by Allie Gail
I take her hand and simply walk her out to the dance floor. I fully expect her to resist but even though she seems puzzled, she allows me to lead her into the crowd. And then I have her, I have this beauty in my arms, and I hold her close and try to memorize everything about her so I can remember it later.
I have one hand pressed against her back and the other is still holding her hand as we dance. We’re closer than we’ve ever been, close enough that I can smell her flowery perfume and the watermelon scent of her lip gloss. I want to take her bottom lip between my teeth and suck on it, see what she tastes like, but that’s something I know I’ll never be able to do. She’s watching me, a confused expression on her face. Surely she’s wondering what I’m doing. Whether I’ve lost my mind.
My God, she’s as soft as velvet. Gazing into her sparkling hazel eyes, I release her hand to pull her even closer and when I hear her gasp I’m afraid I’ve gone too far. But she says nothing. She’s still staring at me in bewilderment and I smile. I’m glad I decided to wear contacts tonight instead of my glasses. I want her to see my eyes. I want her to know what she does to me.
She will have to read it in my eyes, because I will never have the nerve to tell her.
After a few seconds she relaxes enough to rest her cheek against my tuxedo jacket. And I want to die right here and now because it will never get any better than this. Never. I am holding Melanie Lane and she is letting me. In this small fraction of a moment she is mine.
With a pulse that’s burning I close my eyes and imagine that we’re all alone. That it’s just the two of us and this song will go on and on and when I open my eyes the rest of the world will have faded away.
Maybe it has.
Because I open my eyes, and all I see is her.
One hand leaves her waist to gently brush the hair from her cheek and it lingers there, my errant thumb slowly moving down to stroke those soft lips. I want to kiss her. No, I need to kiss her. I need it like I need my next breath.
In a voice that doesn’t sound like mine, I whisper, “Melanie…?”
She lifts her head and I swear I can see heaven in her eyes.
And then there’s a tap on my shoulder and I realize with a rush of cold awareness that it’s all over. None of this is real. She isn’t mine, she’s never been mine, and it’s time to wake up from this dream.
“Hey, man.” Behind me, Jake is grinning but there’s uncertainty in his expression. “Trying to steal my date?”
“Shouldn’t leave her alone.” I mirror his grin, but as he leads her away I’ve never felt less like smiling. My arms have never been so empty.
She glances over her shoulder as they walk off, and I wonder what she’s thinking. And why she looked back.
Surrounded by a rainbow of multicolored dresses, Brianna comes flouncing up to me and I give her and her bathroom buddies a half-hearted smile.
She links a possessive arm in mine. “Sorry it took so long. Amber had a wardrobe malfunction and we were trying to help her fix it.”
They’re all giggling, and I wonder idly what the ‘malfunction’ was but don’t really care enough to ask. Amber’s dress looks to be two sizes too small anyway so it’s not hard to imagine what happened. If she gets through the night without bursting out of it, I’ll be surprised. Then again, maybe that was the idea. Anything for attention.
Brianna wraps her arms around me and sighs happily as she sways against me. I dance with her, though my heart isn’t in it. I wonder how long before I can take her home without appearing rude. I’m not a complete ass – I don’t want to make it obvious that I don’t enjoy her company.
I know that a lot of couples are planning to leave the prom early. Colton Wells has invited anyone who’s interested to come hang out at his house. His parents are conveniently out of town. Every male heading out that way tonight will have just one thing on his mind. I know, because I considered taking Brianna there. Now that’s the last thing I want to do. But I know through idle conversation that Jake is planning on taking Melanie to that party.
The thought of the two of them together makes me sick to my stomach.
Would she actually sleep with him?
It’s best not to dwell on it.
I’ve just stepped away from Brianna to fetch her another glass of punch when Jake appears beside me. I get the feeling it’s no coincidence.
“Stuff needs some vodka,” he comments, peering with distaste into the crystal bowl.
“Yeah,” I laugh. “It’s not bad, though.”
“That’s what Melanie said.” Glancing sidelong at me, he gets straight to the point. “Lemme ask you something. What’s the deal with you and her?”
Uh-oh. How am I supposed to respond to that? I can’t tell him the truth. Obviously he could see that with me, a dance wasn’t just a dance.
As I’m searching for something ambiguous to say, a sneaky idea forms in my head. No, not just sneaky. Dirty. Shameless. My conscience is appalled at what I’m about to do, but the more devious part of me easily tunes out that part of my brain.
“We went out recently,” I tell him. Which is a lie, of course.
“You did? I didn’t know that.”
“Well, it wasn’t so much going out as staying in. Know what I mean?” I grin lewdly.
“Yeah?” There is a flicker of interest in his eyes and I know right then and there that all he wants from her is a piece of ass. Otherwise what I said would have offended him. Instead he views this as proof that she’s willing to put out.
Lowering his voice, he nudges me and asks, “So what’s the word? How was she?”
I have the sudden urge to deck him.
