FALSE 9: Red Card Series

by Erickson, Megan

  Her words penetrated through the lusty fog in my brain. “I can’t walk home with jizz stains on my jeans either.” My voice was a hiss, a toneless whisper as she squeezed me harder, her wrist twisting when she got to the top.

  “I’ll take care of it,” she whispered. “I love how you look when you’re like this.” She was staring at me in awe, like I was some sort of God and not some horny college kid with a fantasy girl giving him a public hand job.

  “I want to touch you too.” Was I whining? That might have been a whine, but I’d been dying to see, touch her. I couldn’t think, not with the riot of sensations to my skin. The air cooled the precome glistening on the end of my dick, but her hot hand on the shaft was frying my brain. My hips moved involuntarily, my body aching to do the inevitable. The cart started again on its descent and my breathing sped up, my heart pounding.

  “Shhh,” she said, tugging my shirt down over her hand. She wasn’t stroking me anymore, only lightly running her fingernails up and down my length. It wasn’t painful, but it staved off the orgasm beginning to boil in my balls. “Just wait until we’re back up at the top.”

  “What?” I was having an out of body experience. All I could do was the grip the bars of the cart with white knuckles. I was so fucking hard, I couldn’t even see, my mind only focused on Bianca’s hand on my dick and my pressing need to come. “I’m dying,” I muttered. “What a way to go, though.” I let my head fall back with a thunk.

  She giggled. She fucking giggled at my pain. “Not funny, Bianca. You’re lucky I can barely move in this tiny fucking cart or I’d—” My voice cut off on a moan as she squeezed me once, like a warning.

  “What would you do?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t think well enough to be creative. I’d do something though.”

  The cart was going back up to the top now. “Would you put your hands down my pants?” she asked, her voice irritatingly innocent. “Would you take those long fingers and—”

  “Oh my God, you gotta stop.” I groaned. “Are there children in these carts? Are you going to get me arrested? I don’t want to be a sex offender, B.”

  The stroking started up again, and I squeezed my eyes shut, flaring my nostrils and trying to think of anything, literally anything that would hold off my orgasm. My dads massaging each other. Zac chewing those Oreos with his mouth open. That goat shoving his horn up my ass.

  The cart stopped, and I didn’t think I could take another rotation. Bianca’s mouth pressed against mine, and I opened my eyes just as she pulled away. Her hand was doing exquisite things to my dick and my balls were drawing up, seeking that sweet release.

  “Bianca,” I rasped.

  “I know,” she smiled at me.

  Then her head lowered into my lap and her perfect, wet, hot mouth enveloped my dick. I had to shove my fist into my mouth to keep from crying out. She sucked three times and I didn’t even have the ability to warn her before I was coming, shooting into her mouth like a fucking geyser of pent up sexual frustration.

  My chest heaved, and my head spun. I was lightheaded, feeling like I was falling out of the damn cart before I felt her fingers tucking me back into my pants. Then my face was in Bianca’s hands, and her nose was rubbing along mine. “Hey,” she said softly.

  “Is this real life?” My voice was a lazy drawl. That wasn’t the first blow job I’d ever had, but at this point, I couldn’t remember anything that came before her. Nothing mattered now that she’d touched me.

  Her laugh was soft, her hair swirling around us in the breeze. I slipped my hand through it, pulling it back from her face so I could see her pretty brown eyes.

  “I owe you one now,” I whispered.

  “You do,” she grinned.

  “And when are you going to let me make me repay you?”

  My hand reached for the top of her jeans, but she shook her head. “Ride’s almost over. Later.”

  I kissed her. I didn’t care that she’d just blown me, I didn’t care one single bit because I didn’t want to waste a minute with her, not one single fucking minute. Not when she was this happy, her face flushed, her lips wet and swollen from me. Me. I wanted to puff out my chest and fucking crow. But that wasn’t what this was about. She wasn’t a trophy to show off. For this moment, in this tiny cart, she was mine.

