by Skyla Madi
“That’s not fair.” I tell her, my entire body tightens, coiling painfully.
“What’s not fair?”
“What you’re doing.”
Her lips twitch. “And what am I doing?”
Cheeky…
She steps closer, pressing her firm tits against my chest.
Nine days is an awfully long time…
Nine days since I’ve indulged in her body…
Her hard nipples are felt through my shirt. I glance down and spot a beautiful sliver of goosebumps as they spring along her shoulders.
“I’m cold, Caleb.” She says, slipping her hands underneath my shirt. “Take me to bed and keep me warm.”
*Cassia*
He bites at the sensitive skin on my neck, sending incredible sensations radiating through my body. Is it possible to feel unbearably hot and deliciously cold in the same second? That’s how I feel. That’s how he makes me feel.
Caleb groans my name into the nape of my neck and I shiver, committing it to memory. Our bodies slide together, slick with sweat and God knows what else. We’ve been at this for a while. Every time we get close to the edge, he reigns himself in and shoves me over. I come by myself, begging him to follow me.
He wants more.
He wants to do this forever.
He fucks me good and proper…and I know it’s because he’s already decided he’s not coming to New York with me.
My eyelids shoot open without any weight behind them. Amazing considering how little sleep I got. I swipe my hand over my face and turn my head toward Cassia who sleeps soundly, butt naked with a leg over my hip. There was no tossing and turning last night just like the night I slept at her house. I’m rested. More rested than I have ever been. I wish it lasted longer. Sadly, we have shit to face.
Outside my door, beer bottles clash together as they’re dropped into the bin.
Shit like my father.
Damn. I wanted to get out before he got home and maybe grab some breakfast to refuel for the epic argument that will undoubtedly ensue the moment he sees me.
Sighing, I slip out from underneath Cassia’s leg and force myself out of bed. I might as well get the initial shock out of the way so he doesn’t totally lose it if he sees Cassia. He knows she’s here. I have no doubt that Marcus called him. He’ll probably show up here once he realizes Cassia isn’t in her bed.
I tug on my sweatpants and drag my feet across the pool house. Outside, the sun is freaking bright, its warmth immediately burning my naked torso.
“How nice of you to wake up.”
Shielding my eyes, I peer across the totaled yard. Dad clenches a big, black plastic bag in one hand and the necks of four beer bottles in the other. He’s still dressed in the clothes he left in last night. All black with his leather lace up shoes and everything. I should crack a joke about him being such a party animal.
“You want to tell me what this is?”
Or maybe now isn’t the time.
“I threw a party.” I say, scratching my stomach. “It got a little out of hand.”
He nods, pulling his eyebrows together. “I can see that.”
I glance over my shoulder and then back to his intense glare. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this mad. Once, he caught a punk keying the side of his care and he didn’t even frown.
“Can we have this conversation inside?”
“You don’t want to wake your lady friend up so soon?” He dumps the beer bottles into the bag and they clang together with an ear piercing clash, making me wince. “You keep me up with your sinful shenanigans long into the early hours of the morning and now expect me to show you and Cassia the same respect you denied me? Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, Caleb.”
The thought of him listening in on me and Cassia makes my stomach turn. That’s gross, right? Cassia and I weren’t exactly quiet. In fact, we were the opposite. She’s a vociferous comer and I’m an enthusiastic encourager. We were loud, like, super loud—and she makes a beautiful mess…which reminds me, I should probably do the laundry today.
“You heard us?”
“I’m sure the whole street heard you two carrying on like a pair of—” He bites his tongue.
“A pair of what?”
He releases the bag and straightens his shirt. I can see it on his weathered face. It’s in the shallow lines underneath his eyes and the downturn of his lips. He’s struggling to put his judgement to the side. He’s struggling to distance himself from the situation.
His frustrated stare locks with mine. “How could you do this?”
