She turns the opposite way as I spray her backside. She spins around, and I do the same for the front of her. “Okay, me next.”
I turn around, open my arms, and widen my legs. It’s a few seconds before the cold spray finally hits me.
“Okay, I’m turning around now,” I announce so I don’t get sprayed in the eyes.
I hear a laugh before I see him. Beach hottie.
“What the hell are you doing?” I spit out. He has the spray in his hands with a cocky grin on his face. Velaney stands casually next to him, arms crossed.
She shrugs apologetically. “Sorry. He swiped it out of my hands.”
“Close your eyes,” he demands. I give him an annoyed look before complying. He sprays me evenly over my arms and legs. I notice he pays extra attention to my torso and breasts. “Wouldn’t want those precious things burning.” He chuckles.
“Well, thanks for being so considerate of the female body. My boobs thank you.” I grab the bottle from his hands and throw it back on the towel.
I walk past him with a frustrated grunt. I don’t like guys staking their claim over me. Not that he was entirely, but blindsiding me isn’t a favorite trait, either.
Velaney runs and meets up with me. We run into the water together, letting the water splash over us.
“Shit, that’s cold,” I cry out.
“Feels great.” She smirks. Damn girl is crazy as hell. She’s an outside runner and is used to running in the cold, heat, or rain. Nothing stops her.
I sink my body all the way into the water, letting my head go under. Once my body is used to the temperature, I begin swimming out to enjoy the relaxing waves.
“So, are you done being a sassy bitch now?”
I spin around and roll my eyes. “Calling me a bitch is not going to get you into my pants, FYI,” I fire back fiercely.
“Who said I wanted in your pants? Damn, you’re an arrogant little thing, aren’t you?” he says with amusement.
“Well, whatever I am doesn’t seem to bother you. You keep coming back for more,” I tease. This cat and mouse game is arousing me more. I’m ready to straddle him right here and now.
He cocks a grin and shrugs. “A little chase never hurt me.”
“Oh, sweetie.” I tilt my head toward him as he swims closer, just barely brushing my lips. “I’m not a chase. I’m just not interested.”
He smirks, obviously aware that I’m lying. I love when men chase me. I love it even more when they think I’m not interested, making them chase me even more. I love the game. So sue me.
“Alright then, I dare you to prove it.” He stands taller, calling my bluff.
“K, fine,” I huff. I look past him and see a handful of his friends standing nearby, watching us. “Excuse me.” I swim around him until I come face to face with one of his hottie friends.
I choose a dark-haired guy with tan skin and wrap my arms around him. His eyes burn into mine just before I kiss his mouth, pushing my tongue inside as I stroke his. Deep and hard. I feel his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against him. His cock stiffens against me, alerting me my job is done.
“Thanks.” I smile and pat him gently on the chest. I turn around to see all his friends, including Tanner, with their jaws wide open, speechless.
I swim up to Tanner and grin. “Your turn.”
His smile widens as he leans in. I quickly interject, pressing a hand to his hard chest. “No. It’s your turn for the dare. I did one. Now I get to give you one.”
He groans as he presses back. “What?”
“Hey…” I lean back with my hands up in surrender. “You started this by daring me first.” I sneer. “And I never pass up on a dare,” I say quieter this time, seduction in my tone.
“Fine. What do you want me to do?” he asks, not amused with my little game.
I see Velaney behind me out of the corner of my eye. A grin quickly flashes over my face as I tell him, “I dare you to convert my lesbian friend.”
“Huh?”
“Make her straight.”
“I don’t think it works that way,” he mumbles, confused.
Well, duh.
“Well, convince her with that mouth of yours. If it’s good enough to change her mind, then it’s good enough for mine,” I offer.
He brushes a hand through his hair as he thinks it over. Confidence rides over him as he stands up straighter and responds, “Okay, deal.”
Oh, this pathetic man.
