by James, Ella
And even though we’ve probably only been standing here, tucked into each other, for a minute or two, it feels like something between us has shifted. I watch his face. He looks attentive. Interested. And, as a few more milliseconds tick by, kind of smug. Yes, definitely smug.
He smirks at me, and I feel the vibe between us settling back near our baseline. “How you feeling?”
I blush big time. And curse my father’s name. (My mother doesn’t blush; she says I got it from my dad). And feel ten times more awkward thinking of my dad right now.
“Damnit,” I mumble.
The smirk turns smile-ish, complete with a crinkling at the corner of his eyes. “What’s the matter? Tired?” He drawls the word, as if he’s proud he wore me out, then briefly grins. My stomach lurches.
He rubs his hair back off his forehead, then looks at me for a long, heady second before the world starts turning again. He clasps my hand, lacing our fingers together.
“You want to try a new strain?”
I laugh as he pulls me toward the door. “I don’t smoke.”
He opens his mouth. “Of course not,” he says richly. He smiles, fast and fleeting. “I don’t either.”
“Really?”
He pushes the door open, squeezing my hand as we walk back into the hall. “Rarely.”
“Why not?”
His eyes fix on my face. “Why don’t you?”
“I don’t know. It makes me sleepy. I blab secrets and eat up all the donuts. It’s not exactly conducive to doing good business—or making the grades I need to make.”
“Are you on a scholarship?” he asks as he locks the stock room door behind us.
“How’d you know?”
He winks. “You just told me.”
He unlocks the grow room again, and we step back into the warm, sweet-smelling air. “I kind of have to be. I make money from the dealing, but that pays my sorority dues and trips and t-shirts, and—” I wiggle my boot—“the pursuit of high fashion. Haircuts, electric toothbrushes, books and music. You know... the basics.”
He nods. “You don’t pay your tuition.”
“Thankfully. It would be a big drain if I was.”
With a stroke of his thumb over my knuckles, he releases my hand. I watch as he opens a cabinet under the countertop and pulls out a small, plastic box. From another cabinet, he grabs a few towels. He spreads them on the floor at the mouth of one of the aisles. Then he runs his hand along a panel of switches on the counter, and music comes on.
Classical music.
I smile. “Is this for the plants or us?”
His brows lift. “Are you mocking Chopin?”
“I wouldn’t say mocking so much as... noting.” I smile again, and sit down on the towels. “You’re surprisingly geeky.”
“I’ll have you know the Nocturnes are a strain favorite.” He sinks down beside me and opens the box. He takes out a blue and green, glass-blown pipe about the length of my hand. Then he pulls out a lighter and a bottle of water.
“Damn. The bud.” He laughs a little, but he’s gritting his teeth. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks down at it. Without looking back up at me, he says, “Can you grab something from that bin beside the Silent Stalker?”
There was a bin somewhere? “Sure,” I say. “What am I looking for?”
Still looking down at his phone, he points toward the end of our aisle. “It’s a bin with dried out stuff.”
I bring back a bud that’s about as long as my palm, and Kellan laughs.
I shrug, smiling. “I didn’t know how much to get.”
I sit down beside him, and his dancing blue eyes move over my face. “You know how to pack a pipe, right?”
“I’m not very good at it.” I laugh lamely.
“Cleo, Cleo. How can you call yourself a dealer?” He shakes his head, then pats the space across from him. “I’ll show you.”
He sets the bud down on the towel and starts to pluck eraser-sized kernels off it, his expert fingertips stacking the little tufts inside the pipe’s bowl with amazing speed. I think I maybe see his hands shaking, but I can’t be sure. Still, it sets my mind in motion.
“Who was on the phone just now?” I ask.
“One of my guys.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “It’s nothing, trust me.”
He sets one more tuft of weed into the bowl, then taps the side of it, knocking the little kernels of marijuana into the bottom.
“You’re good at this.”
“I used to smoke.” He holds it out to me.
I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut. “Please don’t laugh, but I don’t know how to light it. One of my friends... My friend from home, he used to light it for me and cover up the hole on the side of the pipe for me. I would just suck in.”
