Under The Peaches (Teaching Love Series Book 1)

by Shana Vanterpool

  “You and Layla weren’t having sex?”

  He snorts. “Yeah right. We hadn’t had sex for over six months before we broke up.”

  “Why not?”

  He shifts his jeans, trying to relieve the pressure. “She was cheating on me. Plus, if I was being a bastard to you would you want to sleep with me? She treated me like shit.”

  He’s agitated now. “I probably would. You’re hot.”

  He stops pacing to glare at me. “Funny.”

  I watch him walk back and forth. The bulge in his pants might have gotten bigger. I grin to myself, stretching out on the bed. “You’re probably the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Most of it comes from your personality. But there’s that part of me that just wants you to do exactly what you want to do to me.”

  “Kael. Stop.”

  My grin rises. “What would you do if you were alone?”

  “What you did to me on the couch.”

  I picture him masturbating, his hard cock in his fist. Teeth gritted, pleasure burning in his eyes. It sends fire over me. “I liked doing that to you.”

  “I can’t go get food with a raging hard on, Kaelyn. Stop it.”

  I giggle and roll over, ignoring the pain in my ribs. “You might take someone’s eye out.”

  He chuckles. “I hit Layla in the eye once.”

  I hold my stomach as I laugh. “How?”

  “Our college dorms were tiny. Let’s just say she went down and I went up and bam. I think her exact words were: I hope I don’t get pink eye.”

  I roll onto my back and laugh hard, grabbing my stomach. “I had pink eye once.”

  “Gross.”

  I grab a pillow off the bed and throw it at him. “I was like ten.”

  “Still gross.” He grins at me.

  “It was kind of gross. Haddie wouldn’t take me to the doctor so I had to deal with it until it healed. The kids at school avoided me for months afterward.”

  Julian stops pacing. “Kids can be cruel. I don’t think they mean to be. They can’t possibly understand the effect they’re having. But that doesn’t lessen the pain, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t.” I feel my teasing mood drain. “Is it me? Do I put off undetectable repugnant radars that make people not want me?”

  “I think it’s what you allowed to happen. You’re so used to it you didn’t think it should be any other way. It happened once, then again, and again. Soon it became normal for you. It isn’t you. It was never you. Who you are is someone I can’t live without. It was them. It was always them.”

  I ease back down on the bed. He can’t live without me? The thought leaves me winded and hopeful. “Let’s never try. I don’t think I can live without you either.”

  “Deal.” So easy. So simple. No problem with forever … “I’ll be back with the food. Anything special you want?”

  He’s the only thing I want. “You know what I like.”

  “I’m learning,” he says softly.

  So am I.

  Chapter Twelve

  The moment I hear the front door close, I push off the bed and leave the room.

  My mouth is dry and my legs are wobbly. I am covered in Julian, but it isn’t enough. One second without him, and I can’t remember how I ever did it. How did I last this long without someone like him in my life? The answer is clear and painful. I didn’t. I wasn’t aware that my right now was my yesterday and tomorrow. I accepted people like Nessa and Brady as the rule.

  But they weren’t the rule.

  Rules were to protect us and to break, not to cause us pain.

  I examine the contents of the fridge, hoping for a bottle of water. There’s beer, beer, and oddly enough, more beer. I raise my eyebrows at all the glass bottles and shake my head at Jaz. I find a glass instead and fill it with tap water, drinking until my mouth is no longer dry.

  The view is as magnificent as the last time I was here. The water rolls in languidly, creeping up the white sun-warmed sand. The breeze disturbs the long reaching grass encroaching on the bank. Everything looks so tranquil.

  I exit onto the deck and take the stairs, winding through the grass. I take my flats off and walk as close to the water as I can. The cold-water rolls over my feet and soaks into the bottom of my jeans. I can see for miles in the distance, islands, their shores empty this time of year. The sun shines on the water and shimmers on the surface. It warms my face and arms. I close my eyes and let the heat soak into my skin. I’m usually always so cold, but for the first time, I don’t miss my parka as much.

