“Gabe,” she whispers, making me glance up at her. “What are we going to do?”
I frown. “Do about what?”
My mother’s voice chooses that precise moment to sound right outside my door. “Tell her that her little friend isn’t here!”
Lucy stiffens, her eyes sliding shut. Mom is talking about her. And Sydney. I bet Syd woke up and she asked where Lucy was. What would everyone do if they knew she was with me? In my bed? My hand buried in her panties?
“I should go,” Lucy whispers, shoving at my shoulders.
I rise up and kiss her, slowly moving my fingers once more, thrusting my tongue in her mouth as I play with her clit. It’s swollen. She wants this. She might already be close. She needs to come. And I want to be the one to do it for her.
I want to see her fall apart.
The voices in the hall get lower and I hear a door shut. My parents are in their room, none the wiser that I have a girl in my room. I feel like a freaking teenager hiding my secret girlfriend away, doing wicked things to her and swear to God my cock pulses against the fly of my shorts, like I’m getting a thrill out of doing something so bad. Right down to the fact that we’re not even going to fuck—I’m going to respect Lucy’s wishes that she remain a virgin. She’s not ready yet.
But I can be patient for her.
She begins to respond to my insistent touch, her hips lifting, her tongue seeking mine. I’m hard as stone, wish like hell she’d reach over and grab my dick but I can’t push. I don’t hear my parents anymore. I don’t hear anything anymore but the sound of Lucy’s panting breaths, the rustle of clothing, my fingers sliding against her hot, wet flesh.
I thumb her clit, press hard against the swollen piece of flesh and she gasps against my mouth. I roll it between my fingers and she pulls away from our kiss, a shuddery moan escaping her as her hips lift. “Oh, God Gabe.”
“Are you close?” I ask, needing her to be close. “You want more?” I want to see her come. I want this more than I want my own satisfaction and that’s fucking unheard of. Lifting away from her a bit, I stare down at her near writhing body, thankful for the sexy view. Her breasts strain against the thin lace and satin of her bra, her skin is flushed and my hand is stretching her panties out.
Unbelievably hot.
She nods, offering a choked yes in response. I circle her clit repeatedly, increasing my pace, whispering words of encouragement in Lucy’s ear.
“Come for me, Luce. I wanna see you come. I wanna feel you come all over my fingers.”
My words send her over the edge. A loud moan falls from her lips and I seal my mouth over hers, continue to stroke her as the orgasm rocks her body. She shudders, her pussy seeming to spasm beneath my touch, a gush of wetness coating my fingers. It goes on for long, drawn out seconds and I keep touching her, eventually slowing my pace until she’s pushing my hand away, murmuring against my lips, “Too much. It’s too much.”
I lift my head and stare at her, my heart racing as if I’m the one who’d just come my brains out. I realize at that precise moment it might never be enough. Not when it comes to Lucy.
And that thought terrifies me.
I think I have a problem. And his name is Gabriel Walker.
Not that he’s a problem. More like…an addiction. And addictions are bad, right? They consume you until you can think of nothing else but having your next hit. Your next fix. It’s like I need him. Not want him—need him.
He invades my thoughts. My dreams. He’s always on my mind, and I want to spend all of my time with him—and I have a lot of free time on my hands. House sitting is not a strenuous job. These people who live here don’t even own pets. They just didn’t want their house looking abandoned and they didn’t want to rent it out to strangers.
So they have me in there instead. The girl who thought she’d spend the entire summer alone reading and trying her best to lose a little weight. Who instead is messing around with the hottest man on the planet every chance she gets. Messing around with him all over their house, though we’re always careful. Well, I’m careful.
I’m also totally into Gabe. Like, way into Gabe.
What’s weird? He seems to feel the same way about me.
It’s been two weeks since that stolen moment in his room when he made me come so hard I thought I saw stars. He’s been in hot pursuit of making me come as many times as possible ever since. And lucky me, he’s done it quite often. To the point where I’ve lost track of exactly how many times he’s given me an orgasm with his fingers and/or talented mouth.
