by Kat Ransom
Fast & Wet
Kat Ransom
Fast & Wet
Copyright © 2019 Kat Ransom.
All rights reserved.
Notice of Rights: All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
For information on getting permission for reprints and excerpts, contact: [email protected]
''The most important things lie close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.’’
- Stephen King
One
Six Years Ago - Florida
Emily
Soft cotton sheets cling to my skin even though it’s only May and the oppressing Florida summer heat hasn’t arrived yet. My perspiration causes them to catch and pull against my back as I writhe under his hands that trace over my naked body.
Up my outer thigh and across the flat of my stomach, his rough hand cups my breast, and he lowers his mouth to take my nipple. He’s so gentle, yet I’m heady with desire.
“Cole,” I moan and run my fingers through his short chocolate hair and push my hips upward, desperate for more contact from his long, lean body covering half of mine.
“I’m right here, baby,” he whispers around my nipple as his hand trails south, and his fingers discover my outer lips with a feather touch. Up and down, he traces me as my wetness seeps out and draws his fingers in.
The moment two fingers caress my swollen clit, I buck up and gasp. “Feel how wet you are for me, baby?” He whispers and sucks the hollow of my collarbone.
“Kiss me, Cole,” I pull his head up, and his lips capture mine. His hot tongue pulses into my waiting mouth as his fingers work me into a frenzy that makes my hips and legs wiggle.
I’ve pushed the sheets and blanket down with my squirming. My only cover now is the scratchy denim of Cole’s jeans, one of his legs over mine, and his naked chest draped over my torso.
The soft waves rocking the boat on Old Tampa Bay keep rhythm with my hips rising and falling to meet his hand. Fooling around on his dad’s docked yacht is something Cole and I often do, but tonight is different.
He’s become my everything. My savior, my best friend, my boyfriend, my lover. He’s the keeper of my secrets and my freedom from disquiet.
Memories of all our private moments, our late night talks, our secrets, our kisses, wash over me as my heart rate picks up, and coherent thoughts are driven from my mind.
“I need you,” I whimper on an exhale as I grip his strong forearm and encourage his fingers to dip inside me. He obliges with a groan, and two long fingers slip into my slick channel. My neck arches, and I drive my head into the pillow from pleasure.
“So fucking tight, my gorgeous girl,” Cole whispers my favorite nickname into my ear as he nips the lobe and grinds his hardness into the side of my hip. His thumb moves back and forth over my clit as he works me deeper. “Come for me.”
I reach down and cup his hard dick through his jeans, “I want to come with you.”
A throaty, primal growl reverberates against me as he bites my shoulder then soothes the spot with the flat of his tongue. “Come for me first.”
I whine and grip his cock tighter, my face screwing up in a pout. No more waiting, begging, no more pushing and pulling—I need him. “Cole, please.”
A dark, sexy smile overtakes his face as he watches my urgency grow. He’s amused by how badly I want him.
“I don’t want to hurt you, let me take care of you first,” he takes a nipple back into his mouth and sucks the taut peak. “Give me what I want, and then I’ll give you this,” he says as he rocks his hips harder into me.
My mind is racing, and I try to shut down rogue, distracting thoughts, and focus on his hands, how good he smells, the feel of his weight against me. I can’t think about consequences right now.
I want this, I want him. I want all of him, and I want to keep him forever.
He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and drags his teeth over me.
I unbutton his jeans, drag his zipper down, and slide my hand over the warm, thick bulge in his boxers that I want so badly. He hisses and his eyes snap shut as he rocks into my hand with the same tempo his fingers plunge into me.
Watching how good that makes him feel builds my confidence, turns me on even more. I raise my hips and focus on the heat building in my core.
“That’s it, Em, so beautiful,” he breathes and works me faster.
I feel myself get wetter and wetter, and I can’t control it anymore. My body tightens, and I grip Cole’s shoulder hard. I’m moaning and whimpering louder and louder as I start to cry his name.
His mouth covers mine, his tongue plunging into me to silence me as I come apart on his fingers and shudder as the tremors run through me.
He moves his body over mine, careful to support his weight, as I’m still panting deliriously. I push his jeans and boxers over his narrow hips. He kicks them down with his feet, and I feel his naked length fall against my stomach. Reaching between us, I grip it and feel the heat, how silky his skin feels.
Cole reaches for the nightstand and rips a condom open with his teeth. “Put it on me,” he hands it to me as he stares down at my face from above me. His blue eyes are dark and hooded, his face covered in a glossy sheen of perspiration.
I love making him so hot, so out of control. It makes me feel like a goddess to do this to him.
I slide the condom over him and watch his brows furrow as he tries to keep control of himself. I don’t want him to. I want him to lose control with me. I want to give him what he needs.
