Oh, okay, I get it,” she said. “Well, once you’re done with your personal stuff, come watch a movie with me. The DVD player’s messing up again.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s old. I guess Eli hasn’t been up here enough to upgrade the system.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “But sometimes older things are better.”

  He swallowed hard. “Like wine,” he said.

  “Something like that.”

  As he watched her turn on her heels, bare feet padding into the living room, he struggled to figure her out. In some ways, she still seemed so young and innocent. Of course, compared to him, she was. Thirteen years younger and there was something war did to a person that aged them in incomparable ways. He didn’t know if he’d ever get a strong hold of his PTSD, or if he’d ever be able to connect with someone—anyone—without it getting in the way.

  He turned back to his computer and pulled up the document he’d been working on. The VA therapist had encouraged him to write down his dreams and thoughts, ideally right when he woke up. He hadn’t been very diligent about it though. “On paper if you can,” the therapist had told him, but that hadn’t worked out well. His thoughts moved too fast, and he'd had to rely on typing. For weeks, he’d struggled to type out even a few sentences, but now? They were flying out of him. The only problem was that his thoughts and words were now wholly consumed by Ellie.

  His therapist wouldn’t ever see what he’d written, and wouldn’t ask. “This is solely for you,” he’d told Henry. However, he could just imagine how ashamed he’d be if anyone, especially Ellie, ever saw what he’d written about her. On the other hand, it was the only outlet he’d allow himself. Otherwise, he might explode.

  “Henry!” Ellie called from the other room. “Come on, I’m bored out here! I’ll make popcorn.”

  “I’m coming,” he called back to her.

  The afternoon hours stretched out long and languid. With constant temptation wrapped up on the couch next to him, wearing nothing but men’s boxer shorts and an old button-up, it took all of Henry’s willpower to not stare at her constantly.

  “Whose underwear is that?” he asked in the middle of yet another rom-com.

  “They’re boxers,” she corrected him.

  “That’s underwear.”

  “Not when girls wear them,” she said with a laugh. “They’re mine.”

  “You went and bought men’s underwear for yourself?”

  “Yeah, they’re comfortable!” she said. “And cute. You men have much cuter underwear than us. All kinds of fun designs and stuff. You can’t find women’s underwear with monkeys and bananas on them,” she said, fingering the suggestive scene displayed across her hip bones.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Henry said. “I’ve never shopped for women’s underwear.”

  “Not even for one of your girlfriends?” she asked.

  “Not even for them.”

  “Another movie? I don’t know if I’m up for it, though,” she said. “I’m really tired.”

  “Go get some sleep,” he said. “Your body’s still fighting off the last of that flu.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “Okay, ’night. Don’t stay up too late.”

  “’Night, Ellie,” he said. Henry listened to her soft loping up the stairs, the click of her door closing, and the hushed whirring of the shower upstairs. What was she doing in the shower for so long? His imagination started to wander, and there was that now-familiar stirring in his jeans.

  “Screw it,” he said, getting up and going upstairs himself. This time, he locked his bedroom door behind him.

  He could still hear Ellie’s shower turned on in the next room as he turned the heat on his own shower to as hot as it could manage. Pulling off his jeans and T-shirt, he caught a glimpse of his own boxers in the mirror. They had a simple blue checked pattern. Ellie would probably never approve. “Boring,” she’d say, tossing her head back with a laugh.

  Pulling them over his muscular legs, holding the waistband out as far as it could stretch to clear his erection, Henry stepped beneath the pounding water and closed his eyes. What if Ellie were in here with me?

  She’d probably demand to soak in the majority of the water, and that would be fine with him. Her youth and innocence would make her a nearly selfish shower partner in all the best ways, and he wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, he’d love to give it to her, all the heat she could handle. Picturing her before him, he let his hand rake up his thigh and finally grasp his cock. Even in the intense heat of the water, it still radiated the most heat.

  Now, Ellie would be lifting her head, letting the water race through her hair and drop down her backside in torrents. She’d have a sliver of soap in one hand, tracing it up her stomach and across her ribcage to brush across her breasts. He’d want to ask her if she needed help, but he’d resist. Ellie wasn’t the kind of woman he could use such lines on.

  As he imagined her lathering up her breasts, he began to slowly stroke his cock. Even in his fantasy, he didn’t want to come too fast. “Will you do my back?” she’d ask him, feigning innocence even in this compromised position. How much of an act was it?

  She’d turn her back to him, pulling that curtain of hair around one shoulder. He’d never seen Ellie’s bare back before, not in reality. In his mind’s eye, it was pure marbled magic. He began to stroke himself a little faster, pausing at the tip of his cock with each gentle pull forward, willing himself to slow down. Keep pace.

  She’d hand him what was left of the soap, and look over her shoulder with that smile she must reserve just for him. Right? It had to be just for him.