Speaking of his talented mouth, the first time he went down on me I almost couldn’t take the amazing feeling of his tongue licking against my sensitive flesh. I thought I would die. And I wasn’t even close to orgasm—though he did make that happen pretty quickly.
As I mentioned, he’s extremely talented.
And okay, fine I’m a liar. I’ve totally kept count of those orgasms. I’ve had approximately eighteen and a half. The half is added for that one night after nearly getting caught by Sydney when we were making out in his car while parked in his driveway. My hand in the front of his swim trunks, his hand between my legs, Gabe had somehow caught sight of her gradual approach and by the time she was knocking on the driver’s side window, we’d sprung apart, breathing hard but otherwise completely innocent.
My friend isn’t falling for it. She knows what’s up but doesn’t protest or warn me anymore. I’m guessing she figures this is my own problem or hey, maybe I have her unspoken approval.
I like to think it’s the last part.
So back to the orgasms. Let’s do the math with eighteen and a half over a span of fourteen days. That’s a lot of orgasms so far. And I’ve returned the favor as many times as he’s let me. And that’s become my new favorite thing. My fingers wrapped around his thick erection, the lift of his hips just before he comes, the beautiful, agonized expression that crosses his face as he falls over the edge.
I love watching him come. I love the feel of his semen making a mess all over my hand, which I should think is gross, right? But I don’t. Not at all. One time he came all over my naked breasts and that had been all sorts of hot. I’ve finally broken out of my embarrassed mode and given him a few blowjobs. I haven’t given many—okay, none—but he told me my enthusiasm made up for any inexperience I had.
Oh, and the things he says seriously make me want to swoon.
“I love the way you look when you’re on your knees in front of me and my cock is in your mouth,” he’d told me a few nights ago, his husky voice sending a shiver down my spine.
We were sitting on the couch at my house, the TV off, the house quiet and dark when I went down on my knees in front of him. He’d touched my cheek, his fingers drifting across my skin as I pulled him out of my mouth and licked just the head. My gaze never left his and the way he watched me made me bold. I continued licking him, sucking the tip, teasing the flared head with my tongue and the tortured moan that fell from his lips sent a ribbon of satisfaction curling through me. “That you want to do this for me blows my mind, Luce,” he’d choked out.
He’s such a crazy man. Of course, I wanted to do this for him.
I’m this close to letting him do the deed. We’ve done everything else. Everything else. He’s touched me in some shocking places that I found undeniably arousing. He’s let me explore his body just as thoroughly. We’ve definitely turned our initial attraction to each other into an intense summer fling and though I’m trying my best to keep it light and flirty and sexy and dirty, I’m starting to have feelings for him.
Ugh. Big mistake.
But he’s so cute when he laughs and he laughs a lot. He’s such a gentleman, always holding doors open for me and asking my opinion on everything. We can talk about anything, though I don’t go too deep or too personal and for some reason, he respects my unspoken boundaries. He doesn’t go too deep or personal either and I’m fine with that.
Sort of.
There’s
something so comforting about the way he rests his hand at the small of my back as we’re walking. It’s like this protective gesture that makes me feel so taken care of.
I love it.
I shouldn’t. But I do.
We’ve been having such a good time, full of lazy summer days and long, intense nights wrapped up in each other, I hadn’t been paying much attention to the calendar and I know the days are just flying by. I should’ve been paying attention though because Gabe took my hand last night, kissed the top of it and announced, “We’re leaving in two days.”
Two. Days. My mouth had dropped open in shock. “Wh-where are you going?”
He made a face. “Back to Texas. That’s where I’m from originally. That’s where my parents still live. I’ll hang out at the family homestead for the rest of the time until school starts back up.”
The family homestead. He made it sound so quaint and cute. So country and Texas-like. I bet it’s a sprawling mansion that makes my little house look like a closet. And why don’t any of these Walkers have southern accents? I swear they’re so rich they won’t let accents affect their speech. “Oh.” I nodded. “That sounds nice.”
