by S. M. West
“Answer the question, where were you?”
Her eyes widen at my rigid tone, quickly scanning the narrow hallway, and her eyes climb to the stairs. There’s no one here, just the two of us, alone. Realization settles on her face: she broke curfew and I’m here to call her on it.
“I was at the party.” Her voice is a bit shaky, but her posture is defiant.
“No, you weren’t. Ry went back about two hours ago looking for you. He’s still not home. Ma’s been worried sick, you’re way past curfew. Tell me the truth.”
“I was with L and Randy, and their friend.”
“Who?”
“This guy Ashton. I guess I lost track of time.”
“Who is this guy? How old is he?”
“Evan, it’s none of your business.”
“How old is he?”
“Seriously? It’s none of your fucking business, but if you insist, he’s twenty.” She sticks her chest out arrogantly.
“You’re out of line. You are my business,” I say sharply, my cool slipping.
“Back off,” she yells, but not loud enough to wake her mother. Since I’m blocking her way to the apartment, she stomps past me into the bar.
“Get your ass back here.” I’m close on her heels.
“You’re not my father.”
“Damn straight I’m not, but I’m going to set a few things straight.” I pounce, grabbing her hands and backing her up against the wall.
Her long, wild locks are a mess, cheeks tinged pink and eyes feral. Her steadfast blue irises steal my breath and the way her lips part on a small, breathy sigh has my cock lengthening, no matter how hard I try to stop it.
Standing barely an inch apart, we’re both breathing heavily, almost panting. I need to rein in my emotions. I’m so hard, my dick feels like it might break.
Get it together, Evan.
“Sweetness, what happened with Ashton?” His name’s like a dirty sock in my mouth as I pucker my lips.
It pains me to ask, but I selfishly need to know. I can’t shake the feeling that something happened. She explores my face and I’m not sure what she sees, but for a moment her gaze softens and her posture slackens in my grip. Just as quickly, she surprises me by bucking her body against mine, trying to break free.
“Let go of me.”
Our eyes lock and I see my intense hunger mirrored in her gaze. “Fuck, you’re making this very hard.”
“What?” She’s puzzled.
“This.” I lay my hand on her throat, and the rapid flutter of her pulse against my thumb excites me further.
My lips crash onto hers. Shit, sweetness is an understatement. Like an addict, my tongue dives into her mouth, frantically searching for my high. She’s sweeter than anything I’ve ever tasted before; without a doubt, my palate will never tire of her.
My fingers tighten ever so slightly around her neck, her rapid pulse coursing between us. Her fingers dig into my biceps, pulling me closer, until our bodies are flush against each other. My lips skim the edge of her jaw, but I can’t bring myself to stray too far from her mouth. This isn’t my first kiss, not by a long shot, but none of them have been like this.
She’s eager, one might say too wet, too sloppy, but her want for me, her need for me is palpable in the way her tongue wants to devour me. It fuels my boldness as I plunder her mouth. Knowing I’m the one giving to her, showing her what a real kiss is all about, what a fucking good kiss is, swells not only my dick but also my heart.
Our kiss is long, fierce, and intoxicating. Our lips, tongues, and teeth aren’t skilled or precise as we kiss, both of us unable to get enough of the other. Hooking a leg around the back of my thighs, she boldly presses into my erection, her eyes snapping open when she realizes it’s my dick she’s against.
Digging deep for my willpower, I stop, resting my forehead on hers and closing my eyes. I’m ready to blow my load and all we’ve done is kiss. Fuck, I haven’t even touched her virgin flesh. I’ll be a mess when I do.
With all my resolve, I focus on evening out my breathing as my fingers lace behind her neck, cupping her head in my hands. She groans but holds me closer. Like me, she doesn’t want to go too far. Despite my closed eyes, I can feel the heat, confusion, and irritation in her gaze on me.
“Sweetness,” is all I can bring myself to say.
With my eyes still shut to the vision of her, I inhale deeply. Her tropical scent invades my nostrils. Coconut—I love it, but it only makes me harder.