  It’s quiet in my head for once. I’m not worrying … I am simply in the moment, under the sun; my fears are in the back of my mind. I’m standing on the edge of the ocean as my toes sink into the sand. I’m cold, but not nearly as freezing as I used to be.

  Deep down, I know what I’m truly afraid of is this feeling. Not of its presence, but its absence. Emotions came in and disrupted my life; I’m not the same anymore. But the past still is.

  Female squeals tear me from my calm. I look down the beach and spot a couple in the ocean. He’s forcing her into the water, laughing as she shouts. They can’t be older than me. Their smiles and laughter are easy and unhindered. There’s nothing stopping them from feeling what they want. They don’t fear their happiness.

  I’m cold again.

  “You’re getting wet.”

  I turn around at the statement. Julian’s standing on the deck watching me. I don’t even answer him. I simply walk up the beach, take the stairs, and wrap my arms around him, squeezing as hard as I can.

  He seems confused but bends down to hug me back anyway. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just missed you.”

  He smiles in a way that makes me thinks he knows exactly what I mean, and then takes my hand. “Prepare to eat half your body weight in lobster rolls.”

  There’s a spread laid out on the table. Moist chunks of lobster fall out of buttery rolls, golden fries tumble out of their package, and pieces of freshly fried fish are laid out on newspaper.

  He opens the fridge and gawks at all the beer. Shrugging, no doubt at Jaz, he takes two bottles out and opens them. The beer is cold and crisp, going so well with the fried food and even better with the lobster that I can’t help moaning.

  Julian wipes a hand down his face and chuckles at me. “Something tells me you’re going to be responsive in bed.”

  “You mean loud?” I pop a piece of lobster into my mouth.

  He grins at me. “I like loud.”

  “Was I loud when you … you know …” I look down at my food.

  “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

  “Julian.”

  “When I did what, Kaelyn?”

  “Tasted me,” I force out, gazing at him.

  He winks, lion and all. “More like savored. You were loud. Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh.” Fire moves over my body. “I remember it, but I don’t recall everything. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else but the ending.”

  “See what I mean? That’s why I want to wait until we have sex. I want you to remember it. And you’re still in pain. All you remember is the ending huh? I wonder why.” He takes a bite of his lobster roll, eyes falsely innocent. “What were your favorite parts?”

  I gnaw on my bottom lip. “I think you know what they are.”

  “I haven’t the faintest clue.”

  “Stop,” I warn.

  “I want to know your favorite parts. That way the next time I do it I know how to make it even more pleasurable for you. I want to pleasure you, Kaelyn. Help me out.”

  I don’t think he needs any help at all. He knows exactly what to do. I’m the inexperienced one here. But his words roll over me. I want to pleasure you. I’ll play along. The pleasure Julian gives me is something I refuse to threaten. “I like knowing it’s you between my thighs. I like looking down and seeing you. What do you like?”

  The lion extends his fangs. “I love knowing it’s your pussy I’m about
to taste.”

  He did it. He pounced. I swallow hard and force myself to hold his liquid gaze. “Do you like the way I taste?”

  As if remembering, his tongue shoots out to lick his bottom lip. “I like the way you taste so much I want to taste you right now.”

  I feel his words in my heat. “I’d rather taste you.”

  He feels that all the way below his waist. He repositions himself in his chair. “Have you ever done that before?” His eyes tighten. The lion is holding his breath.

  “No.”

  His shoulders relax. “Back to you.”

  “I want to talk about you.” I get up.

  “Kaelyn, sit back down.”

  I walk around the table and stop on the side of his chair. He looks up at me with sexy dirty bad eyes. I lift his arm and sit on his lap. I can feel him through our clothes. “You do so much for me. Can’t I do something for you?”

  “I don’t do things to you for anything in return. In fact,” he says, tone growing dark. “I’m kind of pissed off that you think you have to pay me back this way.”

  The shift in his mood confuses me. “I’m not paying you back. I just wanted to—” I look down.

  He lifts my chin. “To what?”

  “To make you feel as good as you made me feel.” I can barely meet his eyes.

