He blows the smoke from his lungs into my mouth, cupping the back of my head and leaning into me. The smoke tastes sweet in my mouth. But it’s his touch that makes it all worth it. I try to suck it down and hold it. I roll onto my side and away from his embrace as I feel a cough coming on.
Fuck! The smoke burns in my lungs. Holy fuck! It’s painful! Why do people do this?
I lie over on my side of the sofa, coughing and covering my mouth. I feel like such an idiot. As much as I'm coughing though, I can't stop smiling. I feel the blush returning to my cheeks. I cover my mouth again and sit upright, feeling foolish and naive.
The smoke hurts, but it was worth it.
“Come here,” he says softly, wrapping his muscular arms around my waist and pulling me into his lap. I’m not about to say no. He puts his lips to mine and breathes into my mouth again. I take the hit, feeling his strong hands gripping my hips to keep me in place.
This is so wrong. So bad. But I want it.
This time I don’t cough as much, and I only move my head to the side when I do. He takes the chance to kiss my neck.
Fuck. Yes!
I take a moment to just breathe, feeling almost winded. I’m lightheaded from his touch or the blunt, I don’t know which.
He takes another puff of the blunt, leaning away from me and then putting it out on the ashtray on the end table.
He blows out easily as I finally sit up.
“How was that?” he asks, smiling at me.
“That was great,” I answer somewhat sarcastically, my voice gravelly from coughing. I scoot closer into his lap though, eager for more of his touch even though the shotgun session is over.
“I've missed you, sweetheart,” he says softly as he strokes my cheek with his thumb.
I can't resist him anymore, not after hearing him call me sweetheart like he used to.
I stare at his lips, and this time I don’t fight the urge. I lean into him, my hand on his thigh, and kiss him softly on the lips. I’m hesitant. Every bit of me thinks he’s going to deny me, like I don’t deserve him and it’s all in my head. Just like all those years ago. It never felt real.
I kiss him again. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it turns into something deeper. His tongue slips between my lips, and I part them, moaning into his mouth. It’s so easy to fall back into his embrace.
I wish I’d never left.
I pull away briefly to look him in the eyes. The second our eyes meet, he pulls me back into him, wrapping his arms around me and gripping the nape of my neck and my hip, kissing me fiercely.
God, this feels so right. It's like nothing’s changed.
His tongue strokes my bottom lip, willing me to let him in.
And I do.
Chapter 4
Derek
My hands won’t let go of her. I push her back down to the sofa, and she spreads her legs for me like a good girl. My dick’s hard as fuck. I want her. I fucking need her right now.
I roughly kiss down her neck as my hands roam her body.
She writhes under me. So responsive. She’s always been like that.
“You can’t tell me no, can you sweetheart?” I say softly as I nip her neck and slip my hands up her sweater. She’s got a tight shirt on underneath. I push my hands up her sides and she arches her back, pushing her pussy into my cock.
Even that little bit of touch makes my breathing come out harder. I gotta get these fucking clothes off and get inside her.
“Derek,” she whimpers. My girl is all worked up.
This is better than any dream I ever had of her coming back to me.
She wants me even more now than she did then.
I’m quick to unbutton her jeans, kissing down her flat stomach and then lower. She lifts her hips so I can pull them off and toss them on the floor.
I look over my shoulder and wonder if I should take her upstairs. But fuck it, I don’t wanna ruin this moment.
Staring down at her, I see the same look I remember so well. She’s vulnerable.
I cup her pussy and lean forward. Even through the thin lace I can feel how hot and wet she is.
“Are you giving this to me tonight?” I ask softly, my lips barely touching the shell of her ear.
“Yes,” she breathes eagerly. Good girl. I pull away from her, sitting on my heels on the sofa between her legs and trail my finger down her panties. I should have taken her back then.
I never should’ve let her go.
I shake off the thought along with the emotions making my chest feel so fucking tight.
I don’t wanna think right now. Not about the past, or anything else.
I slowly pull down on her panties, hooking my thumbs in the sides and trailing my fingers down her thighs. She squirms and lifts her hips again. I have to lean back to pull them off her legs and let them fall to the floor with her jeans.
Her skin’s smooth and soft, just like I remember.
I gently kiss her legs and inner thighs, making my way up.
“Derek,” she whimpers again, covering her face. Her movements are slower and relaxed, the pot taking effect and calming her ass down. I smile into her pussy.
I don’t answer her. I’m not interested in talking.
When I get to where I wanna be, I gently push on her clit with my left thumb and take a long lick of her heat.
Fuck, my dick can’t take much more. She’s so fucking wet. So sweet.
I lick up her arousal, loving her taste. It’s been so long. Too long. My dick’s so fucking hard and aching to be inside of her.
“How much do you want me?” I ask her before taking another long, languid lick from her entrance to her clit. I flick her clit with my tongue and then suck on her. Her back bows and she tries to get away. I fucking love it.