I want to be what he needs.
He holds himself up on his elbows next to my head and kisses me softly as I feel the head of his dick line up with my entrance. We’re doing this. I’m finally doing this with Cole Ballentine.
The guy everyone wants, I get him. He’s mine.
He pushes the head of his hardness into me, and I gasp and claw his shoulder. “Relax, baby, let me in.”
I drop my knees wider as he holds himself still, softly kissing me, licking my neck. His eyes are watching mine for the green light. I lift my hips to take more of him, and he pushes in further. “Cole,” I squint my eyes and grip him tighter, fingernails digging into his sun-bronzed skin.
“Look at me, Emily,” his hands move into my hair, and he forces my head straight to look into his eyes. “Feel how hard I am for you?”
I nod and run my hands across his gorgeous face. I watch his eyes dance and flicker along my face, the hunger inside them turning me on even more.
I want this to be good for him.
I want him to know how I feel about him.
“Make love to me, Cole.”
“Are you sure, baby?”
I’ve never been so sure of anything in my e
ighteen years of life. In this moment, my feelings are concrete, my desire and need for him unwavering. “I’m yours, take me.”
A surge of blinding, stinging heat overtakes my body as he makes a steady thrust into me. I cry out just as Cole smashes his mouth over mine, and my legs try to snap shut over his narrow hips. “Oww, fuck,” I whimper into him from the sting, the burn of his size stretching me.
“I got you, I got you,” he whispers softly, his thumb wiping away one tear that has started rolling down from a corner of my eye. “Let me move, baby, I’ll make it better.”
I release the grip my knees have around him and open myself up.
Cole starts to move, slowly pulling out of me. His eyes watch mine closely as he pushes back in. Within a few strokes, the pain subsides and turns into something else. The feel of him dragging against my walls, filling a place I never knew was empty, starts to tingle and loosen.
“Cole,” I moan and grip his hard ass, pulling him into me. Oh god, this feels good when I relax. This is an intimacy between us, unlike anything we’ve shared before.
“You feel so good, Em. So tight on my cock.”
I feel myself flush from the dirty words he’s speaking to me. I raise my hips up to meet his, trying to match his cadence at each rock into me. I run my hands up and down his muscular back. He groans when I trace my fingernails over his shoulders.
I watch all of his cues and commit them to memory. He likes it when I say his name, when my nails come close to piercing his skin.
I feel silly, but I try to remember all the things porn stars do, the way their bodies move. I want him to be addicted to me. I want to rock his world, take us to the next level. I want him to love me and never leave me.
When I squeeze and clench my walls against him, he growls and drives into me deeper. I lift a leg around his waist, and he puts an arm under my knee to hold it there. “Oh fuck, Em, you were built to take me,” he grunts into my breasts. “Feel me deep inside you, gorgeous girl?”
“Yes,” I cry and arch my back. The way he talks to me turns me on even more. I feel powerful knowing I’m doing this to him, driving him to speak this way. “So good, Cole, you feel so good.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Emily. Jesus, look at you,” he lifts up and takes in my heaving chest, my rock-hard nipples and breasts bouncing with each of his thrusts.
I take his head in my hands and bring him down to kiss me, overwhelmed with the sweet words he says to me. My handsome Cole, hard body sliding in and out of me, deep blue eyes watching my skin pebble. This belongs to me. I think I’m the one who is addicted.
My toes curl, and I run them up and down his calf, flexing with each push into me. I’m so overwhelmed with emotion and the pressure building up inside of me. “Cole,” I take his cheek in my palm and look at him.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I love you.”
Deep cerulean pools stare back at me, his eyes darting back and forth between mine. He doesn’t say it back. His body has stilled, I see his Adam’s apple bob from swallowing, but he doesn’t say it back.
Naive girl.
I know then that he’s already made his decision.
He’s going to leave me.
“Don’t stop,” I move my hand to his hip and bury my face in his chest so he can’t see me.
“Em,” he mumbles softly into my neck, the regretful tone of his voice confirming what his eyes already gave away.
“Please, Cole,” I wrap my arms around him and clench my teeth to keep the tears at bay. “Let me have you while I can, then.”
He stays still inside me until my hips moving up and down spur him to continue. He brings a hand between us, and his thumb starts to run over my clit, up and down, then big circles.
I smash my eyes closed and push my head back into the pillow. I focus on the physical feelings and will the thoughts away. I concentrate on how he feels moving in and out of me, the way his rough thumb feels caressing me. I bury the ache in my heart.
My calf muscles tighten, and I feel a spasm in my core begin to quake. “Cole,” I pant and thrash my head from side to side.
“Em,” he whispers just above me.