I’d lied. It sounded horrible because it meant that Gabe wouldn’t be with me anymore. And I didn’t like that. At all.
“So we’ll need to make the most of these last two days.” He’d gathered both of my hands in his and pulled me closer. I’d gone reluctantly because I felt pouty and sad. “I want to take you to dinner tomorrow night,” he’d murmured close to my ear.
We went out but not much. We’d gone to see a movie—which ended in us sitting in the back row making out and groping each other. A few casual dinners, a few nights out back at that frozen yogurt place because he loves it so much. But the way he said he wanted to take me to dinner, it sounded serious.
Like fancy, expensive restaurant serious.
“Where?” I’d asked.
“I need to figure that out first,” he’d admitted with a soft chuckle. “Let me get back to you on that.”
He’d texted me the name of the restaurant this morning along with the time he’d made our reservation for and I looked the place up. Talk about fancy…
Mama called a lot too, wondering what I was up to, why I rarely talked to her for any length of time. I’d told her I made friends—true—and that I was having a great time—also very true. And I was definitely being a good girl when she asked because yes, she really asked me that.
That was the one lie I told my mother. I wasn’t being a good girl. I was a total sinner in Mama’s eyes. But oh, it felt good sinning with Gabe on a regular basis.
So incredibly good.
I started getting ready for our serious dinner date a while ago. I took a shower and shaved every bit of my body. Put enough lotion on my body that there’s not a spot on my skin that isn’t extra soft and fragrant. Conditioned my hair and blew it dry, taking the time to run my rounded brush through it and give it some curl and bounce. It’s loose and wavy, falling past my shoulders and looking extra shiny. Might be that expensive hair serum I found in the guest bathroom that someone left behind.
Now I stare at myself in the mirror, still a little unsure of the dress I chose. It’s black with thin spaghetti straps that crisscross in the back and dips low in the front, offering a subtle glimpse of cleavage. The fabric clings to my form yet doesn’t make me look too curvy or dumpy. I found it at a discount store last week when I’d been out shopping with Gabe and Sydney and somehow he convinced me to buy it.
Maybe it had been the way his eyes lit up when he saw me after I tried it on. Or the way he tried to shove me back in the dressing room so he could have his way with me. I’d had to shove him right back out and he’d been sad. Flashing me puppy dog eyes combined with a wicked grin, I’d almost pulled him back into the dressing room so he could have his way after all.
Then I remembered that was a bad idea and told him to go wait for me at the front of the store where the cash registers were. He makes me want to lose complete control and I need to be careful, especially when Sydney was around. We needed to be on our best behavior so as not to freak her out. But she’s not around tonight.
And hopefully he’ll appreciate my choice of attire tonight for dinner. He’s supposed to come pick me up in approximately fifteen minutes. I’ve been ready for the past twenty.
I guess you could call me a little anxious.
I grab my tiny black purse that was on the counter, open it and pull out a deep, velvety red lipstick, a color I never wear but have owned for a few months. I brought it with me here on a whim, not having a clue where I would wear it.
Tonight, I’m wearing it for Gabe. And for me.
Definitely for me.
Pulling the cap off, I twist the lipstick up, then carefully apply it to my lips. I rub them together and put the cap back on, tossing it into my purse. I take a step back, contemplating myself, tilting my head. I look…different. Older somehow. Maybe sophisticated is a more apt description.
I’ve never used the word sophisticated to describe myself ever.
The doorbell rings and I dash out of the bedroom, clutching my purse in my hand as I practically gallop down the stairs. I’m not used to wearing heels and they make me feel wobbly and awkward. Wish I could wear my flip flops but I’ll look ridiculous and tonight is all about the fancy.
God, I hope I don’t embarrass myself. Or worse, embarrass Gabe.
