by Megyn Ward
“Yes.” She pulls one of my hands free, sliding it across the top of her thigh. She kisses me, guiding my fingers along the inside of them until they hit the hot, silky center of her. “I’m sure. And this time, I don’t want you to stop.”
Eighteen
Claire
I’m not sure what happened.
All I know is that somewhere between turning on the shower and turning it off, I decided that I was tired of waiting.
Waiting for something to happen to me.
Waiting for someone to notice me.
Want me.
Not just something. Not just someone.
Jaxon.
I want him and I’m tired of waiting, so I can go out there and wait for something that might never happen or I can go out there and make it happen.
Take what I want.
Instead of putting on the fresh pair of pajamas I wrapped myself in a towel and forced myself to leave the bathroom.
He’s watching the movie. So involved he doesn’t even know I’m standing here. He looks like a giant, stretched across on my full-size bed, bare feet hanging over the foot of it. His head propped up on pillows so he can see the television perched on my dresser.
Downstairs, the party is full-swing. A hundred newly-graduated high school seniors, yelling and laughing. Music thumping. The occasional sound of breaking glass. Bri’s going to have a mess to clean up in the morning. Or rather, I’ll have a mess to clean up while she nurses a hangover. I’ll be angry about it tomorrow but right now, I don’t care.
All I care about is this. The fact that Jaxon Bennett is in my bed and the door is locked. That he’s finally noticed me.
“It’s my favorite movie,” I say because I have to say something. I can’t just stand here, watching him watch television.
He looks at me and what I see on his face makes the rest of it seem so easy. He wants me. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.
But he won’t make the first move. I know he won’t. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m barely eighteen or if it’s because he’s afraid that it’ll make things weird because I babysit Simon or because I’m a virgin. Maybe it’s all three. I don’t know and I don’t care.
This is happening because I’m tired of waiting.
I climb on to the bed and straddle his hips, my bare pussy pressed against the hard bulge of his cock.
“Fuuuck.” He groans it, his hands coming up to grip my hips, pulling me closer, grinding himself against me through the rough fabric of his jeans. “Claire…”
“I’m not my sister.” I lean into him, planting my hands on either side of his head. “I don’t know how to flirt. How to tease,” I whisper, my mouth inches from his. I rock my hips against him, loving the way he groans, deep in his throat, at the contact. “But I know how to ask for what I want.”
I sit up and take a deep, bracing breath, like I’m about to jump off a cliff. Loosening the top of the towel, I let it fall. “I’ve decided this is no different.”
His lids lower, his dark gaze going soft and hungry. Like he can’t help himself, Jaxon reaches up to cup a hand around my breast, his calloused thumb brushing over my nipple, stiffening it instantly, my breath catching in my throat when I feel his cock give a hard jerk between my thighs. Leaning into him again, I brush my mouth against his. Tell him I want him to kiss me. Touch me. And this time I don’t want him to stop.
“Are you sure?” He reaches up to loosen my hair, letting it fall around us. “You need to be sure.”
Am I sure? Wanting Jaxon Bennett is the only thing I am sure of. The only thing I know that’s real and true.
“Yes.” I take his hand and guide it up the inside of my thigh, a soft moan pushing out of my mouth when I feel his fingers brush against the heat of me. “I’m sure. And this time, I don’t want you to stop.”
“Thank god,” he groans, his hand shifting under mine, his thumb skimming up the center of me, pushing past my folds to brush against my throbbing clit. “Come here, Claire.” He sweeps his thumb against me, again and again, until I’m shuddering and rocking against the pressure of his hands between my legs. “Let me kiss you.”
I lean into him again, lowering my mouth to his and he groans softly when I part my lips, letting his tongue inside to tangle with mine. The hand on my hip grips the towel pooled around my waist and gives it a rough, impatient jerk before dropping it on the floor.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, pulling his mouth from mine, his breath harsh and ragged against my neck. “I have to make sure you’re ready. Go slow.” My impatient groan makes him laugh. “Greedy girl…”
The hand on my hip reaches around to the small of my back, bracing me against him while he turns, shifting our positions until I’m lying on my back and he’s beside me, looming over me. Wrapping a hand around the inside of my knee, he lifts my leg and drapes it over his hip, opening me even wider.
