Falling Under

by Jasinda Wilder

  She blushes, but her eyes go to the come on my stomach. "I love your cock, Oz." She giggles, and then goes serious. "I do, for real. I love the way it feels in my hands. I even like the way it tastes and feels in my mouth. Is that weird?"

  I shrug. "Nothing's weird. It is what it is. Everyone's different. I like the way you taste, too, babe. I love the way your pussy tastes."

  She blushes even harder and buries her face in my neck. "God, Oz, I'm blushing so hard I'm gonna burst into flames in a second." She peeks up at me, looking at me through her shielded hands. "You really do?"

  I nod. "Yeah, I do. A lot."

  "What's it taste like?"

  I frown. "I don't know how to describe it. Kind of...musky? A little sweet, a little sour. I don't know. That's not right." I slide my finger down to her cleft and swipe through her nether lips, finding her wet again. I drag my finger through her lips again, deeper, letting her essence slick my index finger. Then, with her eyes wide and nervous on mine, I put my finger into my mouth. "Mmmm. Yeah. Tasty. Can't explain the way it tastes, though."

  "Oh, my god, Oz. You're so crazy." She blinks at me, grinning.

  I slide my finger into her again, and this time I bring it to her lips. "Taste it. Taste yourself."

  She locks her eyes on me, and then, with only a slight hesitation, opens her mouth and closes her lips around my finger. Jesus, I feel my cock twitch and tighten at the way she slides her mouth off my finger, erotic, teasing, tempting. Her eyes widen as she tastes herself, and then a smile curves her lips. She puts two fingers to my belly, smearing through the pool of my come, and before I can react, she tastes me on her fingers.

  "Mmm. You taste good, too." She licks her lips, and then glances down at my cock. "How long until you can come again?"

  I shrug. "Not too long. Sooner, if you touch me."

  She laughs. "In that case..."

  "Wait a second, though. Let me clean up." I grab a dirty shirt off the floor, but Kylie takes it from me.

  "Let me do it." She smiles at me, gentle, hesitant, and sweet.

  She wipes at my stomach, folds the fabric and wipes again, once more, and then I'm clean and the shirt is across the room in a ball. And she's touching me, thumb and two fingers holding my still-flaccid cock. But at her touch, I feel myself respond, feel the tightening deep inside. I watch her touch me, and my hands are on her skin, moving over her shoulders, brushing her hair away and sliding down her arm. I cup one of her boobs, touch the nipple and feel it go hard under the pad of my thumb. She grins at me, and strokes my hardening member. We're silent, touching each other, feeling no hurry. I just want to memorize the feel of her skin, her soft pale skin. I want to touch and kiss every inch of her. She looks at me, and I lean in and our lips meet, and now we're truly lost, the kiss flying us up and away. Her hand tightens on my cock, which is nearly fully erect, and my hands are palming her ribs and her tits and cupping her hip, tilting her toward me to finally get a handful of her ass. And oh, god, her ass is so perfect. Firm, full, supple, a wonderland I could never get enough of.

  She breaks the kiss and nuzzles my chest. "God, Oz. I seriously love the way you touch me."

  I should be afraid of how easily we're both tossing around the word "love," but I'm not. Why, I don't dare examine. But I'm not.

  "Kylie, have I mentioned yet how much I love your ass?" I pull her toward me, move out of the way so she rolls to her stomach. I kiss her spine and take a long time to look at her gloriously round ass. I palm it in both hands, knead, grip, caress. "Like, for real."

  She sighs. "Really? It's not too big?"

  I can't help but laugh. "God, no. Just like your tits. Big and round and perfect, and so fucking gloriously gorgeous I can't even stand it. Every single time we hang out together, it's an ongoing effort to not stare at your ass."

  She hides in the crook of her arm. "You aren't very successful at not staring, Oz, I hate to tell you." She glances at me through a tangle of hair. "I've caught you staring so many times, and you know what? I don't mind it. I like it. I like knowing you can't stop looking at me."

  "And now that I've seen you naked, seen every perfect inch of you, I'll never be able to stop looking. Or touching."

  "You don't have to." She shifts to her side, her hair a messy curtain across her face. "You can touch me whenever you want. You can do what you want. I trust you, Oz."

  I brush the hair from her eyes. "Are you sure that's wise?"

