by B. B. Hamel
“Right,” I pant a little bit. My hand slowly rubs my clit, feeling the weight of his palm, his body so close to mine, his breath practically on my mouth. “You’re just standing there, minding your own business.”
“While you take care of perfectly natural impulses.” His free hand slides up across my cheek and in through my wet hair, pulling softly, tipping my chin back.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Taking care of myself. You’re just here.”
“Watching.”
“Watching,” I repeat. “Helping.”
“Not helping,” he whispers. “That would be wrong.” His hand tightens in my hair.
I groan, not able to stop myself. I slide my hand up again and start tugging down my shorts. He helps, getting them over my hips before I slide my hand between my legs again, finding my pussy soaking wet, my clit hard and ready. His hand covers mine again, moving my fingers up and down as I tease myself, biting down on my lower lip.
“You can’t help yourself,” he whispers. “You know it’s wrong, but here you are anyway. This was always going to happen.”
“You’re right. I can’t help it.” I rub my clit faster, his big palm warm and insistent. “I’m weak.”
His hand tightens in my hair again. “You’re not weak.” His eyes flash into mine. “Not at all. You know what you want.”
“What?” I manage, pain in my hair, pleasure between my legs.
“You want to get fucked.” He enunciates each word, delicious and forbidden, his lips against my ear. “You want my long, thick cock between your legs, but you know you can’t. I’m the kind of guy you should avoid.”
“I don’t want to avoid you,” I groan.
“I know. You want to spread your legs, let me suck your clit until you can’t breathe before I fuck your tight, wet cunt. You want to come begging my name, pressing your tits together. You want to watch as I finish on your chest and stomach in big, long ropes.”
I’m going faster, moaning, nodding my head in response to him, eyes shut to picture it. I can’t stop now, I’ve come way too far, taken this to a point I should’ve avoided. I’m groaning as my fingers slide inside of me and back up to my clit, his hand on top of mine the whole time.
“You want to taste my come in the back of your throat,” he whispers. “You want to slowly lower yourself on my cock, your legs tense, your back muscles tightening as my cock fills you to your brim, making your head toss back, a low moan escaping your lips.”
I groan at the image, at the thought of him filling me.
“Just like that,” he whispers. “You want it like that. Now, faster, you filthy girl. I want to hear you come. Don’t fucking hold back.”
I’m rubbing faster, pleasure moving through my body, and I know I’m so close. I moan freely now, not holding back at all.
“You know it’s fucked up, but it’s what you like, isn’t it? I’ll lick your tight asshole, your delicious little pussy, and fuck your cunt rough and deep, one hand on your throat, the other on your clit. I’ll get you off, but only after you beg. Now keep going, you filthy fucking girl.”
I gasp and I know I’m about to come. My whole body tenses, teetering on the edge.
That’s when he kisses me. His lips press hard against mine, and it’s what I need. He tips me over the edge and into an orgasm. I moan into this mouth, his taste flooding my tongue as I come hard, my body twitching and spasming, gasps and moans escaping my lips. Every shitty thing that’s happened to me lately disappears in a blissful wave of intense and pure pleasure, washing it all away, making me clean again.
Slowly, the orgasm passes. I kiss him back as his hand in my hair loosens and releases. He helps me pull my shorts back up, pulling away, leaving me flushed and breathing hard against the back of the couch.
He walks into the kitchen, picks up his glass of wine, and downs it in two big gulps.
“Fuck,” he whispers, shaking his head. “You’re going to get both of us in a lot of trouble.”
“I’m already in trouble,” I say. “And I hear you’re not afraid of that.”
He looks back at me and grins. “You’re goddamn right I’m not afraid.”
The doorknob suddenly turns. There’s the sound of keys in the lock, some cursing, and after a second it pushes open. Ezra stumbles into the room, eyes wide, brow sweating.
