Birthday Girl

by Penelope Douglas

  She finally turns and looks up at me, nodding calmly. “I know,” she says softly. “So you have to lose me. I get it. I don’t want to hurt him, either.”

  She spins around again to open the door, but my head falls forward into her neck, and my eyes close. She’s like water slipping through my fingers, and I’m dying here.

  “I’m falling for you,” I whisper.

  Slowly, she turns around again, and I don’t know if I should’ve told her that, but I raise my weary eyes, taking in her quiet expression. Her eyes look equally floored and something caught between desire and struggle to hold back.

  “I knew you were out there somewhere,” I tell her, quirking a sad smile. “The girlfriends, women I dated, Cole’s mother…. I never wanted to marry anyone, because they weren’t what I was looking for. I had started to think I had my sights set too high, and you didn’t exist.” I clasp the back of her neck and run my thumbs down her throat. “Turns out my dream girl belongs to the one person it would kill me to hurt.”

  Tears well in her eyes, and I bring her in, my lips meeting her forehead.

  “I don’t mean to scare you,” I go on. “But you kind of scare me, because I want you like I need air, and…”

  She nods. “And complications,” she finishes for me.

  Pulling back, she looks away, and neither one of us are sure what to do next. The problem is there to stay.

  “I needed time to think tonight,” I explain. “I’m sorry I stood you up.”

  “And what did you figure out?” She drops her eyes, pulling at my fucking heart. “With all your thinking?”

  I don’t hesitate, because I know I can’t stop. “That I can put off feeling guilty until tomorrow.”

  I snatch up her lips and kiss her hard, feeling her slowly melt into me and pressing her body to mine. Heat floods through me, and I grow hard, moving my hands around her back, gripping her ass and lifting her leg by the back of the knee. I trail kisses over her cheek and down her neck, and she lets her head fall back, giving me free rein as I press her into the car and nibble her throat and collar bone.

  “Pike, someone will see us,” she pleads.

  But I’m so damn hungry for this. The strap of her top falls down her arm, and I pull the cup off her breast and dive down, taking a mouthful of her flesh, nipple and all, in my mouth.

  She gasps. “Pike. Oh, God….”

  She moans as I kiss and suck on her, nibbling on the pebbled skin of her nipple.

  “Jesus, we gotta get home,” I groan. “Or I’m going to fuck you right here.”

  “Hey, Pike,” someone calls.

  I pop up, Jordan yelps, and I wrap my arms around her as she tucks herself into my chest, trying to hide her barely clothed body.

  “Shit,” I growl and turn my head, seeing Ben Lovell in his police car, idling right next to us. How did we not hear him drive up?

  “Ben,” I say, breathing hard. “What the hell?”

  He’s doing a lousy job of hiding his amusement as he answers, “Just doing my rounds, man,” he says. “Is that Chip Hadley’s girl you got there?”

  “None of your business.” I shift, trying to make sure Jordan is out of his view.

  But he still tries to peer over at her. “You okay, honey?” he asks, still smiling.

  She hugs her arms to her body, covering her nakedness as she folds her smile between her teeth. “Um, yes, sir.”

  He chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “Goddamn,” he mumbles under his breath, shifting his car into Drive and slowly moving on.

  I wait for him to leave the parking lot before I turn to Jordan. “Don’t worry. He’ll keep quiet.”

  Lovell isn’t a gossip.

  She quickly pulls up the strap of her top and crosses her arms over her chest, looking around nervously.

  “Come on.” I take her hand, leading her to my truck. “Let’s go home and go for a swim.”

  “Naked?” she taunts.

  I pull open her door for her, shaking my head. “No,” I reply. “Wear the shells. I’ve been dying for the chance to peel that suit off you.”

  She smiles and climbs in the seat, and I walk around the car, opening my door. She takes out her phone, probably texting her sister to let her know she’s leaving, and I start the engine, kicking it into gear.

  Before we’re even out of the parking lot, she crawls up next to me and starts nibbling on my neck.

