by J. A. Little
“You make me that way,” she whimpers. “All the time.”
“Even when I’m being an asshole?” I ask, adding a finger and pumping them in and out of her.
“Especially when you’re being an asshole. That’s why I—ah—try to see you at the end of the—shit—day.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“So I don’t—God that feels good—have to go through my day all worked up. I can go home and…”
She’s riding my hand now. Maybe I should stop so she can finish her sentence. I kind of like where it’s going. I pull my fingers out of her and focus on just her clit, drawing firm but lazy circles.
“Finish your story, sweetheart. So you can go home and what?”
“So I can go home and take care of myself. Dean, please.”
I chuckle against her ear. “You touch yourself?”
“Yes.”
“And think of me?” I slip a finger back inside her.
“Yes.”
“Do you use your hand or something else?” Now I’m playing with her. I know all about her Mr. Big. I’m not sure that right now is the best time to bring up her drunken phone call, though.
“Both,” she croaks.
“Both? Now I’m intrigued,” I say, slipping another finger back inside her. “What’s better?”
If I thought I had the upper hand, I was wrong. Kayla’s like a bolt of lightning, shoving me onto my back and climbing on top of me.
“I’ve discovered very recently that I like the real thing best.”
She looks down, and the grin on her face disappears. She gently traces over the words on my hip with her fingertips before her touch slides down over my thighs. Leaning over, she presses her lips against the tail of my scarring. I swallow dryly. I can’t feel her touch—my nerve endings were destroyed in that area. All I can do is watch. I feel the pressure of her mouth, but not the softness of her lips.
She kisses up my side, following the trail until it disappears behind my back. Instead of stopping, she moves up over my collarbone. Now I can feel her—in a lot of places. I feel her breath on my neck, her teeth scraping across my earlobe, her nipples grazing my chest, and her wetness sliding across my hard on.
Placing my hands on her hips, I encourage her movements. With each pass, she gets closer and closer to letting me slip inside. It’s pure fucking torture.
Finally, mercifully, she sits up on her knees. I watch her sink down onto me slowly. It’s agonizing. I can feel every inch as her body takes me in. She winces as she adjusts her position a few times.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she breathes. “I’m just a little sore.”
I was too rough with her last night. She deserved much better than how I treated her.
“We don’t have to do this, sweetheart. I should have—”
“Shut up!” she growls, beginning to move. “Oh my God. That’s so deep.”
I keep my mouth shut and, after a few seconds, she seems to be moving easily. As much as I have the urge to flip her over and take control, I fight it. I really like what she’s doing, and I don’t want to hurt her again.
I can’t stop watching her ride me, completely mesmerized by the roll of her hips. I can see everything. Her hands are resting against my chest, squeezing her tits together in my face and giving her leverage to slide my cock in and out of her.
I’m not sure what to do with my hands, so I put them on her boobs. It seems like a good place, especially when my attention to her nipples makes her clench around me. She groans and begins moving faster, causing my balls to tighten in anticipation.
“I’m gonna come,” she squeaks.
That’s my cue. I grab her hips and take control, thrusting up into her hard and fast. Her mouth drops open, her eyes close, and she throws her head back as she comes. Fucking stunning. With one last push, I follow. She’s still tensing as I empty inside her with a very pathetic series of grunts.
Kayla leans forward again and drops down on top of me. “That was nice,” she sighs, planting a kiss on my neck.
I laugh. Nice. Not exactly the adjective a guy wants to hear after sex. After a couple minutes of silence, she sits up and moves off me. I watch as my semen trickles down the inside of her thigh. It’s extremely erotic…and frightening.
“I’ll be right back,” she says, darting away into the bathroom. I’m glad—it gives me a minute to figure out what I’m going to say.
When she walks back out, her face is freshly washed. She looks happy.
“Kayla?” I choke as she gets back into the bed beside me and pulls the covers up over our legs. She looks up at me in question. “We, uh, we…” Shit. How the hell do I even have the right to tell my boys how to handle themselves in sexual situations if I can’t man up and do it myself? “That was stupid!” I blurt out. Kayla’s staring at me with a blank look. “I mean, we didn’t use anything,” I hurry to correct myself before I get slapped.
“Oh,” she sighs, looking relieved. “I thought about that when I was cleaning up. I get the shot, if that’s what you’re worried about. And I got tested in November. I haven’t been with anyone since.”
I nod. I trust Kayla more than almost anyone, but in my experience, babies seem to come along at the most inopportune times. She shoves her thumbnail in her mouth, looking nervous. I need to say something.
“I’m clean, too,” I mumble. “I just—”
“It’s okay,” she says, reaching for a pillow and burrowing her face in it. “Probably something we should have talked about before fucking each other silly.”
“Probably,” I chuckle, reaching over and running a finger down the perfect skin of her back. I think about my own marred skin as I trace the black swirls on her hip. Now that we’re not completely lost in a sexual whirlwind, I have a minute to examine it. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
She shrugs lightly. “I don’t know. It seemed trivial compared to the reasons behind yours.”
“What does it mean?”