I keep my eyes closed and fixate on the feeling of him deep inside me. If I angle my hips a certain way, he hits the spot inside of me that makes my body jerk and tense up.
“Please look at me, Em.” I can feel his body stiffen. His muscles lock up, and the sweat on his body mixes with mine. I know he’s close, and that pushes me past the point of no return.
I’m afraid to look into his eyes, but I want to watch him come inside me. A freight train hits me as my orgasm takes over. I force my eyes open as I clench down on him.
Behind his dark lashes, his pupils expand and search mine. Then his whole body stiffens, and a roar comes from deep within him, “Fuck!”
I shudder and tremble against him as tremors run through me, and he rocks against my pelvis a few more times until he’s empty and heaving and panting.
I wrap my arms against his shoulders and pull him down on me, moving one hand into his damp hair to cradle his head against my chest. I don’t dare move because when I do, this moment will be gone.
We will never be the same.
We’re both silent as our breathing returns to normal. There are no words left to be spoken.
As I run my fingers through his hair, I listen to the soft waves hitting the boat, the frogs singing their evening mating songs along the water’s edge. The sheets are soaked, soreness returns to my body.
But it’s the ache in my chest that is inconsolable.
He’s leaving.
Two
Present - Six Years Later - Cambridge, UK
Emily
The sun is beaming down rare warmth in a cloudless sky above the University of Cambridge. If I were the typical college student in the States, I’d be outside taking advantage of the uncharacteristic summer weather.
Most likely, I’d be on summer break by now, drinking cheap tequila on a beach. I’d be creating regrets, making bad decisions that would make for fun party stories for years to come.
I’m a little envious but will never admit it.
Instead, I’m at a century-old cafe outside the university, eying a flat white that was just set before me. The barista really outdid herself this time with the leaf design of the microfoam floating on the surface.
“Kudos, Klara,” I tell my favorite barista, who is also my roommate. “I can really see a leaf on this one.”
“Leaf?” She throws her hands up in frustration and huffs a breath of air to get her blond bangs away from her eyes, “That’s a cat!”
I smile and blow on the hot coffee before taking a sip as Klara collapses in a chair beside me at our table. There are perks to having a roommate who works at the cafe, mainly free coffee, even if the foam designs will never be museum-worthy. “Delicious, either way,” I take a gulp. “At least this one doesn’t look like a dick again?”
“I get good tips on the dick ones. Any leads yet?” Klara nods to my open laptop set in front of me.
Part of the university’s program is pairing international students up for housing. Klara is from Sweden and has a gorgeous, thick accent. She tells me I have a thick American accent.
We taught each other all the fun four-letter words in our languages, though Klara has me beat, by far, since she speaks fluent English, like most young Europeans, and I only remember what I learned in high school Spanish.
“I’m meeting Professor Tillman soon,” I say as I check my watch. “He said he has exciting news, so I’m hoping it’s a job opportunity. Otherwise, no, I’m just answering emails.”
“More on the paper?” Klara asks as she rests her tired head on her elbows on the table.
Klara is working part-time at the cafe plus trying to wrap up her Master’s degree in Energy Technologies. She is exhausted more often than not. I was able to finish my degree on schedule, whereas she’s running behind and into overtime now.
If I didn’t have Mom and Dad footing the bill, I’d have been in the same boat as Klara, having to take a job to support myself and struggling through the coursework. I’m grateful to them that I was able to focus on my studies, and with my shiny new degree in hand, it’s time to get my head down now and find gainful employment.
Except, I’m distracted.
“Yes, more people emailing about my paper,” I smile and glance at my inbox where emails from another researcher and a tire manufacturer await me today.
My individual research project to graduate with a Masters of Materials Science in Engineering was chosen by the academic staff. At first, I was skeptical of the concept: Chemical Advances in the Compounds of Tire Manufacturing.
But it turned out to be fascinating because, as we say in the MSE program, everything is made of something.
What the world considers simple hunks of rubber have a fascinating inner private life, to me, anyway. Hundreds of seemingly insignificant raw materials come together, bond at a molecular level, and create something unprecedented, secure, and durable.
Better than the individual components alone.
My research project went big, diving into hydrocarbon chains within antizonants, oxidative reaction mechanisms, and solubility of rubber compounds. It went so well that Professor Tillman and I published a paper in the Journal of Materials Science theorizing a possible new stable hydrocarbon bond that has the potential to drastically reduce tire degradation.
Longer lasting tires, fewer tires sent to landfills, safer tires on every car on the road—it could be massive.
Nerd. At least I own it these days.
“Just lots of questions on the research, no job offers,” I tell Klara, who is rubbing her temples. She mutters something in Swedish under her breath when a toddler in the corner starts wailing at the top of his lungs.