  She frowns. "Of course. You'd never hurt me."

  "Not on purpose."

  She puts her hand on my back and pulls me toward her, down to her. "No, not on purpose. And here's the thing, Oz: I know you'll hurt me someday, somehow. That doesn't scare me. Everyone gets hurt. But I'm strong, Oz. I can take it. As long as you're honest and real and you don't flake out on me, or run from me without telling me, nothing can keep me away. Just...just don't ever lie to me. And don't leave me. If you have to go, if for some reason you decide you've had enough of us, or of me, just tell me. Promise me that? It's the only promise I'll ever ask you to make me."

  This is serious suddenly. Can I promise her that?

  Fuck yeah.

  "I promise. No lies. I won't run. I swear."

  Her eyes go soft and deep and tender, and full of something that could be the seeds of love. "Does this make us officially a couple?"

  "Do you want us to be?"

  She nods. "Yes. Do you?"

  I have to consider that. Eventually, I nod. "Yeah, I do. And you should know, Kylie. I've never had a girlfriend before. Not anything real, or serious."

  This makes her inordinately happy. "I'm your first real girlfriend?"

  "First real friend. First real girlfriend. You're my first real anything, sweetness." I sweep the back of my knuckles across her cheekbone. "You're the only real thing in my whole life."

  "God, Oz." She seems on the verge of crying, but she doesn't. Instead, she pulls me down for a kiss, pulls me over her so I'm kneeling between her legs. "I want to...be with you. I want to have sex with you. Make love with you. I don't know what to call it, but that's what I want. Right now."

  A bolt of reality hits me. "Shit, Kylie. I don't--I don't have any condoms. And you're not on birth control, are you?"

  She shakes her head. "No."

  I rest my head between her breasts. "We have to wait, then. I can't--I won't take any chances with that." And maybe this will be a bit of salvation, holding off on at least full-on sex with her until she's eighteen.

  She touches my cheek. "That's okay, Oz. I'm glad you thought of it, because I didn't. All I was thinking of was how good you make me feel."

  "After school tomorrow. We'll buy some. And...if you're for real about being with me, you might want to think about getting on birth control. I hate to sound like I'm telling you what to do, and I know it's, like, killing the mood or whatever but--I just want to be careful." I fall to my back beside Kylie.

  She takes a moment to collect herself, then rolls to her side. "No, you're right. Will you go with me? To get me on birth control?"

  I nod. "Yeah. Of course."

  She touches my chest, her hand roaming across my pecs and down to my stomach. "We can do other things, though, right?" She touches one finger to the tip of my rigid cock.

  I grin at her. "Yeah, sweetness. We can do anything you want."

  "Anything?" she asks. I nod. "Then will you...god, I'm gonna die. Will you do that thing? With your mouth?"

  "Say it, and I will."

  She bites her lip. "Lick my pussy, Oz. Please?"

  I growl, turned on to epic proportions by her erotic words. "Fuck me, Kylie. That's hot. Say it again."

  She takes my face in her hands and pushes me downward, sighing as I settle between her thighs. "I want you to make me come with your mouth. I want you to lick my pussy until I explode."

  "Then what?" I swipe her opening with my tongue.

  "Then?" she gasps as I flick her clit. "Then I'm gonna suck your cock, and I'm going to make you com
e in my mouth. And I'm going to swallow every drop."

  "Holy shit..." I have to remember to breathe. "God, Kylie. You talking like that makes me crazy."

  There's no room for words then, no breath, no time. I'm eating her out, driving her wild with my mouth, slipping a finger inside her and feeling her writhe. Her pussy is hot and damp and ready for me, her motions jagged and desperate as I bring her to the brink of orgasm, slow to back her away, and then push her over the edge with two fingers inside her and my tongue circling her clit. She comes around me, her thighs clenching my head and her juices flowing thick and slick and wet. Barely a moment after she's come, Kylie has me on my back and she's got my cock in her mouth and she's working me with her hands, and I'm lost to her control, in thrall to her touch. I give in completely, don't hold back. She takes her time, stroking and licking and sucking and I'm crazy, wild, arching and groaning, and she's loving every second of it, glancing up at me every now and then, joy and pride and excitement on her face as she watches my helpless reactions.