I unlock and throw open the door to find him standing there, looking fucking amazing. No other words for it. His hair has gotten a little long over the last few weeks and it’s tinged with gold from the sun. He’s wearing a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his sexy tanned forearms.
Did you know forearms could be sexy? I didn’t either. But they so are.
Black pants and shoes complete the look. The shirt is untucked, so he looks more on the casual side and I wonder for an overanxious minute if I overdressed.
But catching the appreciative gleam in his eyes when he takes me in helps me realize I made the right choice.
“Damn Luce, you look fucking unbelievable,” he breathes, his gaze caught on—you guessed it—my boobs.
He’s a total boob man. And an ass man. Gabe seems to appreciate pretty much every part of my body.
“So do you,” I say, gasping when he reaches out and wraps one arm around my waist, hauling me close to him so he can stare even closer at my face.
“I’d kiss you but I’m afraid I’ll mess up your lipstick,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my lips. Lingering. “Nice look by the way. With the dark lips.” The longing in his voice is obvious.
“I can put on more lipstick,” I say, resting my hands on his chest. His skin is so hot, I can feel him beneath the shirt and for a crazed moment I’m tempted to tear it off of him. “I’d much rather you kiss me.”
“You’ve got it,” he says with a smile, just as his lips gently land on mine.
I almost start to cry at how sweet his kiss is. And I realize in that moment…
I’m going to miss Gabe way more than I care to admit.
Fuck me, she looks beyond amazing. I’d encouraged her to buy that dress and it had been a smart choice. It fits her to perfection, making her look sexy as hell. All that dark, wavy hair, the red lipstick that makes her plump lips look even bigger, damn.
Lucy’s been driving me crazy for the last two weeks. Pushing me to the brink time and again. She’ll let me do just about anything I want to her with the exception of one thing—actual intercourse. Everything else is fair game, even a little ass play.
Yeah, my Lucy is a dirty girl. But she’s only dirty for me.
That’s the scary part. The possessive wave that comes over me every time I think about leaving her, about her going on and living the rest of her life. Without me in it. I won’t ever see her again and she’ll forget all about me. I’ll become the faded memory, a part of that fond, long ago summer when she hung out wit
h that one guy and messed around with him every chance she got. This can only be a summer fling. We made that promise to each other at the very beginning and at that time, I meant every word I said.
But now, when reality has hit and I know I have to leave her in little over twenty-four hours, I can only focus on one thing—I care about this girl. A lot. I don’t want to lose her. Looks like I have to though.
And that’s fucking painful.
“Are you ready to go?” I murmur against her lips after about five minutes of being attached to them. Her lipstick is mostly gone and I’m guessing I’m wearing a lot of it but I don’t really care. That kiss was worth it.
Every kiss with her is worth it.
Lucy nods and withdraws from me, tucking a thick strand of hair behind her ear. I drop my arm from around her waist and watch as she shuts and locks the front door. When she turns to face me, the smile she’s wearing is tremulous. She looks anxious.
I immediately want to reassure her.
“You okay?” I take her hand and lead her toward where my car is parked.
She sends me a wary look, her fingers squeezing mine. “I’m a little nervous.”
“About what?” I frown, not wanting her to feel unsure about anything. I want this to be a special night, just for the two of us. I want to show her how much she means to me. If I can’t utter the words, the least I could do is express my feelings by treating her right. Might be the chicken’s way out but I can’t lay a bunch of seriousness on her right before I leave her forever. That’s not fair. To either her or me.
“Going out to dinner at some fancy restaurant.” The minute the words come out of her mouth she clamps her lips shut, like she didn’t mean to say that.
Why would she feel uncomfortable at a nice restaurant? Rich girls love expensive restaurants because rich girls love having money spent on them, whether it be through gifts or food or whatever else.
Though Lucy is the most refreshingly real rich girl I’ve ever met. She doesn’t seem to want anything from me material-wise. And she likes to shop at bargain stores. She’s always looking for a sale, not that we’ve gone shopping much. Which is strange in and of itself.
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