  “Speaking of suits…” she says, sliding a hand inside my jacket and caressing my chest. “I could get used to this look on you.”

  “Don’t,” I warn. “It’s only for special occasions.”

  “And I’m a special occasion?”

  “I think you know you are,” I tease. “I don’t widen my comfort zone for just anyone.”

  I flash her a smirk, not the least bit annoyed she’s flipped my whole carefully constructed, boring world upside down. I’m doing things I wouldn’t normally do just to please her, but she’s also making me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. Some of them, never. I actually found myself entertaining a list in my head today of all the things I want to do with her. Take her to baseball games and on road trips, and I actually sifted through fucking eBay today for 80’s cassette tapes I thought I could surprise her with, like I’ll still be around for the holidays and her birthday next year, for crying out loud.

  She makes me excited for everything to come. Whatever that is.

  I turn to her, trying to keep one eye on the road and kiss her at the same time, but I just end up laughing.

  “Buckle up. You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

  She plops back on her ass and scoots over, pulling on her seatbelt.

  “Oh,” I say, glancing at her, “and I know Mick wants to hire you. You’re not working there. You got that?”

  She rests her head back on the seat, staring out the windshield. “Oh, are you laying down the law now?”

  “I don’t like worrying. This gets settled now.”

  I don’t really think she’s serious, but I like things carved in stone.

  She just shrugs. “My sister makes good money. She’s not hurting anyone, and I’m not letting anyone support me.” She pauses and then continues. “I guess I’ll do what I have to do. I don’t really need your permission, you know?”

  I dig in my eyebrows, the irritation of this situation crawling up my back.

  But then I remember how hard she had to be pulled on stage tonight, obviously deciding that a wet T-shirt contest was not for her, no matter if she had gotten dressed for it or not.

  I let out a little snort, remembering the way she protested. “I don’t even know what I’m concerned about,” I say, my voice thick with humor. “You’re a good girl. You don’t have what it takes to work there.”

  “I’m not a girl.”

  I press my lips together to stop smiling, but it’s hard. I know, I know, she’s a woman.

  “And if Dutch or that little prick Jay or any of the guys who work for me come in?” I press. “You gonna be able to wear a bikini behind the bar and serve them drinks, or even worse, take off your clothes and dance for them? Let them use you to get off? Sit in their laps and rub up on them for forty bucks?”

  I can’t help but laugh under my breath at the ridiculous notion. If she actually thinks about it and mentally puts herself in that situation, she’ll know it’s absurd.

  She turns her head toward me. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “I’m saying I know you,” I tell her, evening out my tone. “You and I both know you don’t have the guts any more than I would, so let’s stop wasting time arguing about something that will never happen.”

  She faces forward and turns silent, but I see her jaw tense as she stares out the windshield. Assuming I know her mind more than she does is probably condescending, but she’s acting childish, keeping up this pretense. She has more common sense than that, and I don’t like games. She knows she would never be able to deal with those customers, and she definitel
y can’t strip and dance naked. She’d probably be so embarrassed to be stared at she’d break into tears.

  Seven minutes later, though, I pull into the driveway, and she hops out before I’ve even killed the engine.

  “Jordan?” I call, swinging my door open.

  What the hell? We’re not fighting again, are we?

  But she glances over her shoulder as she walks toward the porch. “I’m just gonna get in my swimsuit.”

  I stand there, twirling the keyring on my finger. Oooookay.

  Awareness pricks on the back of my neck, and I turn my head, scanning the neighborhood for Cole’s car or his mother’s. Then I dart my gaze over the windows of nearby houses for peeled-back curtains or movement.

  I’m sure there’s talk on the block by now.

  People notice things, and Cole is rarely here, while his girlfriend and I are constantly together. It won’t take long for people to come to their own conclusions.

  By the time I make it into the house, Jordan is nowhere to be seen. Trailing upstairs, I pass her closed bedroom door and head to my room to change into swim shorts. She’s still in her room when I come out, and I head back downstairs to grab some water bottles and turn on the backyard lights. The pool lights up, and I turn on the radio affixed underneath the cabinet, some chick singing about Guys My Age already playing on the station Jordan has it tuned to.