  We spent the rest of the ride in silence, her hand casually resting on my abs under my shirt, my fingers tangled in her hair, massaging her scalp.

  Thirteen

  Tit-drunk

  Bianca’s arms were wrapped around my neck, her weight on my back, and her legs in the crook of my elbows as I carried her piggyback style out of the fairgrounds. She’d been tired and nearly twisted her ankle on some uneven ground when we were leaving. I was fine. Stamina came in handy.

  Shane had the stuffed Brownie’s hooves around his neck, holding them at his throat as it bounced on his back with each step. He was talking to it. Like a weirdo.

  “If you’re that attached to him, you can keep him,” Bianca laughed, her breath warm on the side of my face. Her chin pressed into my shoulder.

  “How about shared custody?” Shane winked at her.

  “Deal.”

  “Wait, why are Saint’s nails black?” Zac said from behind us as he ate a big ball of blue cotton candy.

  “You just noticed that?” Dre asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sometimes Zac, I think you live in a totally different world than us,” Shane muttered.

  “I painted his nails while he was asleep,” Bianca answered for me.

  “I peeled off most of it, but I’m too lazy to go get nail polish remover.” I eyed my nails. Yeah I looked a bit like a goth teenager with my chipped black nail polish.

  “Was that nail polish from freshman year?” Shane asked.

  “Yeah, I didn’t realize I still had it in my closet.”

  “You said it was from a hazing thing?” Bianca asked. “What other kinds of things did you have to do? This is a new concept to me.”

  “All the teams have different things,” Shane said. “In high school, we had to slide down a tarp-covered hill while all the upperclassman poured condiments on us.” He shuddered. “I still can’t stand the smell of canned chili.”

  “We had to go streaking,” Zac said.

  “And schools and coaches are okay with this?” Bianca asked.

  We all looked at each other. “No,” I said. “It’s all done, uh, under the table, so to speak.”

  “Huh,” she seemed to mull that. “So what did you guys have to do for the soccer team?”

  “Well the nail polish wasn’t really hazing. It was more a spirit thing.” I hopped on my feet a little when I felt Bianca slip down my back. She tightened her arms and I winced a bit at the pull on my neck. “The farmhouse is the annual soccer team hazing. Probably for the last eight years or so.”

  “Explain,” she said.

  “You can’t—” I began.

  “Oh my God, I’m not going to say anything to anyone.” I could hear the eye roll in her voice.

  “There’s an old farmhouse right off campus behind the health center,” I said. “It’s abandoned and we’re not even sure who owns it or the land. There’s no trespassing signs everywhere but we’ve been trespassing for a long time.”

  “And no one’s shot as us yet,” Dre added.

  “When you’re a freshman, you gotta run in the house by yourself, at night when it’s pitch-black outside. Go through the living room, up the stairs at the back, make it to the front room on the second floor. There’s a flashlight there, and you have to flick it one time—”

  “One if by land, two if by sea,” Zac interjected.

  “—And then get back out.” I ignored him. “It might sound easy, but the place legit looks like something out of a scary movie, and the floor is all warped and rotted. Walking up those stairs is like taking your own life in your hands.

  “Can I try it?” She asked.

  “No,” we all said i
n unison.

  “For real, B,” I said. “It’s not safe. We’re just dumbasses. This year, a freshman fell right through the living room floor into the basement when he stepped on a rotted board.”

  “We stood around the hole in the floor peering down at him, asking him if he wanted a basket of lotion until he cried,” Dre added.

  “He said it was dust allergies,” I said.

  “Suuurrree,” Dre said.

  “Was he okay?” Bianca asked.

  “Fine.” I pressed a kiss to her bicep. “Well, except his pride.”

  We reached Coach’s street where his house sat about further down. I jerked my chin to Shane and Brownie. “Give him to me. Bianca gets custody first. I’ll walk her home. Well, carry her home.”

  Shane gave Brownie a big kiss on his furry nose and then handed him over with a two-finger salute to me. “See you at home later.”

  “Yep.”

  “Need us to come with?” Dre asked.

