Ruin Me: The Summer of Secrets: Part 1

by Christina Hart

  She pushes me against the wall in response, kissing me with a passion that leads me to believe that our lips meeting is the only sustenance she needs right now.

  She hasn’t kissed me like this more than a handful of times, most of which had occurred when she had a bit too much to drink and was feeling frisky. Her normally submissive persona has seemed to have been stripped away, now replaced by a ravenous woman with only one thing on her mind.

  She grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me toward her, then with her, as she backs away from the wall. She doesn’t take her lips off mine until she stops and spins us around, then pushes me on the couch.

  Her sudden aggressive stance has me worried that I might not even make it out of the gate, let alone to the show, seeing as once she left, so did my carnal desires. They were replaced only with an insatiable want for her return.

  To prevent this from occurring, I start doing what I always do in times like this. In my head, I start mentally disassembling the only love that’s never left me: My bike.

  But this time is different, because as I’m disassembling, she’s disrobing.

  And with every article of clothing that drops away, the picture of me removing bolts and fasteners also disappears. And now, all I can think about are her gentle curves and supple breasts that are on full display in front of me as she climbs into my lap.

  I feel myself straining against my jeans, the pressure mounting with each roll of her hips as she grinds herself against me. I put my hands around her waist and pull her firmly down onto me.

  I stop kissing her, pull her close, and whisper into her ear, “You have no idea how many nights the possibility of this never happening again haunted me. I need to feel you, Kitty. Right now.”

  And with that, I take control. I roll her off of me onto the couch and stand up, quickly undoing my leather belt and unbuttoning my jeans. I was never a fan of tight-fitting clothes, and in this moment I remember why.

  I kick my jeans and boxers off in one quick motion, not wasting any time. I need to be inside her. There’s nothing more I can think about. At this point, I don’t care if I last ten hours or ten seconds. I just need to feel her warmth enveloping me.

  She follows my lead, and I watch her undress. She slides her shorts down, revealing a lacy black thong underneath her fishnet stockings just before she kicks the shorts across the room.

  She knew this was gonna happen, and she dressed for the occasion.

  And my god, Kitty, you are the only woman I know that can look so good in so little.

  I can’t stand it any longer. I take up the space between us with a quickness, kneeling down in front of her and running my hands up her legs. The fishnet grazes against my fingertips as I work my way up to her waistband. I take a hold of her stockings and panties in one grip, and decide there’s no room for patience or a light touch. With one motion, I tear them from her body, hearing the lace and knit give way, like a sigh of defeat.

  Now, the sudden brutish urge has overtaken me, and Kitty’s prior control is no longer existent. I decide that the soft couch is no place for this, and I pull her to my face, inhaling the familiar scent that only comes when Kitty wants to come. Reluctantly, after a long exhale, my hands cup her lower back as I guide her down beside me.

  Almost as if in a trance, she allows me to lower her to the floor, something she’s never done before. Kitty always needed some sort of pedestal, even if was only a couch or a bed. And until now, I granted her that.

  But not tonight.

  As Kitty touches bottom, she moves to lie back. But I stop her, repositioning her on her hands and knees. She always insisted I was too big for her for this position, but what she never seemed to consider was the endless fantasy it would bring me, just by seeing her like this. With her normally reserved and bookish character now gone, she becomes my ultimate vision of a sexual goddess.

  I make my way behind her, grabbing a handful of her hair as I pull her toward me. I feel her quiver as my tip presses against her. She’s already wet. With a little more effort, I slide into that delicate area nestled between her thighs, inch by inch. She shudders before I’m fully inside of her, letting out a small squeal of surprise.

  Normally I hold back until I feel her relax enough to accommodate my length, but right now, I have to feel myself deep inside of her. I still have a handful of her hair, and I firmly draw her back upon me. Her body puts up a bit of resistance at first, unintentionally making it difficult to accommodate me all the way to my base. And I wonder, briefly, if she has been waiting for only me to fill her.

  After a few encouraging thrusts, her squeals become moans as she tightens around my shaft, and I know her well enough to know that she’s on the brink of coming. But I’m torn, because while I don’t want this to end so quickly, making Kitty come is damn near the closest to god that I’ve ever been.

  I increase the pace of my thrusts based on the noises she’s making, no longer worried if I’m being too rough due to how wet she is. I slide my hand out of her hair and onto the back of her neck, nudging her toward the carpet as her perky little ass juts up in the air. I look down and watch myself slide in and out of her, wondering how such a petite girl can handle me in such a feral state. At this point, she’s pressed face down, and I can feel myself grinding her into the carpet. I know this because my own knees are feeling the rug burn. But having Kitty tightly wrapped around me dulls any sense of discomfort.

  Her moans erupt into screams of pleasure, and she comes, hard, clenching around me.

  But I’m not done yet.

  As her body gives way, I roll her over onto her back. Another favorite position of mine, because with each thrust, I can watch her breasts rise and fall as she melts into a pool of pure satisfaction.