  My phone beeps with an unfamiliar ring, and I walk over to the island and pick it up.

  Jordan. Why is she FaceTiming me?

  Answering, I see her appear on the screen, but she’s looking down at me, like her phone

  is propped up on something lower than her. Like her desk. Her hair drapes around her, and I can’t really see anything else other than the glow of the overhead light.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, carrying the phone into the living room.

  But she remains silent.

  I sit down on the couch, leaning my elbows on my knees and watching her. A small smile plays on her lips, and she moves her head left and then right, and I can tell she’s toying with me. She stands up straight, and I lose sight of her face, but her beautiful body comes into view, and I see that she’s wearing the shell bikini.

  My heart skips a beat, and I have to fight back a smile. Her breasts bulge outside of the little pink fabric, and the thin strings look so delicate on her tan skin. I want to ask her to turn around, but I’d rather just have her down here.

  The screen jostles, and I see she’s repositioning the phone farther back, and when she comes into view again, I can see part of the desk, her body, and her face now. She leans into the desk, eyeing me with a flirty look, her arms pressing into her body and, coincidentally, her breasts, too.

  I quirk a smile. “Yes, Jordan?”

  “I’m not a kid,” she says, her smile suddenly disappearing.

  A feeling of trepidation courses through me, and I knew this was too good to be true. She’s teasing me, and she’s not coming down now.

  I sigh and lay back on the couch. “Then stop acting like one,” I reply.

  She stares down, pinning me with her defiant eyes. “I’m not a kid,” she says again.

  And I watch as she reaches one hand behind her neck and the other behind her back and pulls both strings, the pathetic little pieces of fabric falling off her body and to the floor.

  I swallow a hard lump at the sight of her. I was going to do that, dammit.

  Her hard nipples stand out at me, and the skin on my palms buzz with the memory of her in my hands. My stomach flips, and my cock is swelling with need already.

  Please don’t do this to me.

  But I can’t look away.

  I can’t hear the music in her room, or maybe she’s hearing mine in the kitchen, but she starts swaying a little bit and rocking her hips, closing her eyes and running her hands up, down, and all over her body, face and hair. She looks like dessert.

  Biting her bottom lip, she plays with me, caressing her tits and slipping her hands down her stomach and playing with the hem of her bottoms, threatening to pull them down.

  She taunts me with her eyes and the promise of seeing something good. Like a stripper.

  Realization hits, and I finally know what she’s doing.

  I shake my head, my body on fire for her. “You can’t do it,” I tease.

  She can’t take off her clothes and dance.

  “You’re right,” she says, turning around and looking at me over her shoulder. “I can’t do it. I’m just a little girl, right? A silly, little girl.”

  She faces me again, giving me a coy smile as she tilts the screen down, and I notice that she’s straddling the rounded corner of the desk. Still standing, she places one hand on the desk and the other one up on the wall, I think, with the corner of the wooden desk resting between her legs.

  And I watch as she slowly starts humping it. Her hips roll and her stomach fans in and out as her ass moves and grinds over the tabletop, and I can hear the friction of the fabric over her pussy rubbing against the wood.

  Oh, Jesus. My chest rises and falls faster as I watch her do the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen. God, I love watching her. Her tits sway with the movement, bouncing a little when she starts going harder, and my mouth has gone so dry I can’t swallow.

  “You wanna see me do this?” she teases, her big eyes telling me she knows damn well I like what I’m seeing.

  “Stop fucking around and get down here.”

  She drops her head back instead, running her fingers down her face and body, cupping a breast and squeezing it before trailing the hand down her stomach.

  “I told you I had a vibrator,” she says, looking at me again. “I don’t use it, though.” She increases her speed, and I can hear that the grinding has gotten harder. “I like to be in control. I like to work for it, like I’m fucking a real one.”