“God, my timing sucks,” I groan, finally facing her. “I try to wait, to be patient, then I fucking crumble in the final hour.”
I’m talking to myself more than to her.
“What are you talking about?”
“Sweetness, I’ve wanted you forever, but I’ve been waiting for you, waiting for you to…”
I battle with telling her everything, knowing if I say more, I’ll make her mine. I won’t be able to turn away from her, from us. Or I can shut my trap and act like nothing happened. Not a chance.
“To what?” She’s shocked and increasingly aggravated at my ambiguous confession.
“I guess, to grow up, to experience your teens, life, without having to be tied down to one person.”
Saying the words gives me the strength to release her, and immediately my body shivers at the loss.
“Tied down? Is that what you think I’d feel? Evan, I’ve been waiting for you to make a move. I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember and we’re not that far apart in age. Three freaking years!” Her control is slipping, her eyes narrowing under her furrowed brow.
“Sweetness, three years is a big difference at our age. It won’t be for long, but for now, I didn’t want to be in your way.”
“You piss me off,” she grinds out, pushing firmly at my chest. “All this time, I thought you saw me as nothing more than Ry’s little sister, like your little sister—but no, you’ve wanted me, too!” she thunders, waving her hands in frustration, her eyes dark like the night.
§
Carys ~ 14 years old
EVAN RELEASES HIS HOLD and turns away. Upon his withdrawal, my heart jerks and aches, as if someone’s pulled the plug, stopped its beat. If he thinks he can just walk away, he’s insane.
My heart soared and plummeted at the same time hearing that he wants me and has been holding back. I’m not a child.
“Evan.” I latch onto his shoulder to stop him. He whirls back around, his features the same, yet different, untamed. “Don’t do this. If we feel the same way about each other, why can’t we be together?”
I search his gaze for a sign as to how he’ll respond. My stomach knots in anticipation.
“Sweetness.” His voice is low, so low that I step closer, so I’m sure to hear. “I want nothing more than to be with you…”
“Then it’s settled.”
“Hang on,” he says, his inner battle clear. “If we get together, there’s no going back.”
“What do you mean?”
“When we are together, there’s no one else. This is it. I see my future, Sweetness, and you’re at the center of it. If that scares you, then we need to put the brakes on. I’ll wait. I swear I’ll wait for however long it takes because when we’re together, you’re mine. Forever.”
Each of his words is strong and demanding. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, to my body. My insides feel like I’ve been rewired. My emotions are going haywire, both hot and cold, frustrated and elated.
My small breasts are heavy, achy, and there’s a need so deep and so consuming within me. A need for what? I have no clue, but I’m like a ferocious beast held back by chains. I’m yanking and tearing at those restraints, knowing the moment I break free, I’ll ruthlessly attack and devour him.
Gulping back my nervous excitement, I nod. “I’m ready. I don’t want anyone else. Never have.” My voice is shaky, belying my confidence and belief in us.
Perhaps it’s because I can hardly believe this is truly happening, the
moment I’ve fantasized about for years. Evan is mine, and I’m his.
I launch myself at him, up on my toes, arms around his neck, as he bends to meet my mouth. This time, I let him lead me, the novice that I am. I want him to show me. I want to feel every moment of our kiss.
This time, it’s less frenetic, unhurried, yet still fierce. Opening my mouth, he languidly laps at my tongue, his lips tenderly taking my lower one into his mouth. He teases and sucks before going back in. My toes curl and tingles shoot down my spine into my breasts and private parts. It’s like he’s plugged me in. I’m on fire, alive.
The slamming of the back door breaks our lip lock, and like magnets, our eyes are connected, even as we step apart. His lips are puffy and red, as I’m sure mine are. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are molten with want. His kiss leaves me dizzy, breathless, and wanting more.
“I ought to slap you silly for the shit you pulled tonight. What the fuck, Carys?” Ry’s spitting nails as he marches in, headed straight for me.