  He’d trace the lines of her body, the sharp wings of her shoulder blades all the way to the dimples at the small of her back. He loved those dimples, the indents that perfectly fit his thumbs. He stroked even faster, giving in to his instincts and the animalistic nature of what felt right.

  With just a hint of hesitation, as the soap disintegrated entirely and his hand was slick, he’d slide his hand into the crevices of her ass, eliciting a low moan from her. With both hands, he’d cup her cheeks and squeeze, pulling her labia open gently from the backside to let her juices cover her entirely.

  With that image, he came hard, letting out a small cry just in case she was listening from the next room. Opening his eyes, with water from the shower dewy on his lashes, he watched the buildup he’d been hol
ding onto for months go down the shower drain. But he was still hard—that was how crazy she’d made him.

  With a sigh, he dried off, slipped on fresh boxers, and climbed into bed after unlocking the door. Just in case she needed him in the middle of the night. Dutifully, he snapped the restraints back on and closed his eyes. Sleep came slowly and stubbornly.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Ellie! Ellie,” she heard as she stirred in her sleep. Henry? His voice sounded so small and pitiful, she couldn’t tell if she was dreaming it. Slowly, wakefulness washed over her and she could hear his voice clearly in the room next door. Is he having another attack?

  She rushed out of bed, not taking the time to pull something with a little more coverage over her. Ever since the illness, she hadn’t felt up to doing laundry and didn’t have many clean clothes left. She’d resorted to sleeping in boy short underwear and an admittedly see-through white tank top.

  “Henry?” she asked, approaching his door. It was barely dawn. Was she allowed to enter at this time? For the first time, she felt truly sorry for him. He was still calling her name, but sounded like he was on the verge of tears. She hesitated, but turned the knob.

  “Henry!” she exclaimed, finding him handcuffed to the bed. His eyes were closed, and he was whipping his head from side to side.

  “Ellie,” he murmured in his sleep.

  She approached his bed cautiously. It was a shock, but what could he possibly do to her tied up like this? Any fear of a sudden PTSD attack was subdued. “Henry,” she said again, trying to wake him. As she neared him, she put a hand on his chest and shook him gently. Even like this, she noticed the bulk of his shoulders and the mounds of his biceps. Pure muscle. She still couldn’t get over how much of a man he was. “Henry,” she said, “I’m… I’m going to take these off, okay?” Spying the little key on the bedside table, she snatched it up and climbed onto the bed to unlock him.

  Nearly on top of him, Ellie struggled with the lock. This wasn’t a plaything like Sam had given her as a joke back in college, with those pink fuzzy handcuffs for her twenty-first birthday. This was the real deal.

  Henry’s eyes snapped open. “It’s you. You’re safe.” His voice was low and gravelly. Was it really him, or was this some kind of waking sleep for him?

  She didn’t know what to say. Before she could even respond, he lunged up like an animal and kissed her with so much passion she sucked her breath deep into her lungs. Any touches or little kisses they’d shared in the past were nothing compared to this—they weren’t even a tease or a hint of what was possible. His tongue invaded her mouth, filling every crevice and flicking across her teeth. She’d never tasted something so addictive before, making every inch come to life.

  How could he manage such passion, and yet so much control, even when he was in cuffs? Henry pressed himself up against her as she was straddling one of his thighs. He was rock hard, pushing against her hip. “Ellie,” he moaned between kisses, and her name between his lips gave her chills.

  “Henry, I—” she began, but they were interrupted. A massive dog bounded into the bedroom, sniffing and slobbering loudly. “Arliss!” she yelled. “What—oh, God. Meredith?!” she yelled. “Eli? Are you guys here?”

  “Holy shit,” Henry muttered. “Get these off me, Ellie. Now,” he demanded.

  “Fuck, are they here?” she whispered, digging for the key she’d dropped in the mountain of pillows when he'd kissed her. “How the hell did they make it up the mountain?”

  “I don’t know, Ellie,” he whispered back. “Just hurry.”

  She finally found the key and got it to click the cuffs open.

  “Ellie!” Meredith’s voice rang from downstairs. “Are you here?” Ellie’s eyes widened as she climbed off of Henry. Scrambling off the bed, grabbing one of Henry’s T-shirts on the way, she raced downstairs.

  “Mer, hey!” she said, finding her sister-in-law in the kitchen putting on a pot of coffee. “What are you doing here? Is Eli here?” she asked as she hugged her.

  “There’s my little sister,” Mer cooed, wrapping her arms around Ellie. Meredith was polished as always, a look she’d been grooming since the notion of becoming first lady arrived. Perfectly coiffed hair in a French twist, crisp white button-up shirt, and dark denim skinny jeans. “No, Eli couldn’t make it, but he told me you were here, and I figured I’d check in since I was passing through. Especially with the weather and all.”

  “How did you make it up the mountain?” Ellie asked.

