by Jo Raven
That makes me smile. “It is, isn’t it?”
“I should have danced with you. That night, at the bar.”
“You should have. But it’s not like we’ll never get another chance.”
“Here,” he says, and I don’t know what he means until he starts moving. Right, then left, his lips brushing my forehead.
Oh God, we’re dancing in the rain and the mud. He’s crazy.
Or in worse shock than I thought. He’ll be so embarrassed when he comes around later. And maybe I should stop him, but I don’t want to.
He smells of wet earth, his peppery, musky scent muted. He feels strong and solid and impossible, like a magical creature, in my arms. Powerful and yet fragile, armored and yet vulnerable. Broken and yet unique and unreplaceable.
Oh God, I have such a crush on Ocean.
I kind of knew it, I guess. But it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I had crushes on boys at school when I was younger. Even on a guy in college during my freshman year. It was the whole heart-fluttering, excitement-bubbling thing, but never… never this strong.
Never this solid, like a fist closing around my heart.
Like grief, Ev had said. Love is like grief. Crushing and all-consuming.
No, no. I fist my hands at the small of his back. Not love. A crush. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Two very different things.
Yeah, he’s hot and my body likes it. Yeah, I wish we’d fool around again, that I’d get to take off his clothes and see and touch that strong body.
And yes, I like talking to him, kissing him, making sure he’s okay.
Just a crush, right? That’s bad enough already.
But as I dance with him in the dark, beside the pond that almost became his tomb, with his breath in my hair and his chest pressed to mine, his voice still echoing in my ears and a light drizzle wetting my face, why does it feel like so much more?
***
Soon after the cops arrive. They ask questions, take a look at the car in the pond and check Ocean for DUI. One of them carries a blanket from the police car and wraps him up in it.
Worry is eating at my stomach lining. He has to get out of those wet clothes and the cold drizzle.
Thankfully, our friends finally arrive. As soon as we’re surrounded by their familiar faces, I feel better. Micah talks to the cops, while Ev and Seth help Ocean up to the highway. I unlock my car and have them bundle him inside while I turn on the heater.
Funny how they don’t protest or ask why I was here earlier. Why my car, not theirs.
Shoving the thought out of my mind, I turn my attention back to the cop who leans in the car window to ask Ocean more questions. Routine stuff, and I hop from foot to foot outside, impatient for him to be done and let me take Ocean away.
Take him home.
Seth is asking me what else Ocean has said, how he got out of the sunk car, and Ev is gripping my arm, talking about the weather and slick roads, but I can’t focus on them.
Home.
“Hello, Ms. Everett?” the cop calls out to me. “We’re done here for now. You should take him home, get him warm.”
I know.
It’s not until later, after the policemen have left, and guys have said goodbye and asked Ocean to call if he needs anything at all and I’m driving to the next exit to turn around and head toward Madison, that I realize I’m taking him to my place.
And that’s a good idea, I think as I glance at him, slumped in the seat beside me, still shivering. Who knows if Jason is even still back at his place, and if he’s well enough to take care of Ocean?
Besides, his place is farther than mine.
I glance at him again, at the blue shimmering under his long lashes, and give up trying to justify my actions.
He’s with me tonight, and I’m going to make damn sure he’s warm and fed and rested. That’s all there is to it. I’ll watch over his sleep. I’ll tell him he’ll be fine. I’m not leaving him alone tonight.
No matter what happens or doesn’t happen between us tomorrow.
***
The ride back is spent in silence. When I park outside my building, he doesn’t comment. I wonder if he even notices.
“Ocean? Hey.” I’m starting to freak out, because he doesn’t seem to hear me, but when I shake him a little with a hand on his shoulder, he blinks at me. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”
By the time I’ve climbed out of the car, he’s thrown his door open and is struggling to unfold his tall frame out of my Mini Cooper. Under different circumstances it would have been funny, but his face is ashen in the light of the streetlamp, his lips white—and a scratch I hadn’t noticed earlier, over one brow, is bleeding sluggishly. The blanket has slipped off his shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
I reach for him, sliding my hand around his back, and he pushes off the car to lean against me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
“This is your place,” he says, his voice hushed.