We both turn in his direction. He’s hell-bent on punishing me. If my mind wasn’t so muddled and high on Evan, I’d be unsure, perhaps even afraid, because rage radiates off him. His raven hair is wet, as is the rest of him; he’s soaked. My chest pangs with guilt.
Evan steps partially in front of me, his hand on my hip, holding me in place. His gesture makes it clear that Ry will have to go through him to get to me. Ry stops, his gaze roving between Evan and me, before a slow grin spreads across his face.
“It’s about fucking time.” Satisfaction is clear in his voice. “Van, I hope you teach her a lesson for the crap she pulled tonight. And Twinkie”—his piercing eyes pin me—“don’t you ever do what you did tonight again, or else I’ll be the one teaching you a lesson you’ll never forget. And this guy”—he hooks a thumb in Evan’s direction—“won’t be able to stop me. Night, guys.”
“Night, Ry, and I’m sorry,” I call out, and he winks at me before leaving the bar.
I love my brother—how can I not? He’s my protector, stepping in, trying to fill the void since my father’s death, but he’s never been overbearing or suffocating. Even now, when it’s clear he’s spent the better part of the night searching for me, seeing me happy with Evan is enough for him to get over his anger and disappointment.
“Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” Evan smirks.
“Yeah, and I guess what’s-her-face will be heartbroken when you dump her,” I say, my agenda obvious. I want to make sure they’re over.
I’ve had plenty of time to think about this, to think about what needs to be done so that everyone, all the skanks who’ve had their eyes on Evan, know he’s off the market, know he’s mine. I may be younger, but no one, and I mean no one will touch him when I’m done staking my claim.
“I’m not with Amber. We were barely together before I broke things off months ago, and we were never serious.”
“But she’s always around.” I’m confused. Amber’s certainly talked like she’s still with him.
“She may hang around with my friends, but she’s not my girlfriend.”
“Who is?” I dare to ask, my voice a whisper, wishing for the one thing I’ve endlessly dreamed about.
“I’m looking at her.” His lips descend on mine.
The implication of his words color me true blue with the one truth I’ve longed for and believed in faithfully. We are meant to be together, forever.
Now
Evan
SCANNING THE STREET, I check for signs of anything out of the ordinary. I have no reason to, it’s just habit. All is quiet. Slipping into the alleyway, I glance to the second-floor window. Ma’s place is dark, as it should be at this time of night—or actually, morning.
It’s Carys’s night to close the bar. She only does it once a week, and this is my chance to talk to her. I’ll admit that it’s calculated and risky because she could end up hating me more than she already does, but I have no choice. She’s been avoiding me for days, since we last spoke. Every time I show up, she leaves.
I was giving her time and space, but I’m not letting much more time pass us by. I need to tell her the truth. It’ll change things for us, that’s for sure, and it may even make them worse, but I must come clean if I want a shot at our future, the future we’re destined to have.
Checking the back door, I exhale in relief. I’m not sure what I’d have done if it was unlocked; all I know is that it wouldn’t have been pretty. I open the door with Ry’s keys and slip in through the kitchen. The faint glow from over the range lights my way down the hall to her office. I’m guessing that’s where I’ll find her.
The lights are on, door ajar, but the office is empty. As I head to the bar, the clinking of bottles makes me switch direction toward the storage room. She must be counting inventory or restocking.
Careful not to startle her, I quietly enter the room. I halt, nearly choking at the view of her bending over, placing bottles on the bottom shelf. Her delectable heart-shaped ass is up in the air, and all I want is to palm her round, luscious curves and see where it takes us. Shit, now my cock is hard as steel. Down boy.
I grit my teeth; I can’t get ahead of myself. She’s got to talk to me and forgive me before we get to any ass grabbing. Deliberately, I clear my throat to let her know I’m here. With a startled gasp, she jumps and twirls around, eyes wide and mouth open.
“Evan, what are you doing here? How did you get in?” Her voice is high-pitched, almost breathless, like she can’t get any air in.
“I have Ry’s key. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
“Why are you here?”
“We need to talk and you’ve been avoiding me.”