  I gasp a warning as I feel my release approaching, and she takes my thick, aching cock in both hands and wraps her lips around my head and sucks with vacuum force, and I explode violently. She's surprised, but she takes it all, her fists plunging on me, her mouth and throat working.

  She fumbles for the blanket, tugs it over us, nestles into my shoulder, and murmurs something inaudible. We're floating, drifting. Sleepy, sated, happy.

  This moment, here with Kylie Calloway, it's the single best moment of my life.

  EIGHT: Lost Chances and Hard Choices

  Colt

  It's well past midnight, and Kylie isn't home. The open mic night ended hours ago, and I'm fighting the urge to worry, to get angry. She doesn't have a set curfew, since there's never been a need. She's a responsible kid usually. My brain is whirling, worrying me with possible scenarios. They got in an accident. They're off doing drugs. They're having sex. Not knowing what she's doing is making me crazy, and not knowing what I'm supposed to do when she gets back is making me crazier. Should I just trust her? Should I interrogate her? Demand the truth? Ground her? Forbid her from seeing him?

  I know none of those will work. She's about to turn eighteen. We've always tried to give Kylie as much freedom as we could, and she's always been responsible. She's never had a serious boyfriend, and she's only been on a few dates. And now this Oz character shows up out of the blue, and she's suddenly with him all the time. And he's everything a father worries about for his daughter. He's me, in so many ways, and I wouldn't have wanted to be the father of the girls I dated as a young man. I was reckless, wild, irresponsible. I lived alone, answered to no one, followed no rules. It wasn't until Nell and I got together that I started giving a fuck about anything.

  But I can't keep her from him. He's given me no reason to distrust him, and I of all people know better than to judge him on the fact that he has tattoos and a piercing and rides a motorcycle, or that he comes from a rough background, that he's clearly seen violence, that his fists have drawn blood. I recognize my own kind in him, and that scares the shit out of me. But I'm here, a father, a successful musician and now producer, a husband for the last nineteen years.

  I have to give him the benefit of the doubt. But I don't have to like it.

  And I don't.

  I'm in the driveway, indulging in a rare cigarette. I gave them up years ago, but every once in a while I have one. When I'm super stressed, or after especially intense sex with Nell. She knows I smoke every once in a while, and she's fine with it, as long as I don't make it a habit. I glance across the street at Jason and Becca's house, and I see the glow of a cell phone on the front porch, lighting up Ben's face.

  As I notice him, he shoots to his feet, stalks with angry, stomping steps down the driveway, running his hand through his close-cropped hair. He's agitated, pissed off. I cross the street, tossing the butt into a drain.

  "Hey, Ben. What's up?" I stop a few feet from him, and I can see he's beyond pissed, frantic, raging.

  "You know where Kylie is?" He grates the question through gritted teeth.

  I hesitate. "Um. She's...not home." I'm pretty sure I know what's eating him, and I'm not sure I should get in the middle of it.

  "Yeah, I know. But do you know where she is?"

  I clear my throat, blink, hunt for a good answer.

  "She's with him, isn't she?"

  I can't lie to him. "Yeah. She is."

  "Fuck. I knew it." He rubs his face with both hands, tilts his head back, spins in place, and groans. "I don't get it. What the fuck does she see in that tool?"

  "Ben, I'm not sure this is a conversation I can have with you." I wish I knew what to say, how to bring him down from this angry place. But I don't.

  "She won't answer my texts. Won't answer my calls. She didn't even so much as say hello to me at the show tonight. She hasn't spent one fucking second with me since that...that cocksucker showed up." He's raging. "Eighteen years we've been best friends. Then just like that, poof, I'm fucking chopped liver--"

  "Ben, listen--" I start, but he's not paying attention, he's venting, pacing and nearly shouting.

  "She should be mine. I've been...waiting until she graduated. I've been saving and planning. It was always supposed to be me and her. She was never interested in anyone else, because she's mine. My best friend. My girl. Not his. And now...now she's as good as gone. She's with him. She's probably fucking him right now--"

  "BEN!" I shout, shaking his shoulder. He finally seems to realize who he's talking to. "That's my daughter, kid."

  "Shit..." His eyes widen, and he backs away. "Sorry, sir. I just--shit." He turns away, fists clenched behind his head.

  "Ben." I bark his name, a little harsher than I intended to.