  After what seems like hours, and another successful orgasm on Kitty’s part, I feel myself approaching the edge of no return.

  “I’m gonna come,” I tell her.

  She wraps her legs tighter around me, and with the sultriest voice I’ve ever heard, she says, “Come for me, Joey.”

  10

  JULY 20, 1:37AM

  The shade of blue you refuse to wear,

  it would look so good on you.

  I wanted to cover you in remorse,

  paint your lips with apologies that never came.

  I wanted to forgive you.

  I wanted to cover you in remorse,

  Paint your lips with apologies that never came.

  This shade of blue you refuse to wear,

  it would look so good on you.

  But I can’t forgive you if you never ask me to.

  He pulls me closer in the shower as we’re rinsing off.

  I playfully back away. “You ripped my panties,” I tell him, stating the obvious.

  He laughs, and the sound is a gift, his smile making me remember the intense gaze he had just an hour and change prior.

  So different than this one now, so relaxed and easy. So…content.

  “I’ll buy you new ones. But there’s a catch. You have to promise I get to take each of them off you, at least once,” he says.

  I’m damn near panting at the thought of it. And I do what I always do when it comes to him. I give in. “Fine,” I tell him. “But only before the summer ends.”

  It’s my attempt to stop this before it begins. Before it goes too far.

  But has it already?

  Is this the start of a fresh break? A scar I’m picking at?

  Maybe…maybe this can just be about sex. Maybe we can just do what we’ve always been good at.

  Maybe I can lie to myself a little longer, if only to enjoy him. Here, in the water, I can’t count all the feelings. Maybe it’s better that way.

  He pulls me closer again and this time I let him.

  “You have to save at least one pair for the fall,” he whispers.

  I know I can’t promise that. So I say nothing. Because while I know I cannot allow myself to be consumed by him once again, I’m not strong enough to
deny him in this moment. Not after what just happened between us.

  I can wait to ruin this. He can wait to ruin me.

  Again.

  Because I know he will.

  He has proven capable of doing so. It’s one of his super powers, the masterful way he knows how to disarm and destroy me.

  I’m grateful he can’t read my thoughts, because his mind is still elsewhere as he speaks into my ear.

  “I love it when I make you come. When you come soft. When you come so hard you can’t speak. I love all of it,” he says.

  “And when I ask you to stop? So it’s not too much?”

  “It’s never too much,” he tells me, the shower water glistening off his face, dripping from his nose.

  He pulls my hips in to meet his and shuts me up before I can say anything else, bringing his lips to my own.

  But when we part, I can’t help it. The mention of the word love has veered me off course, already. “I don’t think love is supposed to be as intense as ours was,” I tell him. “I’ve read about it, still do. All the time. No books ever mention…this.”

  “We were never written about, Kitty.”

  With that, he grabs my hands and holds them still as he pulls me into him, pressing himself against me. And even with the shower water raining upon us, I know a certain wetness is strictly because of him.

  “How do you even know it was ever love between us?” I ask him bluntly, too physically fatigued to try to dance around the question that’s been burning in my mind for the last two years.

  “Love?” he says, like it’s something he’s never had to question. His hands slide over my hips, my thighs, as his head bends down to meet my other lips.

  “Love,” I repeat, like it’s foreign to him. I grab at his hair with my hands he’s now freed. Like he’s given me permission to do so.

  Like I’m the one in charge here.

  His tongue meets my opening, the one I can’t speak from. The one he speaks to most freely. Most regularly. Even when he isn’t trying.

  “If this isn’t love, I don’t know what the fuck is,” he says, before he starts his romantic assault on me.

  I tilt my head back, the shower steam hitting me with a force that tells me to shut the fuck up and enjoy this.

  And then, all the poetry I’ve written for him, all the words I’ve strewn together, they all come out through his motions.

  Through the way his tongue slowly circles my clit.

  Through the way he grabs my ass and slightly lifts me in the air, encouraging me to come deeper into his mouth.

  Through the way he moans as I come, like this is his art and I, the muse.

  Part of me wants to stop him. I want to stop him and ask him if this is the kind of love either of us want. The kind we need. Yearn for. Live for.

  I want to ask him if it’s the kind of love either of us deserve.

  But the climax I’m on the verge of, it doesn’t let me.

  It doesn’t let me stop him.

  Not when I want to.

  Not when I need to.

  Not even before I come so hard, that I think I might ruin his immaculate face.

  I just let him worship me.

  And in turn, I worship him. By the way I respond to him. By the way I need him so badly I think I might fucking die if he takes his beautiful mouth off of me.

  And it dawns on me, then. How being here, now, with him, simultaneously feels like everything has changed, yet nothing has changed.

  11

  JULY 20, 2:13AM

  I’m lying in bed with a naked Kitty draped over me, her one leg slung over me in that way she’s always preferred. Her breasts are against my ribs and part of my chest, her eyes fluttering closed as she drifts off to sleep.

  I’m studying her face, her curves. The way her fingers occasionally twitch as she fights sleep.

