by Teagan Kade
His hands run up my legs as he twists his head and thrusts it forward between them, his mouth engulfing my slit. I gasp and place my hands on his head, moving my fingers through his inky hair as his tongue and lips work at the opening between my thighs.
My body shakes and I claw into his scalp. His thumb presses into the soft flesh of my upper thigh and the sole of my foot rolls back and forth on his shoulder.
He presses his entire mouth and chin against me in hunger and desperation. He clasps my buttocks and brings me even closer forward until it’s impossible to tell where his head ends and my body begins.
As he works, a new and terrifying feeling starts low in my body. It brews and builds, fast gaining momentum with his rhythm until all I can focus on is his tongue and the way it penetrates and rolls over my pussy.
It comes, exploding inwards, all my senses drawing into the center of my consciousness and releasing a feeling of such untold pleasure I can barely stand.
His tongue strikes my bud again and sensation washes fresh, drowning me anew.
Lost in a cloud of sensation, I’m dimly aware of Colton cradling my body in his arms, laying me down, the cheap carpet pricking at my buttocks and the slick mess that has gathered above.
I register the sensitivity as his mouth finds my nipple, his hand clasped around my breast, drawing it to his mouth.
His lips move from my breast to my lips. Closed in this bubble of confinement he slides the head of his cock against my opening, its slickened state allowing it to ride easily past the fleshy outer lips and into the heated tunnel beyond.
In one motion he lifts his hips and drives his cock forward, burying himself deep inside me.
My reluctance seems a distant memory as his member stretches out inside me, opening up new channels of delight as it works, sliding easily in the increasing ocean gathering there.
I bring my hands down his back and find his buttocks, digging my nails deep into them and driving him forward as the pleasure increases.
His heart pounds against my own. We kiss and taste the salty remnants of his seed on my lips. It only increases my arousal.
We cradle and combine with one another faster and faster until the muscles throughout his entire body tighten. Our hearts run in unison and his cock moves as if a machine, sliding in and out of my sex with untold speed until he bows from my body as though struck by lightning, driving hard and deep in release.
He finally falls, slumping beside me on the carpet covered in the same slick blanket of perspiration.
I’m lying across his chest, my finger tracing the tattoo on his arm. The room’s cooling, but it’s going to take a while for my core temperature to drop completely given that workout.
Who needs a treadmill when you’ve got Colton Beckett?
“Do you see much of your brothers? I ask, my finger dancing on his skin.
He continues to run his fingers through my hair, seems spellbound by it. “Cayden’s pretty busy with ball these days. He’s got his little family, things going on, but yeah, we catch up when you can. My oldest brother, Mason, he moved away to this tiny town, bought a god-damn auto shop, found a woman instead. He’s got a kid too. And Hunter… Well, he has this rare disease, aplastic anemia, a kind of bone-slash-blood disorder thing. It’s a bitch, almost took him out, but I hung with him for a while in California while he was getting treated, made sure he was ready to break hearts again. He’s better now, working his way through the police academy last I heard, which is blows my mind considering the illegal shit we used to get up to. I suppose there’s redemption for the lost after all.
“You guys were… trouble?”
“Understatement of the century. Ask around about the Becketts at Abbotsleigh and you’ll get mythical stories of great and wonderful deeds in return, AKA the crazy shit we used to dial up around campus. I think the entire Abbotsleigh administration breathed a communal sigh of relief when we all went our separate ways.”
Colton turns quiet, his fingers withdrawing. “You do know this can’t go on, don’t you?”
The implication stings, but I act casual. “Of course. I wish it didn’t have to be that way, but I understand.”
He sits up, looking at me. “I’ve had fun.”
The stinging becomes a burn.
Fun—he’s playing it off like it’s nothing, like we’re fuck buddies and nothing more. Meanwhile, my heart is ripping itself apart at the thought this was, at least to him, little more than a way to waste time.
“I mean,” he continues, “I’m glad I could show what it’s like to be with a real man, not a pretender.”
A real man wouldn’t use me like this.
I pull for a cushion from the sofa to cover myself, feel doubly naked right now. “So am I.” I smile, but it’s forced.
I look at him, try to gauge his true feelings here, but I can’t discern them. His face is a beautiful mystery and nothing more.
A tense moment passes. Neither of us speaks, lost in it, floating towards the inevitable.
Colton’s the first to make a move, standing and hunting around for his clothes. He picks up a piece of my leggings. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine.” I smile, pulling my legs under myself for support, the cushion in my lap. “I’ve got more.” I almost add ‘you can rip apart later,’ but choose not to.
Dressed, Colton stands before me. “Thank you, Harper. Honestly.”
This time the smile is genuine. “No, thank you.”
“I’ll see you around.”
“Sure,” I choke out, watching as he pauses a moment more. Waiting for something? For me to say something? I don’t know. Why is this so awkward? A moment ago he was inside me, as close as you can be to another human being. Does that really mean nothing to him?
I watch him smile and walk away, his coat over his shoulder.
I hear the front door open, close, the echo of footsteps fading until the world is silent again.
In an uncharacteristic show of rage, I slam my fist down into the cushion. “Damn it!”