“Have not.” She twirls to pick up the clipboard before marching past me into the hallway, her hips swaying and her tight ass teasing me. Fuck me.
“Yeah, you have.” I can’t help but grin at her silly antics. She’s cute. “Just like you’re trying to do now, except now it’s just you and me, and we are going to talk.”
Whether it’s my tone, words, or something else, something makes her decide to pivot to face me. Cocking her hip, she nibbles on her lower lip and contemplates. Our gazes lock as we both wait for the other to make a move.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Seriously, Sweetness? You know we need to talk, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why you’re stalling the conversation. It’s not like you. You usually face things head-on.”
“Evan, I want to know what happened, but I have a life now and you need to know…” She trails off, her eyes darting away from mine.
“What?”
Gazing up at me, she continues, “Whatever you have to say, it’s not going to change a thing. We’re over.”
My heart twists and breathing becomes difficult. Mother fuck, her words cut deep, hurting even though they aren’t true. Sure, she believes them on some level—she had to, in order to get through what I did. Yet, along with the hurt and disappointment swimming in her eyes, there’s also tenderness and love.
“Tell me you’re happy and I’ll walk away.”
We always pushed each other, challenged the other to face our fears, to be honest with ourselves, with each other. I need to hear her say it. I don’t believe it, but if she is over me, I need to hear it in her voice and see it in her face—not because I want to, but because it’s the only way I can even begin to accept that we’re over. Even then, it’s not possible.
“I’m happy.” Her tone is laden with bravado, but no true emotion. Even her gaze, which never wavers from mine, is flat.
Shaking my head, I briefly cast my eyes downward to suppress my smile. “No, you’re not.”
“Van.” I flinch at that fucking name.
As a child, I thought it was so fucking cool to have a nickname that only my best friends would call me. Now, hearing “Van” from her pretty lips, I want to obliterate the word from her vocabulary, fucking kiss the word out of her.
�
�You can call me asshole for all I care, you’re not happy,” I retort in frustration. Catching my tone, I breathe deeply and loosen my fists to relax. “Don’t lie to me, and most of all, don’t lie to yourself.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You want to see what you want. I’m with Greg, and we’re happy.”
She grimaces infinitesimally, then averts her eyes from me. Unable to read her, I’m not sure if it’s because she means it and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings or if the lie tastes nasty in her mouth.
“Sweetness, I know everything there is to know about you, without apology. You can’t lie to me.”
Impatience gets the better of me as I pounce, gently but firmly pinning her to the wall. I lean in and my warm breath skates along her jaw. Her intoxicating coconut scent causes my lips to curve into a smile as I peer into her big eyes.
“Try again, Sweetness. If you loved him—scratch that, love him.” I fail at hiding the pain in my roughly whispered words. Her eyes soften, as it’s clear she sees my torment at the reality of Greg in her life. I have no one to blame but myself. “You wouldn’t be with him this long if you didn’t feel something for this guy. That’s not who you are.”
She attempts to wrap her arms around herself, between us. Her expression is pained, almost humiliated, or… mortified? I don’t understand, but she’s repentant for something. As we share a loaded moment of silence, she straightens, her hand going to my face. My breath catches as my body stills in anticipation of her next move.
“Evan.” Her delicate fingers gently skate along my jaw.
The potency of her touch colors me, both settling my achy longing and spiking my heart rate, enflaming my untenable desire. I’ve never dared to truly fathom losing her, and now the thought cripples me. I want nothing more than to get her back.
“We are meant to be together.” My voice is low, husky, and resolute.
My fingers curl around her biceps, the feel of her soft skin in my grasp heady and soothing. Pulling her to me, I encase her slender body in my arms. God, breathing, being, thinking is easier, possible, with her next to my heart.
At first, Carys surrenders to me as she wraps herself around my middle on a sigh, burying her face into my chest. Like one, our inhales and exhales are in unison and we sink into each other. It’s maybe only a minute, but our embrace feels like a flash, or perhaps like it never happened, as she pulls away.