He looks down at me, his fingers trailing along the inside of my thigh, higher and higher. “Do you trust me?” He reaches the center of me, light feathery strokes that tease my damp folds while his thumb finds my clit again, circling it slowly.
“Yes.” I’m half out of my mind, my hips rocking against the pressure of his thumb on my clit. The feel of his fingers teasing my entrance as maddening and it is arousing. “Please, Jaxon. I need—”
His long, wide finger enters me from behind and I gasp when I feel it press against the barrier of my virginity.
“Ohhh,” I moan, the sudden, heavy pressure of his finger inside me almost more than I can bare. Within the space of a breath, I’m so close to coming I can feel my whole body begin to shake. “Jax—”
“Shhh…” He starts to move inside me, stroking me, slow and deep, pushing against me. Stretching me. “It’s okay.” He pulls out of me and when he enters me again, it’s with two fingers. “I want you to come, Claire. I want it to be good for you.” I make a strange sound in the back of my throat when he starts to move again—half whimper, half gasp—the heat of it, spirals down my spine to pool between my thighs.
He adds another finger. “Shit,” he growls when I let out a sharp gasp, teetering on the border between pleasure and pain. “Are you okay?” He goes still, staring down at me, his gaze dark and unreadable. “Am I hurting you?”
Yes, but not enough to make me what to stop. It hurts, but not as much as it feels good. “Don’t stop,” I say softly, leaning up to lick at his mouth, his slightly parted lips, loving the way he groans my name. “Please, Jaxon, I don’t want you to stop.”
“Jesus…” He groans softly. Starts to move again, in and out of me. “You have no idea how good you feel. How long I’ve wanted this.” Each stroke pushing me. Stretching me, until the pain fades and I’m panting and moaning, my hips rocking against the hot, unrelenting pressure of his fingers fucking me. Getting me ready.
The orgasm hits me fast and hard. “Ohmygod,” I cry out, my hands fisting in his shirt, while my pussy flexes and clenches around the fingers he has buried inside me.
Before I have time to catch my breath, Jaxon pulls his fingers out and lowers himself to take my mouth in the kind of kiss that leave you breathless, his mouth devouring me, slanting against mine, again and again, his tongue licking and swirling until I’m dizzy and everything tilts.
Suddenly, I‘m under him, his hips between my thighs, his hands pressed into the bed on either side of my head, holding himself up to keep from crushing me.
“Again.” He whispers it in my ear before pressing his lips against the soft skin behind my ear. “I want you to come again,” he says, his mouth and tongue, licking and kissing their way down the length of my throat. My collarbone. Between my breasts. Taking one in his hand he cups it, circling its swollen nipple with his tongue before capturing it between his lips, sucking and nipping it with his teeth until I’m gasping and moan.
“Jaxon, please…” I whimper, eyes closed, the back of my head dug into the pillow. “I need—” I don’t know what I need. All
I know is I feel empty. Achy. My skin is too tight. Too hot. I lift my hips off the mattress, grinding my pussy against any part of him I can reach.
More.
I need more.
Nineteen
Jaxon
I know this is wrong. I know I owe her more than what I’m giving her. What I’m going to do to her. I know that. But I can’t stop. I want her too much. I’ve wanted her for too long and it’s done something to me. Something I might be ashamed of if I think about it too much or too long.
I know this is wrong but I can’t stop. Not with her moaning my name. Her fingers laced through my hair. Telling me she needs me as much as I need her.
Her hips come off the bed, her wet, swollen pussy grinding against my abs and I’m almost undone. The only thing that keeps me from jerking my pants down and burying myself inside her is the fact that this is her first time and I want to make it good for her. I want her to remember this. Me. Because this is the only time I’ll have her. By morning it’ll all be over and not long after that, Claire will regret she ever knew me.
