The Substitute (The Bros Series Book 1)

by Xavier Neal

  Thankful to be having this awkward conversation in the shaded area, I lean against the trunk of his car, and tease, “Nice spot.”

  He doesn’t bother humoring me. “Is something going on between you and Josh?”

  “Of course not.”

  “You sure?” His hardened voice questions. “Because….I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I gotta agree with the dumb blonde who pointed out how he’s going to a lot of effort for someone he’s not fucking.”

  “She didn’t say fucking.”

  “Ainsley.”

  I carefully place my bag by the side of his tire and step towards him. “Nothing is going on between Josh and me, Nate. Absolutely nothing. We’re…not even really friends. We’re in the same English Lit class and he texts me about homework occasionally. He had been asking me out for months, and I thought he had finally given up since he hadn’t tried in weeks, but I was wrong.”

  His body stays frozen in place. “Are you even remotely interested in him?”

  My fingers brush his. “No.”

  “Have you ever been?”

  “No.”

  “So he’s never….” The words twirl around the tip of his tongue as his fingers lightly feather mine, “Had you the way I have?”

  “No one’s ever had me the way you have.”

  My declaration is rewarded with a minor moan and my pussy prepares itself for what it hopes will follow.

  No. I wasn’t a virgin when we started dating, but he damn sure has a way of making me feel like it. Everything we do feels so brand new, so exciting, that it’s like my body automatically resets to virgin status as soon as we’re finished.

  Seeing the hint of animosity still lingering in his blue eyes, I lower my voice and tempt, “Touch me, Teach.”

  The desire in his expression is unmistakable yet he denies the command. “Not at school, Ainsley. We have rules for a reason, remember?”

  I guide his hand to the inside of my thigh, just underneath the edge of my dress. “You’ve broken a couple today, why not one more?”

  His face makes an attempt to resist, but his fingers don’t. He briefly grazes my clit to discover its dampened state. “You’re already wet for me?”

  He applies slight pressure and I whimper my reply, “Yes.”

  My answer instantly shatters his remaining restraint. In one swift motion, Nate braces my body against the back of his car, hikes my leg up on the edge, and slips two fingers through the blazing heat waiting for him. I prepare to scream out my pleasure when his hand cups my mouth to catch the sound.

  In a very low tone, he growls, “My pussy. My screams.”

  I moan at the same time my pussy pulses its agreement.

  His stiff fingers push deeper, mimicking what his cock would do with every movement. My eyes begin to close when he demands, “Open those fucking pretty brown eyes, baby. You watch me remind this body who it belongs to.”

  The combination of his words and the increased pace of his action clenches my pussy around his finger. With his palm pressed firmly, teasingly against my clit, he thrusts harshly, causing my body to buck. I grasp onto his suit jacket to anchor me to him, to us, to this hollowed out secret moment of claiming we both need. It’s not long before my body is rocking in desperation to reach a greater stimulation from every portion of his hand.

  I attempt to yank him to me like he’s actually inside of me where I’m imagining. Nate’s eyes bore into mine as he mocks, “You want this cock right now, don’t you?”

  Knowing he can’t hear me if I try to reply, I nod.

  “Deep in that tight little pussy.”

  Another whimper is muffled.

  “Carving my name into it…”

  My clutch tightens and my muscles begin a familiar orgasmic pattern.

  “You wanna come on my cock, baby?”

  I nod rapidly.

  Nate’s grin becomes mischievous. “Fingers first.”

  At that moment he pushes his palm sharply against my clit, shoving me over the edge of my climax. I whine his name repeatedly behind his grip as my head falls back in fervor.

  He quickly relieves his hand of its guard duty of my mouth to yank my head back towards him. “Fucking watch me take what’s mine.”

  Before I have time to even process it, Nate’s dick replaces his fingers, spiraling me back down the rabbit hole I was just trying to claw back up. The still quaking muscles are torn wide to accommodate the intrusion and my head makes another attempt to retreat for the sky. He repeats the jerk of my head to reiterate his point. He needs this. He needs me to watch him. To be reassured he really is the only one.

  My propped-up leg winds around his body and the wedge of my shoe cuts into his ass. A low animalistic roar of pleasure and pain is released, forcing him to grit his teeth.

  Viciously, Nate pistons his hips, cock cruelly coercing my pussy to capitulate everything it has to him. I chomp down on my bottom lip to prevent my screams from echoing throughout the parking lot. For what feels like an eternity, the two of us clash together in an uncontrollable fit of ecstasy.

  “Come on my cock, Ainsley,” he commands between frenzied thrust. “Let me know how much you fucking want me.”

