“Don’t,” she said, her voice pleading with me.
But I couldn’t stop. I had to speak to her; I had to make her understand how I felt about her. The way she’d looked after me—it made me feel so much. She had to know; I had to tell her. I knew it wouldn’t make any difference, that there was no way on earth she could want a fuck-up like me, but I had to say the words.
I stood up, still holding her hand.
“I love you, Caroline.”
She gasped, and I closed my eyes, waiting for her rejection.
But it didn’t come.
Amazed, surprised, dumbfounded, I felt her hand on my cheek, then brushing over the fine bristles of my hair and around to the back of my neck, pulling my head towards her.
I couldn’t believe what was happening. She wanted me? Me?
It was the moment that I’d been dreaming about since she came back. I kissed her, thrilled and disbelieving that she was responding to me.
I felt her tongue on my lip and I opened my mouth gratefully, feeling an intense wave of pleasure as her tongue stroked mine.
I couldn’t believe this beautiful, amazing, wonderful, kind woman was kissing me, responding to me, telling me that she felt the same. That she wanted me, despite everything.
My soul soared, and happiness like I’d never known pulsed through me.
She gripped my neck with one hand, and slid her fingers down my throat, to my chest.
Oh, God, how good that felt. I wanted her: I really fucking wanted her.
My hands hovered over her waist, and when she didn’t stop me, I locked them around her, pulling her small body in tight against mine.
Feeling her soft and warm against me nearly sent me over the edge. I groaned into her mouth and couldn’t help pushing my hips against her.
Suddenly she stepped away, and my arms fell to my sides. Shit, no! I didn’t understand: had I got it wrong?
But then I realized she was tugging on the hem of my sweatshirt. She pulled it over my head and my body felt like it was on fire. I was desperate to touch her, to feel her soft skin against mine, but I could sense she was conflicted.
I begged her silently: love me, Caro. Love me, please.
She ran her fingers underneath my t-shirt, and I shivered at her touch. Then she ripped it off and brushed her hands over my chest. If I’d died then, I’d have thought all my dreams had come true.
When I felt her fingers on the zipper of my jeans, stroking my hard cock, I nearly came in my pants. I gasped, and my eyes flew open.
She pulled me towards her and continued stroking me. I moaned loudly, and she sighed into my chest.
I didn’t even know my hands were moving, until they were resting on her waist again. But when she kissed me, I didn’t hold back. This was my one chance, my only chance.
I tightened my grip around her, and moaned loudly when she slid her hand into the front of my jeans.
Holy shit! That felt good—her hand around me.
“Undo my zipper,” she said.
It took a moment for me to understand what she was telling me; my brain had left the building. She turned around and I pulled down the zipper of her dress, my hands shaking, this time from desire, from pure, physical need. I needed her. I fucking needed her. I wanted her—I wanted it all.
The dress fluttered to the floor and she turned around to look at me. My eyes slid from her face, to her breasts, and suddenly I was finding it hard to breathe.
I stepped towards her again, my hands moving from her hips to her waist; I really wanted to run my hands over her whole body, to touch her breasts, taste her soft, beautiful skin.
“Yes. Touch me,” she whispered, as if she could read my mind.
I swallowed as heat coursed through me, then, slowly, carefully, she lifted my right hand to her breast, moving my fingers in a slow circle. She shivered beneath my touch, and the sensation of flesh on flesh scorched me.
I curled my free hand behind her, slowly drifting upwards, then pressed the palm flat against her spine. I kissed her again, bewitched by the way her tongue tasted, the way it moved against mine.
“Kick off your shoes. I want to undress you.”
I toed off my sneakers and took a deep breath when she undid the button on my pants. I stared down at her, stunned, as she unzipped my jeans and pushed the denim to the floor.
She stood up slowly, then started to stroke my cock.
It was almost too much. Complete fucking overload.
I felt my entire body shudder, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut, trying to find some way to cope with the sensations flooding through me.
I’d thought about sex a lot over the last four or five years, wondering what is was like with a woman, wondering who and when and where, thinking about all the things I could do, that my body was programmed to do. Ches and I had been through my dad’s entire porn collection. But nothing compared to this. My brain was flooded, my body on fire. I could barely see straight, let alone think; it was all movement, touch and sensation—and I was lost.
Her hands left me, and my eyes snapped open. She was undoing her bra, and my breath caught in my throat. She was so fucking beautiful. At that moment, I wanted to give her the sun and the stars; I wanted to give her myself, body and soul.
Take me, Caro, I’m yours.
She held out her hand towards me, and then I knew she wanted the same. I couldn’t help myself: I was like a fucking barbarian: touching her everywhere, tasting her skin, feeling her heat.
Her hand wrapped around my cock again, and I cried out.
It was too much. Too much. I came in her hand, pulsing streams of cum down her thigh.
Fuck, no! Oh God! Oh God, no! NO!
I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t fucking bear it. I didn’t want her of all people, looking at me with such pity in her eyes.
I turned away and felt my knees buckle.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
Stupid. Useless. Pathetic. Miserable fucking…
I hid my face in my hands, unable to look at her. I thought she’d tell me to get the fuck out. But she didn’t. I waited for her to say the words. They never came.