“Yeah. I’ll crank up the heater, don’t worry.” I tug on him, and he stumbles along my side toward the building entrance. “I have leftover soup, and salad, and you can have a hot shower to warm up.”
“Muffins?” he rasps, and I can’t help a snort.
Muffin-fixated, this boy.
“The only muffins I have are in my bra.”
He grins, his gaze dipping to my girls, and I roll my eyes.
Boys and boobs.
“The soup’s sweet potato with bacon. I think you’ll like it.” And I think my chatter is soothing him. So I keep it up as we enter the elevator, and I punch my floor number. “Jesse and Amber are out of town, visiting an old friend of his, so the bathroom is all yours. I’ll have the soup warmed by the time you’re done. That sound okay?”
He squeezes my shoulders and drops a kiss on top of my head.
Somehow it feels strangely intimate, for such a chaste kiss, much more than his checking out my rack.
We stumble together to my door. I unlock it, we enter, and I lead him toward the bathroom. His feet drag on the floor.
He needs out of these wet clothes ASAP. I just don’t realize I’m the one who’s going to help him take them off until he’s leaning against the bathroom wall, swaying, his teeth chattering.
You’ve seen him naked before, I tell myself. Totally, beautifully naked, and aroused, and you’ve touched his snake. Made him come.
But again, like that chaste kiss in the elevator, this feels more personal. It feels more important, more meaningful.
Feels deeper, somehow.
And as I throw the blanket off him and unzip his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders, I can’t help wanting him again.
More.
More and more and more.
He pulls off his sweater and T-shirt, grunting as he does, and I see dark red splotches on his chest. New bruises.
He stares down at me as I get on my knees to take off his boots and socks, and his eyes are so dark they look black. I unzip his pants and drag them down his muscular legs. The sodden fabric clings to his flesh, and by the time I manage to take them off, I’m panting with exertion.
He makes a funny sound in the back of his throat, and I look up only to see he’s going commando. He’s fully naked now and jeez, his cock’s impressive even when not erect. That’s a well-hung boy, and I shouldn’t be staring at his dick right now, right?
Especially when it twitches, starting to harden and lift, so close I could have kissed it. Or taken it in my mouth.
He groans. I look up at his face, and something hot passes behind his eyes.
Then, before I find the words to ask, he steps into the shower stall and turns on the water.
Chapter Twelve
Ocean
Fuck. I’m so damn cold and shaky—and hard. So damn hard.
The image of her kneeling in front of me, her sweet mouth inches from my dick is branded in my brain. I wanna feel her lips wrapped around my cock, feel her tongue playing on the
underside, her teeth scraping over my taut skin. I wanna come down her throat, or all over her pretty tits.
The water is scalding my flesh. I doubt it’s that hot, though. It’s just that my skin is like ice. I can barely feel my feet and hands, though my right wrist is swollen and throbbing.
Memories assault me. Cold. Water. The pond. Leaving the cemetery. Leaving the trailer park. Mom and—
Shit. Everything that happened today slams back into me, and I brace both hands on the tiled wall, drowning in it all.
Mom’s sickness. The money issues. The change in my plans.
In my life.
I’m not leaving. But I don’t know where the fuck to go from here. I’m in Kayla’s apartment, Kayla’s shower, and I’ve told her I’m not gonna leave—but she doesn’t know what I mean, does she? I never explained. Never told her much about myself.
Don’t even know if she wants me. What she wants from me. If anything at all.
And I’m about to pour my fucking heart out to her, tell her things that might well make her hate me and run the other way.
She asked me to come back, though. She’s taking care of me.
And she doesn’t know anything of importance about me.
Fuck… I rest my forehead on the cool tiles as the hot water beats down on my back. Never been so out of sorts in my whole damn life, and that’s saying a lot. Never wanted a chick with both my mind and body.