She moans her pleasure a mix of wanting more and fighting to get away from me, her thighs trembling and her legs closing out of instinct. I have to push my hand against her inner thigh and keep her open for me. I stare up at her, holding her heated gaze as I lick her clit nice and slow.
“Derek,” she moans reverently.
I latch onto her clit and push two thick fingers into her tight pussy. She’s so wet, so hot. So fucking ready.
My dick twitches and pushes against my zipper.
I’ll get her off first, but then I’m taking her. I resisted back then. She was too good for me, but I fucking want her right now, and there’s nothing that’s gonna stop me.
“Sweetheart?” I try to get her attention but she only hums slightly, her body going still. “Emma,” I call out to her a little louder, pulling away from her.
She doesn’t respond.
I sit up on the sofa and finally get a good look at her.
Fucking hell.
She passed out on me.
Fuck! Fucking pot has her knocked out.
“Emma!” I shake her gently, but she’s not moving. And she's not gonna either; this stuff is good dope.
I run my hand over my face, wishing this wasn’t fucking happening.
Finally, I look back down at her sleeping peacefully, and I give up.
I wrap her up in the throw and grab her jeans and underwear. She’s so light in my arms as I take her upstairs. It’s not hard to find her room. The door’s open.
I lay her on the bed, and she doesn’t move an inch. The only sign of life is her steady breathing.
She must’ve been exhausted. She’s not wearing her underwear, and I don’t like that. I don’t want her thinking anything happened. Her legs are way fucking heavier with her not helping me, but I pull on her lacy underwear and then nestle the covers around her.
I wish I could get into bed with her.
But this is her sister’s house, and I’m not staying here with the hopes of getting a morning lay.
I take one last look at my sweetheart before heading out.
The sound of the driver’s side door shutting to my Porsche disrupts the peaceful quiet of the night. I hit the clicker, filling the cold air w
ith a quiet beep beep as I walk into my house. It’s late. I left Sandra’s house about thirty minutes ago and took a slow ride home, not in any rush to get back.
I’m still processing everything that happened. It’s like a dream.
I touch my fingers to my lips and I can still faintly taste her. My sweetheart. I can’t let her go this time.
I can’t fucking believe she passed out on me. I shoulda known she’d be a lightweight.
But damn she felt good to hold. The smell and feel of her. The taste.
My dick starts hardening again, and I have to force the images out of my head. I’m not fucking jerking off. The next time I cum it’s gonna be inside her. She’s mine. Just like she’s always been.
I know she’s going to play hard to get, but nowadays I get what I want. She can try to run, but it’s not going to work this time.
A chuckle rises up my chest as I walk to the door feeling more life in me than I have in years, remembering how we first met.
I’d just started my car and was warming it up on a snowy day when I saw her leaving school. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her. I knew she was younger than me. She was gorgeous, such a sweet, shy girl with an innocence about her that drew me to her.
Her brunette hair was whipping in her face as she walked out into the snow off the worn path on the sidewalk and across the street. I watched her out of curiosity. I remember how her cheeks were so red from the cold, and her nose, too. But she looked so fucking beautiful with that baggy sweater she always wore.
I wanted more. As a kid, I never dared to want anything. But I craved her touch, even just a glance from her.
She hustled across the street and didn’t even see the black ice until it was too late. I was out of my car just as she landed hard on the ice, her palms slamming against the cold hard ground. Fuck, it hurt just watching. What was worse was that the bottom of her bag split from the impact, and her books were falling out. They weren’t scattered or ruined, but still. She needed help.
She sat wincing and sucking in a breath between her clenched teeth in the middle of the street. Her jeans were torn, and there was a bad scratch on her one hand.
I felt for her. I wish I could’ve stopped her from falling in the first place, but at least I could help her up.
I didn’t speak as I bent down to help her up off her ass. Picking her up like she was mine, like I was meant to be there for her.
I’ll never forget the look in her eyes. How the sight of me took the breath from her and all of her pain seemed to wash away. There was a spark between us. I know I’m not making that shit up in my memory, 'cause it's stayed with me all these years. A heat burned between us as we locked eyes.
She seemed surprised that I even talked to her. I never talked much. Still don’t. I know I was unapproachable at the time. Ma had just been diagnosed a few months back. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I was just doing what I had to do. I was surviving day-to-day. A kid shouldn’t grow up like that. It wasn’t Ma’s fault and I didn’t blame her or anyone else. She never stopped trying.
The trace of a smile from the memory of my sweetheart vanishes from my face as I punch in the code and open the door.
Even though Ma’s home, I keep it locked. She’s probably sleeping anyway. The thought brings me down from the anxious high I’ve been riding on.
It brings me back to reality.
I close the door softly and wait for the faint beep of the security system as I slip off my boots. Bits of ice and snow fall off onto the mat as I set them off to the side and look down the hallway. Ma’s on the first floor, and the light is shining through from beneath the door to her bedroom. She moved into my house a few months ago. With the cancer wearing on her, she couldn’t be alone. I needed to keep an eye on her.
It’s late for her to be up. And lately she’s been more and more exhausted.
