The Learning Hours

by Sara Ney

  When I rise to climb over the body personifying every sexual fantasy I’ve ever had, I take a second to appreciate the view: Laurel’s legs spread wide, inviting me to slide inside that smooth pussy. Long, wavy red hair. Amazing rack. Hands white-knuckling the bedspread.

  Impatient. “I can’t stand it anymore. Hurry.”

  Trembling, I reach down, grabbing my cock, guiding it into her heat, hoping like fuck I stick it in the right hole.

  Then?

  A collective moan when my dick slides in, inch by glorious inch, guided by the white light behind my eyelids. Vision a blur. Loud, passionate groans our only soundtrack.

  I push into her gently, elbows braced on either side of her gorgeous face, bending to kiss her. Her mouth opens, tongue plunging into mine. Starving, sexy.

  Over and over.

  I can’t believe I’m having sex with Laurel Bishop, my brain screams, momentarily distracting me from all the sliding in and out I know I should be doing.

  God she feels good. Hot.

  Fuck she feels good. Slick.

  Jesus she feels good. Tight.

  I thrust into her, pleasure coursing through my blood, veins. Head. Feet. Legs. Balls. Dick.

  “Rhett,” she whimpers, tapping my bicep. “I knew you would feel good.”

  “You’ve thought about it?”

  “Only a hundred times a day.”

  Her fingers dig into my hips, nudging me off her. Shoves me to my back, legs swinging into a straddle. Eases down around me, sinking onto my dick. Undulates her hips, back and forth, in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

  And this is the part where I fucking die and go to heaven…

  Holy Christ. Holy shit.

  Oh fuck.

  I use the swivel in my hips to thrust up, her hands planted behind her head, deliberate…mind-blowing…rolls of her narrow hips…

  “God, Rhett, yes…right there, yeah yeah,” comes her plea, her chant. “Keep doing that with your hips, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

  Her tits bounce as we fuck, hair falling in a shocking red wave, the entire visual more than I can even fucking handle. I can’t take my eyes off her—couldn’t if I tried.

  Laurel’s hands skim my pelvis, nails dragging along the skin there. Head tipped back, she moans as we move together, bodies in synch, her tight—

  “You should see yourself,” she whispers on a whimper. “You’re gorgeous.”

  And in this moment, I believe her.

  I have to.

  Because there’s something in her eyes when she looks down at me, an expression I can’t place. Words waiting on her lips, words she wants to say. Adoration in the bend of her brow and the depths of her pretty blue eyes.

  Yearning? Maybe.

  Desire? Yes.

  Affection. Devotion.

  Shit, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was in love with me.

  I know sex can make you say and do some pretty fucked-up shit, but I don’t think I’m wrong here. Feel a shift when she breaks the contact, leaning forward, palms grabbing the wooden headboard behind me. Rocks her hips—

  “Harder. Grab my ass,” she demands. “Feels so…mmm.”

  Bends her head, hair falling in a cascade, so long it hits my chest. When she leans down to kiss me, I push it out of her face, cradling her jawline as she screws me on top.

  Christ, shit, fuck…

  “Rhett.” My name, said like that, on her lips, silently spilling into my mouth. “God, baby, oh Goddd.”

  “Laurel,” I chant back, lost in the feel of her tight pussy. Her tongue.

  The look in her eyes.

  “Baby.”

  When we come, it’s together—mouths falling open, two sets of wide eyes bonded, intense—something I assumed was only reserved for movies. For cheesy romance novel bullshit. For my dipshit friends and their relationships.

  Not for me.

  Laurel takes her hands off the headboard, placing them on the pillow beneath my head. Rests her cheek on my sternum, listens to the erratically beating heart within my chest.

  I stroke her hair. Back.

  She kisses my shoulder.

  “Rhett?”

  “Hmm?”

  There’s a long stretch of calm, her fingertip tracing along the veins in my forearm.

  “I…”

  “You what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  Laurel sits up, yanking a sheet over her pale breasts. “Doesn’t it sound like there are a bunch of voices in the living room?”