  There’s a small hitch in my breath before my orgasm smashes into a million pieces. This time I make no effort to follow his request of watching him. I let my head fall backwards, my mouth crack wide, and surrender to the euphoria. I allow my body to relentlessly cry out for his despite the fact my voice can’t. Almost instantly, Nate breaks with me. Our bodies shutter together in an endless cycle of clenched hands and breathless name calling.

  His lips eventually find mine and he roughly rolls his tongue around inside my mouth. Just like the sex we’re recovering from, there isn’t a hint of sweetness to it. Push after push is pressed against my tongue.

  He slips himself out during the kiss and I stifle my whimper from the loss.

  When he pulls back, he states, “I like knowing you’ll be filled with me for the rest of the day.”

  A wide smile hits my lips. “I bet you do.”

  “I also like that I’ll smell you on me for the rest of the day.” He lightly chortles, shoves his dick back in his pants, and says, “I wanna give you something before you go.”

  Smoothing out the edge of my dress, I playfully retort, “You already did. Technically twice.”

  Nate doesn’t bother hiding his pride. “Doubt many eighteen year olds can do that.”

  I roll my eyes at the jealous remark.

  Quickly, he opens his back door, grabs something, and returns back to where I’m standing. He holds outs the small box and explains, “I was going to wait ‘til tonight to give it to you, but I don’t really wanna wait anymore.”

  Seeing another benefit of this whole Josh debacle, I grab it and immediately open it. Inside is a silver key. Unsure of what it’s for, I look up and ask, “And this is…”

  “A key to my apartment,” he nervously states. “I um…I want you to come and go whenever you please.”

  Surprise and awe blanket my face. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “I know.” Nate nods slowly and sweetly adds, “But I want my home to be yours…”

  With a wide grin, I lean forward and press our lips together. His hands softly slide around my waist and pulls me closer to him. Unlike the kiss before, he takes his time, and drags out each stroke.

  All of sudden the bell rings, forcing us apart. We groan our irritation in unison.

  I pull myself out of his arms and sigh, “You sure we can’t skip the rest of the day?”

  Nate chuckles. “Trust me. I fucking thought about it too.”

  The two of us walk around his vehicle and I swoop up my bag in the process. I prepare to take off through the parking lot to create a wide distance to eliminate the possibility of questions, when the sight of Sloane staring at me only a few feet away freezes my frame.

  “Shit…” M
y boyfriend mumbles beside me under his breath.

  Her eyes swing back and forth multiple times before her mouth forms a giant O.

  I give him a quick glance over my shoulder. “I swear, I’ll handle this.”

  “Ainsley-”

  “She won’t say anything.”

  He steals another glimpse of her and grunts, “This is exactly why we have that rule about no school shit….Fuck.” Nate doesn’t wait for my retort. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  After giving him a quick nod, I hastily approach where she’s waiting, link my arm with hers, and whisper, “I will explain everything after school, but you can’t say shit, Sloane. Promise me.”

  She promptly does. “Promise.”

  “Swear.”

  “Fucking swear,” her voice quietly repeats.

  The two of us walk in silence that eventually morphs into girlish giggles.

  As much as I should be worried about her knowing and our secret getting out, I’m actually thankful I’ll be able to share with her. That I’ll have someone to finally be able to talk about guy problems or brag to when he does my favorite whirly thing with his tongue. I know it’s dangerous to have someone at school know about us, but maybe it could be beneficial. Maybe she could help cover for those stolen kisses I want. Maybe having my best friend help keep this hidden won’t be a bad thing.

  NATE

  I put the lid back on the pot cooking the pasta sauce and return my attention to where Ainsley is doing her homework at the bar.

  I love nights like this. I love how comfortable she is being here all the time. Fuck, I wish I could just have her move in. Ever since I gave her a key a few weeks ago, I swear it’s been the only thing I can think about. Having her here permanently. On Valentine’s Day, she spent the night, breaking another one of our rules, and I took her home around six the next morning. It gave her enough time to change, eat breakfast, and catch the bus. We’ve started to make a habit of it now. We’ve developed several of our own little routines and I love them all. I love every minute I spend with her and am beginning to hate the ones I don’t. Some nights when she’s not in my bed, I find myself staring at photos I’ve taken of us, and pretending she’s beside me. Other times when I’m picking up the apartment, I leave the traces she’s been there untouched, so it feels like she’s still around. We constantly text outside of school hours, even when she’s working. I don’t even shop for the bare essentials anymore without her in mind. I’ve switched soaps. Toothpaste. Coffee brands. Fuck, I even bought lady products to have under my cabinet for whenever that shit occurs. There’s a thin line between love and obsession and the truth is I’m tangled in it.

  My back hits the counter as I ask, “Have you even turned the page?”

  She glances up at me, annoyance apparent. “No.”

  “What are you stuck on?”