“Cleo—” his brows arch—“you can’t be serious.” His mouth pulls into a sort-of smile. “How do you vouch for your product?”
“I don’t know. No one ever asks me to sample it or anything. And Lora tells me how it is. It’s been like, years. Two summers ago I think is when I last smoked. And that was a few hits off a blunt, not from a pipe.”
“Tell me more,” he says, moving the lighter over the bowl. He looks at me over the pipe. “Why did you stop?”
I watch him flick the lighter and hold the flame over the bowl. The tiny pieces crinkle and snap, flaring red as he presses his thumb over the small hole on the side of the bowl and closes his lips around the business end of the pipe. His shoulders rise as he drags in. The bud in the small bowl pulses red and orange. I watch his chest expand as he pulls the smoke deep into his lungs.
Then he leans forward and cups his hands around my mouth. He blows his breath into the space between his hands. The smoke I suck in is warm and sweet and a little sour. I hold it in my own lungs, and my head feels immediately warmer. My eyelids feel heavier as soon as I exhale.
“Did you get some?” I hear his low voice, but my eyes are watering. I can’t see his face.
I cough. And cough.
I feel something plastic pressed against my hand. A water bottle. Through bleary eyes, I see him twist the top off and hold it out. I take it and bring it to my mouth. I gulp until I start to choke. When I lower it, I’m smiling. Grinning.
I feel good. I look at him, to see if I can tell whether he’s feeling as loose as I am. I can’t tell. Too buzzy.
He looks fucking hot with the pipe raised to his lips. I watch his lashes kiss his cheeks, his lips close around the pipe, as he puts the lighter to the bowl again. He holds the flame until the marijuana glows, and his chest expands with a deep breath.
I’m so mesmerized by him, I’m startled when he sets the pipe down and leans toward me. He cups his hands around my face, and I get ready to inhale the smoke he’s going to blow between his palms. I’m utterly unprepared for his mouth covering mine. For his soft, firm lips and the gentle puff of velvet air he blows into my mouth. His tongue strokes the inside of my lip, and pleasure whirrs through me. I fix my lips around his. Take a deep, long drag, pulling smoke from his mouth into my lungs.
My head spins like a moon around a planet.
I take another breath, and find the air is cold. Kellan moved away—while I wasn’t noticing. I cough.
“Cleo...” I hear him smiling, even though my eyes are closed. His hand rests on my lower back.
I blink a few times. Cough some more. I see him smiling down at me, as if I’m viewing him inside a dream. This is dream Kellan. His face looks kinder. More relaxed. Silly perfect Kellan. “Cleo. Are you with me?”
“Maybe.” I squeak. It turns into a giggle. “I like this...”
“Do you?” He’s out in front of me now, smiling his lazy Kellan smile.
I nod, and the room shifts slightly, with its weird heat lamps and forest of green illegal plants. I’m grinning anyway. I laugh, because this shit is funny. “I forgot how much I like it,” I say, leaning forward. “I want to do this every day!”
Kellan, who is sitting
cross-legged in front of me, leans toward me, too. We’re having a moment. His eyes are seeing me. So much seeing me. They’re such blue eyes. They’re really watching me. I watch his lips. They’re such good lips. I want him to kiss me.
I realize I’m too tired to be sitting up. I want to lie down. I stroke the towels spread out under me. They feel soft. I try to stretch out on my side and end up flopping onto my stomach. Ungraceful, Cleo! Not winning! My ribs dig into the cement. I roll onto my back. There are fans in the ceiling, too? Between the lamps! I never noticed this. Lights and fans. It’s cold here on the floor.
I need to find a new position.
Kellan must have ESP, because here he is. He lifts me up, he lays me against him, he lowers my head into his lap. He’s sitting cross-legged. My cheek is on his hard, hard thigh. His arm goes around me, just below my breasts, and his other hand sifts through my hair. I feel like high school on that field trip to the Atlanta Zoo with Alan McIntire. But this is better. Mmm, it’s really better.
His fingers play along my hairline. I moan maybe. I’m not sure. It’s hard to pay attention.