I try to pinpoint why I’m so angry. Did I really think this would be something more? Am I that delusional?
Well, yeah, hon.
I breathe out, shaking my head and looking up to the wall where a picture of me at graduation resides. I look so happy in that photo, the world before me.
It’s with striking clarity I realize I’m not angry at Colton as such, but at James, for putting me in this position, for forcing this.
Or am I angry with myself, for violating policy, my principles? I’ve always been a black-and-white kind of person. Even as a kid. Whatever someone of authority said to do, I did it—no questions asked. There were no shades of grey in my world back then—not the muddy mix it is now.
Was it me? I wonder. Am I the instigator here? Am I the one who lured Colton into sex, into this tangled web? Did he feel pressured into it because I’m his teacher?
The questions swirl until they’re a giant whirlpool sucking the world away.
No, it doesn’t seem like that was the case. If anyone’s doing the seducing here, it’s Colton. I just came (ha) along for the ride—a ride that has sadly run its course.
It was inevitable, I remind myself. You knew that. He knew that. Like he said, just a bit of fun.
Whatever we had, this connection, this relationship, I have to reconcile myself with the fact it’s over.
It’s over, and that’s the way it has to stay.
CHAPTER TWENTY
COLTON
The Dive is busier than expected. There’s a bachelorette party going on, the bride herself about one drink away from getting her top off… or losing consciousness.
The bartender walks down to me. “Good thing she’s got all those friends with recording devices to savor these once-in-a-lifetime memories, huh?”
I tap the bar. “Another.”
She takes my tumbler and fills it, sliding it back. “Pretty boy like you could have his pick of those fine females.”
/> “Nothing ‘fine’ about them.” I don’t care about the girls or getting laid. I’m solely focused on Harper and the hole she’s opened up inside me—deep and black and infinite without her. It wasn’t fair to flip on her like that, pretend like she meant nothing. In hurt like hell betraying my feelings like that, a knife slowly twisted into my gut, but it had to be done. If we stay together it’s going to come apart and I simply can’t be responsible to destroying her life.
“Suit yourself,” laughs the bartender, walking off.
Maybe a quick pity fuck is what you need? Help you get over her?
I don’t know if it’s my head or this cheap whiskey talking, but I have enough sense to dismiss the idea.
I drink instead, drink and wonder what the hell’s going on with me I could be so cut over one girl, a relationship that by my own admission was doomed to fail from the start.
Did I want more? Maybe…
The longer it’s gone on, the more I’ve been stripped down, made weak. Becketts are many things, but vulnerable? Never.
I keep trying to justify it to myself.
That’s what she was doing to you. She was making you weak.
I finish the whiskey, placing the tumbler gently on the bar.
“You drinking for fun tonight, or to forget?”
I look sideways to a find a mousy blonde sitting next to me, her hair pulled over one shoulder, the bandeau tube dress she’s wearing cut down into her ample cleavage. She’s the kind of girl I’d hit on in a heartbeat, but I’m not in the mood.
“To forget,” I reply.
“Can I at least buy you a drink? We don’t get handsome strangers through here very often,” she smiles, taking the initiative. I should sign her up as my wingwoman.
I face her. “Look, you’re obviously attractive, smart… which is why you’d be better off staying the hell away from me.”
She remains unperturbed. “So you’re like, a challenge?”
I have to laugh at that. “Truer words were never spoken.”
“I love a challenge,” she says, ruby lips pressing together, her body language telling me it would take barely an ounce of my usual game to get her into bed.
The old Colton, the player, he wants this, this medicine, but I won’t allow it. I stand, placing cash down on the bar and sliding a note towards Goldilocks. “Tell you what. Have a drink for me… for my eternal fucking soul.”
“But—”
“You deserve better,” I tell her, strolling towards the front doors. I don’t have to turn back to know the look of disappointment she’ll be wearing. I’ve seen it a thousand times over.
I pull on my coat outside, a strong gust of wind blowing down the main street, the glow of the bar sign above turning the snow below me into fairy floss. I’m about to call an Uber when my cell rings.
I breathe out, hoping, not hoping it’s Harper, caught in the crazy crossfire of my emotions. I take it from my pocket and check the screen.
I answer. “Cayden?”
“Little bro,” comes my brother’s enthusiastic tone. “Cold enough for you up there in America 2.0?”
It’s good to hear his voice, the inherent happiness within it. And why wouldn’t he be happy? He’s got everything I don’t—a career, a family, security, significance… “‘2.0’ implies it’s an improvement,” I answer.
“Oh, stop with fucking pity party, will you? I heard about the team, at Branton.”
“What did you hear?” I ask, curious what information has filtered across the border.
“That you’re bringing a bit of that Beckett bite to ’em we all know and love.”
“It didn’t take much,” I confess. “They breed them soft up here.”
“And the females?”
I look back to the bar. “They dress like it’s the nineties, but I can’t complain.”
“So you’re getting some?”
Was getting some. “Enough,” I reply. “And you?”
“With a second kid on the way?” he laughs. “Let me tell you this, brother. Hormones, pregnancy… It drives them wild. I’m talkin’ Fifty Shades of freak.”