Why do I need her so badly? Why am I doing this to myself? I never thought I was a masochist.
But there’s never been anyone like her for me, ever.
Goddammit.
Thinking about her, even in the sorry state I’m in gets my dick twitching. Her memory is inextricably woven in my mind with sex and food. Soup, muffins, donuts—kissing, touching, coming.
Kayla.
Biting back a moan, I slide my hand down to grip my hard-on. My pulse is pumping at the base, my balls drawing in tight as I tug and drag my fist to the tip and back.
What if Kayla walked in and saw me beating my meat? Would she watch? Would she join me? Would she take off her clothes and press her bare tits to my back, reaching around to help me jack off—or would she come around in front of me and let me pound into her until we both come?
Christ, can’t believe how damn close I am to shooting my load. My ribs burn like fire, and my wrist hurts, and I can’t stop jerking off to the image of her.
I hear a creak and glance sideways in time to see the door of the bathroom open and Kayla enter carrying a folded towel.
She freezes, eyes round, like a deer caught in the headlights.
My grip on my junk tightens. The air leaves my lungs. What will she do? My memory’s full of her taste, her moans, her gorgeous tits, her sweet scent.
She’s coming closer, her face flushed, the towel forgotten in a pile on the floor. Her red hair curls at her temples, fine and shiny, and her mouth is pursed as if blowing a kiss. Her low-cut sweater shows me the deep shadow between her tits.
If possible, I get harder.
“I came to see,” she swallows, “if you needed help.”
“I do,” I mutter and let my gaze trail from her tits to her legs, and then back up, slowly, until I reach her face.
“What do you want?”
“You.” I shake my head, but it’s the truth, and I can’t fight it any longer. “I want you.”
A smile spreads on her pretty face. It’s like the sun coming up, and it’s sexy as fuck. Especially when she starts undressing.
Holy shit. My fantasy is coming true. I tighten my grip on my dick to stop from coming—because not yet, dammit—as she tugs off her long sweater, her tits threatening to spill over the cups of her pink bra, and then they actually sort of spill out when she bends over to push down her jeans.
God. Dammit. My dick twitches in my hand.
Mind control. I can do this.
I grind my teeth and try to look away—but I find I fucking can’t. My gaze is glued on this girl as she kicks off her shoes, her jeans, her socks, and stands in front of me in her mismatched pink bra and red panties.
Oh hell. I need to brand this image in my mind. She’s so fucking sexy, from her pouty lips, to her perfect tits, to her round hips, to her red toenails.
And then she unclasps her bra, lets it fall, and pushes down her panties, and I strangle my dick in my grip until I whimper—because, hell, what’s a guy to do with a sight like this?
I’ve seen her naked once before, but there was always something in the way—her blouse, her skirt.
Never standing in front of me like this, her pale skin gleaming, her eyes bright, her nipples hard.
I want to breathe her in. As if she’s oxygen and I’m lost in outer space.
“Come here,” I whisper. “Or I’ll come all over your shower just from looking at you.”
She steps under the spray, and I press her up against the wall, gripping her wrists and lifting them over her head, trapping my leaking, aching cock between our bodies.
Her eyes widen, then she lifts her face, and I slam my mouth to hers, kissing her deep, thrusting my tongue between her lips. Her hard nipples drag over my chest, her tits pressing into my burning ribs, and the pain jolts me for a moment.
Then it starts feeding the heat in my insides, hardening my balls, turning my cock to steel. She’s moving, her hips rocking into mine, and I gasp at the electric bolts shooting up my spine.
Fuck, I won’t be able to hold off much longer.
“Kay,” I whisper against her warm mouth.
“You’re warm now,” she whispers back and wraps her arms around my neck. “So warm. I was so worried.”
My dick twitches again. “Fuck, I want you.”
“Inside me,” she says. “God, I thought something had happened to you. I thought…” There’s something like pain in her bright eyes. “Need you inside me, now. I want to feel you. I want to feel it tomorrow when I wake up, feel you were in me.”
