by Emma Salah
“But I’m not going to, because I don’t want to ruin my makeup. So, no more touching. And quick, tell me something that doesn’t make me want to bawl my eyes out. Like sports statistics!”
Reagan laughed, but then sobered quickly.
“Will you tell me next time you feel this way?” she asked Letty, seriously.
Letty nodded.
“Good.” Reagan breathed out in relief. “Okay, I think our lunch break’s over. We better get back to work.”
Chapter Thirteen
Zac sat in his living room, watching a Tom Cruise movie. Whoever doesn’t think the man is an action genius is out of their goddamn mind. He was killing time before he had to pick up Reagan for date number three—the last of the ones he had control over. Sitting in his armchair, with his legs spread out and a bottle of water before him, he was completely chill.
He tried to stay focused on the explosions happening on the screen, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Reagan looked on their last date. That dress. It was hard leaving her standing on her doorstep with only a kiss on the cheek. What he had really wanted to do was take her back to her room and fuck her all night long.
His lips curved into a smile just remembering Reagan’s confused face at the end. It had been well worth curbing his tongue the whole night just for the last image of her standing there, swaying towards him, eyes closed before they opened and realized no kiss was coming.
The plan was coming along nicely. All the dates so far had been nothing but boring. Oh, he was definitely going to fuck Reagan again, but outside of the bedroom he was going to show her nothing but Mr. one-word, unfunny, un-teasing Zachariah Quinn from the previous nights. And that was all she was getting from him, other than his cock, mouth and fingers, until she threw in the towel and cried quits on the whole dating thing. Who knew fucking with Reagan—and not in the biblical sense—would be this much fun?
And what was even better was knowing that ultimately he was saving Reagan from the true pain of ever dating him. Sometimes as he sat across from her in a restaurant, thinking about what it’d actually be like to be able to listen to her talk about her colleague and tell her Daniel was an asshole. That she should stop second-guessing herself since she had brilliant instincts. But I can’t. It might be okay this date or the next but eventually though he’d disappoint her, hurt her when he didn’t give her the right answer or give her the romantic gesture she so desperately wanted. He’d show her that he had no idea what love looked like.
Zac frowned when his phone vibrated and he fished it out of his pocket.
Mom flashed on the screen. He didn’t think. His thumb swiped the red arrow. Why won’t she leave me alone? He ran his hand through his hair. The calls had started yesterday and since then she had called maybe three times. Every single time, he rejected her. It wasn’t like they didn’t speak. He always left tickets for her to his games. Games she never came to. He spoke to her on her birthday, his birthday and every major holiday. But outside of that, they had nothing more to say to each other.
Nothing.
Zac stared unseeing at the TV. He could feel it at the edge of his mind, all the images he had been pushing away that emerged at nighttime, but had slowly been creeping up on him even in the daylight. He saw his mom, not like the last time he saw her at that little cafe just over a year ago, but when she was standing in the bathroom, faucet running, hand over her bleeding mouth. He’d been six at the time, or was it five? Fuck, he could barely remember since it was a constant in his life.
What did his mom want from him, and why now? His gut twisted with guilt. Maybe it was something serious and he should call her back. If it was, she’d text him though so she was probably just calling to chat, six months ahead of their usual catch-up period. Yeah, it was probably nothing. And this is why I shouldn’t be doing this with Reagan, he thought as he ran a hand through his hair. He was too fucked up and all he’d do was drag her down with him.
DING DONG! Zac pulled himself to his feet and went to the door, shaking off the mood his mother’s unwanted call had thrown him into. Fuck, he hoped he hadn’t promised to hang out with one of the boys or something.
He opened it and stared.
“What are you doing here?” He frowned. “I’m supposed to be picking you up in an hour.”
Reagan stood on his doorstep wearing a thin black coat that fell to her knees and heels. Her black wavy hair was loose around her face. She smiled at him and Zac’s frown deepened.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“Something that couldn’t wait until an hour from now?”
She nodded.
He crossed his arms, leaning against the door. What the fuck was her game?
She blinked up at him, innocently. Fuck yeah, there was some kind of angle he was missing. She never looked that innocent unless she was up to something bad.
“Aren’t you going to let me in?” she asked softly.
No. Yes. This was definitely a bad idea, but he did it anyway. He stepped aside and let her in.
Her heels made that clicking sound as she walked into his house, with him following close behind.
Reagan stopped in the middle of his hallway and turned around to face him. Her fingers went to her waist and unwound the knotted trench easily. He was about to say something, something about why she was here, but the words died in his throat when her coat fell to the ground.
“Fuck.” The word slipped out of his mouth without conscious thought.
She stood before him, wearing clothes—if they could even be called clothes—that were so provocative they should be illegal. Her breasts were cupped by black lace that was so sheer he could see the outline of her deep brown nipples. The lace baby doll was molded to her skin and revealed the outline of the baby blue thong she was wearing.
Zac swallowed, his eyes glued to her pussy. “What the fuck are you wearing, Ree?”
“Do you like it?”