His fingers trail along my side. They go under my shirt! Oh my God, the goose bumps.
“Ohhh yes. Mmmm.”
His hand spans my ribcage. It’s a big hand. Strong but... really good at being soft. He traces my ribs with his fingertips.
I feel warm and tired and great.
His mouth is on mine. I didn’t even see it coming. It’s hot and soft and tastes like smoke. I pant against his lips.
“Cleo.” He pushes the word into my mouth, then pulls away and nips my neck.
I grab his hair. He moans. I drag his mouth back up to mine. Our lips and tongues and teeth. I don’t know how. I kiss him hard, as if there’s someone else controlling me.
He’s stroking my breasts, but that’s not what I want. I push him away and roll over on my stomach. I push myself up on my arms. I’m smiling at him. He’s looking serious. Angsty. I kind of want to giggle.
Instead, I lean over his lap... and he uncrosses his legs. His face is rapt. His eyes are pools of darkest blue.
I reach for his dick and find it through his slacks. I grab and squeeze.
Chapter Nineteen
Cleo
“Christ...”
I rub up and down it. He moans. Then he grabs me by the arms and pulls me onto his lap, so I’m straddling him. He presses down on my hand, keeping it over his bulge while his lips trail up my jaw. His mouth tickles. It’s warm and wet. I shiver, but I can’t get too distracted.
I go for his fly, but my fingers are so dumb right now. I can’t make it work. I stroke his big dick through his pants. I want his dick. I shift my weight, so I can touch him with both hands, and I notice the soft bulge just below the base of his shaft. His balls. Oh, yes. I like the balls.
Under my spread legs, he stretches his out. I reach between my legs and push his thighs wider. Hard thighs. Mmmm. I reach down below his dick and—there. His balls are big and full. I cup my hand around them. Must be careful... I try to trace him from the soft bulge of his balls up his thick shaft, around his smooth, round head. I want to touch him—all of him.
He hisses. “That feels good.”
He grabs a handful of my hair. He finds my mouth again, and together we stretch out on the floor. His hand works between my legs. I frame his dick with my fingers.
“Your pants...”
He unbuttons them, and I pull away from his kiss so I can find my brain enough to tug them down.
His hips. Oh shit.
His dick. Fuck yes.
This is a cock—not a dick. His cock is standing up, tenting his black boxer-briefs. He tugs his pants the rest of the way down, then pulls the elastic of his boxer-briefs out of the way. His cock springs up—a porno of my own.
“You are perfect.” I laugh, curling my hand around his head. “Especially this.”
“Likewise,” he breathes. He’s sucking on my nipple through my shirt and bra. I’m lying atop him—but I don’t want to be. I want to be between his legs. I crawl down him, settling on my knees between his muscular thighs, and when he reaches for my shoulder, I evade.
I curl one hand around his shaft, caressing his velvety skin. I run my fingers under his heavy sac, then cup it in my palm and tug a little.
“Fuck,” he breathes.
I tickle my fingertips over the tightening skin.
He grunts.
“They’re getting tighter.” I’ve never really played with this part of a guy before—but I always perv on well-hung guys when I’m watching Tumblr porn. I knead him a little more, lightly stroking my other palm over his plump head.
“Ah—Cleo. Fuck...”
I gather my courage and lean down to lick his sac. My tongue laps gently. I can feel it tighten. “You’re so sensitive,” I breathe against him, then tease him with the tip of my tongue.
“Fuck.” His heavy thighs twitch. His hand comes down on my head. “Suck me, Cleo. Now.”
And wouldn’t that be easy? So predictable. I wrap my hand around his shaft and stroke, glancing at his stricken face, then pull one of his balls into my mouth.
He barks.
Oh, yes. So hot! I suck him a little deeper, caressing with my tongue and cheeks. His groan hits me light a lightning bolt between my legs.
I think I could take the other one, too.
I open wider and use my fingertips to guide the fullness of his sac into my mouth. I use my lips and cheeks to tuck him in, exploring him with the tip of my tongue as I keep the gentle pressure of my cheeks around him.
