We Are Made of Stardust - Peaches Monroe #1

by Mimi Strong

  Was he still playing Drake, or was this Dalton?

  I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.

  Something buzzed nearby. Just one loud pulse. I paused, but not for long, because he was thick and urgent, ready to blow.

  The buzz happened again.

  “Damn it!” he said. “What the hell is that?”

  I pulled my mouth away, blinking and looking around. The spell was broken. We were no longer a sexy vampire and a slutty mermaid, but two trespassers, naked and engaged in a sex act on private property.

  The buzz sound happened a third time, and then speakers crackled to life with what seemed to be a pre-recorded message: “Attention trespassers. Motion sensors have detected unauthorized activity. A security team is on its way to this site. Please vacate the premises immediately.”

  Dalton was already pulling his legs out of the hot spring and getting to his feet.

  “Come on, let’s run,” he said.

  I splashed over to the side with the rock steps and climbed out, feeling very big and conspicuous. Motion sensors? Holy fuck, were there cameras out here?

  I reached my clothes and started looking for my underwear.

  The recording was repeating itself, “… security team is on its way to this site. Please vacate the premises immediately.”

  Dalton grabbed my clothes and bundled them in his arms along with his clothes. He’d slipped on his shoes, but not tied the laces. He nodded down at my shoes, for me to do the same.

  “But I can’t get my pants on over my shoes!”

  “No time,” he said. “Shoes, and then we run.”

  “Shitfuckshitfuckshitballs!”

  By some miracle, I got my wet, sandy feet into my sneakers, and then the two of us were off and running through the forest trail. Fucking naked.

  “Faster,” he urged.

  My boobs were flying everywhere, threatening to knock me out, so I clamped down on them with folded arms.

  As we ran through the bushes, with evil whipping branches whacking me on all my sensitive areas, I continued my panicked refrain of every swear word I knew, mashed together.

  Dalton interrupted, saying, “Just breathe. Swearing doesn’t make you run faster, but breathing does.”

  I wanted to punch him in the face so bad.

  Instead, I wheezed out, “Motion sensors? Why? How? Who? Why?”

  “They’re probably bluffing. I bet there’s no security team coming, just—”

  Over the sounds of our footfalls was another noise. A dog barking, and a man yelling excitedly. Then, what sounded like a gunshot.

  I began swearing again, because contrary to what Dalton said, it did make me run faster.

  “Shortcut,” he panted, and hauled me sharply to the side, off the very rough trail and onto what wasn’t even a trail at all.

  Now the tree branches and bushes really started slapping my bare flesh. I guess some people are into that sort of thing, and it certainly was exhilarating, but I wouldn’t recommend it. I was moving fast, but soon my lungs were on fire, so that slowed me down.

  “We’re almost there,” Dalton panted.

  I stopped and leaned against a tree to catch my breath. “Go on. Save yourself. Leave me here. I’ll take the rap for both of us.”

  “I could carry you?”

  He was strong and probably could, but how far? The horror of him attempting to do that prompted me to get moving again, my arms still acting as the worst sports bra ever.

  We trudged on, still fucking naked, the barking dog still behind us.

  Was that a glint of metal up ahead?

  Never before have I been so happy to see a car as when we emerged from the bushes and found the black car waiting for us.

  We yanked the doors open and jumped into the seats, our naked, damp bodies making rude noises on the leather.

  Dalton started the car and began doing a ten-point turn to get us headed in the right direction. Just as we took off down the trail again, he turned to me, his eyes wide, and started howling with laughter.

  “What’s so funny?”

  We bounced up and down as the car dove over bumps and ruts on the rough trail.

  “Look at yourself,” he said.

  I looked down at my body, surprised to find I wasn’t exactly as naked as I’d thought. I had a smattering of green leaves and flower petals all down the front of me. Dalton wore the same decoration, all down his chest and on his arms and legs.

  “We have matching tattoos,” he said.