“How could I not? Have you seen her? She’s beautiful. Ten bucks says Jesus would denounce his faith just to fuck her.”
Dad flinches, his face contorting in disgust. Of course he’s disturbed. This is the longest conversation we’ve had in eleven years about something other than what I’ll be reading at church. He doesn’t know me. That’s the sad reality. He seems shocked by my vulgarity. If he spent a little more time with me, he’d know just how obnoxious I am. Dropping the f-bomb wouldn’t be such a surprise.
“You’re disgusting.”
I shrug. Fucking tell me something I don’t know.
“Priests shouldn’t judge.” I point out.
“I’m a father first.”
I snigger. A father first? That’s actually funny.
“You did the celibacy ceremony…you swore not to have intercourse until you were married. I vouched for you.”
“I also swore I wouldn’t masturbate. There’s your tip off. What fifteen year old boy would agree to that? As for saving myself for marriage, my virginity went out the window when Bridget Fawn showed me her tits at her birthday party when I was fourteen.” I clear my throat. “You know, in case you were wondering.”
He shakes his head. “You deceived me…your own father…this whole time?”
I didn’t deceive anybody. I respected him and his faith. I didn’t bring any girls here, I went to them. I drank in the privacy of my own room and I attended church because he requested it.
I lower my hand and squint into the sun. “It’s not personal. I don’t do it out of spite. It’s just who I am.”
“It’s not who I raised you to be.” He shoots back with a growl and I pin him with a scowl.
“Not who you raised me to be?” I scoff. “By the time you had to show some initiative I was already raised. You didn’t have to lift a finger. The parent who raised me died when I was eleven. I’ve been on my own ever since.”
Dad flinches, but he doesn’t refute it because he knows it’s the truth. Mom was the one who raised me from birth. She fed me, clothed me, and entertained me. Dad was never home. He was always out, jumping from one good cause to the next. He supported other people’s families, but never his own. It’s good to be selfless, I get that, but at what cost? Dad was supposed to take me and Penelope to school the morning she was taken, but he was called in to pray for a woman on her deathbed. Mom was at an appointment with a neurosurgeon for her sciatic pain so he told us to walk. He put me in charge of Penelope…
A child in charge of a child…
“You say it’s not personal, but I’m getting a different vibe from you.” Dad says, stepping closer.
“Okay. So maybe it is personal.”
His dark eyes thin in speculation. “Is that what this is about?”
“You should have driven us to school.” I grit my teeth as white hit rage bubbles from my heart.
“Oh, stop being selfish.” He spits, scooping up the bag. “It wasn’t just your life that was turned upside down. Mine was too! Yes, you lost a sister and a mother, but I lost a wife. I lost a daughter. You don’t think I suffer like you suffer?”
He doesn’t suffer like I suffer. He grieves like I grieve, but the details of our sufferance are completely different. He didn’t see the panic on Penelope’s face, the tears that rolled down her cheeks as she cried for me to help her. He wasn’t there to console his own wife as she pressed the s
harp blade of the steak knife to her wrist.
“Penelope was pulled from my arms. I slipped in Mom’s blood. You weren’t there for the impact, only the aftermath. How do you even manage to wake up every morning?”
“I find my strength in God.”
I laugh. Of course he does. “Well, I find mine in booze and women.”
“You find yours in sin and that’s not strength. It’s weakness.”
It’s not weakness. What I deal with day in and day out is not weakness. It’s because I’m strong that I’ve made it this far. I can opt out of life at any second and I choose not to. That is strength.
“It’s whatever works.”
Defeat etches its way over Dad’s face. He can’t unlearn what he’s learned about me today, and I hope he takes how little he actually knows about me into consideration. I hope it helps him to better prioritize his life. God is great, but he isn’t everything. Right now, I don’t need faith. I need my father. I can’t get over this hump I’ve been stuck on for years without him.
“Caleb?”