  “Comparing and contrasting at least three things between The League of Nations and The UN.”

  The topic cringes my own face and I toss the kitchen towel over my shoulder. “Can’t help you there. History outside of film was something I hated.”

  “Tell me about it,” she mutters, throwing her pen on top of the open textbook.

  I like the way she prefers to write her answers by hand then revise them before typing. Fuck, I even love the girly way she loops some of her letters.

  “Speaking of films….” Ainsley coos, “Have you finished editing ours?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I want it to be perfect.”

  And I do. Creating a half ass version of my girlfriend doing dirty shit to me on film for our private enjoyment doesn’t sit well with me. To be honest, half ass doing anything related to film, doesn’t sit well with me. Drawback to being passionate at your craft, I guess.

  She smirks. “It will be.”

  I move onto the next subject. “Have you already started looking into what classes you need to take for your degree in Cinematography?

  Enthusiastically she nods. “Been stalking that website for years. It changes a little every year, but basically remains the same. The only class I’m worried about is intro to photography. I suck with normal pictures.”

  A little smile shifts onto my face. “You don’t suck.”

  “I can barely take a good selfie! You’ve seen them!”

  “Completely different type of photography.”

  She shrugs. “If I suck at the simple one, why wouldn’t I suck at the more complex ones?”

  I quickly make an attempt to comfort her. “How about I promise you now that if you need my help, I’ll be there no questions asked?”

  Ainsley sweetly smiles. “Were you any good at photography?”

  “Wasn’t as amazing as some of my classmates, but I didn’t suck as you so sophisticatedly put it.”

  In a cautious tone, she questions, “Did you ever actually attempt to pursue a career in editing?”

  My face hardens and I begin to busy myself with wiping down the kitchen counter behind me. “I um…I did once. Had a job interview with McCormick and McCordick couple months before I graduated.”

  “McCormick and McCordick…like the big art company?”

  I wipe away a spot of sauce I find. “Yeah.”

  “I thought they specialized in like art art. You know, paintings and stuff.”

  “It’s a huge corporation. They have multiple divisions including a film one. At the time they were looking for an editing assistant to help create promotional videos for their events. Someone to showcase their capabilities to present to potential clients.”

  “Not exactly an Oscar film, but still a pretty amazing job…”

  It would’ve been, especially for a guy who hadn’t even graduated college yet.

  “What happened?”

  I step over back to the stove to check on the sauce again.

  When I don’t reply, she pushes, “Tell me, what happened Nate. Tell me what stopped you from doing all those things I know you imagined yourself doing.”

  My head drops slightly forward.

  “Tell me what caused you to live with regret. And I know it’s there. I see it every time we discuss attending a film festival or you get an email from your old college friends. Hell, I can see it every time we just watch an indie film. You obviously hate the fact you’re stuck teaching instead of something else, so I wanna know how you got here.”

  I clamp my jaw shut.

  In a very soft, very meek tone, she implores, “Please, tell me Nate. Please let me in…”

  Tension trails itself throughout my body. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to bring it up. I don’t want to watch the look of disgust or horror or disapproval that’s going to come. There’s not a moment of that I wanna relive. Not now. Not ever.

  Reluctantly, I turn and face Ainsley. Her wild brown eyes are filled with kindness and acceptance in spite of whatever I could possibly say. What if that instantly changes? What if she starts to hate me for a stupid mistake I made?

  “Nothing you could possibly say will make me love you less.”

  Her choice of words chokes mine. “Y-y-you love me?”

  She nervously nibbles on her bottom lip almost as if she regrets saying it. Maybe she does. Maybe she meant she cares deeply. She is young. It’s hard to know the difference.

  To my surprise, she lifts her chin defiantly in the air. “I do.”

  I approach the counter space closer to her. “You sure? We’ve only been dating a few months.”

  Ainsley shrugs. “So. Time doesn’t define love, Nate. How you feel inside does. And I know I have never felt anything as incredible as what I feel with you. It doesn’t matter if we’re having dinner at home or fooling around in the front seat of your car or arguing about who really deserved an Oscar. Every moment I’m with you, I feel safe. I feel happy. I feel…complete. I may not have a long string of boyfriends as evidence that I can tell the
difference between lust and love, but I know in my heart what I feel. I know any time I’m with you I feel whole. For me…that’s love.”

  Without hesitation, I reply, “I love you too, Ainsley.”

  A beautiful, bright smile appears on her face.

  Maybe this is crazy. Maybe being in love this fast and this hard is ridiculous. But what’s more ridiculous is my inability to picture a life without her. A life without us. No. This didn’t start ideally. No. This still isn’t ideal, but we’ve made it work. I think both of us are willing to do whatever it takes to make this possible. Maybe that’s insane, but I honestly can’t think of a better definition for love.