  “Very funny.” I reached down to the floor, to where he’d tossed the ball of our clothes, and fished out my sweatshirt. I had a short coughing fit, from all the phlegm brought up by the running, and when that calmed down, I pulled on the sweatshirt.

  “That was so worth it,” he said. “Remember when the deer came to say hello?”

  He was clearly amused with the whole adventure, but I was not. I just wanted to get dropped off at home, where I could shower off the leaves, then get dressed and never be naked again.

  We bumped along the rough trail in silence.

  A few minutes later, he pulled the car out onto the access road, and it wasn’t long until we were outside the private property again.

  I thought I’d be relieved, but I just felt more anxious.

  When we got to the turn-off to head back into Beaverdale, he turned the car in the opposite direction.

  “Next adventure,” he said.

  “Seriously? No. How about you just take me home. I think we’ve had enough fun for one day.”

  “You’re mad because I channelled Drake Cheshire for you.”

  “No.”

  “You’re mad because I made you go trespassing.”

  “I’m not mad. Just tired.” We drove for a moment in silence, then I said, “I’m not really that out of shape. I go to the gym sometimes, and I walk absolutely everywhere, but I don’t do much cardio. Obviously.”

  “Oh.” He nodded slowly, his gaze still on the road ahead.

  “I’ve had a lot of fun with you, but I think I’ve reached my limit. It’s time for me to get back to my regular life.” I looked down at my naked lower body. I was sitting in a car with no pants or underwear on. “This is so not my regular life.”

  “Mine neither.” He reached over and squeezed my greenery-dotted bare leg right above my knee. “I think that’s why I feel happier than I’ve ever been. I’m alive, and it’s all because of you.”

  I squirmed in my seat and turned to the window.

  “Great, now you’re making me feel bad.”

  He kept his hand on my leg.

  “That wasn’t my intent,” he said. “Hey, have you ever noticed how much easier it is to tell secrets when you’re driving somewhere?”

  “I guess.” I pinched my lips shut, unwilling to tell secrets.

  After a moment, he said, “Why is that?”

  I sighed. “I think the road makes you feel safe. The repeating pattern of movement. It’s like staring at a river, or a crackling fire.”

  He pointed to a turnoff sign up ahead. “What’s that? Is it really a waterfall?”

  “Dolphin Falls? It is a waterfall.”

  “How about we go check it out? Two water features in one day? Like a double feature. Then I’ll take you home.”

  “Sure.” I could feel myself falling under his spell again, willing to do anything Dalton Deangelo suggested. I didn’t want to fall, but even with my eyes wide open, it was unavoidable.

  We turned off and drove along the access road until we got to the small parking lot. We were the only vehicle there, which didn’t surprise me, as it was around dinner time. The place was more popular at night, as a makeout spot.

  When I was in high school, there was this trend of parents all trying to act like they were the most progressive parents in town, so much cooler than everyone else. Most of the kids in my class could have just hooked up with anyone they wanted, at home, right under their parents’ noses.*

  *With the bedroom doo
r respectfully closed, of course.

  A few of Beaverdale’s more progressive mothers even kept their bathroom cabinets stocked with a no-questions-asked supply of condoms. They felt teen sex was inevitable, and they did what they had to, to prevent having to feed, clothe and raise any little mistakes.

  Perhaps this parental acceptance was exactly why rebellious kids continued to drive out to Dolphin Falls and have unprotected sex in the back seats of cars rather than parent-sanctified sex in beds, with parent-purchased condoms.

  My own personal path was neither of those two, so my heart skipped a little, knowing I was in the Dolphin Falls parking lot, with a cute guy, for the very first time.

  We parked at the edge of the lot, where we had a clear view of the falls.

  “Is there more?” Dalton asked. “Should we put some clothes on and get out of the car?”

  “Nope. That’s pretty much it. People mostly come here to hook up in cars.”