“That’s fucking disgusting, man.”
“What, thinking about your big brother railing his wife?”
“This from the guy who I stumbled in on fucking those cheerleader triplets. You had them stacked on top of each other like they were a pile of pancakes. That is an image I’ll never get out of my head.” Still, I’m smiling at the memory, of simpler times.
“To be fair, it was easier that way. Anyhow,” he continues, “I bear good news.”
“The Dodgers are into the finals?”
“Better. You’re back into the Ivy League fold, my friend.”
I’m rarely surprised, but this is unexpected. I lean against the nearest wall, my cell hot against the side of my face. “How?”
“Strings, brother, a lot of them, pulled and pumped and caressed, not only by me, but Mason too. Hell, I heard even Dad was pleading your case.”
“Can we not talk about Dad?”
“Fine, but you’re a lucky son of a bitch. Do you even know how much work this took?”
“I’m grateful, but I know there’s a catch.”
“This guy,” sniggers Cayden, “always with the ‘catches.’ You’re no longer banished. It’s as simple as that. Forget what it took to drum that up and get the fuck back here to live your life.”
It’s strange. The news comes with a mix of relief and regret in equal measure. I should be excited. I came here to Branton, killed it in the rink, slept with the hottest teacher on campus for crying out loud… I can go back to the States now, live the life I always wanted. It’ll probably be easier on Harper if I leave… right?
Funnily, the thought of objectifying Harper like that, making her nothing more than another notch on my belt, makes me physically sick.
Cayden picks up on the pause. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” I ask coyly.
“I mean, you should be ecstatic, not acting like I just told you your pet goldfish died.”
“Hey, leave Goldie out of this.”
“Spill it, Colt. What’s up?”
Curse my brother and his damn telepathic connection. “I’m stoked about the news, honestly.”
“But…?”
“But, I don’t know… It’s nothing.”
“It’s a girl, isn’t it? You’ve fallen for one those Canadian Ariel Rebel clones, haven’t you?
“She’s not a pornstar.”
“So there is someone. What happened? She get sick of your baby dick? Wants a real man?”
I’ll miss Harper, but I’ve got to let her go if she’s to have any chance of leading a normal life unblemished by the fuckery of my own.
I make up my mind. There’s nothing left for me here. “In any case, fuck her,” I tell Cayden. “I’m coming home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
HARPER
My eyes shift in and out of focus. Grading papers can be enjoyable if you get a paper worth reading, but those are the diamond in the rough, and by rough I mean glued-together tidbits from Google and Wikipedia that read like a monkey typed them up. At least Big Red, my trusty marking pen, is getting a workout.
I keep looking at the door. I’m not sure why. Who do I expect to appear there? Colton? The HR woman again? My vagina, begging me to take You Know Who back?
I look down between my legs. “Sorry, friend, that ship, beautiful as it was, has sailed.”
Thank God there’s no reply. Then I’d know I’m really losing it cooped up here in this coffin.
I pick up the next paper and stop.
It’s Colton’s.
I place it down on the desk, glancing over the intro. Like I needed any more reminders of him.
It’s far from an A plus, but it’s not exactly drivel either. It flows, reads well… a marked improvement from earlier efforts.
What to do, what to do?
I consider passing him without
giving it a thorough reading. It’s painful to sit here and have every word remind me of what I’ve lost, what I chose to lose, because I sure as heck didn’t try to piece it back together. I didn’t put up a fight, after everything he taught me.
Yes, but you could have lost a lot more if you stayed with him.
Stupid Sense always barging in and ruining a good time.
I set his paper aside instead.
There’s a knock on the door. My heart clenches. I straighten up, rubbing my cheeks. “Come in.”
It’s not Colton, and it’s definitely not my vagina.
It’s James.
He walks in, closing the door behind himself and sitting on the edge of my desk like he owns the place.
“James, you can’t—”
He holds his hand up. “I just came to see if you’ve had a chance to think about my offer.”
God, not this. Not now. “I need more time. Sorry.”
He ignores me completely. “I’ve made dinner reservations at Pepe’s, your favorite. What do you say? Oh,” he adds, “I got you a little something, a present, if you will. It’s at my place, something I’m certain you’ll like.”
Possibilities run through my head, but whatever it is, it’ll be for his pleasure, not mine. It’s funny how I see that in hindsight now. “I’m not really up for it, I’m afraid.”
Cordiality slips, James’s expression souring. “Come on, Harper. If you just—”
“No, James. I’ve got a lot of papers to get through, a life. I don’t want to be with you.” I’m surprised by the conviction in my voice, my suddenly direct manner. Immediately, though, I sour at the idea of him taking away my job given he’s already taken so much from me. I don’t know if I can deal with that loss as well, but it’s too late to back down.
He takes it calmly, reaching down and picking up the paper I put aside, Colton’s paper.
He scans it quickly. “How juvenile.” Before letting it float back onto my desk. “Come and talk. That’s all I ask. Clearly, you’ve got a lot on your mind. Wouldn’t it be good to get it out, run it over like we used to, like the brain trust we once were?”