We both freeze as Ezra darts a look between us. His eyes narrow into a suspicious stare as I cross my arms over my chest, trying to avoid his gaze but not wanting to look any more suspicious than I already am. I hope Ezra is too messed up to notice the vibe in the room right now.
“You look like shit,” Jonas says, cutting into the thick silence.
Ezra grunts, looking away, and the moment passes. I turn and get into my little nest to try and hide my flushed, post-orgasm face from my brother. That was so fucking close. My heart’s hammering in my chest, and I look up at Jonas, but he doesn’t glance back at me.
“We need to talk,” Jonas says to Ezra.
“Later.” Ezra walks past him. “I’m just here to get changed.” I watch as Ezra disappears upstairs, followed by a clearly annoyed Jonas.
“It’s important,” Jonas says as he stomps up after Ezra.
I groan and collapse backwards, covering my face with a pillow. The guys disappear though I can hear their voices still drifting down the staircase. I can’t make anything out, but I can guess the general idea. Their tones get raised a little bit but stop suddenly as Ezra comes storming back downstairs wearing a clean shirt and jeans.
“I’m going out,” he grumbles at me. “Got a problem with that?”
“No,” I say, blinking at him. “Have fun.”
He seems surprised by my reaction and softens up a little bit. “Feel free to sleep in my bed tonight if you want,” he says. “I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
“Okay, thanks.”
He nods at me and glances back at Jonas, who’s hanging in the stairwell, watching his friend with a concerned expression. The guys don’t say anything to each other as Ezra leaves again barely five minutes after coming in the door like a hurricane.
I look at Jonas and he just shakes his head. “We’ll figure it out,” he says softly.
“Yeah,” I answer.
He walks into the kitchen, pours himself another glass of wine, and downs that before pouring a third. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, hesitating at the base of the stairs, glass in his hand. “Café opens at five-thirty. Get there at five.”
“Okay,” I say.
He nods once and heads upstairs without another word.
I sigh and stretch my legs out. I feel calm, blissful almost, but there’s something else fighting for control of me, another feeling deep down inside. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it means, but it’s pushing me to follow Jonas into his room, to curl up in his bed, to take him up on his offer to take his shirt off. I’m worried I just embarrassed myself, basically throwing myself at him that way like a pathetic little loser.
But it was so freaking hot that I guess I don’t really care.
I get up, top off my glass of wine, and spend the rest of the night watching Netflix before falling asleep way too late, my phone alarm set for four-thirty.
11
Jonas
I can still feel her body under mine as she comes, her shoulders tensing, her mouth hanging open, her eyes squeezing shut. Her hand moves faster along her slick pussy and it takes every single ounce of willpower to stop myself from bending her over that couch and fucking her goddamn brains out.
I’m glad I didn’t. I doubt Ezra would’ve liked to walk in on that shit.
But it drives me insane. I have to rub one out that night, thinking about the way she writhes under me, and how fucking good it’ll feel to sink my cock deep in that tight, wet little pussy. I know she wants it, and wants it bad, but shit. I’m trying to be better, for myself and for her and for Ezra, but it’s impossible. I don’t know how I haven’t gotten down on my knees and licked her perky lit
tle ass top to bottom. Right now I think I’d lick her armpits if she asked me to, she’s just that fucking hot to me.
I get up early and shower fast. I slip out the door around four-thirty, just as her alarm’s going off. She groggily grabs it and I watch as the blankets slip off her body, revealing that same tight t-shirt and her perfect fucking breasts.
I leave the apartment, door shutting behind me. Head down and eyes straight ahead, I make my way to work, unlocking the shop around four forty-five. Lane rolls in a few minutes later, followed by Lizzie at five, right on time.
I do some paperwork in the office before helping Lizzie and Lane get the café up and running for open. The weed dispensary isn’t open until noon, so the café is always the main concern in the morning. Lizzie looks a little sluggish, and I’m not sure if it’s from getting up so early or what.
Lane is perky as always, though, sipping a coffee and whistling to herself. “You mind cutting that out?” I grunt at her.