I smile wide as I watch him swim over to Laney, knowing exactly what’s about to happen.
He finally reaches her, and I can tell she’s confused by the what the hell expression on her face. I see his mouth moving as he talks to her first before leaning in to kiss her. In point two seconds, Velaney’s hand slaps hard across his face. She pushes him back, making him splash back against the water. I hear her yelling at him before she makes a beeline back to the beach.
He swims back over to me. He stands up, rubbing his hand over his red, swollen cheek. I can’t help the laugh that escapes me as I see his poor, pathetic expression of defeat.
“Are you happy now?” His tone is sad, but husky.
“More than you know.” I laugh.
“Okay, well I did your stupid dare.”
“Unsuccessfully,” I add.
He shrugs. “C’mon.” His smile is genuine and for the first time, I feel sorry for him.
I pretend like I’m thinking, contemplating letting his unsuccessful dare slip. “Fine. I guess it was the effort that counts.”
“Not to mention, I was just assaulted for you.”
“Assaulted? By a chick, really? I bet you’ve been slapped by girls numerous times.”
His head falls back as he laughs. It’s comforting, seeing his eyes soften. “Yes, but normally it’s after I’ve kicked them out of my bed.”
“Well, if they’re slapping you after you’ve already slept with them, then you’re doing something wrong.”
“Ohhh…is that so?” he retorts. “Guess we’ll have to have a little wager, huh?”
“I don’t typically play these types of games, but for you, I’ll make the exception. Since I don’t want to be in a man’s bed any longer than it takes to get my bra back on, I’ll test you out.”
“I don’t mind being a test subject. Anything to help science,” he muses. Oh yes…a science project indeed.
I reach the beach and see Velaney lying out on her stomach. She looks passed out, so I don’t wake her. This won’t take more than ten minutes, anyway.
“Since this is your project, I’ll even let you choose the where variable.”
He grabs my hand as we walk up the beach, back to where the cars are all parked. “Well, since I can tell you’re so into romance…” he teases, “…the back of my expedition will have to do.”
“Hey, you get points right there. Doing it in a car is actually the most erotic place for me.”
“See? Winning already,” he muses. He cocks a grin as he escorts me in.
I realize we haven’t even kissed yet and now we are in the back of his truck about to get naked. This is very unusual for me. Usually alcohol and lust drive my need to have sex. But this is more of a game of who can push who the farthest without snapping.
I lay down as his body lays over me. I look into his eyes, waiting for his kiss when he dodges my lips and goes right for my neck. My neck is one of my favorite places to be kissed. It’s sensual with just a little bit of intimacy—not too much where it’s personal, but close enough to my lips. I expect him to move up to my lips but he doesn’t. He moves down and lands on my collarbone, suckling and licking me clean.
He pulls my bikini top down, exposing my breasts. He mouths one nipple, sucking it hard until it’s so hard it almost hurts.
I moan out, ready for him to take me already. All this foreplay is too intimate for me. I don’t mind being admired for my body, but after a few minutes, I’m over it.
“You have a gorgeous body, Carissa,” he growl
s out. I don’t like men saying my name during sex. That is too personal. I try to stall by pressing my hands into his hair. I push his face up, making his body follow.
“I don’t do small talk. I don’t need intimacy or an ego boost. Just fuck me,” I demand with all seriousness. He’s riled me up all afternoon, and I’m taking what’s mine.
“You’re an interesting creature, you know that?” He chuckles.
“I’m glad you find me amusing.”
He leans back on his calves as he digs around for a condom. He pulls his shorts back and I watch as he rolls it over his hard length.
“Impressive.” I tilt my head as I get a full view of him.
“Do I get points for that?”
“Definitely.”
He crawls over me again, just hovering over my mouth. “Turn around,” he whispers.
I eye him curiously, but he shoots a look at me that isn’t meant to be argued with—I did say this was his project after all.