“No, don’t. It doesn’t matter. It’s okay.”
I could hear her talking to me, but I could barely understand what she was saying. She kept stroking my back, whispering to me.
“Sebastian, it’s okay. Sebastian. Look at me.”
But I couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered again.
Then she grabbed hold of my hand, tugging gently.
“Come on. Come.”
She tugged on my hand again, but I couldn’t work out what she wanted me to do. I followed her, filled with confusion, humiliated and miserable.
She pulled me into the bedroom, gently pushing me onto the bed.
“Lie down.”
I lay back, watching her carefully as she walked around the bed to lie next to me. She pulled up the sheets and I felt her gentle fingers on my cheek. Her kisses fluttered across my face and lips, then down my throat.
I could feel her silky hair drifting across my chest, and I felt a sort of peace that surprised me, filled me and freed me.
She wasn’t rejecting me. She was giving me another chance. Because she was beautiful and kind and she knew I needed her.
I ran my hand down her arm and she smiled. Cautiously, I lifted my hand to her breast and circled the nipple with my thumb, watching fascinated as it formed into a hard little bud that I was longing to taste.
She gasped, and I dropped my hand away.
“No, don’t stop.”
She wanted me to touch her.
She continued kissing me across my chest and down to my stomach, and I knew I was getting hard again. Of course I was hard. She was so amazing. Her touch, the way her body felt, the way her body felt beneath my fingers.
She placed a gentle kiss on the tip of my cock, and a long, drawn-out sigh of pleasure escaped me. She smiled, and twined her fingers throu
gh mine, moving them down to her thighs.
“You can touch me,” she said, quietly.
She was letting me touch her pussy. She wanted me to touch her pussy. Fuck, she was so wet! My fingers glided in and out, circling her clit with my thumb.
“Yes, that’s right,” she groaned. “Like that.”
Hearing her turned on like that, wanting me was fucking intense.
“Slowly: yes, in and out.”
I stretched to kiss her throat, watching her whole body flush, responding to my fingers inside her.
She touched my cock again, then sat up suddenly. I stopped, staring at her in panic.
Had I done something wrong? Was she upset with me?
When she kissed me roughly, I groaned into her mouth. She pushed her body onto my hand, and I moved my fingers quickly. Suddenly, I felt her body pulsing around my fingers.
It was the most intense, amazing fucking experience, feeling her come around my hand.
She lay back, quiet, her eyes closed.
“Are you okay?” I asked, begging her to say that she was.
She hesitated, and I felt my heart shudder.
“Yes,” she whispered, at last. “Very okay. Very, very okay.”
I did that. I made her feel that. I felt like I should get a fucking medal.
Then she opened her eyes and gazed up at me, a slight smile on her face.
“Now your turn,” she said.
What? Oh, fucking yes!
When she knelt across me, I groaned in anticipation. She grabbed my cock and as she positioned herself above me, I felt myself slide inside her. So warm, so wet, so tight.
Holy shit! Fuck! That felt good. That felt fucking amazing. I never wanted to leave this place. It felt right; it felt like home.
This was my woman, and we were making love. Fuck, I loved her so much.
She sat up and leaned back, placing my hands against the base of her belly.
“Can you feel yourself inside me?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I can.”
Fuck! I didn’t even know that was possible, but I could. I could feel a thick bulge inside her — I could feel me inside her.
I must have looked like a fucking idiot, staring at her with my mouth open, but the heat in her eyes made me feel like a man.
She leaned forward again, her hands resting on my chest, moving her hips up and down in a steady rhythm. I pushed my head back into the pillow, unable to prevent my body from thrusting into hers, pushing myself deep inside her.
And suddenly I couldn’t stop. I started moving faster, feeling another orgasm build, a tightening in my balls, flickers of fire running up my spine.
My eyes blinked open and widened as I stared at her face, her fucking beautiful face, riding me, her expression wild and free, her head thrown back. When her eyes locked on mine, I came hard, my body shuddering inside her.
Un-fucking-believable!
She collapsed onto my chest and we lay there for several minutes. When she slid off me, I felt the loss of her immediately. I wanted nothing more than to be inside her again, feeling her body around me, feeling the intensity of her passion.
God, she was so beautiful. I leaned up on my elbow so I could see her properly.
She opened one eye and looked at me, her expression soft and warm.
“Hi,” she said, a smile twitching at the corner of her lips. “You okay?”
I nodded, unable to find the words. “That was … that was…”
“Yes, it was,” she said, still smiling.
I couldn’t explain what I was feeling: so many emotions were surging through me. I’d waited longer than most guys I knew to do it, and I was suddenly really glad I had; glad that I’d done it with her. It had been the most amazing experience of my life. I felt alive, like she’d taught me to breathe.
She stroked my cheek, and I leaned into her hand with a sigh. I kissed her palm and said the words that were rushing through me.
“I love you, Caroline. I always have. My whole life.”
I meant every fucking word.
She smiled and laughed gently. I knew she wasn’t laughing at me. She looked happy.