Do I like it? He wanted to ask whether or not she could see his hard cock, which was ready to burst out of his jeans. But when he looked at her, he saw the teasing glint in her eyes. The little vixen.
“Answer my question, Ree. What are you doing here?”
She walked to him, one long leg in front of the other, stopping right in front of him, the top of her head just coming up to his mouth. He wanted to step back, but he couldn’t move; he was transfixed by her. He could handle this. Of course he could. Sweat trickled down his spine as his eyes continued to skim her luscious body. Fuck, she is gorgeous.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” her red-painted mouth whispered. “To fuck?”
“No. Yes. No.”
How was he supposed to think with her dressed like this? With all his blood pooling straight out of his head into his cock?
“We’re supposed to go out—”
“I like staying in.”
“I had plans.”
“So un-plan them,” she said. “I’m here. You’re here. What more do we need?”
“Ree,” he said desperately.
Come on, do not give in. He was supposed to take her on another boring date and only then would he allow himself to taste her, but this right here was not part of the plan. Think of penalties, think of anything that isn’t Reagan.
“Zac,” she sang.
Her nipples brushed his shirt. He groaned. Zac wanted to look away, but she was a feast for the eyes. And she knew it. But he had to try.
“I don’t think—”
She cut him off. “Come with me.”
He nodded, like his head wasn’t attached to his body, unable to help himself.
She laughed like the little vixen she was. Her hand reached out and touched his. Their fingers tangled. She pulled him forward and walked backwards towards his bedroom door.
They fell into it together. The light was
off, but he had left his bedside lamp on. It cast a nice glow. His eyes never left her legs and the way her hips swayed while she dragged him towards his king-sized bed. At the edge of the mattress, she turned them unexpectedly. She pressed two hands to his chest and pushed him back. He fell onto his ass, on the bed.
She stepped in between his spread legs.
“Fuck,” he murmured.
“We’ll get to that,” she laughed.
Slowly, Reagan got to her knees. Whatever thoughts he had of resisting went out of his mind then and there. He was fucked. There was no other way to put it. But, did it matter? It’s just sex. And for the next week, he was allowed to indulge as much as he wanted to with the girl who had always been off-limits, before they had to go back to being platonic. He wasn’t giving in to her forever, he was just not going to deny himself anymore. Boring, blue-balls Zac could wait for another day.
Zac swallowed, his hands curling into fists on the bed. Reagan watched him from beneath her eyelashes. Her lips curved in a seductive smile. Her hair had fallen forward and covered her nipples from his view, but that only added to the allure.
“I think this is one of your fantasies, isn’t it? Having me on my knees?” she whispered. “I’m not breaking a single rule. It’s just a bonus that what you want and what I want align so well.”
It was definitely a fantasy of his. And he couldn’t believe it was coming true.
“You’ve thought about being on your knees before me?” he asked.
She nodded. “Doing more than just being on my knees.”
Oh fuck. He tensed. He knew exactly what she was going to do when her hands touched his thighs. They skimmed up his legs until her fingers grazed his fly. She unbuttoned his jeans, then unzipped him slowly. He helped her pull his pants down, until they were thrown somewhere over her shoulder. The cool air did nothing to take away the fierce desire in him. He was so hard, he was tempted to squeeze himself at the base with the hope that the bite of pain would stop him from prematurely ejaculating. The way Reagan was staring at him wasn’t helping.
Her eyes were wide and filled with heated lust. Her cheeks flushed and her hips wiggled a little as if she was getting turned on just from staring at him. She did nothing for a moment longer and he let her look her fill. Until her eyes flicked up and met his.
“A present, just for me.” She licked her lips, reaching out to him.
He was already close to coming when she finally put her hand on him. Her soft palm was warm against his cock as she wrapped her fingers around his length. His eyes fluttered closed, trying to block out the added stimulus of watching her as she touched him. Strands of her hair brushed his knees. She ran her hand up and down him gently as if she was deliberately learning the feel of him. Too gently. Before he could ask for “harder,” she tightened her grip. He grunted. He clutched the covers in fistfuls as she jerked him from base to tip. And then again. His cock leaked and she used the lubrication to better grip him. Oh fuck, that feels so good. She squeezed him tighter. His hips came off the bed a little, chasing her touch.
Suddenly, she let go.
Zac peered down at Reagan, just as she brought her finger to her mouth and tasted him. Fuck. Fuck. She let out a small whimper and he wondered if he was going to come. Reagan nestled in closer to him, lifting up higher on her knees, and tucked her hair behind her ears. If she was about to do what he thought she was going to do, he didn’t know whether to beg for it or to beg for mercy. All he knew was she was going to kill him.
Sure enough, he watched her mouth descend towards his cock, before he felt the brush of air and her wet mouth engulf the tip. His head tipped back. He groaned, low and deep. Fuck. Her tongue licked at him, like she was licking up cream and she didn’t want to lose a single drop.
“You’re killing me,” Zac ground out through clenched teeth.
“Mm, that’s the idea.”
He huffed out a laugh, which turned into another groan when she opened her mouth wider and took him in deeper while continuing to stroke him with her hands.