“It’s a manta ray. It’s supposed to symbolize strength, freedom, and protection. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” I disagree.
“I went over to the wall and pointed at a dozen of them asking what they meant,” she snorts. “It was the one that fit best. The guy modified it a little bit, though. He said he likes to give each piece its own individual flair. So I guess I’m not a total walking cliché.”
I frown, still running my fingers over her skin. “How long have you had it?”
“I got it when I was twenty-three. Warren and I went to Tahiti, and he talked me into getting one. He was supposed to get one, too, but he chickened out.” She laughs. “Fucker. I should have known when he insisted I go first that he’d never do it.”
“He doesn’t have any ink?”
“Well, he sort of does.”
“How do you sort of have a tat?”
Kayla snickers. “Okay, so a couple of years ago, we got pretty plastered. I was giving him shit about Tahiti, and I dared him to let me put my name onto his body.”
“And he did it?” I gape.
“Yep. I used a pin and carved it into his foot and then rubbed pen ink into it.”
I shake my head. “So your name’s tattooed on his foot?”
Kayla nods with a grin. “He screamed like a little girl and then passed out on the floor of his living room. He didn’t even remember it the next morning. He got into the shower, and all I heard was him bellowing my name. He ran out buck naked, dripping wet, hopping up and down on one foot, asking what the hell I’d done to him. We laugh about it now, but at the time he didn’t think it was so funny. It’s not very noticeable, though, and it could have been worse. He originally asked me to tattoo it on his ass.”
I laugh and let my fingers drift over her skin. After a few minutes, Kayla yawns and rubs her eyes.
“Why don’t you go back to sleep?”
She shakes her head sleepily. “I’m okay.”
“You look exhausted. We’ve got plenty of time. Sleep.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise.
She yawns again, humming before closing her eyes. Once she falls asleep, I slip out of bed, grab my underwear from the floor in front of the bed, and put it on before picking up my phone. Four missed calls and three texts, two from my brother and one from Emily:
Just making sure you’re okay, bro.
Mom’s flipping out. I’m telling Dad you’ve gone to bed so she calms the fuck down.
Where are you? Madison Badeau just made a total fool of herself. LMFAO
The first three voicemail messages are from my father.
“Dean, I’m not sure where you disappeared to, but please call me ASAP.”
“Your mother has sworn to me that she’s not going to sleep until you call and tell us you’re okay. I’m just asking you to have mercy on me and check in.”
“Your brother just informed me that you’ve retired for the evening. Call me when you get a chance tomorrow, son.”
The last number I don’t recognize, but whoever it was didn’t leave a message. I send a quick text to Aiden, telling him I’m fine and I’ll call him later, then sit back and watch Kayla sleep.
For an hour, I stare at her, watching her breathe, twitch, shift, and smile. I wonder what she’s dreaming about. I don’t let myself think about what’s going to happen once we leave this room. There are too many factors. Last night, things felt different. It’s easy to pretend when you’re all dressed up, when you’re in the moment. Regardless of how I feel about her, I don’t know what she’s going to expect of me now.
Kayla shivers and sucks in air through her chattering teeth. She’s cold. She’s going to wake up and see me staring at her and wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. I climb back into bed and pull her close, wrapping my arms around her. She curls into me, sighing, and slowly I begin to relax.
Chapter 36
Dean
When Kayla wakes up again, it’s nearly ten. We have to check out by eleven, so after a few minutes of mindless groping, she disappears into the bathroom to shower on her own. I turn on the television just to have some noise. Otherwise, I’d hear the water and imagine drops raining down over Kayla’s toned, naked body, which is now etched permanently into my memory.
“It’s all yours,” she announces, coming out of the bathroom. She’s still wrapping the towel around herself, so I get a peek of wet skin.
“You’re a tease,” I groan, passing by her to take my turn in the shower.
When I walk out of the bathroom ten minutes later, Kayla’s sitting on the bed, still holding her towel around her and looking lost.
“What’s the matter?”
“I don’t have any clothes.” I look around, realizing we didn’t bring our bags in from the car. “I didn’t even get my purse.”
“Shit. Yeah. Okay, stay here, I’ll go get our stuff.”
“Stay here?”
“Yeah, I’ll be right back,” I say, dropping my towel and picking up my slacks from the floor.
“Oh. Damn. I thought I’d go check out the gym, maybe run a couple of miles.”
“You want to go for a run?” I ask, confused, putting on my wrinkled dress shirt and buttoning it up. Kayla tilts her head and presses her lips together, waiting for me to catch on. “Smart-ass,” I mumble with a laugh when I finally do. “Keep your naked self in this room.” I slip out the door, but grab it just as it’s about to close. “And no porn.”
“Aw, you ruin all my fun.”
I’m still smiling when I hit the lobby. When the elevator doors open, there are people from the gala everywhere, including my brother. I should have figured—it’s checkout time.
I manage to sneak out and get the keys from the valet service without being detected, but Aiden is standing just inside as I stroll back through the doors.
“Well, well, well.” He grins, taking in my obvious morning-after attire. “Rough night?”
“Shut up.”
He laughs and throws a hand on my back. “You missed a nice show last night, little brother. Got a few minutes?”