  “Being first lady has its perks,” Meredith said with a wink. “Starting with access to some seriously hardcore four-wheel drive vehicles. Hey, why are there two cars in the driveway, anyway?”

  A thump came from upstairs, and Meredith arched a brow. “Do you have company?” she asked in a lowered voice. Excitement flickered through Meredith’s eyes. Since falling in love with Eli, and especially after moving into the White House, Meredith had played her role well. However, there was still a big part of her that missed the excitement of her wilder days. Still, she had a role to fulfill and an image to maintain.

  “Kind of…”

  Henry emerged in the kitchen, rubbing his wrists. Ellie noticed that he’d put on jeans and a clean shirt. “Mer, hey.” He’d put on his most cheery, professional voice. “Here, let me take care of the coffee, you two take a seat in the living room.” He widened his eyes at Ellie as she and Meredith headed to the hall.

  “Ellie!” Meredith whispered, linking her arm through hers.

  “Nothing happened!” Ellie hissed back.

  “That’s not what it looks like,” Meredith said, looking back into the kitchen.

  The two of them huddled close together on the couch, and for a moment it felt like years ago. Meredith was the first girlfriend of Eli’s that Ellie had ever felt close to. Even though she was older than Ellie, she’d almost instantly felt part sister and part friend—truly the sister Ellie had always wished for.

  “You better marry that one,” Ellie had told Eli after meeting Meredith on the campaign trail.

  Eli had just laughed, but that was exactly what he had done. Ellie had been one of Meredith’s bridesmaids. They’d grown close, and Ellie had always looked up to her. Meredith was gorgeous in her own unique, yet classic way. Trim, slender and tall, she made grace look effortless.

  However, as Eli’s chances of being elected president began to blossom and it was clear he was going to win, Meredith had a choice to make. Did she want to be the president's wife? Her own career aspirations complemented Eli’s well. Meredith had been a journalist with the New York Tribune when she first met Eli, assigned to his campaign trail. After putting her journalism career on hold temporarily, she'd become involved with a major national nonprofit serving homeless youth. It was what had gotten Ellie interested in fundraising in the first place. Now, as first lady, Meredith had made homelessness her primary platform.

  Ellie loved Meredith something fierce, but they hadn’t seen each other much since Eli’s inauguration. Arliss jumped onto the couch with them, wiggling to get between them. “Arliss!” Meredith said with a laugh, stroking the shaggy head without a care whether he got white fur on her designer jeans or not. “You just love being the peanut butter in a threesome, don’t you?” she asked him with a wink to Ellie.

  “I don’t know how you handle such a big dog!” Ellie said. “He’s adorable, but I think he’d be the one walking me—and I don’t think I could keep up!”

  “Well, every president needs a White House pet, you know,” Meredith said. “That argument is the only way I could convince your brother to let us have a dog finally! Besides,” Meredith said with a smirk and glance toward the kitchen, “it seems like you have your hands plenty full with your own wild thing in there.”

  “Pervert,” Ellie said with a laugh. “Seriously, nothing happened. He’s just been here a few days, came in the night of the big storm. Then I got sick with the flu… he took care of me. It was a bad one,” she said.

 
“Oh my God! Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I thought you guys were in South Korea,” she said.

  Meredith shook her head. “I didn’t go on this trip,” she said. “Are you okay now?”

  “I’m on the mend,” Ellie said. “So, are you staying?” she asked. Part of her was thrilled at the idea of a little sister time, but another part of her wanted Meredith to go so she could flesh out what was going on with Henry.

  “No, sorry babygirl,” Meredith said. “I wish I could, but I can only stay one night. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

  “No!” Ellie said. “You should stay, please.”

  Henry walked into the room, placing two mugs of steaming coffee on the table. “Ladies.” He gestured to the mugs.

  “Thanks,” Meredith said, picking up her cup.

  “There’s plenty of room,” Ellie continued, trying to catch Henry’s eye. He avoided her gaze and headed through the French doors onto the porch.

  “Isn’t he going to be cold out there?” Mer whispered, watching Henry sink into one of the chairs and put his legs up on the railing. “He’s not even wearing a jacket!”

  “I don’t know,” Ellie shrugged, warming her hands on the coffee mug. “He’s kind of strange, you know,” she said, nudging Meredith with her elbow.

  “Yeah,” Mer said. “Eli told me the war changed him. I didn’t know him before he enlisted, though.”

  “I was too young to really know him,” Ellie said. Why was she trying to make excuses to Meredith? They’d always told each other everything—well, almost everything.

  Meredith shook her head sadly. “Poor guy,” she said. “War. I can only imagine.”

  Ellie wanted desperately to tell Meredith what was really going on. Besides Sam, Mer and Eli were the only people who knew she was a virgin. Meredith had been pure gold when she’d told her, reassuring her that waiting until she was ready was a good thing. Going into college, Ellie had been kind of embarrassed, especially when so many of her friends in high school were quick to share their stories about losing it.