  I lick my lips. “Jordan…”

  “Shhh….”

  She opens her mouth and moans and then lifts a knee, placing it on the desk to widen her legs. Sweat cools my brow, and I sit up, leaning forward again.

  “I like you watching me,” she says. “You’ve always watched me, haven’t you? Always wanted to have your fun with me.”

  I falter, knowing what she says is true. I’ve wanted her since the first time I saw her.

  “It’s okay,” she whispers. “I always knew, and I always liked it. Keep watching me, Mr. Lawson.”

  I swallow, my mouth still so dry. “I am,” I breathe out.

  “Oh, God,” she moans.

  My eyes burn, and I’m desperate to blink, but I can’t take my gaze off her. I can almost feel it. Like the corner of the desk is my fingers she’s fucking, and her soft flesh is grinding on my hand. Or my fucking mouth, I don’t care. I’ve never been so jealous of an inanimate object.

  “Move the phone to the bed,” I tell her. “I want to see you from behind.”

  She slows her movements, shaking and breathing hard, and I can tell I caught her just as she was chasing her orgasm.

  Oh, well, she’ll have to work harder to get it back again.

  Walking the phone to the bed, she props it up against something and quickly looks back and forth between the screen and the desk to make sure I have her in view, and then walks back to the desk corner.

  Running her fingers through her hair, she glances at me over her shoulder, smirking. I tighten my fist, anxious for the feel of that perky ass.

  But before she lifts her knee again, she slips her fingers under the hem of her bikini bottoms and slides them down just below her ass. And she leaves them there. Planting her hands on the desktop, she leans over it, lifts her knee, and arches her back for me, jutting out her ass as she starts dry humping the corner of the desk again.

  Her behind, her hair falling down her back, her way of moving and taunting…. I reach down and adjust my cock, now painfully stiff and ready. To have this view of her, I’m dying.

  “Mmmm, that’s what I like,” she pant
s, meeting my eyes over her shoulder. “Watch me. Watch me fuck for you. I’ll do whatever you say. It’s all for you.”

  She goes harder, stronger, and faster, and I’m not sure if I want her pussy in my mouth or around my dick first. I’m taking her from behind tonight. I have to have her like this.

  “Jordan…” The phone cracks in my hand.

  “You like it?” she taunts. “You like when I play with myself for you?”

  “Baby.” I rise from the couch.

  I need her.

  “Mmm, I like you watching,” she groans. “Am I being good now?”

  I don’t take my eyes off her as I climb the stairs.

  “I wish there were ten more of you watching me,” she says, “wanting me.”

  If there were any more of me, she’d have a huge problem tonight.

  “Pike, I’m so wet. You could slide right into me.”

  My dick jerks and pulses, and I reach her door and twist the handle.

  “You like it?” She pumps faster. “I’m so hot and wet for you.”

  The door’s locked, and I jiggle the handle, dying to get inside.

  “Jordan?” I call, my patience non-existent. “Open the door.”

  “Oh, Pike. Oh, God.”

  I look down at the screen again, seeing her hair damn-near touching her ass as she throws her head back and fucks the desk. God, her ass…

  “More, more, more, more…” she whimpers. “I’m coming. Oh, God. Yes!”

  “Jordan, shit…” I yank at the door, ready to knock it down. “Open the door.”

  Don’t come without me.

  “Fuck me!” she cries out, moaning and whimpering. “Yes! Yes…yes…yes.”

  Her voice gets lower and calmer as she rides it out, coming on the other side of the door and finishing without me.

  “Jordan?”

  Goddammit, I don’t want her satisfied yet.

  But the door doesn’t open, and when I look at the phone, her movements have slowed, just the barest grinding and little sounds out of her as she finishes herself off. I’m going to bend her over that fucking desk right now.

  “Jordan, Jesus, open the door,” I growl.

  She straightens, putting her foot back on the floor and pulling her bikini bottoms back on. Walking over to the bed, she leans down and meets my eyes, a dreamy look on her face.