The way Reagan was lost to blowing him turned him on. She was totally into what she was doing, her tongue laving attention that had his cock glistening with her saliva. She even made little noises that he felt in his balls.
Zac lost the battle with himself. His hands slid to the back of her neck. He thrust into her mouth. She hummed against him. She didn’t fight him, letting him fuck her face for a few moments, before she took over again. The urge to come was too overwhelming. And fuck, hearing the sound of her mouth on his cock? He was about to go off the edge.
“Ree, I’m going to come,” he told her in warning.
She didn’t let him go as he thought she would. Instead, she took his cock deeper into her mouth. Her hands drifted to cup his balls. She squeezed. All it took was a couple more sucks and he was coming. Hard. He yelled out his pleasure.
“Ree!”
His hands tightened in her hair. His body jerked with his release. Fuck. Her throat swallowed around his cock and he lurched again. Fuck. Fuck.
When his shaky hands fell out of her hair, Reagan released his cock with a small audible pop. He fell backwards, onto the bed, completely spent. Blinking up at the ceiling, he had no words or thoughts about what had just happened beyond holy fuck that was good and when can I do it again?
Reagan’s hands pressed into his bare thighs. She crawled up onto the bed, until her face was hovering over his and her knees were on either side of his waist. He was still riding the high of the orgasm so even with her nipples against his chest and feeling the heat of her pussy against his cock, it barely twitched.
“Hi.” She smiled shyly at him.
He somehow found the energy to lift up his hand and twirl a strand of her hair around his finger.
“Hi.”
Zac ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Oh, fuck it. He could sleep when he was dead. Without hesitation, he kissed her. They rolled over so she lay beneath him. They slid into the kiss, their tongues tangling. He ran his hands up her thighs, under her baby doll, to caress both of her breasts. She whimpered as he played with her nipples. Squeezing, rubbing. She undulated restlessly beneath him.
“Fuck me, Zac,” she said against his mouth.
“Vixen,” he whispered back, amused. “I might be an athlete, but even I don’t have an instant recovery time.”
“Oh.” She pouted.
And it was so fucking cute, he kissed her again. He ran his mouth over her cheek to bite the lobe of her ear. Reagan gasped.
“But we can do other things in the meantime.”
So, he ate her out and then he fucked her.
Hours later, Reagan’s naked body was lying on top of his naked body and they were both breathing hard. When she giggled, her body shook against his.
“What are you laughing about, Reagan Thomas?” Zac raised an eyebrow.
“We...” She was giggling so hard the words weren’t coming out.
Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “We made it to a bed. Does this mean we’re boring now?”
“Ree, we could never be boring.”
He rolled them over again and showed her exactly how non-boring they were.
Chapter Fourteen
Zac’s eyes flew open.
He didn’t know what woke him. Was it the sound of heavy breathing? Was it the sound of loud whispers in the air? Or was it just the heavy feeling in his gut? He crawled out of bed and out of his room. He knew where he would find them: in the kitchen. It was always the kitchen.
Dread had him walking slowly. Had his heart beating too fast and his thoughts a jumble. He stood outside of the door, hand on the doorknob. I should go back to sleep. He had practice in the morning and then school. But he didn’t. He never did.
He could hear them now. Louder and clearer.
“I’ve told you! Over and over ag
ain!”
“Please—”
“Fucking hell, I mean look at this.”
Zac flinched as something shattered. A plate or a cup.
“I can make something different if you—”
Laughter cut off the woman’s words.
“You say that every night, bitch, and every fucking night, it’s the same. What do I gotta do to teach you how to do it right?”
“I’m trying—”
Skin slapping against skin. A body thudding against tile floor.
Zac didn’t hesitate; he pushed the door open. His eyes swept past the man heaving in the center of the room and the woman crying on the floor. Instead, he noticed the time flashing on the microwave: 2:16 am. The same time every night. He noticed the shards of glass and the remains of the destroyed dinner on the floor. I’m going to have to clean that up, he thought.
He couldn’t look away from it. His father grabbed his shoulder in a punishing grip. His fingers were going to leave bruises. Zac looked up at the sheriff. His spit turned to dust in his mouth. His father was apparently a good-looking man and apparently, he shared his features, but, to him, he looked like a monster. More so because of the blood splatters on his face, the hard look in his eyes and the sneer of his lips. And the smell—the stink of whiskey and beer—clung to him like a second skin. It bled out of him.
His father shook him to get his attention.
“Clean this shit up,” he spat. “You hear me, son. I don’t want to see any of this tomorrow.”
And then he left, pushing past him.
Zac didn’t care about the glass on the floor or the splattered food. He walked across them to the only thing that mattered. His mother was curled into a ball, sobbing silently to herself. She was bleeding from a cut across her forehead and a few other places. She didn’t notice him standing there.
“Mom,” he whispered.
He fell to his knees and gathered her up in his arms. But suddenly she stopped crying. She looked up at him and his heart stopped. Something was in her eyes that he had never seen before.
“Zac,” she said in a flat voice.