I glance up to find his lips parted, his eyes rolled back. He’s stroking his shaft, his big hand moving in a frenzy. I close my hand over his, then push his hand away as I maintain the steady rhythm. His fingers bite into my shoulders. I trail my tongue between the twin globes of his testicles, and he lets out a wicked groan.
More of that...
I want to see what I can do to him. I tighten my grip on his cock and pump faster. All the while I’m sucking gently on his swollen balls. I feel his thighs flex.
He moans again, like he’s in pain.
I curve my hand around his slick head... ease his sac out of my mouth. His hands fist on my shoulders as I give his sac another warm, slow lick then flick my tongue over his taint.
He lifts his ass up off the floor.
“Cleo... Fuck. Your mouth is... God... please. Fuck....” His legs fall open, then clamp hard around my shoulders. “Cleo,” he begs.
I lick his sac once more, just to feel him jump, and whirl my tongue back up his shaft. I curl the tip of it around his head, then draw away, just far enough away so he can feel the warmth of my breath on his erection.
“Oh, Kellan.” I giggle wickedly. “You’re wet.”
There’s a little pearl of pre-cum on the tip of him.
I love being a tease, so rather than suck his head into my mouth, I lean down and kiss his thighs. I kiss the smooth, pale skin as he thrusts his cock against my cheek. I suck on his thigh, my chin brushing his balls.
“You... little fucking whore,” he snarls. But he’s gasping between the words.
I grin and lift my head so I can see his face. He’s completely wasted. Gone. His lids lift open, and his eyes look liquid. “Cleo—what...is this?” The words wobble. He twists my hair around his hand and shoves his cock at my mouth.
He’s so hard now, his length is pressed against his abs. I pull it down and stroke it, fast and steady.
“Suck me. Jesus fucking Christ. Now... Cleo.” He cups my head, fingers digging hard into my scalp. I just can’t stop. After all his bossiness, I love that I can do this. I smile to myself and drop down to tease his balls again, but his thighs clamp around my ears. He thrusts his hips and pushes my face down, pressing his swollen head against my lips.
I open for him, sucking him in deep... then deeper, until I feel like I will choke. His palms cup the back of my head, pressing me in place, as I drool and work to rearrange my
mouth and throat around him.
“More,” he orders. “Take... it all.” The words are rasped. I flick my gaze to him and find his eyebrows clenched, his jaw tight...
Yes.
I shut my eyes and take a long and careful breath. As I ease his plump head deeper down my throat, he tugs my hair. His hips tremble. “Cleo... Christ, that mouth...”
I bob my head, applying pressure with my cheeks as I move up and down his cock.
“Such a fucking slut,” he moans. “My little tease. You love this don’t you? Teasing me...”
I swallow gently and he thrusts, making me choke. He tugs my hair so hard I almost bite.
“That throat...so goddamned soft. You’re such a...ahh.” His head tilts back, and I can see his chest rise as he pants.
Stroking his balls, I take him deeper, until my eyes are streaming tears. I’ve given blow jobs before, but never one like this. He’s buried so deep in my throat, every breath is a struggle for me. My jaw aches, even as I pulse and leak between my legs.
My tongue struggles to curl around his girth.
He moans, clutching my head.
I pull almost all the way off him, grab a quick breath, and slam him all back down my throat. I repeat a few times, till his legs are shaking badly and his breaths are ragged, fast and hard.
I swallow once more, taking him deep as my lips massage his shaft. “Fuck me, fuck...” I feel his balls draw up in my palm. I stroke the tender skin and swallow once more, hard, around his cock. I’m rewarded by a hard thrust of his hips. “Oh God... Oh—fuck Cleo!”
He tries to pull away. I clamp my mouth around him, suck him hard, and grab onto his hips. He breathes a harsh curse, then he’s blowing in my mouth.
The marijuana does some magic on the moment—slows it down for me. I’m aware of my fingers clawing his hip as I swallow. I open my eyes while he’s still pulsing down my throat.
He’s leaned back on his elbows. His face is tilted to the ceiling; his eyes are shut; his mouth open.