She perks an eyebrow. “You in a bad mood today, boss?”
“I’m in a fine mood.” I bite back a more cutting retort. “And Lizzie, why do you look like you got hit by a car this morning?”
She winces and I instantly feel bad for calling her out. “I had to jog over here,” she says.
Lane and I both stop what we’re doing to stare at her. “You ran here?” Lane asks.
“Yeah,” she says, a little sheepishly.
Lane whirls to me. “Doesn’t she live with you? Couldn’t you drive her?”
“I… shit.”
“It’s okay,” Lizzie says quickly. “He didn’t know.”
“Oh, you selfish dick.” Lane glares at me, shaking her head. “You should’ve known she had no easy way of getting here.”
“I didn’t think about it.” I feel like a real piece of shit.
“Of course you didn’t.” Lane sighs and turns to Lizzie. “There’s a shower in the grow room’s bathroom. I’m sure Jonas will let you take a shower.” She turns to shoot me another glare.
“Of course,” I say. “And shit, I’ll make sure you get here every day, okay? You just gotta be ready on time.”
“It’s really not a big deal,” she mumbles, hesitating for a second. “But that shower would be nice.”
Lane gives me a look and I nod a little sheepishly. “C’mon, I’ll show you where it is.”
I don’t linger after taking Lizzie back to the grow room. I point out the bathroom in the back, and she goes right for it. “Stuff’s in there, if you want to use it,” I say as she heads over. “I think Ezra is the only one that ever uses it. Lane once or twice.”
“Thanks,” she says, and I hightail it out of there before I follow her right in and get the taste I’ve been dreaming of since last night.
I find Lane finishing up the first brew. “You really are a dick, you know that, Jonas?”
“I know,” I mutter at her. “Cut me some slack, okay? I’m not used to this.”
“Yeah, well, the girl has nobody else. Maybe try a little harder.”
I give her a look. “You’re coming down pretty hard on me, you know that?”
She sighs and nods a little. “I know. It’s just, she needs support right now, and you’re the last guy to give it to her.”
I glare at her, but I know she’s right. I just hate hearing it out loud.
“Can you finish up here?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m good.” She frowns a little bit. “Sorry I came at you. I’m just tired.”
“I get it. Take a long break later today before the mid-afternoon rush.”
“Will do.”
I turn and head back into my office, slumping down in my chair and leaning forward onto the desk.
What an asshole. I should’ve realized that Lizzie has no car or any other way of getting here, but of course I’m just thinking about myself, like always. I’m too busy worrying about trying to stick my dick in her tight little ass and not thinking enough about how she’s getting along day to day.
Hopefully having a job now’s going to help out a lot. I get busy with her paperwork, setting up her payroll stuff and basically making the whole thing official. She’ll have some stuff to sign and fill out so I can actually pay her and do the tax shit, but by the time the café is filling up around six, she’s pretty much a real employee of Half Pipe.
I finish her paperwork around six thirty, and I plan on having her sign everything as soon as it’s ready, but the door to my office pushes open without so much as a knock. I don’t need to look up to know who’s flopping down in the chair across from my desk.
“Long night?” I ask him.
“Not over yet,” Ezra answers.
I finally look up, eyeing him carefully. He’s sweating slightly, his shirt collar open wide, his eyes both exhausted and wired at the same time. He looks like a guy that’s been doing coke all night, and I’m betting that’s exactly what he did.
“You said you wanted to talk earlier. So let’s talk.”
I shake my head. “I have work to do, E. You know that.”
He laughs a little bit. “What happened to you, man? You used to be fucking special, going out all night, bringing home club sluts to fuck until the wee hours of the morning. We used to sell weed and have fucking fun. What happened?”
“We grew up.” I lean back in my chair, watching him carefully. He’s not meeting my gaze, his eyes twitching around the room. He has his own office back in the grow room, but it’s interesting he chose to come here instead.