  He leaned over to my side of the car and kissed me without warning. With just the touch of his lips on mine, I was under his spell instantly.

  “Mercy,” I murmured as he kissed me deeply, his hands slipping up underneath my sweatshirt to lift and palm my breasts. My nipples firmed, and all my skin rippled to attention, tighter now and wanting to be touched.

  “I’m going to fuck you now.” He pulled the sweatshirt off over my head, and we were both naked again. “I’m going to fuck you like this.” He reached down roughly between my legs and thrust two fingers inside me. I whimpered and spread my legs wider for him. “Then I’m going to flip you over and fuck you some more.”

  I whispered, “Okay.”

  He kept up the thrusting with his fingers, pushing me to dizzying heights. “Tell me you want me, need me, and you deserve me,” he said.

  “I want you.”

  “And?”

  I whispered, “I need you. And I deserve you.”

  He pulled his hand away quickly. “Now get out of this car. Open the door and step out.”

  CHAPTER 20

  My voice shaking, I said, “Get out of the car?”

  “Yes. And get into the back seat, where I have a little more room to give you a decent fucking.”

  Oh, of course. Why did I think he was planning to abandon me there, naked? Apparently, I have some trust issues.

  I opened the door and stepped out, then climbed in the back. My shoes didn’t go with my nudity, so I removed them. I still had bits of green leaves all over my skin.

  He came around the other side, kicked off his shoes, and started kissing me. I was about to ask about protection when I saw he’d already donned a sheath.

  “Spread your legs,” he said.

  I lay back in the center of the bench seat, sliding down so my hips were at the edge.

  “Good girl,” he said, sliding his fingers back inside me.

  I moaned and closed my eyes, embarrassed by how quickly he made me wet.

  “Now get on your knees,” he said.

  Shuffling around, I got on my knees, praying he wouldn’t be turned off by the view from that direction.

  He entered in one smooth thrust.

  I gasped and got a tighter grip on the back of the seat.

  Oh, the angle and the depth, it was exactly what I needed. My anger flared up as he filled me and left me no place to hide.

  “You’re the worst!” I moaned.

  He grunted, plunging deeper and shaking my whole body. “You don’t mean that.”

  I clutched the seat. “You’re a bad influence!”

  “I’ll show you a bad influence.”

  What happened next was what I would call a Good Rogering. Flesh-slapping, grunting, sweaty grasping, and even (bless his heart) a courteous reach-around.

  In the midst of the Rogering, with his fingers on my clit, I came, crying out and biting the back of the leather seat I was hanging onto for dear life.

  By the time he finished, with a triumphant moan, my hair was stuck in strands to my face, and I was as damp as when we’d fled the hot spring.

  As he withdrew, he gave my ass one hard slap. The crack sound startled me, and my flesh stung.

  I turned around quickly, giving him a hurt and confused look. “What was that all about?”

  He shook his head, like he was the confused one. “Sort of a high five?”

  “You’re kind of a dick sometimes.”

  He raised his eyebrows in a bitches-be-crazy-sometimes kind of look—the exact look that actually makes us crazy.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said.

  As I stared at his face, an anger simmered inside me. My orgasm had been deep, but also unsettling, as if the tremors and the rough physicality of what we’d just done had shaken something loose in me.

  “You’re a lot more like Drake Cheshire than you let on.”

  Smirking, he wiped a strand of damp hair from my cheek. “You love it. You fucking love it. You can’t wait to get reamed again.”

  I shoved him away from me. “Gross. Get up front and drive me home right now.”

  He made a pouty face. “But I’ve got the whole day off.”

  I reached past him and grabbed the door handle to pop the door open. The summer breeze freshened the air in the back of the car and brought everything into focus.

  I had the strangest out-of-body experience, where I was myself, but also outside of myself, seeing this chubby, naked girl, sweaty and used, in the back of a car. I didn’t like what I saw when I opened my eyes like that.

  “We’ve had our fun,” I said. And there was that word. Fun. Was I having fun? I was uncomfortable and emotional.