Fuck. I clench my jaw at the sweet tone that caresses my skin. I was hoping Dad would go inside so I could get her out of here without ridicule. I peer over my shoulder and Cassia is frozen still, her cheeks warming with a bright pink blush as she sees my father.
“Father Andrews…” She murmurs. “Hi.”
Dad nods, his disappointment leaking from every pore. “Cassia.”
It could be worse. I mean, at least she got dressed. Nervously, she smooths the palms of her hands down the front of her white blouse and denim, skinny jeans.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but we slept in. Can you take me to the hospital now? I don’t want to miss visiting hours.”
I nod. “Sure just give me a minute.”
Cassia closes the door.
“Marcus called…” Dad says, bending low to pick up a green, wet bikini top. “He accused me of lying to him about your integrity and claimed you’ve ruined his family.”
Curling his lips in disgust, he opens the bag and dumps it inside. Marcus needs to wake up. The only person that ruined that already dysfunctional family was him. He’s the straw that broke the camel’s back and I’m the warm sand that cradles its crippled body.
“Oh, yeah?”
“I told him I would take her back home as soon as she wakes up.”
I laugh once. “Good luck with that.”
“Caleb, don’t be stupid. This is their business—their daughter.”
“He hit her in the face.” I tell him, stepping closer. “If you take her back there I’m coming too and you’re not going to like the outcome.”
Exasperated, Dad sighs. “Caleb—”
“It doesn’t matter anyway.” I say. “She’s leaving for New York soon.”
“New York?”
“Yep. She’s moving.”
“And I assume Marcus and Linda don’t know a thing about it?”
I shrug and turn around. “Probably not.” I grab the door handle to the pool house. “Leave the mess. I’ll clean it up when I get back.”
Uncertainty burrows in the pit of my stomach as I pull open the door and slip inside. It went a lot better than I was expecting…there was no meltdown. There was a little judgement, but hey, nobody’s perfect. I guess he’s just going to pray harder and beg God to guide me back onto the straight and narrow. It’s a futile venture, but if it makes him feel better about me being somewhat of an antichrist then so be it.
There were a few things I chose to leave out of the conversation. The first was Fiona—for obvious reasons—and the second thing was the fact I’m contemplating leaving for New York with Cassia. I thought about it for the tiniest, sliver of a second, but immediately dismissed it. I’m not going to crush his soul for no reason. I don’t even know what I’m doing. I want to go with her, I do, but there’s more to it than packing a bag and jumping on a bus for me. I have a good job here. Not to mention I’m supposed to be in California in January to work on a new, iconic skyscraper. Am I expected to give that up now that I’m in love with a girl?
I decided last night I wasn’t going to go…and then she touches me and the feelings she stirs warps me completely.
“Hm?”
I’m electrocuted back into reality by the softness of her hands as she slides her palms over my bare hips and around to the middle of my back. I crane my neck, lowering my face to hers.
“Did you say something?”
She licks her lips. “I asked you if you were okay.”
I wrap my arms around her slender shoulders. “I’m great. I feel free, you know?”
Between telling Cassia about Mom and Penelope, and Dad finding out who I really am, I no longer feel like I live in the shadows. It barely scratches the surface of my problems, but I think shedding any light on my emotional well-being at this point can only help.
Cassia sighs, pressing her cheek against my stomach. “I can’t wait to feel free.”
I exhale. It’s not fair that she’s moving to New York. It’s just not. It puts me in a corner and I hate ultimatums. Why do I have to choose between having her and not having her? If I agree, I move to New York. If I disagree, I end up alone. There is no middle ground and that makes me a little anxious.
“Don’t go to New York.” I blurt out, holding her close. “Stay with me. Your parents can’t touch you here.”
She pulls back, sliding her hands to my abs. Confusion wrinkles her eyebrows and squeezes her lips into a soft pout. “I don’t want to be in the same town as them, Caleb. Next month I’m out of here and I won’t look back. I don’t want to leave you…but staying here isn’t an option for me.”