  Insatiable, I drag her back down to the mattress, throwing back the sheet, mouth latching on to her nipple. Suckling. “No.”

  “Rhett, stop!” She makes no move to smack me away, letting me taste her skin. “I’m serious,” she all but moans. “Listen for a second.”

  I pause. Listen.

  She’s right—there are voices coming from the front of the house. Voices I don’t recognize.

  “You don’t think your roommates are having a party, do you?”

  When I shrug, hand creeping below the covers, back between her legs, she spreads them for me. “Who knows. I don’t trust those two.”

  “But you trust me,” she boasts, hands cupping her bare breasts. “You want more of these?”

  My dick twitches. Hardens. “Fuck yes.”

  “You want my cookie?”

  “Fuck ye—”

  Footfalls in the hallway give me pause. A loud banging at my door.

  “New guy!”

  “WHAT!” I shout, horny and immediately irritated. Laurel kisses my back when I twist my torso toward the door, eyes searching the room for my boxers.

  “Dude.” Gunderson laughs through the door. “I hate to break up the party, but you have company.”

  A warm mouth drags down the back of my neck. “Tell them to piss off.”

  “No can do.”

  Petite hands snake around my middle, wrapping around my—

  “Godfuckingdammit Gunderson, I said piss off!”

  “Afraid that’s going to be impossible amigo.” His annoying laugh drifts through the door.

  Laurel’s soft hands slowly pump up and down my cock. “Why the fuck not?”

  Jesus Christ, did I just grunt that entire sentence out?

  “What’cha doin’ in there, buddy?” More laughter. “Better finish up and come out here—I know how much you love surprises.”

  “Jesus Christ, Gunderson.”

  “Just put some pants on and throw a shirt on your ginger—you’ll thank me later.”

  The doorknob jiggles. Another knock, this one different—seven short raps in a pattern.

  Delicate.

  Familiar…

  Fed up, I throw back the covers, slip a pair of boxers over my raging boner, perturbed.

  Unlock and yank open my bedroom door. “What the hell did I tell you assholes about—”

  Holy shit.

  “Mom?”

  “Surprise!” My mother reaches forward, pulling me in for a hug. Squeezes me tight. Backs away, looking me up and down. “Sweetie, where are your clothes?”

  Behind me, in a heap on the floor—because I kicked them off before climbing into bed to fuck Laurel for the last two hours.

  The corner of my eye catches the distinct shape of three gold discarded condom wrappers, and I kick the remaining ones away with my toe, out of sight. They skid across the floor, sliding under my dresser.

  “My clothes? Uh…”

  “Do you need me to do your laundry?” She pushes forward, jamming the door with her hip. I push back, stopping it with mine. Her brow furrows. “Why are you blocking the door? Let me in—I’ll grab your dirties.”

  Dirties? Shoot me now.

  “Mom, it’s fine.”

  “We’re just so excited! We wanted to come see you for your birthday.” Her hands grasp my face. “You look so good, sweetie!” She wraps her arms around me again. “Your father and I—”


  I know the moment her eyes catch sight of Laurel over my shoulder, through the crack in the door, will never forget her stunned silence as long as I live. It’s palpable, followed by a dramatic gasp. “Who—I mean, oh my! I…goodness!”

  I’ve never seen my mother at a loss for words, and right now? She has no fucking clue what to say. Averts her wide eyes, face flushed.

  I crane my neck, catch Laurel’s grimace, sheets pulled up to her neck, brilliant red hair in a tangle, cascading over one bare shoulder. It’s obvious she’s naked, embarrassed, and thoroughly fucked.

  Her words are strangled. “Oh my God Mrs. Rabideaux, hi. I…we…oh my God.” She disappears beneath the sheets.

  “I am so sorry! The boys didn’t tell us you had company.” My mother peeks over my broad shoulder one more time; she’s curious, interested now that the shock seems to have worn off. “I am so sorry!”

  Laurel emits another groan.

  “Mom, can you give us five minutes, to uh, you know…change.”