  I shook my head. “We’re cool. It’s only a block away.”

  He nodded. “Call if you need us.”

  “Will do.”

  I turned down Coach’s street as my roommates continued on to our townhouse. Bianca’s hair swept across my face on a breeze and I blew it out of my vision. She giggled in my ear, one arm wrapped around my chest, the other holding Brownie. When her lips pressed against my neck, I stumbled. She let out a shriek before I righted myself. I squeezed her thigh. “That was your fault.”

  “How was that my fault?” Her voice was all fake innocence.

  “You’re distracting me,” I grumbled.

  “I’m distracting you from walking?” I could hear the smile in her voice.

  “You distract me from breathing.” I answered.

  She went still, her arms tightening around me. I kept walking, unsure if I said something wrong. As we drew closer to Coach’s house, she said softly,” Let me down, please.”

  I carefully bent my knees so she could safely slide down my back. I turned around, about to tell her that I’ll wait here while she walks the rest of the way so Coach didn’t see us. But I didn’t get a chance to say anything. She reached up and grabbed my face, tugging it close to hers. Her eyes were wide, nearly black in the moonlight. “Do you mean it?”

  “Do I mean what?”

  “That I distract you from breathing?” There was a vulnerability in her voice that made my chest tight.

  I wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her closer. “Yeah. One of these days I’m going to pass out. You’re going to have to do mouth-to-mouth. For like, hours.”

  She laughed, her eyes sparkling before grabbing my hand and dragging me toward Coach’s house. “Come on.”

  I dragged my feet. “Whoa whoa. As much as I’d love to drop you off at your door and maybe do a little porch groping, Coach will have my balls.”

  She was still walking, pulling me along. She pressed her tongue into the corner of her mouth, a wicked grin on her lips. “He’s gone. All night.”

  I planted my feet. “What?”

  She tugged, but I didn’t move. “Yeah, he’s got a girlfriend in Grantley.”

  Grantley was over an hour away. “Coach has a girlfriend?”

  She nodded. “A nurse. He won’t be back until late morning, early afternoon.”

  I began to sweat. Alone? With Bianca? As much as I wanted her, because oh God I did, I was also worried about being a huge fucking disappointment. “Uh…”

  “Come on,” she said softly, like she knew I was nervous. “We can watch a movie or something. I…don’t want this night to end quite yet.”

  Hell no, I wanted it to last forever. “Of course.” My voice was a croak because the blood was rushing to my dick. Again.

  When she tugged on my hand, I followed. I kept my head down, making sure I focused on my feet instead of the throbbing between my legs. Which was why I didn’t notice when she stopped and I slammed into the back of her. She stared straight ahead, body tense.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is Coach home?” Her body began to shake, and her hand gripped me so tight that I winced. “Bianca?”

  We were standing in front of Coach’s neighbor’s house. I squinted my eyes, following Bianca’s line of sight. She was looking at Coach’s house, and in front of the door on the lit porch was a box from a flower shop holding a vase of flowers.

  “Oh shit,” I murmured.

  She was trembling all over now. “Lavin,” she whispered, her voice broken. “It’s him. Or her. Or them. I know it. They always sent me roses. Those are roses. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. They found me.”

  Her knees buckled, and I hauled her to her feet. I glanced around, feeling exposed out here on the sidewalk. The street was well-lit. What if they were around here? Watching?

  “I can’t,” she was muttering. “I can’t go there. I can’t.”

  “You’re not going back there.” My mind was working, contemplating our next move. This town was full of back alleys and dirt paths. I just needed to get back to our townhouse and then we were getting the fuck out of here.

  I pulled her into the dark, between two houses and took her shoulders, shaking her slightly. “Look at me.”

  She did, but her eyes were unfocused, her mouth open. She was in shock. I shook her again, a bit harder this time, and she snapped to attention. “I have an idea, but you need to listen to me. Do what I tell you for the next half hour or so. Do you trust me?”

