by Portia Moore
He knows this, too, knows exactly how far he can push me. “Wait, Rain,” he whispers, his breath hot against my wet, quivering flesh. “Not yet…”
I arch my back, gripping the silk fabric wrapped around my wrists, my hips writhing under his hands and mouth as he brings me higher and higher. “Now!” I hear him command, his mouth leaving me for only a second before delving between my legs again, his fingers thrusting inside of me.
For a moment, I can’t let go. I’m frightened of it, of the overwhelming sensation that’s about to come. And then I have no choice as it washes over me, in waves of pleasure so strong that all I can do is move against his hands, my nails scraping the leather headboard as I buck and writhe on the bed, his mouth and fingers never stopping for a second as he carries me…the first orgasm at the hands of someone else I’ve felt in such a long time.
I’m still quivering when he rises up on his knees, looking down at me. “Has anyone ever made you come before?” he asks darkly, his voice rough and husky with lust. I swallow hard and remember his hands, lips, and touches that gave me a glimpse of what making love was. But he doesn’t exist anymore, so I shake my head since I’m unable to speak.
“It won’t be the last time,” he promises. “Tonight is about making you see how beautiful you are, how desirable you are.” I see that he’s still rock-hard, thick and swollen with desire, and I realize that if anything, what he has just done to me has made him even more aroused.
He leans over me, one hand next to my face as he reaches down, bringing himself to press between my legs, the thick tip of it moving over the wet, sensitive flesh. It sends a shock of pleasure through my body. All of me still a raw, pleasurable nerve. And then he lets go as he pushes forward, the tip of him parting me as he begins to slide inside of me.
My eyes open wide. He’s thick and impossibly hard, bigger than anyone I’ve ever been with, but all I feel is pleasure. I push my hips up, wanting more of him, wanting all of him, but he moves with excruciating slowness, making sure that I feel each inch of him slide into me until he can’t go any furthur.
“Look at me, Rain,” he demands. He rises up on his knees, pushing my thighs apart so that I can see him sliding in and out of me. The sight of it makes me gasp as I begin to move with him, my body taking over as I feel myself begin to spiral towards another orgasm. As many times as you can, he’d said, and I realize I’m going to come again, soon. The pleasure of him sliding into me mixed with the sight of him, muscular and handsome, the expression on his face that tells me that he’s feeling the sensations that pulse through my body—it all blends together to push me higher than I’ve ever been before. He groans as he begins to speed up, his strokes still measured and sure. This isn’t frantic jackhammering, no rush to spill himself inside of me the last guy I had sex with did. Vincent is unconcerned with his own orgasm.
He reaches between us, his fingers brushing over that sensitive spot, making small circles as he thrusts. “Come for me again, Rain. I want to feel you come on me, around me.”
I gasp as he thrusts hard, again and again, his fingers toying with me until I know that at any second I will explode again. And I do, moaning his name and tossing my head, feeling myself squeeze around him. I hear him groan: “Oh fuck, Rain…” and the sound of the vulgarity on his lips is enough to send a fresh wave of spasms through me.
He fixes his gaze on my face as he speeds up, his expression one of lustful desire as he thrusts into me over and over. “I’m going to need this,” he says, “every night.”
He’s close, I can tell. I can feel the pleasure building in me again. He begins to pant, his hands hard on my hips as he plunges into me. I know that I’m going to go over the edge with him. “I’m going to come too, Vincent, oh my god, please, please, come with me, fill me up, oh god, Vincent!” I cry out his name again as I begin to shudder, and I hear him moan my name, over and over, his dick like iron as he thrusts into me once more and comes hard, his whole body rigid and shuddering as he spills himself inside of me, filling me up with the heat of it.
I feel like I’m made of water as he slides off of me, reaching for the ties at my wrists. I couldn’t have moved if my life depended on it. All I can do is stare at him and gasp, hardly able to believe what just happened.