  He halts in place and turns around. "Colt, Mr. Calloway, I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

  "Have you told her any of this?" I really like this kid. He has all the best qualities of both Jason and Becca. He's athletic, smart, caring, and--usually--fairly even-keeled. I've never, ever seen him this agitated about anything. I feel like I have to help him somehow. "If she doesn't know what you're thinking, what you've--how you feel--how is she supposed to do anything about it? I'm not saying it'd change anything, 'cause it might not. But it can't hurt to at least talk to her."

  "You're right. God...dammit, you're right." He scrubs his hand through his hair again, his posture and mannerisms so much like Jason's it's scary. "Look, Colt, I'm sorry I blew up like that. I had no right to say any of that, especially to you, sir. So--I'm--I'm sorry."

  I slap him on the back. "It's all right, kid. Women can fuck with our heads, man. I get it." I squeeze the back of his neck, a little harder than strictly necessary. "Just--don't talk about my daughter like that ever again, huh?"

  He winces, ducks away from me. "Yes, sir. I won't. I swear."

  I let him go, and I watch him go inside. This is shaping up to get messy, and I don't envy Ben his position. I've seen the way Kylie looks at Oz, and I don't think any amount of talking is going to change her mind. Unless, of course, Oz does something stupid. I honestly don't know what to think.

  It's not until Ben's in his house and I'm trudging up the stairs to my room that the realization hits me like a sledgehammer. I've only seen the two boys in the same place once, but now that my brain's going, I'm realizing that there's something similar about them. Not their personalities, but physically. Something...something I can't put my finger on, but there's a nagging sense of the familiar about Oz, and somehow that includes Ben. The thought doesn't make any sense, but it strikes me as true nonetheless.

  Nell is sitting up in bed, the blankets pulled up around her chest, reading an old paperback novel, a well-worn book she's read at least a dozen times. "I heard shouting. Was that Ben?" She glances at me, setting the book face down on her lap, then looks at the clock on her bedside table. "And it's past midnight. Where's our daughter?"

  "I'm not sure where she is. With Oz, I'm guessing." I shed
all my clothes except my boxers and climb onto the bed beside her. "And yeah, that was Ben. He's all sorts of worked up."

  "About what?"

  "Kylie. And Oz. Or, more specifically, the two of them being together."

  "He feels left out?" Nell slips a bookmark into her page and sets the book on the nightstand, turning toward me.

  I shake my head. "No, more that he feels like Oz stole her from him. He just put it...more colorfully."

  "Oh." Nell's eyes widen. "Oh, boy. He likes her?"

  "I think it's more than that. It sounded to me like he's had feelings for her for a long time, he just never told her. And now it's looking like she's with Oz, for all intents and purposes, and he feels like he's lost out." I grimace. "God, Nelly. What's our girl gonna do? I told him to talk to her, and I'm not sure I should've."

  Nell nods. "Yeah. She's goo-goo eyes for Oz." She sighs. "This isn't going to go well for anyone."

  "No. That's my thinking." I reach for her, and she shifts toward me. "What do we do?"

  She shrugs the blanket away, and I realize she's been waiting for me, naked beneath the sheets. "What can we do? She's not a little girl anymore. She's graduating in a couple of months, Colt. Going to college. I think we have to let her deal with this on her own."

  "Someone's gonna get hurt."

  "Yeah. We can't protect her from everything."

  "I know."

  "It sucks, though." I roll to my back, and Nell moves above me, reaches between us, guides me to her entrance. I hiss through my teeth as she impales herself on me. "God, Nell." I caress her ribs, her breasts, her hips, her thighs, kiss every inch of skin I can reach.

  She plants her palms on my chest and kisses me, moving slowly. The kiss ends, but our lips only barely part, and we exchange breath and whispers and sighs as we move together, and then she's groaning, moaning, our foreheads touching.

  "Colt..." She starts to lose her rhythm and moves with increasing desperation. "Oh, god...oh, god...oh, my god, Colt..."

  "Fuck...Nell..."

  We come apart at the same moment, collapse together. Nearly twenty years, and she makes me come as hard as the first time we slept together in that New York City apartment. Harder, if anything. I've learned every nuance of her body, learned every one of her secret desires, learned how to bring her to the cusp within moments, learned every curve and how to elicit every sigh and grunt and curse, and it never gets any less intense. The longer we're together, the better it gets. I think it can't get any better and then, every single time, it does.