  “Of course! Yes. Goodness.” In two seconds, she’s going to start spinning in circles. “I’ll just…y’all get changed. I’ll go wait in the living room with your father.”

  “Jesus. Anyone else come with you?”

  “Your brothers. My baby turned twenty-one, of course we drove up!” She does a small squeal then chokes down another one. “Y’all have a big meet this weekend and your dad thought it was time to check up on you after all the…” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “All the trouble with the team.”

  I lean against the doorjamb, continue blocking her view into the bedroom. “She knows about the drama, Ma. You don’t have to whisper.”

  “She’s so pretty!” my mother gushes in a staged whisper. “What’s her name? Is that your girlfriend? Are you a couple?”

  “Mom, please, just—”

  Her hands go up. “I’m going, I’m going.”

  I blow out a frustrated puff of air. “Five minutes.”

  “I’ll stall your father.” She kisses me on the nose. Pats my cheek. “You look great. Put some pants on and throw those condom wrappers in the garbage.”

  Slowly, I close my bedroom door. Stand in stunned silence, staring holes into the dark wood

  I turn. “So…my parents are here.”

  “How am I supposed to go out there, Rhett? Your mom practically saw me naked.”

  “Pretty sure my mom knows we were in here having sex.”

  Her head pops out from its hiding spot. “At least she knew you were seeing someone though, right?”

  I fidget.

  “Rhett, please tell me she knew you were seeing me so I can shrug this off as embarrassing, but not hopelessly unfortunate.”

  Shit. “She didn’t know. I-I mean, we…I… Shit.”

  Laurel slides out of the bed, magnificently nude. “You can tell your mom I’m your girlfriend if you want, all right? I don’t want your parents thinking I’m some random girl you picked up downtown for the night.”

  “Trust me, that thought won’t cross their minds.”

  “I know, but still. It would make me feel better. Less…” She waves a hand around. “You know, like I do this sort of thing all the time. Her opinion of me matters, Rhett. This is not the impression I wanted to make when I met your parents for the first time.”

  She was planning to meet my parents?

  When?

  She prattles on. “My mother would die right now if she saw me. Die. Then she’d kill me.” Laurel bends at the knees, scooping up her bra, glancing over her shoulder as she fastens it. “Can you imagine what my dad would say?”

  Her body shivers.

  Retrieving her underwear, she pads over to where I stand, bolted to the floor. Kisses me on the lips. “I knew you would have great stamina.”

  “Babe, don’t touch me. The last thing I need is another fuckin’ hard-on.”

  Her gaze is wicked. Delighted. “Your parents are out there.”

  “Yup.”

  “You poor thing.” Her hand comes around, slapping me firmly on the ass. “Better not leave them sitting with your roommates too long. No good can come from that.”

  Laurel

  Rhett’s mother rises from the sofa, her shoulder-length brown hair cut into fashionable layers, her lithe frame a ball of energy. I swear, she’s positively about to burst at the sight of me. His two meddling roommates loiter in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, listening to the whole exchange. Brothers flank either end of the couch.

  I shuffle into the living room, embarrassed, just my purse dangling from my hands as I do the walk of shame through Rhett’s living room, hair mussed, lipstick kissed off, mouth stained.

  He moves to introduce us, face flushed, but Gunderson beats him to it, calling out from the kitchen. “Have none of you met Ginger, Rhett’s girlfriend?”

  His mother’s brows go up, gaze trained on my flaming red hair. “Your name is Ginger?”

  Ugh, why are his roommates such idiots?

  My face heats up. “No ma’am, it’s Laurel.”

  “It’s good to meet you. I wish we’d known…”

  Again, the peanut gallery chimes in. “Tsk, tsk, Rabideaux—you didn’t tell your parents you had a girlfriend?”

  I wish he would stop talking. He’s embarrassing Rhett and making a mess of everything.

  “Girlfriend?”

  “Uh…”

  “That’s your girlfriend?” one of Rhett’s brothers practically shouts. “Holy shit. You’re hot.”

  “Austin!” His mother gasps. “Manners!”