  “I’ve pushed you too far.” He shook his head, leaning toward the open car door, but not getting out. “I don’t have normal boundaries. It’s all my mother’s fault.”

  Sarcastically, I said, “Oh, of course. Blame the mother. Don’t take responsibility for yourself.”

  He stepped out of the car and closed the door gently.

  My words hung in the air, and I shook my head with my face in my hands. I was doing it again. Pushing someone away. And I was glad that soon it would be over—albeit a little sad it was always so easy like this. Guys never fought for me. I wasn’t the kind of girl they fought to keep. Friday night booty call, yes. Grand romantic gesture, no.

  The tinted glass separating the front and back rolled down enough for him to politely hand me back my clothes. Shockingly, everything except one sock was there.

  In a minute, the car started moving, and I was finished getting dressed before we turned back onto the main road back to town.

  “I know I shouldn’t blame my mother,” came Dalton’s voice. The glass divider was already rolled up again, so it had to be coming from a speaker.

  “Hello?”

  “Are you talking? I can’t hear you unless you push that green button on the ceiling.”

  I looked up and spotted the button. Of course! Now that I saw the button, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t been able to find it when Vern was driving me out to Dragonfly Lake.

  “You don’t have to talk,” Dalton said.

  I pressed the button. “This is weird.”

  His laugh crackled over the speakers. “It might be easier to tell you this way.”

  “What?” A dozen horrible thoughts raced through my head, including but not limited to the following:

  He was married.

  He was dying of an incurable illness.

  He was leaving town tonight.

  He never wanted to see me again, but thanks for the fun.

  “I was born into an adult film star family,” he said. “Also known as porn stars.”

  I had no response for that at first, but after a moment, I pressed the green button and said, “Congratulations?”

  “My mother, my father, and their girlfriend were all porn actors. Correction. Some of them continue to currently be porn actors.”

  I stared at the tinted glass on the driver’s side, where the outline of his head
was barely visible.

  “And that’s my big secret.”

  I pressed the green button. “I didn’t know that about you.”

  “Nobody does, except my attorney. When I was sixteen, I ran away from home with a… family friend. That was when I moved to New York and lived in that awful apartment I told you about. It was really stupid of me to trust someone who was barely more than a kid herself, mentally. I had no idea how dangerous it was.”

  “I understand. I did some dangerous things when I was about that age.”

  We continued to drive along the road into town, the trees outside the windows being interspersed with farmhouses and lawns. Who was this family friend he’d run away with? I didn’t feel jealous, so much as fiercely protective of a young and naive Dalton Deangelo.

  He wasn’t talking, so I pressed the green button again. “So, I’m guessing Dalton isn’t your real name?”

  “Do you hate me for lying to you?”

  “I don’t hate you. And you lied to the whole world, so I know I’m not that special.”

  “Ouch.”

  I sat back in the seat and crossed my arms.

  He continued, “Everything else I told you is true. My family members were fine with keeping the secret. As long as the checks kept coming. I’m always looking over my shoulder, though. That reporter, Brooke Summer, has a major hard-on for getting some dirt on me.”

  I leaned forward and jabbed the green button. “She’s a phony piece of shit.”

  “And a lousy lay.”

  I sat back, crossing my arms again. I couldn’t see his face, so I had no idea if he was joking or not.

  Dalton continued, “Full disclosure. I slept with Brooke once, after an awards function. It was the kind of dirty sex you regret while you’re still doing it. I took off right after and didn’t give her the intimate interview she’d been after, and then I refused to take her calls.”

  Ugh. The image of Dalton and that woman. Together. I felt sick, a gritty nausea deep in my stomach. And his parents were in porno movies? I liked to think of myself as being open-minded and progressive, but I’d seen enough reality shows about the adult film business to know it had a real seedy side. And he’d been raised around all those people. What would that even do to a kid? I couldn’t imagine.