  His face softens. “You make me feel good all the time. Just having you here makes me feel good.”

  And suddenly I’m pissed off too. I rise from his lap and shake him off when he reaches for me. “Forget it. It’s okay for you to do that to me, but I can’t do it for you? What am I to you? Some fragile inexperienced idiot?”

  He runs a hand down his face in irritation. When he opens his mouth, I stop him with a look.

  I sit back down and grab my beer, taking a long drink. “Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?”

  “Do you have any idea how disappointing it is for the woman you want to be with to think she has to give out pleasure tit for tat?”

  I gasp indignantly.

  “What have you been through in the past month? How many men have hurt you? How many times have you felt good? I want to make you feel good, baby. You deserve it. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  Was this how he felt talking to me? I couldn’t believe what he was saying. “If anyone here deserves to feel good, it’s you. I mean you’ve done so much for me.”

  He extends his hand toward me, as if to say: You see? “Imagine if I wanted to hook up with you because I thought it would be a nice thing to do?”

  “So, all you want is for me to want to do it?”

  “That’s it. Don’t do it because you think you have to. Never do it because of that.”

  What if Julian touched me because he thought that’s what I wanted, and not what he wanted to do? The idea makes me sick to my stomach. I meet his eyes hesitantly. “Trust me. I want to do it. I also thought at some point maybe I could be a normal confident girlfriend who did things to her boyfriend because she could.”

  “You have,” he reminds me, his face softening. “I don’t want it to be that way with you. I don’t want to use you. Ever,” he vows.

  “You’re not using me if I want to do it.” Take that. “I want you in my mouth, Julian. I want to taste you, feel you, and know I’m the one making you moan. But,” I continue, lightly. “If you’d rather me not, I’m fine with that also.”

  I put him in a hard spot.

  He blows out a breath and tries not to smile. “Not only are you sexy, you’re smart too. Now it’s up to me?”

  “Mhm.” I take a drink of beer, rekindling my taste buds. “I’m going to be selfish from now on. If you want to pleasure me, do it. I’m not going to worry about you at all.”

  His grin is pure naughty. He rises from his seat and walks over to me. The lion is stalking me again, testing me. I stare up and him with wide eyes as he drops to his knees in front of me. He grabs my chair and pulls it so I’m facing him. “Stand up so I can take your pants off.”

  Damn it. How can he make me feel so hot with just words? Doesn’t he want to feel this way too, to erupt as the flames of my comments leave him hot and breathless? “You’re going to do it right here?”

  “Stand up.”

  There are weird muscles in my stomach clenching like crazy. I set my beer down and rise on wobbly legs. I turn toward him and look down just in time for him to start in on my buckle. He undoes it effortlessly, staring at it and not me as he slides my zipper down. I am trembling with want and something else, something that makes me confident again.

  “When I take your pants off I want you to sit down and put your legs around my shoulders. Don’t say anything. Just do what I say.”

  I open my mouth and he gives me a dark untamed look. I snap my lips closed as his fingers pull down on my jeans. He wiggles them over my butt and I have to reach down to hold his shoulders when he pulls them down my legs. Using him for balance, I step out of my jeans and panties in one step. I am bare from the waist down. And I am not afraid.

  I sit down and he slides the chair forward so I can do what he told me to do. I can feel myself dampening already and I haven’t even moved a muscle. I am on fire as I drape my legs over his shoulders. The backs of my knees hang down his back and my wet heat is right in front of his face.

  He looks up at me just once. And the look in his eyes is so carnal and hot I know I’m in for it. This isn’t going to be like before. He’s going to torture me this time. He’s going to show me what pleasure really is.

  Julian grips my thighs and moves them apart a few inches. He scoots closer and kisses my inner thigh. Just that contact alone makes me moan. I grab the arms on the chair and look down, watching him kiss me, sucking on my skin. He kisses up, leaving wet kisses along my inner thigh as he gets toward my core. He kisses around it to get to my other thigh, leaving my stomach a tidal wave as I breathe in and out with my desire. The feeling of his face against my skin, so close to the part of me I want him in the most, is erotic and torture filled.