  “We’re, uh, datin’, I guess,” Rhett says by way of explanation, hands shoved into the pockets of his Louisiana hoodie.

  “Your mother and I thought we’d drive fifteen hours so we could wait in your living room while you threw some clothes on.”

  “Charles!” his mother scolds. Turns to me. “This is what we get for comin’ unannounced. We were plannin’ on maybe doin’ dinner, but it’s so late now and Rhett has check-in and can’t leave so I think I’ll pack the boys up and head to the hotel.”

  I smooth down my hair self-consciously, sure it looks like I’ve been rolling around in bed all night having sweaty, hot sex…which I have. “And I should get going. I, um…it was so nice meeting you.”

  I need to get out of this house; I’m so embarrassed.

  “Will you be at the meet tomorrow, Laurel?”

  “Yes! I would love to sit with you if that would be okay?”

  Mrs. Rabideaux beams. “We would love that.”

  Rhett

  “Rhett Clayton Rabideaux.” My mom starts in as soon as I set foot back inside the house after walking Laurel home. “How could you not tell us you have a girlfriend?”

  “It never came up.” Not with all the bullshit I’ve been dealing with lately. “Besides, she’s not really my girlfriend.”

  Mom’s face falls. “Oh.”

  “If I could interject here.” Gunderson clears his throat, interjecting from the kitchen. “That’s a lie, Mrs. R—your boy here is full of shit. They’re definitely an item.”

  Fucking Gunderson.

  My parents both raise their brows. Turn back to me.

  “I guess we’re kind of…talking.”

  Fuck. Laurel would be so pissed I’m explaining it this way. She’s the type of girl that demands respect, and here I am, being cavalier, butchering the explanation like she means nothing.

  “Are you using protection?” my dad inquires, pointing the remote at the TV, eyes locked on the screen. “Your mother and I are done raising little kids.”

  Oh my fucking God. “Yes.”

  “No worries, Mr. R, we hooked young Rhett up with the world’s finest prophylactics. No STDs in this house—not on my watch.”

  “That’s disgusting,” my brother Beau chimes in.

  “What’s an STD?” the other one wants to know.

  My mother ignores them both.

  “Laurel is so beautiful,” Mom enthu
ses. “Even her name is pretty, sounds like a flower.”

  I know.

  “How the hell did the two of you meet?” Beau rudely asks.

  I glance up. Catch my roommate’s eyes across the kitchen as he pretends to be busy making himself dinner.

  Gunderson shrugs.

  Oh, now he has nothing to fucking add to the conversation?

  “We met at a party.”

  Gunderson snorts.

  “Where did you take her on your first date?”

  Jesus, what is this, the Spanish Inquisition?

  “We, uh, haven’t gone on a date yet.”

  “You’re screwing her and you haven’t taken her on a date?” my dad deadpans from the couch, setting down the remote and suddenly paying rapt attention.

  “Charles!” Mom reprimands him while turning a raised brow on me. “Is this the kind of gentleman I’ve raised? One that doesn’t take his girlfriend out on dates?”

  “I never have time, Mom!”

  Why am I defending myself? Jesus.

  “Well what is it you do?” she presses.

  “I don’t know—we study. Hold hands. Walk to school together. She comes to my meets. I don’t know what else to do with her!”

  “Oh boy,” Gunderson deadpans from the kitchen, chewing on a carrot.

  “That’s your idea of dating?” My youngest brother snorts. “Taking her to watch you wrestle? You sure are full of yourself.” He turns to my roommate. “What do they call that?”

  “Egomaniac,” Gunderson supplies.

  “Shut up, Beau, you’re not helping.”

  He shrugs, thumbing through the fitness magazine he swiped from the coffee table, looking for female models.

  “Trust me, she doesn’t care that we just hang out,” I counter.

  My mother crosses her arms. Glaring.

  Disappointed.

  “I’ve never met a young woman who didn’t want to be properly courted.”

  I have a flashback to our conversation in the library, the one where she asked why I’d never asked her on a date.

  “Forget I said anything,” she said after bringing it up. Too late, I clamped my lips together, confused as fuck.