It’s why she’s down here now. She’d get so winded from climbing the stairs.
I think about just going up the stairs and crashing, but I can’t.
I walk quietly to her room and knock gently, rapping my knuckles on the door and waiting with my ear almost pressed against it.
“Come on in,” I hear her say, barely loud enough to hear.
The door opens with a faint creak and she tells me, “Leave it open.”
If there’s anyone in this world that I take orders from, it’s Ma.
I do as she says, watching the lines on the screen of the monitors as I walk closer to her. If the sound was on, there’d be a steady beep filling the room.
They’re calling this hospice, which I can’t stand. It’s not the first time they’ve hooked her up for a day or two to monitor her. But I hate it when they call it hospice. She’s making it through this one. Just like the last time. She’s gonna be alright.
I know she is.
She’s not doing too well, but she’s still smiling. She’s never stopped. Smile today without fear of tomorrow. That’s her motto.
“Tell me something new, Derek,” she says as I rub the sleep away from my eyes. I need to get some rest, at this point I’m working on a couple hours at most from last night. And tomorrow I have a long day, too.
For a moment I consider telling her about Emma. She’s the only thing that new comes to mind. The only thing that matters. But as I pull the chair up closer to her bed and take my usual seat, I clear my throat and shrug. I don’t know what I’d tell her about Emma anyway.
“Same ol, same ol.” I answer her and sit back in my seat. My muscles ache as they try to relax against the hard back of the chair. She’s got her reading glasses on and an old romance novel with worn pages closed on her lap, although her finger’s holding her place.
“Did I interrupt your reading?”
Her thin lips pull into a soft smile. “Never, baby. I’ve always got time for you.”
“You find a wife yet?” she asks, slipping the glasses off her face and tapping them against the book impatiently. “You know you’re not getting any younger?”
A rough chuckle vibrates up my chest.
“There’s no woman on this earth who could replace you, Ma.” She rolls her eyes at the hint of sarcasm in my voice.
She puts her glasses back on, but then takes them back off and pinches the bridge of her nose.
“You alright?” I ask her, leaning forward and placing my hand gently on her elbow to steady her.
“Just a headache.” Her voice is small and scratchy.
“Did you get any sleep?” I ask her. She needs it. She can’t go on without resting.
“Yeah, some.” She looks at me for a long moment before saying, “I’d like to see you happy before I die.” Ma’s words stop me short of moving, the breath stilling in my lungs.
I hate how she talks like that. As if she’s leaving me tonight. She’s been beating the odds for years now. The cancer was supposed to kill her years ago. She’s not dying. I won’t let it happen.
Ma says that prayers work wonders. I know the drugs are helping. Or at least they were. Lately, though, her skin seems a little more grey, her face a little thinner, and her energy is nowhere near what it used to be. I wanna believe it’s just old age. But the scans are showing that it’s spreading again.
The chemo helped, before, but this time, not so much. It just needs time. It’s gonna work. I know it will. It has to.
“I mean it, Derek.” Her voice is hard as she settles back against the bed and takes in a deep breath. “You gotta find someone to make you happy.” My mother’s eyes water as she looks at me.
“Ma, knock it off. I’m gonna be fine.” Her small hand feels so frail in mine, but she squeezes back with the strength I know she has, the strength I'm used to.
She wipes away the tears under her eyes with her other hand.
“Stop talking like that.” I try to think of something the doctor said on the last visit, but there wasn’t anything that I can remind her of to keep her focused on fighting this. It’s quiet for a long time, neithe
r of us knowing what to say.
I try not to let it get to me. She’s gonna be fine.
“Go ahead and turn that light out for me, would ya?” she asks as she puts both the book and her glasses onto the nightstand. “I think I’ll try to get in a little more shuteye.”
“Alright,” I say and get up, pushing off on my thighs and readying to go pass out myself. The thought of my sweetheart knocked out on the sofa makes a soft smile form on my lips.
“Love you, Ma,” I tell her out of habit before I flick the switch.
“Love you, too,” she says softly. “Leave it open,” she tells me with my hand on the doorknob.
As I climb the stairs, I cover my mouth with a yawn and think about Emma.
I remember that day again. The day that she fell, and her bag tore. There was a goodness about her I knew I didn’t deserve.
I still don’t, but I want her.
Chapter 5
Emma
Sunlight pours through the sheer white curtains.
I open my eyes slowly, and it takes me a minute to figure out where I am. Sandra’s guest room. That's right. Winter break.
It comes back to me as I rub my eyes and lie back into the soft pillow, just wanting the annoying light to go away. My head hurts and I feel like I either overslept, or didn’t sleep enough. The last thing I remember is being on the loveseat with Derek.
Shit! I practically jump up, pushing the hair out of my face and frantically looking around the room.
Throwing off the lavender-colored down comforter, I climb out of bed. My head spins at first, and I brace myself against the dresser.
Oh my God.
I'm still in the black cami and lace undies I was in last night. Just undies… I take a moment to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid last night. Recalling everything I can.
Begging for Bad Boys Page 4