Holy shit, the things she says. I swear, if I don’t get my dick inside her right the fuck now, I’ll explode.
“Down,” I grind out and go to my knees, pulling her down with me. She laughs, and I lick at her mouth, silencing her. Christ, even her laughter makes my dick jerk.
It’s everything about her. Her eyes, the funny faces she pulls, her energy, her concern. Her prettiness.
And now her smooth skin gliding like silk over mine as she climbs onto my lap. Her tits are in my face, so I lick her nipples, suck on them, her taste ramping up the need, the tension in my gut. She moans, and the sound brings me so close to the edge I bite her nipple lightly.
She squeals.
I lick the hardened tip in apology and run my hands down to her hips. They rock, pushing against my hard-on, and I hiss.
“Please,” she whispers. “Now.”
“No condom.” I swallow, my mouth dry. “My wallet.”
“I’m on the pill. Do it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
I smooth one hand over her flat belly to her pussy, dip a finger inside. So wet. She writhes on my lap as I slide my finger in and out, then add a second one. She’s a tight fit, and I’m not small. She mewls, and my control is breaking at the seams.
Shit, I can’t wait any longer. I pull my fingers out, grab my dick and nestle it between her legs. She lifts up on her knees and opens up for me.
The head of my cock nudges at her wet entrance, and then I’m sliding into her, a slow glide into heat and pressure. She gasps, relinquishing her hold on my shoulders to free one hand, and she reaches down to touch my cock where it’s slipping into her pussy. It’s still not even halfway in.
“Touch yourself,” I breathe, “slide your finger…” I feel her light touch on top of my cock as she strokes her clit, and I pant, fighting for control once more.
Seems it’s all I do with this girl, struggling for control. As she shudders in pleasure, she opens up more, and I slip inside her balls-deep.
My mout
h opens, but I have no breath left even for a moan. It’s so good, the pressure, the heat, the feeling of her pussy shifting and rippling around my dick.
She’s riding me now, hands braced on my shoulders, rising and falling on my cock, taking me deeper every time, and I slide my hands upward, to cover her tits, play with her nipples. God, I love her tits. Love her nipples, how hard they are under my touch. How sensitive. With every stroke of my thumb over their tip, she clenches like a vise around me and makes those sexy, mewling noises.
“Come, Kay,” I whisper, so ready it fucking hurts. “Let go. Come with me.”
Fall with me. Dance with me. Take me as deep as you can. Kay…
Her head drops back as she rides me faster. I hiss, my hands dropping to where we are joined, because, fuck, I’m coming, the pressure snapping and liquid fire bursting from my dick as I rock into her.
“Kay,” I gasp, “Kay, oh fuck…”
My whole damn body goes taut and starts to shake with my release.
She moans, her fingers digging into my bruised shoulders, and she’s coming, too, milking my cock, making it jerk again, spill more.
Wringing the last dregs of pleasure from me, leaving me limp and sated and drowsy. Loopy. Flying high, as if on drugs.
Has to be why I gather her close and murmur into her wet, warm skin, “Blue loves Kay so fucking much.”
I love you, Kay.
Jesus Christ. So this is what it’s like. This feeling, like floating, like lying in the sun. Like feeling its heat with your eyes closed and smiling because you know it’s there.
I laugh quietly, the sound muffled against the soft flesh of her shoulder and bite down, just enough to make her twitch around my dick.
Red hearts, and white doves, and rainbow unicorns trotting on green grass. She’s a fairytale, and I’m lost in her, buried deep, and I don’t ever wanna leave.
***
Somehow I manage to untangle my body from hers at some point and shuffle to her bed. I catch a glimpse of more colors there—posters of fashion models and cloth collages and golden Buddhas—before she slips into the bed beside me and pulls the covers over us.
I’m warm, from her body, the hot sex, and the scalding water—in that order. Warm and so relaxed I can barely move.