I crave his mouth but do as he says anyway. There isn’t much space to move back here, but I manage. He pulls his body back slightly, roaming a hand over my ass and down to my bikini string. He moves it with his hand and slides in a finger.
I’ve been wet since the moment I spotted him. Hell, it didn’t take much, but his over-confident, cocky attitude actually turned me on.
“Fuck,” he growls out. He grabs my hip with one hand, arching my ass out to meet him. He levels us, making us match up just right before entering me.
I breathe out in release. God, he feels amazing. I’m relieved he isn’t vocal, letting me enjoy the feel of our bodies pressed together.
He hammers into me harder, smacking my ass against him. My body opens up for him, milking my release right before he screams out with his.
I wait as he pulls out, and I hear the snap of the condom roll off him before I roll back over to face him. I half expect him to kiss me, finalizing the deed. But he doesn’t. Which bothers me.
I adjust my suit, covering my parts back up as I watch him adjust his shorts. He ties the condom and throws it on the floor. Well, that’s sanitary.
He opens the door and shimmies out. I see his hand, offering to help me out. I take it, jumping down from his truck. He slams the door and begins walking.
“Wait!” I blurt out. He spins on his heel and looks at me. “Is that all?”
He looks around, confused. “Um…are you looking for a grand finale or something?” he muses. “We’ll have to go somewhere else for that.”
Arrogant ass.
I just stare at him, bewildered that I’ve met my match.
“Why won’t you kiss me on the mouth?” I ask.
He grins widely before responding. “Yeah, I don’t play games, either. I don’t kiss on the mouth. And I don’t make love. Have fun with your science project.” He starts walking away, leaving me in shock.
“Why?” I demand. “What’s wrong with kissing on the mouth?”
“I don’t kiss girls I like,” he responds honestly.
“Huh?” I seriously feel whiplash from him.
“Because I like you.”
“Okay…and?”
“I never kiss a girl I like. Especially if I wanna fuck her. It makes it too complicated.”
“Kissing makes thing complicated? I always thought fucking makes things complicated?”
“No, that part’s easy,” he informs me. “Sex is about getting off. Kissing is intimate. It’s lust. And sweetheart…” His voice lowers to a growl. “I don’t do lust.”
I watch in shock as he darts off in the other direction. I just had my ass handed to me. I didn’t think it was possible to meet someone more fucked up than me.
And I’m determined to make sure that this is the last time it ever happens. I let my guard down for one moment and got played at my own game…
6
-23 years old-
Present Day
After the “incident” with Tanner, I realized it was time to re-evaluate my so-called strategy. I don’t let men control me. I don’t let them have the upper hand. And I especially don’t let them walk away from me in victory.
I realize this makes me sound like a sex addicted control freak, but I don’t care. It’s what I need to remain guarded and in control of my own life. Having no control over my own life for eighteen years has given me no sense of clarity. I figured men would always take control over me until Mr. Brox happened. He gave me a reason to fight for my life—and now I’ll do the same—fight to get back my control.
Much to Velaney’s lack of knowledge, I stopped sleeping around as much. It took me a while to get over the Tanner incident—the feeling that my life was being taken over again—until I could feel comfortable enough to let myself go.
I wouldn’t call it an epiphany or even a life-changing moment, because I thoroughly enjoy sex, but it was definitely the start of a new approach. Tanner was the exception to my approach and I vowed it would never happen again.
That day at the beach, I let him in too much. I let him get under my skin, the way he flirted with me, dared me, and how I allowed him to feed off my ploy gave him too much control in getting exactly what he wanted—to use me and walk away.
I guess you could say I deserved it. Hell, I’ve done it to a countless number of guys before. But I’m on the dominant side, not the submissive. And I will not submit. To any guy. Ever.
* * *
I was sixteen when my mother first slapped me. I was actually surprised it took her that long given all the times she came close. However, I let her finally do it. I always backed out of the way or just enough out of her reach. She was a lazy bitch, so I knew if I wasn’t within reach, she wouldn’t come after me.