I place my hand on top of hers. “So, you’re saying I have a while to convince you to stay then?”
Her worry melts a little, making way for a subtle smile that she tries to bite back. “More like I have a while to convince you to come.”
I smirk, guiding her fingers underneath the hem of my sweatpants. “I promise it won’t take that long.”
Realization flickers through her beautiful, blue eyes. “Now? After last night? With your dad just outside?”
I push her hand further, until the soft pads of her fingers brush against my excruciatingly hard cock.
“When the mood strikes, right?”
Cassia wraps her hand around my shaft, drawing a hiss from my mouth.
“The mood is always striking you.” She points out, he lids growing heavier by the second.
She closes the distance between our mouths, but doesn’t seal the deal.
“Why don’t you quit talking,” I lick her bottom lip, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. “and put that sexy mouth to good use.”
A knowing twitch pulls at the corner of her pink lips. “I don’t think you can handle it.”
“That’s cute.” I snicker. “As long as you don’t grate my cock with your teeth, I think I’m gonna be okay.”
I’m hyperaware of the hand she has on my dick. Energy frissons up and down my shaft and nestles in the tip. The fucking glorious sensations last all of a second before she removes her hand and grips the hem of her white blouse instead. Oh, God. Not the tits. How am I going to last a decent amount of time when those puppies are out? She grins as she pulls the shirt up, exposing her flat stomach and the cute, white lace bra that hides her perfect pink nipples from view. My lips part, making way for a heavy exhale, as she slips it over her head and tosses it to the floor. Her long, golden waves curl around her breasts and sway gently as she reaches behind her back and snaps her bra clip open. The fabric sags and she cradles it in her hands, holding it snuggly against her tits.
“You look nervous.” She teases, smiling wickedly.
I clear my throat. “Me? No. No, I’m not nervous.”
That was a lie. I’m nervous as hell. I don’t know how I’m going to last long enough to make taking off her shirt worthwhile. Heat spreads up my throat and Cassia spots it as it makes its way into my cheeks.
> “You’re blushing, Caleb Andrews.”
I shake my head. She is fucking torture.
“Have you seen you? You’ve got tits that’d make a corpse blush.”
With one elegant sweep of her arm and a fluid flick of her wrist, she dumps her bra on the floor.
Holy mother of fu—
“I want to be naked with you.”
So much for a blowjob. Seeing her like this makes me want to slide my dick between her breasts and come on her throat, not inside it.
“And Fiona? We’re already late.”
With a wicked gleam in her eye, she closes the distance between us. My entire body jumps to attention as she glides the tip of her index finger along the waistband of my sweatpants and brushes her chest against mine.
“If you drive a little faster I’m sure we can recover the minutes we’re about to lose.”
“Minutes? You honor me.” I slide my fingers along the underside of her breasts.
They’re so fucking soft and...and...magical. God. Put me in a pool and fill it with titties. I want to swim in it.
My cock pulses and I snap my hands back before I fill my pants.
“Seventeen seconds and I’ll be done.”
Cassia quirks an eyebrow. “Seventeen? That’s oddly specific.”
“Twenty, if you nick me with your teeth.”
Amusement lights up the dark, blue depths of her irises. She has beautiful eyes. It’s like staring into the Caribbean.
Cassia curls a finger around my waistband. “Are you going to drop your pants or should I do that for you?”
I lean back against the door. “This is your rodeo, Cass. I’m the bull, you’re my rider.”
She giggles. “That’s a horrible analogy.”
It made her laugh. That’s a win.
“I’m thinking with my alternate head. It’s the best I can do. “
Smirking, she drags my sweatpants down my thighs. She bends her knees, her eager gaze slipping down the length of my body. I watch, mesmerized, as her stare caresses every muscle and follows every crease, until my cock juts out from underneath its fabric prison. Her gaze doesn’t settle on my dick though.
It settles on my scars.