So I have to go slow. Take my time.
Make it count.
Reaching down, I grip her hip. Push her flat against the bed while I lick my way down her torso. Along the soft curve of her belly. The top of her cleft. “Claire?” I brush my lips against her and she whimpers, instinctively pushing herself against my mouth, looking for more. “Has anyone ever licked your pussy before?”
I know the answer. I know I’m the only one. That no one has ever touched her before me, but there’s a fucked-up part of me that needs to hear her say it. Admit that I’m the first.
“No.” The word comes out on a ragged breath. “No one…”
I drag my tongue up the middle of her, licking deep enough to taste her and she bows up off the bed with a shattered moan. I lift my head and look up the length of her. She’s shaking, looking down at me. Eyes gone dark and cloudy.
“Do you want me to stop?” I will if she wants me to. Part of me hopes she says yes because that’s the only way either of us gets to walk away from this thing intact.
“Again.” The word sounds like its being torn from her throat, her hand reaching down to grip the back of my neck. “Please… again.”
Fuck. Yes.
Planting my hands on either side of her, I grip her thighs, holding them open so I can run my tongue up the length of her, pushing past her slick folds to lick the warm, sweet honey underneath. Again and again, licking and sucking at her tender flesh until she’s writhing beneath me.
“Jaxon…” Her hips come off the bed, grinding her pussy against my mouth. “More...”
Pushing my tongue deep, I find her clit and start to suck her off. Hard, greedy pulls until I’m drunk on the taste of her. The throbbing pulse of her clit on my tongue pushing me. Ripping away the last of my self-control.
Making room for my hand, I slide three of my fingers into her wet pussy and she moans my name, deep in her throat when I start to fuck her, opening my fingers. Stretching her pussy. Getting her ready for my cock.
“Ohhh.” The hand in my hair grips tight, her thighs breaking free of the grip I have on them to slam closed around my head. “I’m…” She starts to come again, her pussy trembling and flexing around my fingers.
Not giving her time to recover, I sit up to kneel between her thighs. “I want to fuck you, Claire.” I skim my thumb up the wet, throbbing center of her, keeping her right where I need her to be. “Tell me now if—”
“Yes.” She reaches for me, her fingers fisting in my shirt to pull me over her. “Yes, please.”
I close my mouth over hers and she parts her lips for me, her tongue sweeping into my mouth, a soft moan breaking free when she tastes herself on my tongue.
The hand on my shirt starts to pull. Up over my head and I shift just enough to get rid of it, her hands on the waistband of my pants even before it hits the floor. Clawing at the button of my jeans. Pulling it open to make room for her hands.
I tear my mouth away from hers. “Claire.” I groan her name. Finding her gaze in the dark I look at her while reaching down to close a hand over her wrists. “That’s probably not a good idea.”
“Why?” she pants up at me, her breath warm and broken on my chest.
“Because I’m so hard my ears are ringing and if you touch me, I’ll probably come all over you,” I say, telling her the truth—well, part of it, anyway. The whole truth is that I’m six-foot-seven and everything about me is built to scale. I don’t want her to get her hands on me and get scared or start to worry about how she’s going to take me in. I’m worried enough for the both of us.
“Oh.” She flashes me a smile in the dark. “Okay.” She pulls her hands free, smoothing themselves up my ridged abs. Across my pecs. The slopes of my shoulders. I lean into the pressure of her hands. The feel of her skin against mine building a humming buzz in my head, making it hard for me to think about anything except getting inside her.
Sitting up again, I reach into my pocket to pull out one of the condoms I brought with me. When I catch her watching me I grin down at her. “I told you, I believe in being prepared for all possible contingencies.”
She laughs quietly while I finish the job she started, pulling my pants down around my hips, dragging them down my legs so I can kick them off completely.