Somehow I manage to keep my cool. “I’ve had better. She’s a little frigid for my taste, if you want the truth. And you can forget about getting head. She won’t do that.” Wincing, I reach down and make a show of scratching my crotch. Crude, I know, but there’s a method to my madness. “Uh…just a heads up. My herpes was kinda starting to flare up when we were together so you might wanna rethink going there with her. Trust me, you don’t want this shit. I swear to God, my dick feels like it’s been through a shredder.”
Jake takes a step back and stares at me in disgust. “Dude! You fucking have herpes?”
“Yeah. It’s bad, too. Burns like a motherfucker. Every time I go to pee it’s like pissing fire. Never should’ve messed around with that slut from Faulkner. Nasty bitch has ruined my life.” I shake my head with a sigh and hope I seem convincing. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to fuck up your plans or anything. Just thought I oughta warn you.”
Poor Jake. I can tell he’s still clinging to the hope that he has nothing to worry about. “But you used protection, right? With Melanie.”
“Nope. She said she was on the pill, and I don’t like wearing a condom if I’m not forced to. It’s like wearing socks in the shower, right? Screw that.” I shrug. “You can still catch it even with protection, by the way. So you might wanna keep that in mind.”
“Fuck!” He tosses a dejected look in her direction. I want to laugh. He looks like someone who’s just been told his winning lottery ticket is a counterfeit. “You think she has it then?”
“I’d be really surprised if she didn’t.”
“Dammit!” He rakes a frustrated hand through his slick gelled hair. “I wish you’d told me this before I asked her to prom.”
“How was I supposed to know you were gonna ask her?” I reach down and rearrange my junk, making a face like it’s really painful. “You’re not the only one whose night is ruined. There’s no way I can get any use out of this thing tonight. Hurts way too much.”
Jake glances over at Brianna who is still chatting with her friends. “Have you and Brianna…?”
“Nah, man. Doesn’t look like I’ll get the chance to either.” I notice Melanie sending us a suspicious look and decide I need to cut this conversation short. I don’t want her questioning him about what we were talking about. “Oh, well. That’s life, right?”
&nbs
p; “Yeah. I guess. Well…I appreciate the heads up, man.”
“No problem.”
I press my lips together in an effort to hide a grin as I walk away. That was a mean, lowdown, rotten thing to do and I know I should be ashamed of myself for fabricating such bullshit, but all I can think is that maybe I’ve thwarted his efforts to take what I want for myself.
If I can’t have her, I don’t want anyone else to either.
Wow. I really am a terrible person.
I head back over to the table where Brianna is seated, whispering with a couple of her friends. She looks in my direction and her face lights up when she spots me. I feel sorry for her suddenly. If anyone knows what unrequited infatuation feels like, it’s me. The poor girl’s been trying so hard and all I’ve responded with is aloof indifference.
I resolve to stop behaving like a prick and instead show her that I can be a charming escort. It is my obligation to see that she has a nice time tonight, even if there is nothing romantic between us.
It is prom, after all.
I don’t have to wonder for long whether Melanie found out what I said about her. On Monday morning I’m heading toward my first period class when I see her storming hell-bent for leather in my direction. And there’s fire in her eyes.
I open my mouth to say something witty, but before I have a chance to get a word out she slugs me right in the kidneys.
~ Chapter Eleven ~
I figure the best way to avoid having to talk to him is by going about my daily routine, so after the groceries are put away I settle down to get some work done. My computer is set up on the small desk in the sunroom so I can hide from him there. It’s a pleasant place to write. Normally sunlight would be streaming in through the tempered glass windows, but it’s become overcast since this morning and the sun is concealed behind hazy clouds.
I scroll to the bottom of my Word document and stare blankly at the last paragraph where I left off. I’m not sure how I’ll ever be able to concentrate, knowing the cute condom hoarder is under the same roof with me. I’m trying not to speculate on what, or rather who, he made that particular purchase for. The thought of him anticipating a spree of sexual debauchery with me is irritatingly audacious. But I find that I don’t like entertaining the notion that he’s bought them with someone else in mind either.
I can’t win here.
And if I’m being completely honest with myself, I have to admit that I can’t stop replaying last night’s romp in my head.
I want more, and it irritates the everloving fuck out of me that I do.
A text comes through on my phone, and I welcome the diversion.
It's from Leah. Still there?
Not exactly sure what she means by 'still there', but I respond with: Still here.
Can you do me a huge favor? Plz plz plz?
Sure.
Would you mind closing all the storm shutters before you leave?
Before I leave? Where does she think I'm going? Will do, I reply.
TY!! Stay safe!
Forcing my attention back to the manuscript, I am just drafting one of the pivotal scenes in the story when Shane comes strolling in. Guess it was stupid of me to expect any privacy. He stands quietly behind me and I can sense that he’s reading what I’ve typed so far, but I am determined not to pay him any attention.
That is, until I hear him snort a laugh.
Irritated, I turn my head to glare at him. “Something funny?”
“Come on, Felony. You can do better than that.”
“I thought we agreed to retire that name. And what are you talking about?”
He points to the screen. “Is this supposed to be realistic? I could drown in the bottomless depths of your eyes…give me a break. What guy has said that to you, ever?”