“Not really,” I say, shaking my head. My brother studies me for a minute.
“This is a good look for you,” he teases, tugging at the strap of Kayla’s purple bag. “Everything okay?”
I give in and smile. “A, I love you, man, but I, uh…” I point upward.
“Caseworker cutie?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“What the hell are you standing here talking to me for, then?” He steps to the side and waves me through. I laugh and almost jog to the elevator.
When I get back to the room, Kayla’s sitting in the chair in one of the hotel robes, staring out the window.
“Sorry,” I say, setting our bags down on the bed. “Got stopped by my brother.”
She stands up, walking toward me. When she starts unbuttoning my shirt, I stop her. “We don’t have time,” I say reluctantly.
“I know,” she sighs, picking up her bag.
I pull out my change of clothes and begin to dress. It feels weird with her in front of me, but she’s just slipped the robe from her shoulders—I’m not fucking going anywhere. She makes a big show of every movement, putting her leg up on the chair and bending over to put on her underwear.
“Kayla,” I warn.
“What?” she asks, innocently peering over her shoulder.
I get my pants done up, but I have to adjust myself. She’s wearing a pair of dark blue lace panties and she pulls out a matching bra, facing me to put it on before adjusting her tits. I wait until she gets her jeans on before pulling my own shirt over my head. Watching her dress is almost as much fun as watching her undress. Okay, not really.
Quickly glancing around as Kayla packs away her dress, I spot a hint of red under one of the sheets—which are now mostly on the floor—and pick up the remnants of last night’s undergarment. I clear my throat to garner her attention and dangle the scrap of fabric out in front of me. Kayla smiles and reaches for it, snatching it out of my hand.
“Sorry.” I smirk.
“No, you’re not,” she laughs. “But here.” She slips them into the front pocket of my jeans. “For good luck.” When she tries to back up, I pull her to me and plant a firm kiss on her mouth.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” she says, licking her lips.
I know there will still be people downstairs, but there’s no way to avoid it. The front desk has Kayla’s purse and the coats we left at coat check last night. When the elevator doors open on the foyer, I take a deep breath, reach for Kayla’s hand, and step out. Kayla looks up at me and smiles when I wink.
We make it to the desk before our luck runs out. My parents are standing near the door, talking to some people I recognize from the gala but don’t know. New money, I guess—I’m sure I’ll know them soon enough. Both of them look over at the same time. My father’s eyes move between Kayla and me and then focus on our linked hands. My mother looks, too. The expression on her face is confusing. I’m not sure if she’s mad, but she definitely wants to talk to me. She moves like she’s going to come over, but Dad stops her, whispering in her ear. I silently thank him with a nod of my head before the woman at the front desk hands over our things. We book it out of the hotel and hand the valet our ticket.
“Are you hungry?” I ask Kayla once we’re in the car. I could take her home and drop her off, but I really don’t want to.
“Starving.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t care. Somewhere with food.” As if on cue, her stomach rumbles loudly.
“Wanna go see Mita? I can show you some of her dad’s artwork.”
Kayla’s face lights up. “Absolutely. Wait, is that so you don’t have to pay?”
“Ha!” I bark. “Absolutely, sweetheart. That’s exactly why.”
On the drive, Kayla’s phone s
tarts chiming like crazy.
“Everything okay?”
“My little sister,” she sighs. “She’s been acting weird for a few months. I’m not sure if it’s just normal teenage stuff or if it’s something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. My stepdad is a controlling, overprotective asshole. If Claire is trying to spread her wings in a direction other than the one he has planned for her, it’s not going to go over well. I’m worried about her. I barely survived the mental and emotional abuse he subjected me to, and I’m a lot stronger than Claire.”
“What can you do about it?”
“Probably nothing. She wants to come live with me, but there’s no way. Even if I thought I could take care of her, Mom and Richard wouldn’t ever agree. In fact, I’m pretty sure Richard would rather kill me with his bare hands.”
“That’s a bit melodramatic, isn’t it?” As soon as I say it, I want to shove a fucking sock in my mouth. And by the way Kayla’s looking at me, so does she.
“Melodramatic? One of these days, I’ll introduce you,” she bites. “You think those people at the gala were bad? My stepfather is a miserable, spiteful person who does nothing but hate anyone not of his caliber, including me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know. You ‘can’t say shit right,’” she mumbles.
This is not how I was hoping our day would go. I stay quiet for the rest of the ride, and by the time we pull up to the Jumping Bean, Kayla doesn’t seem as agitated with me. She even lets me open her car door.
Mita looks up from behind the counter as we walk in. “Hey, guys,” she greets cheerfully, wiping her hands on her apron and coming out to meet us. “How was the gala?” I shrug. The actual gala was fine. What happened once we left is none of her fucking business. “Shut up, you,” she says, shoving my shoulder. “I wasn’t even talking to you.”
“I didn’t say anything!” I protest.
Mita gives me a scowl and turns toward my girl. “Hi, Kayla.”
“Hi,” Kayla answers. She glances at me, and I wink. “It was okay,” she says, smiling at my cousin.