  I can feel myself growing wetter as he slowly kisses my inner thighs. I think he’s never going to kiss me where I want him to. And then finally I feel his warm wet tongue against my entrance. I scream out, uncaring of how loud I am. His tongue enters me slowly as his lips suck hard on my pussy. He’s still torturing me. I know there’s a better spot for his tongue, and he isn’t even close to it. Yet I want him right where he is. This torturous pleasure is worth the wait.

  He shoves his face harder against me, making love to me with his tongue. Having him between my legs is enough. His tongue is a gift. I move my hips against him, moaning so deeply I know I’m going to be hoarse when he’s done. I reach down and run my fingers through his hair. I just want to touch him.

  “This feels so good, Julian.”

  In answer, his tongue delves deeper inside of me.

  I open my legs wider for him, draping one on the arm of the chair and keeping the other still over his shoulder. I love being wide open in front of him. I feel confident and sexy, wanted within my exposure. I guide his face against me harder by his hair. I can feel myself reaching toward something. My breathing deepens. My muscles clench. Right before I get there, Julian pulls away.

  He wipes his mouth off on his shirt and looks up at me. His eyes are two gleaming pools of melted silver. “Not yet.”

  There is so much of me he hasn’t touched. He stands and finds my mouth. His lips are wet and I can taste myself when his tongue enters my mouth. That single form of contact, the most erotic thing I’ve ever done, lights me on fire. I kiss him back hectically. Fumbling, he lifts me up until my legs are wrapped around his waist. Feeling his jeans against my inner thighs makes me shiver. My clit scrapes against his buckle. I whimper in his arms. He walks me back to the bedroom as our lips melt together.

  Gently, he lowers me to the bed and follows, settling his weight on top of me. I ignore the pain in my ribs. I can barely feel it anyway. His lips are urgent, kissing me so hard I
can’t even remember to breathe. I kiss him back just as hard, matching his tongue. My fingers are in his hair and our hips grind together frantically. I remove one hand from his hair and slide it between our bodies until I find him. I rub him through his jeans.

  He reaches down to grab my hand and then he grabs the other. He brings them over my head, pinning them there, and then meets my eyes. “This isn’t about me.”

  I fight against him. His weight is on me and my hands are manacled above my head. His thighs have shifted until they’re squeezing my legs closed. I am stuck beneath him.

  “Ahh,” I whine.

  He shifts so only one of his hands is holding both of mine. He puts his free hand in my hair and runs his fingers down my face, over my breasts, and across my stomach. When he gets to my core he finds my slick opening and enters me without warning. I exhale and arch against him. His fingers are insistent, moving roughly into me as far as they can go. I hump his hand, wishing it was him inside of me. His lips find mine as his fingers continue to torture me. I pulse around them, feeling my end coming again. With my arms above my head, I am imprisoned.

  He tears his lips free and pulls his fingers out right before I can orgasm. I growl in frustration and grip the comforter, bunching it in my fists. He sinks between my legs and soon his tongue is on me again. My anger dissipates.

  “If you stop this time I’m going to scream.”

  “Are you aware of every second?”

  “Every single one,” I moan.

  His response is to bring his tongue down on my clitoris. I gasp and rise, watching him lick me. My orgasm is waiting right around the corner. The moment he flicks his tongue against me just right, I fall apart. My body clenches and shakes as pleasure ripples through me. It grips me completely, controlling every part of my body.

  Still, he won’t stop. He forces my legs wide apart and licks me, sliding his tongue up and down my wet heat.

  He can’t possibly think I’m doing that again?

  His fingers prod me before pushing inside.

  I’m doing it again.

  I grin amidst my panting. This time around I understand why he’s doing this. I am nothing but pleasure. It’s a hot twisted fog in the room, slicking me with sweat and want. I concentrate on the feelings and sensations. I have no room in my brain but pleasure. I feel nothing bad at all. When my second orgasm hits, I’m truly falling apart. Broken in the best way.