  She nodded immediately, and her hands came up to squeeze my biceps. “Of course,” her voice was soft.

  “Okay, follow me.” I tucked Brownie under my arm and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

  I had no idea if we were being watched or followed. The five-minute walk to my townhouse took twenty because I took a whole bunch of weird paths. I listened carefully, but heard no footsteps but ours. I could only hope the flowers had been a warning and not a way to announce their presence.

  On the way, I dialed Shane. He answered with a yawn. “What’s up?”

  “Need to borrow your car. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

  “My car?”

  “Yeah. Please? I’ll owe you. Big time.”

  “Whatever. Sure.”

  “Thanks. Be home soon. I’m going to grab a bag and then Bianca and I are leaving.”

  “What?”

  I hung up. I was fucking paranoid but what if someone was listening? I glanced back to see Bianca walking quickly, her head down. She was limping slightly, which made me grit my teeth. I stopped and bent down. “Hop on.”

  “Lav, I’m fine—”

  “You’re limping. Hop on. Let’s go.”

  She didn’t protest again, which showed how bad her ankle was hurting. When we reached my townhouse, I ignored Dre and Shane’s questions and packed a quick bag while Bianca shut herself in the bathroom. Within five minutes, we were on the road, speeding down the interstate in Shane’s little Honda, while I sipped from a travel coffee mug.

  “Where are we going?” Bianca asked, holding Brownie in her lap. She refused to leave it with Shane.

  “My dad’s,” I said. “When we get there, we’ll call Coach, tell him what’s going on and we’ll come back Sunday. I’m assuming he’ll call the police?”

  “Yeah.”

  I reached over and slid my fingers through hers, careful to keep my eyes on the road. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get out of town for a bit. Away from all of it.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “Sure. We have a little over an hour. Maybe less at this time of night. Try to sleep.”

  “I don’t have my clothes.” She looked like she was getting worked up. “I’m going to meet your parents and I look like this—”

  “Bianca, chill. For real. First of all, you can wear my clothes. Second of all, it doesn’t matter what you look like. They don’t care. Okay? My room’s in the basement anyway. I have my own entrance. They won’t even know we’re there until morning.”

  She sniffed and the
n nodded. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  I wanted to beat my chest like a caveman. “I’m sure you’d manage.”

  She laughed wryly. “Not sure about that.”

  “Rest. Sleep a little. I got this.”

  She nodded, propped Brownie up against the door and laid her head on his side. She was asleep in minutes.

  * * *

  I flipped off the headlights when I turned onto my street and pulled into my driveway slowly. I didn’t want to wake my parents. First, because it was late as hell. Second, because Pop was an actual fucking bear if anyone interrupted his sleep. And third because I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to explain Bianca yet. I’d tell them the truth about why we were there—I didn’t lie to them about important shit—but tonight she felt…fragile. When I first met Bianca, I never could have imagined her as fragile, but tonight she seemed an inch away from breaking.

  I placed the car in park and turned off the engine. Bianca didn’t move. She was out like a light, her face smashed against Brownie’s fur, her hair a tangled mass around her head. I was reluctant to wake her up. I nibbled on my lip, eyeing the dark side of my house. My bedroom door was in the back with its own alarm code, but navigating my wooded yard in the dark with a sleeping Bianca in my arms sounded like a fucking recipe for disaster. I could just imagine me dropping her, her screaming, my dads waking up and calling the cops, resulting in someone getting shot. Probably me. And not in a cool bullet wound place either. I’d probably get my dick shot off.

  Just then she stirred and her hand came up to brush her hair out of her face. “Lav,” she murmured, her eyes still closed.

  I squeezed her thigh. “It’s me. We’re here.”

  She came fully awake, blinking up at my house through the windshield. “Oh,” she said. “It’s so pretty.”

  Our two-story house was all wood with a log cabin-type feel. A porch wrapped around the front, with a swing and a few Adirondack chairs.

  “My uncle builds houses,” I said. “Pop bought this land, about five acres which is mostly wooded, and had this house built back before I was born.”