Tearing the condom open, I fit it over the head of my cock and roll it on, my hands shaking so bad I can barely get the job done.
I’m about to ask her if she’s absolutely sure when she reaches for me. “Come here,” she whispers, making a soft, satisfied sound in the back of her throat when I stretch out over the length of her, bracing myself up on my elbows so I don’t crush her.
“I’ll go slow,” I say pressing the head of my cock pressing against her entrance.
She nod up at me, eyes wide. Fingers digging into the straining muscles of my back. “I trust you, Jaxon.”
Those four words wreck me. Remind me that this is wrong. What taking her innocence will make me. What it will do to her when she realizes that I left her. I’m seconds away from bolting off the bed and out the goddamned door, wearing nothing but condom.
But then she tilts her hips under mine and the head of my cock sinks into her and she moans my name.
And just like, I’m lost.
Twenty
Claire
2018
I realize, at least on some level, that I’m not being completely fair. If I allow myself to remember what happened between us objectively, I can admit that I was the one driving the bus. I was the one directing traffic. I was the one who made it all happen.
But that doesn’t change the fact that he made me feel.
I know that sounds stupid. I barely knew Jaxon. He never promised me anything. Never told me loved me. Never planned for the future. Our entire relationship spanned the space of a single night.
But that night felt more real to me than anything I’d ever experienced before. I felt like myself. I felt like Jaxon saw me. Who I really am, not who I pretended to be.
The lesser twin.
The dutiful daughter.
The one who always gets left behind.
Me.
I thought he saw me. Wanted me. But I was wrong. Even now, it’s not me he wants. Not really. He wants to prove that he mattered. Assuage his own guilt about what he did to me. Feel better about the fact that he used me and then left.
“He’s hot.”
“Who’s hot?”
I look up away from the window to see Bri give her friend, Helena, a puzzled look. Friend is a stretch. Helena is more of a co-worker. They’re both junior editors at Swoon, a local fashion magazine.
I don’t even have to look at her to know who she’s talking about. She’s talking about Jaxon.
I think about the two of them together and feel sick. She gorgeous. Auburn hair. Big, brown Bambi eyes. Killer rack.
Sitting next to her, I feel like a mouse.
A pasty-faced, fla
t-chested mouse.
“The driver.” Helena tilts her champagne flute at the privacy partition. “Fucking. Hot.”
“He’s like seven feet tall,” Bri says, wrinkling her nose. Tall guys have never been her thing.
“I know.” Helena shoots a predatory grin around the interior of the car, staking claim. “And before the night is over, I’m going to climb him like a jungle gym.”
Say my name.
I press my knees together self-consciously. My body’s still humming from the orgasm Jaxon gave me.
Despite the fact that it was reckless of me to let him touch me—reckless and stupid—I want him to do it again.
Why? So he can break your heart again. Spent the night making you feel and want things you never thought possible, just so he can disappear like before. Make you feel like maybe you’re worth sticking around for, just to get the rug jerked out from under you.
No. It’s not worth the risk.
“Finish your drinks, ladies,” Jaxon’s deep voice, booms through the speakers. “We’re pulling up to the restaurant.”
Bri and her friends start to shout, toasting each other.
WHOO, GIRL’S NIGHT!
WE’RE HAVE SO MUCH FUN!
WE’RE GETTING LAID TONIGHT!
Seconds later the limo pulls over, and I hear Jaxon climb out of the car. I watch him pass by the long, tinted window, moving toward the back of the car before he opens the door and his hand appears in the wedge. One by one, he helps Bri and her friends from the car. I can hear them on the sidewalk, squealing and laughing. Having the time of their lives.
Meanwhile, I’m drowning.
“Claire.”
I look up to see Jaxon’s face in the doorway. His gaze unflinching. Direct. Worried.
Fuck that. He doesn’t get to worry about me. Pretend he cares. Because he doesn’t. He made that perfectly clear the night he fucked me and then left me without so much as a goodbye.