“Carissa, get my cigarettes,” she called from the back porch. They were in the living room, the next room over. I was already cleaning up the kitchen and putting the dishes away, since no one seemed to know how.
“They’re right behind you,” I snapped back, looking at her through the window.
“So? Bring them here,” she snarled. I slammed the glass down that was in my hand a little too hard, making it break. The glass shattered everywhere, marking my skin on the way down to the floor.
“Fuck.” I immediately put my hand under cold water as I breathed through the pain.
“Carissa! I’m not going to ask you again,” she snapped.
Frustrated and annoyed, I quickly wrapped my hand in some paper towels and walked to the living room. I scooped up her cigarettes and forced the back porch door open.
“Here, you lazy piece of shit.” The words came out of me so fast, there was no holding them back.
The expression on her face was something I’ll never forget—shock and regret—shocked that I talked back to her and regret for ever having me.
“You fucking wench.” Her words spit out as fast as her hand met my face. I saw it in time, but I didn’t move. I wanted to feel the pain. I wanted her to feel the pain.
“Carissa!” Velaney’s scream breaks me back to reality. I realize I drifted the car into the other lane and a semi was coming straight for us.
“Shit!” I swerve back, just missing it before returning to my lane. I didn’t realize I zoned out.
“What the hell was that?” she squeals, clenching a hand to her chest as she pants out.
I pull over to the side and cut the engine. I squeeze the wheel with my hands as I try to even my breathing.
“What happened?” she asks, her voice softer this time.
“I don’t know. I think maybe I blacked out.”
“You blacked out?”
“I don’t know. One minute I was sixteen years old again and the next you’re screaming at me.” The truth was, I can’t even remember where we are going.
“What was the memory?” she asks sincerely. We told each other everything growing up, but after a while, things happened so often and repetitively that we just knew before even having to share it.
“The one when my mom first
slapped me. It was like…I was reliving it or something. It felt so real.”
Truth be told, the memory was horrible. It could’ve been worse. She could’ve beat me or tossed my ass out, but she didn’t. It was such a vivid memory because it was just after that when I realized that I deserved so much better. I deserved to live my life my own way. My parents weren’t parents, but a sad excuse for human beings.
Once Mr. Brox came into my life a couple years after that, it cemented my decision to leave home after graduation. He helped me to feel, to have confidence, but it was my mother’s undoing and lack of passion that made my decision that much easier—I won’t be controlled, and I’ll never let my guard down.
* * *
I work extra hours and longer shifts to keep my mind busy. I don’t know why my mother popped into my head randomly. I haven’t thought about her since her birthday, and before that, it had been years since I really thought about her.
It doesn’t surprise me that she hasn’t come looking for me. Or my father, for that matter. If they wanted to find me, they could have by now.
The hookups and late-night rendezvous still happen. You don’t expect me to go cold turkey, do you? I learned my lesson—no getting close enough to get hurt. Trust me, it won’t happen again.
It’s Sunday afternoon and the bar is packed. It’s football season, so it’s filled with guys wearing jerseys and paint on their faces. I love this time of year, not because I watch the game, but because there’s plenty of fresh meat to stare at.
“Whatcha having, baby?” I ask an older gentleman who seems to be alone.
“Whiskey, old fashion,” he blurts out with a wink. Older men are the best customers. I flirt and get large tips without having to put out. They’re happy, get their drinks, and can look all they want. Win-win for all.
I make his drink as I casually look up at the TV—Packers are killing whomever they’re playing right now. The only reason I know the Packers are playing is because of Aaron Rodgers. I may not know a lot about football, but I appreciate a hot guy in uniform.
“Come on! That was totally a flag! Damn refs!” There are several guys yelling at the TVs tonight, but this voice stands out. It’s thick…and strong…and…has an accent—British.
FLAME (Spark Series) Page 5