“That’s a very long time,” she said, raising one eyebrow. “You’re only 18—your whole life isn’t that much, really.”
I smiled. “It feels like it sometimes. Anyway, I’m not 18 for another four months; I’ll let you know then.”
Her expression changed immediately.
“What?” she gasped. “You … you’re only seventeen?”
I nodded, not sure why she was so upset.
“For God’s sake, Sebastian! Seventeen?”
My mouth went dry. “What’s the matter?”
She refused to look at me, throwing an arm over her eyes.
I started to feel desperate. Why wouldn’t she look at me?
“Please, Caroline. You’re scaring me.”
She moved her arm and glared at me, her expression almost hateful. I felt my heart jolt with the shock. With pain.
When she finally spoke, she spat the words at me.
“The matter, Sebastian, is that you’re a minor. What we’ve just done … what I’ve just done … it’s against the law. It’s a felony, for God’s sake!”
Oh. Was that all?
“But I love you.”
Simple. See how easy it is?
But she didn’t look happy.
“Sebastian: it’s statutory rape! Do you know what that means? I could go to prison. If anyone found out…”
Fuck, no! That can’t be right!
“I won’t tell anyone. I love…”
“Don’t say it! Do not say it!” she yelled the words, and it was just as if she’d hit me. I couldn’t understand what was wrong. I wasn’t going to tell anyone—tonight had been the best night of my whole life. I didn’t want her to feel bad about it, just because I was a few weeks shy of my eighteenth birthday. Nobody cared about that shit. Half the kids in my school were fucking each other. You couldn’t go to a football game without tripping over couples screwing behind the bleachers.
Suddenly, she sat up and ran to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet as if she was going to be sick. I leapt off the bed, standing behind her, afraid to see her reaction.
If you’d just let me hold you!
“Caroline, please.”
But she held out her hand like a traffic cop. She didn’t want me.
She didn’t want me!
“Please!” I knew my voice was begging, begging her. “Oh, God, please, Caroline!”
I tried to hold her, but she pushed past me.
“No!” she shouted.
She collapsed onto the bed, her whole body shuddering.
“What have I done? What have I done?”
She repeated the words over and over, then hid her head in her hands.
Slowly, I sat down next to her, trying to find the words to explain how I felt; trying to find some way to show her that it was okay.
“I’m not sorry,” I whispered. “That was the best experience of my whole life. I love you; I can’t help it.”
I felt relieved when she let me pull her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her, stroking her arms and kissing her hair.
But then she sat up and pushed me away. Again.
“I apologize, Sebastian. It isn’t your fault. Please forgive my … behavior.” Her voice was so cold, a shiver of terror ran through me. “I think you’d better leave now.”
Oh God, no! NO!
“Please. Don’t send me away.”
But she didn’t reply. She didn’t reply because she didn’t want me.
The world crashed around me and I thought I was going to pass out. My heart was hammering in my chest, and my vision was blurred. Was I crying? I touched my face, amazed to find that my cheeks were wet.
Her body was turned away from me, stiff and unyielding.
Moving as if in a dream, I walked into the bathroom and dressed slowly. By the time I’d pulled on my sw
eatshirt, she’d already gone. The bedroom was empty, and only the rumpled sheets showed that my world had just imploded.
I made it down the stairs without breaking, but when I saw her, standing in the kitchen, her face softened and she started to cry.
“Oh, Sebastian!”
Half a heartbeat later, she was in my arms, her cheek against my chest, and she let me stroke her hair.
Oh, God, just let me hold you, Caro. Please don’t send me away.
“Don’t be sad, Caroline, I love you. It’ll be okay.”
She started laughing, her hiccupping giggles mixing in with gasps and cries. She stared up at me, so beautiful, and I wiped away her tears with my thumbs, heartbroken that I’d made her feel like this.
I had to show her how I felt; I had to let her know that it was going to be okay—that we’d be okay. I opened my mouth to speak, but it was too late.
We heard the car at the same time.
“David!”
That fucker.
I could hear the panic in her voice.
“You have to go! Quickly! Out through the backyard. Go!”
I turned to run to the door, then skidded to a halt. “When will I see you again?”
“I don’t know! Go! Go!”
I was desperate.
“Promise I’ll see you again! Promise me!”
“Okay, I promise!” she said, staring horrified at the front door.
I pulled her to me, kissing her fiercely. My woman. And then I ran.
I’d only gotten as far as the fence at the bottom of her yard, when I stopped. This was wrong, so wrong. What if she needed me? What if he’d come home because he knew? What if he hurt her? I had to stay.
I stood in the shadows, staring up at the light in her window.
My body was tense, my hands welded into fists at my side. I couldn’t leave her with him. I loved her, she loved me. We were supposed to be together. This was wrong.
“Caroline,” I whispered. “I love you.”
I’d find a fucking way for us to be together. No one would stop us.
LONG TIME LIVING
“He’s a mess, Mom.”“I know.”
“Yeah … but I’m really worried about him.”
She gave me a look—the one that said, What aren’t you telling me?
The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline Page 80