I narrow my eyes. Am I really supposed to accept literary criticism from him? The guy who once put a stink bomb vial in my backpack?
“It isn’t believable,” he explains, leaning across the desk on his arms. His face is unnervingly close to mine.
“What makes you say that?”
“Let’s look at this logically. Judging from what I’ve read, it appears your two characters are in the throes of passion. Sex is already imminent. They’re about to get hot and heavy. Am I correct so far?”
“Yes...”
“All right. Well, first of all, at this point the guy would no longer be thinking rationally and intellectually. By now he’s already deferred complete authority to his other head, if you get my drift. The last thing he’s going to be doing is reciting poetry. It would be like trying to solve calculus equations while masturbating.”
I blink, surprised. Holy cow, did he just use the word masturbate?
“Second of all, men are very forward and direct to begin with. Trust me, we are not the complex creatures you think we are. If you come across one who’s spouting off verbosity like that, you should probably run the other way.”
“Verbosity?” I can’t help but smile. There’s another word I never would have pictured the Pain using.
“You’re trying too hard with this. Cut out the ostentatious prose. Keep it simple.”
“But simple is boring,” I argue.
“Is it?” Running an index finger along his bottom lip thoughtfully, he says in a low, impassive voice, “Melanie, I’d love nothing more than to bury my cock in your sweet little pussy right now.”
WHAT?!
Fuck me sideways, did he actually just say that to me? I’m not sure but I think lightning may have struck my panties. The electric current flowing down to the most intimate part of me is almost painful. My startled heart flutters wildly before picking up the beat in double-time. I stare into his smoky eyes, completely and utterly speechless.
“Tell me. What sort of reaction did those words elicit from you?”
“Uh…” Oh my God, I’ve forgotten how to words. I mean talk! Gah!
“That’s what I thought.” The faintest hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “See? Simplicity.”
Struggling to regain my composure, I turn my attention back to the monitor in front of me. “So that’s what he should say? I don’t know. It seems so…base.”
“Sex is base. If you try to make it anything other than that, it won’t sound natural.”
I contemplate this. While what he says may be true, I’m not sure it fits here. I’m not writing erotica, after all. It’s just a love scene in a romantic suspense novel. “I think something like that might be a bit too graphic.”
“You can always go a shade more subtle with it. Take the crudeness down a notch.”
He’s still watching me intently and I resist the urge to squirm in my seat. This is quite a riveting conversation. I should let well enough alone, but of course I don’t. I’m rather enjoying this. “What do you suggest?”
“Hmm...” The errant finger trails languidly across his bottom lip again and my eyes follow it in fascination. “He would probably start by telling her what he wants to do to her.”
“And what does he want to do to her?”
“It’s your story, Miss Lane. What do you suppose he wants to do to her?”
“That’s a very good question.” I watch the movement of his finger hypnotically. “The problem is, I’m not sure.”
“I would imagine that the first thing he wants to do is strip her down to nothing. He wants to hold that beautiful body close to his. Feel her soft breasts against his skin. Let her touch him, so she knows the extent of his arousal.”
Dear Lord, it’s getting hot in here. “And then?”
“This is only speculation, you understand. But I would also imagine that he is aching to spread her thighs and slide his fingers inside, to find out if she’s as wet and ready as he believes her to be. Now we get the female character’s point of view. Is she wet, Melanie? Is she ready to be taken?”
“I imagine she must be,” I rasp. “Yes.”
“But this action distracts him from his ultimate goal, of course.
”
My face might be flushed, but my hands feel ice cold when I clench them in my lap. “How so?”
“Now he knows he has to taste her.” The dark eyes become cloudy as he slides across the desk, so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. “He can’t prevent himself from teasing her with his tongue. Just enough to bring her close to the brink, so he can feel her thighs clenching and quivering against his shoulders. He needs for her to lose control. To forget every name in the world but his. He wants to hear her pleading for him to take her, fuck her, hard and fast and now. Now.” That last word is whispered.
I wet my lips nervously. “And does he?”
“Oh, yes.” His smile is slow and deliberate. “He most certainly does.”
Of course he does. God, I am so going to need a cold shower after this. Not that it’s likely to help much. “Tell me. You mentioned an ultimate goal. What might that be?”
“Intense pleasure. For both of them. His own gratification hinges on the pleasure he can give his partner. More than anything, he wants to watch as she succumbs to the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life. He wants to know that he was the one who brought her there and back. This is what he finds most satisfying. This is what sends him over the edge.”
Sitting back in my chair, I release a deep breath. “Wow. You’re right. That is…way better than the direction I was taking.”
His eyes close briefly, then slowly reopen. The languid gesture reminds me of a sleepy cat. “Mm. For a writer, your imagination is lacking in certain areas, isn’t it?”
“I’ll…be sure to work on that.” I don’t even possess the decorum to be offended.
“Do you like seafood?”
Seafood? What the hell does that have to do with anything? “Uh…yes,” I warily admit. “I do.”
“Good. Why don’t we go out to dinner tonight? It’ll probably be the last decent evening we have for a while.”