I know he wants something from me, it’s just not clear what exactly he thinks he needs. I know the guy needs help, probably needs fucking rehab, but I really doubt that’s why he’s sitting here.
Before I can ask, he takes a stack of cash from his back pocket and tosses it onto the desk.
“Consider that a down payment on my bet,” he says.
I look at the cash for a second before picking it up. “Where’d you get this?”
“You know where.” His smile is sly but unfocused. “You’re not the only one that learned how to push weight, Jonas.”
“You’re a regular old Scarface now, huh?”
“Making more money than this shithole and having more fun doing it.”
“Probably.” I don’t touch the cash. I lean forward to stare at him. “But what happens when you run out? You gonna buy more, keep selling? You gonna risk going to jail or maybe even pissing off those smugglers and getting yourself killed?”
He laughs lightly, as if none of that ever occurred to him before. “I’ll get out way before that.”
“Everyone says that, but I thought you knew better.”
“I don’t know shit about shit, but then again, you did teach me.” He stands up and stretches a little bit. “I’m starting to crash. I’ll see you later, maybe tomorrow. I’ll have the rest soon, and we’ll be square.”
“Just don’t snort it all first.”
“Sure, whatever.” He leaves my office and I stare at the wad of cash sitting on my desk.
He’s right, I did teach him everything I know. That’s the fucking problem. The guy I was even just a year ago wasn’t thinking about the future. I was thinking about the next score, the next sale, the next pussy. I wasn’t trying to build anything. I wasn’t trying to have a life.
I think I was trying to bury myself in partying, drugs, and fucking. Now Ezra’s doing the same thing and I don’t know how to help him.
Finally I grab the cash, open the safe, and toss it in. I lock the safe back up before printing Lizzie’s paperwork. She’s behind the counter when I emerge from my office making a latte for some guy with long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. Lane’s flirting with a guy in a suit who looks a lot like he wants to know if she likes Huey Lewis and the News.
“Lizzie,” I call out, making her head snap in my direction. “You’re with me.”
“What?” She finishes her drink, putting it down onto the pickup counter.
“Paperwork.” I hold
the stack up. “I think Lane can handle this.”
Lane gives me a thumbs-up, barely looking over.
“Come on, little rose,” I say, heading to the door. “Let’s make it official.”
I hear her start to argue but I’m already leaving the shop. She catches up with me as I’m halfway to my car.
“Can’t we sign everything back there?” she asks.
“Probably,” I say. “But I don’t feel like it.” I stop at the driver’s side door and cock my head at her. “Feel like going somewhere?”
She frowns a little bit. “I just want to work,” she says softly.
“I know. But come with me anyway.” I open my door and slip into the Jeep.
She sighs and goes around to the other side, climbing in. I start the engine and pull out, heading west toward the ocean. Lizzie doesn’t say much during the drive, just keeps her eyes glued on the window, and I know why. I think she freaks out a little bit every time she’s in a car, ever since that accident. I can’t say for sure though, but she looks paler and she’s very, very still.
I drive carefully, trying not to startle her, and we get to the shop a few minutes later. I park and step out of the car.
“What are we doing here?” she asks.
“I’m giving you a little bonus,” I say. “Come on.”
I head into the bike shop and she hurries to catch up. “Jonas, hold on. You’re not buying me a bike.”
“You need a way to get to work and I don’t feel like worrying about your ass every day. Consider it an advance on your paycheck if you want, but I’m calling it a gift.”
She’s arguing already as I push into the shop and ignore her. Bikes line the walls, stacked up and hanging and leaning up against each other. It’s almost impossible to breathe in this place, and it reeks of grease, metal, and rust.
There’s only one guy behind the counter, an older man named Randy. He glances up from his paperback book and smiles as I walk over toward him.
“Randy, how’s it going?”
He stands and shakes my hand. I know Randy from the skate park. He’s one of the old heads that still hangs around with the young skaters, talking about the old days and pulling off a few decent tricks. I also used to sell him weed, but hell, I used to sell everyone fucking weed.