  But I’m not ready to close my eyes for the night. I’m not ready for this sight to dissipate behind the closed curtains of my eyelids.

  It’s a moment I have to remind myself is real. A moment I waited for, for so long. Too long. And as much as I don’t want to seem needy, or desperate, I fucking am. For her. And I need her to know, before she even attempts to sneak out in the middle of the night after freaking out about what just went down between us.

  Because that’s what Kitty does.

  She runs.

  And when anything overwhelms her, or scares her, she bolts the first chance she gets.

  “Kitty,” I whisper, my hands playing with her long brown hair.

  “Hm,” she says, eyes still closed, her hand resting on my stomach.

  “I need to know what this means to you,” I say, hating it. The way I sound like every hopeful chick that’s ever said that same exact thing to me after what I just considered a quick lay. My heart catches in my chest, hoping her next words are words in the same realm that I’m in.

  “Joey, let’s just go to sleep,” she says, after a pause that I notice. “It’s late.”

  I stop playing with her hair and grab her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s late but it’s not too late.”

  She finally opens her eyes and looks at me. “What are you getting at here?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, sitting up.

  “You want to know what I mean, or what this means?” she says, gesturing between us.

  “Both.”

  She sighs, frustrated. “Look, we’ve always had great chemistry. It’s undeniable. It’s been undeniable from the start. I don’t know, I saw you, and I just…”

  “What?” I say, cutting her off. “You just wanted to do this one more time, for old times’ sake? Or do you want to try again with us?”

  “I could never say just one more time. One more time with you would never be enough. I don’t know what the future holds, honestly. All I know is, I’m here for the summer. I’d like to spend it with you. Just…in secret.”

  “In secret?” I ask her, letting out a small laugh. “What, so, you’ll come over here to get laid real quick and then go back home? We don’t go out? We don’t…”

  “Joey, stop,” she says, pressing a finger to my lips. “My sisters would seriously go ape shit if they knew I was even here right now. I don’t want it to be a secret. We can go out sometimes. You just, you can’t come to the house. Or the bookstore. I’m serious. Promise me.”

  I groan out a sigh of my own. “Fine. But only because your sisters are crazy.”

  She laughs and slaps my arm. “They’re not crazy. They care about me. Maybe just a little…too much.”

  “You’re still not answering my question, though,” I remind her.

  “Which is?”

  “Us. What do you want to happen with us? Is this your way of telling me you want to try again? Because I do. I want that.”

  She hesitates before she responds. “I don’t know. Can we just, enjoy each other for now? And worry about the rest later?”

  I’m half tempted to tell her no. That it’s all or nothing. The same words she’s used on me in the past. I want to tell her that I want all of her or none of her.

  But I can’t, because it isn’t true.

  If Kitty needs to pretend this is just fun, that we’re not finally heading toward our future again, then I’ll let her live in that bubble. For now.

  “Sure,” I say. “We’ll worry about the rest later.”

  I watch her fall asleep, all the while, I’m worrying about it now.

  And then, it feels like I’ve only just blinked my eyes as I wake up in the morning.

  And Kitty is already gone.

  12

  JULY 20, 9:44AM

  Three orchids for three of the days you spent waiting to see me.

  Three hours for you to make me forget my own resolve.

  Flowers for a crimson dawn.

  A eulogy for my conviction.

  A testament to how far the slightest forgiveness can go.

  And I forgot to ask you,

  where does all
the bad go then?

  And where has all the good gone?

  As I wheel the cart of new releases that I need to stock to the front of our bookstore, I avoid the glaring and questioning gazes of my sisters and wait for the interrogation that’s sure to come.

  Lucy sits at the register, feet up on the front counter since no customers are in here this early. Sophie is standing beside her, doing some paperwork.

  “You never came home last night,” Lucy says.

  Here it comes.

  I keep my eyes on the books in front of me, busying my hands. “I told you not to wait up.”

  “Don’t you think we should at least know where you’re sleeping? And if you’re safe?” Lucy replies.

  I can feel her eyes burning holes into my back. Damn Lucy with her trick questions and making me feel guilty. But she’s right. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I was okay. But you guys need to remember that I’m nineteen now. You don’t need to know my every whereabout.”

  Sophie clears her throat, a common thing she does to get my attention when she thinks I’m avoiding a subject.

  “Look at me,” Sophie says.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I turn around defensively and put my hands on my hips, looking her straight in the eye.

  “Were you with Joey?” Sophie asks, not taking the long way there.

  I look back at the books I was stocking before I answer, knowing I can’t look at her if I have to lie to her. “This conversation is over. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “We had to watch you become a broken goddamn mess after you ended it with him. It took too long to pick up the pieces. I already said it, but I’ll say it again, and from experience, mind you. You should never return to an old high school love. You need to leave that shit in the past, where it belongs. Do you want to be in love with some dude headed for jail like I was? I swear to god, Kitty, I won’t let you go down that road,” Sophie warns.