“Come with me,” Vincent says, holding out his hand as he stands, still magnificently nude.
I would only have let one other man tell me what to do the way Vincent did, and I knew him longer than a few days. But somehow I can’t say no. What’s more, I want to do as he asks. He’s domineering and full of himself, I can tell, but he has also done everything but worship me moments before in bed, his entire focus giving me as much pleasure as I could stand. So I stand up, taking his hand and following him into the bathroom.
The master bath is everything I should have expected after what I had seen so far. The countertops are marble, the floors a matte black tile, warm beneath my feet. There is a glass-walled shower separate from a huge soaking tub with jets, and for a moment, I have a vivid image of Vincent and me together in the tub, his hands moving over me as I lay between his legs.
He leads me to the shower, turning the taps on as he turns to face me. “Stay the night?” It was a question, the first he’d asked since the restaurant, and it flatters me to think he’s still considering whether I want to do so or not. “I want you in bed with me tonight. I want to wake up to you tomorrow morning.”
For a moment, I waver. A part of me wants to stay. I want to sleep in that luxurious bed, see what he looks like in the morning, asleep and vulnerable. I want to know what he would talk about over breakfast. The other part of me is saying to leave, that something like this won’t last and it’d be better to leave now while the night has been perfect. But who am I kidding? I haven’t said no to him yet, and I won’t now.
“Alright,” I say. “I’ll stay.”
A satisfied smile spreads across his face. “Good,” he says simply, and pulls us into the shower.
The hot water feels glorious on my over-sensitized skin, and to my surprise, Vincent begins to wash me, pouring lavender-scented bodywash on a cloth and rubbing it in slow circles over me, taking extra time as he spreads it across my breasts and runs his hand down my stomach, reaching between my thighs. I feel a sharp dart of pleasure as his fingers run between my legs, and I grind against him. He shakes his head, laughing. “No more tonight, Rain,” he says indulgently. “Later.”
It’s a promise I hope he keeps.
He washes my hair, too, his fingers kneading my scalp as he runs the shampoo through my long hair. When I’m thoroughly showered, I step out and dry off with a thick, fluffy towel, and follow him back out to the bedroom.
This is the first time I’ve ever slept completely naked. It’s a night for firsts, I think as I slide between the soft sheets, watching him as he puts on a pair of tight boxer briefs, the black fabric hugging his muscular ass. He slides into bed next to me, and I feel once more for a moment that I’m outside of myself, watching a different girl lying in the luxurious bed, next to the handsome man who, for some inexplicable reason, seems to want to give her everything.
Enjoy it while it lasts, I think to myself.
Tomorrow it’ll be over, and I’ll go home, and he’ll never call again. Now he’s had what he wants, his curiosity is satisfied. He’ll be done slumming with me, and he’ll go back to his own type.
It’s the truth I think as my eyes grow heavy and I drift off to sleep. I’d be so naïve to think I could keep the attention of a man like Vincent for long, but I relish in the fact that I have it at least for now.
Chapter 12
Zach
Three years earlier
Rain and I have never fought like that. Never, in all of the time we’ve known each other.
It hurt like hell to watch her walk away like that, and I wonder for the first time if rejecting her is better for her or for me? It hurt seeing how much she wanted me to kiss her, to tell her I wanted her in a way I could
never have her. Having Rain in my life has been the only good constant thing I have. Being able to take care of someone, to do things I can’t for my mom, for my family.
I love Rain, I know that. And I love her enough to know what’s better for us. I’m a Rostov. My dad isn’t shit, his dad wasn’t shit, and most likely his dad treated his wife like crap. I want to be different, God I want to be, but my genetic track record is shit, and being sixteen with my hormones going crazy doesn’t help. So even if she doesn’t understand or thinks I’m what she wants, I know I’m not. She’ll be upset for a little while but she’ll get over it. She loves me—that’s something I’d bet my life on—and I won’t risk that for anything. Not even if it’s getting hard to see her and not notice the small curves she’s developed and be able to explore them, to do things to her to make her whimper, for me to be the first. But I can’t. I won’t.
When I get to my car at the end of the school day, Rain isn’t there. She hasn’t texted me either, and I spend the entire drive to Brigit’s house to drop her off almost entirely silent. I can tell that she knows why, and she’s aggravated by it, but I don’t have the energy to fight with her, too. Thankfully she seems to not want to talk about it either.
There’s no kiss when I drop her off, or even a goodbye. She just gets out of the car.
Great, I think as I drive home.
Life at home has become moderately more tolerable. Probably because when I turned sixteen, I picked up working on cars. It means spending a lot of time out in the garage, and since my dad has no interest in doing manual labor when he’s not at work, he leaves me alone. The money I toss his way probably helps. And since I don’t have to be inside my house, it means I don’t have to hear their arguments. The majority of them. It’s not that things have actually gotten better, it’s just that I’ve found ways to avoid dealing with it. It’s a skill I might have to start extending to other parts of my life.
I pull into the driveway.
Tomorrow is my seventeenth birthday. My mom tried to convince me to have friends over at the house and let her make food and bake a cake, but I refused that shit for obvious reasons. I know it hurt her feelings—but there’s no way I’m having friends over to potentially witness one of the fights between my parents. Instead, I tell her that I’d rather hang out with my friends at the local bowling alley and that we can have a nice family dinner that night to celebrate too. She was sort of happy as she could ever be, and took a huge weight off of my shoulders.
I have no idea if Rain is actually going to show up. It’ll be mostly just the guys and whatever chics they bring, as well as Brigit and Rain. Having the two of them in the same room is starting to feel more and more stressful, and I keep hoping that something will happen to fix the situation on its own, without my having to actually do anything about it. Like Rain finding another guy she likes, that’s nice to her. He sure as hell would have to be.
At three, when everyone is supposed to be there, she’s the only one who hasn’t shown. My heart plummets, thinking that she’s not going to come, that it’ll be her way of making a statement after our argument.
But then I hear the little bell as the door opens, and when I look up, my heart skips a beat as I see her walk in.
Rain looks prettier than I’ve ever seen her.
She’s wearing a frayed denim miniskirt and a cropped black tank top with a denim jacket thrown over it—and I immediately recognize it as my jacket, the one I gave her the first day we met and never got back. It would have been big on her then, but now it actually fits. She’s curled her hair, and I’m not sure if she’s wearing any makeup, but she looks like she’s glowing in the doorway. I’m fucking breathless as I stare at her. I have to remember that Brigit is coming back from getting us sodas at any moment and that Rain is just my friend.
I’m not supposed to have these feelings.
I told her just yesterday that there was never going to be anything between us.
“Hey Zach,” she says lightly as she approaches me.
“H-Hey,” I manage, smiling at her. “I didn’t know if you’d come.”
She looks momentarily wounded. “I wouldn’t miss your birthday, Zach.”
“You better not,” I tease her with a nudge.
“I’m sorry.” Rain bites her lip, and I can’t help but look down at her mouth. I always avoid it, always carefully look her in the eye. But my eyes flick downwards momentarily, and I hope she doesn’t notice. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset at you,” she continues. “How I feel…that’s not your problem. You’ve always been pretty clear that you’re not interested that way. I shouldn’t have put all that on you.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I say hurriedly. “I…I just don’t want you to be hurt, Rain. By anyone, especially. I’m just trying to—”
“Protect me. I know.” She laughs, but it’s dry. “You mean so much to me, Zach. Your friendship is more important to me than anything. I would be devastated if I lost you.”
“I know, I feel the same way. You mean a lot to me too…” She’s so close to me. I can smell her perfume, something candy-sweet and sugary. Like a cupcake. I breathe in and it’s shaky for a moment, and I open my mouth to say something, but I see Rain’s eyes flick down to my lips and back up.
I start to step back because if I don’t right now, my lips are going to be on her, her body pressed against mine, and I won’t give a damn about what’s right and what’s not.
“What’s going on?” I hear Brigit’s high voice behind me and wince, stepping back quickly.
“Rain and I were just talking,” I say, but I see from the expression on Brigit’s face that that’s not going to be enough this time.
“Talking? That fucking close?!” She sets our drinks down hard on the table, almost spilling them.
“You’ve always had a thing for her!” Brigit snaps. “I’m always second-best, always! You’re always going to care more about her than me, and I don’t know why! She’s cute, but she’s a fucking kid!” Her words are like ice, and I see Rain freeze.
“Brigit, calm the hell down!” I tell her, feeling my anger start to rise. Then I realize Brigit has tears in her eyes.
“I’m gonna go get something to eat,” Rain says before slinking off.
“It’s not that I care more,” I stammer, trying to save the situation. “I’ve known her for a long time.”
“And what? That means she gets more attention than your own girlfriend? Half the time when we talk, she comes up every other sentence! Oh, Rain likes this, oh Rain does that too, Rain Rain Rain! I’m so sick of hearing you talk about her!” Her eyes are wide now, furious. “Either you stop hanging out with her, or we’re done. I’m not doing this anymore, Zach.”
I’ve tried to be patient because I know it must be hard, having a boyfriend whose best friend is another girl, and one that looks like Rain, who is gorgeous but oblivious to it. But I’m not going to be given an ultimatum, and I’m not going to sacrifice my friendship with Rain for a girl I know I won’t be dating after high school.
“I’m not going to stop being friends with Rain,” I say tightly. “Stop being so fucking jealous.” I know I’m being a shit. Brigit has every right to feel how she does. She knows there’s something between me and Rain, she just doesn’t know I’d never act on it.
“Fuck you Zach! We’re done!”
“Fine. Best birthday present ever,” I say. I know I’m being a jerk but it’s my birthday, and she’s been a bitch to Rain.
“Fine!” She spins on her heel and storms out of the bowling alley, her phone already glued to her ear as she presumably calls someone to pick her up.
I see Rain hesitantly approaching out of the corner of my eye.
“Zach…” she says quietly. “What happened?”
I shrug. “We’re fucking done.” I’m less upset than I thought I would be. She’s pretty high-maintenance, as girlfriends go. And I don’t like being told what to do.
Rain’s eyes go wide. “It’s my fault…�
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“No,” I say quickly. “I mean…she wanted me to stop hanging out with you. But it’s not your fault. Don’t ever think that. Your friendship is more important to me than any girlfriend. It never would have lasted anyway. Don’t feel like you did anything wrong.”
I can see her face light up when I say that, and I realize then that more than her crush on me, more than any romantic feelings, she wants to feel important to me. Like she was just as important as when we first started hanging out together, when we had almost no one else.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t give in to it.
I teach Rain how to bowl all afternoon. Standing behind her, I help her line up the shot, and I’m fully aware of how she stiffens when my hand touches her waist, of how we’ve never really been this close to each other before in this way. She’s soft, her waist curving under my hand.
She makes a strike on her first try and I see her whole face light up as she comes skipping towards me, screaming with delight. She grabs a piece of pizza off of a paper plate and takes a big bite, and there’s a bit of sauce by her mouth. Without thinking, I reach out and wipe it away with my thumb, and her eyes widen as they meet mine.
I could kiss her now, with the neon lights of the bowling alley pulsing all around us, retrowave 80s music as our soundtrack. I can show her everything we are to each other in one second.
But instead, I just laugh and drop my hand.
I think about that later, at night alone in my room. The “family dinner” went terribly, as usual, with my father insulting my mother and her crying, and I’m glad I decided to have my friends celebrate somewhere else. That part of the day was the best birthday I’ve ever had.