He frowned but kept his mouth shut. He squeezed my knee and said, "Grab another one if you want."
I shook my head and nuzzled closer to his side. "Nah, I'm good."
His hand slid up my thigh and he pressed against my sex making me squirm in the seat. His eyes shifted to the rearview mirror. "Want me to pull over?"
I chewed on my lip, pressing myself against his hand. "If I don't get some from you now, I probably won't get any later," I said breathlessly.
He growled something unintelligible and turned into a field, cutting the lights. He left the truck running and hopped out, walking around to my side of the pickup while I shimmied out of my jeans and pushed open the door. I stepped out, my back to him, and planted my elbows on the front seat. He tugged my panties to the side and dipped his middle finger inside me. "So fucking wet, baby," he murmured.
I was hornier than hell, and it was freezing out, so I was impatient to have him inside of me. "Hurry up, Alistair," I urged, wiggling against his thrusting fingers.
He chuckled and brushed his thumb against my clit, causing me to jerk and let out a gasp. With his free hand, he unzipped his pants, dropping them far enough to slide his cock out. He teased it against my opening, rubbing it up and down my wetness. "You ready for me, baby?"
"Alistair. If you don't shut up and fuck me right now, I'm going to kick your ass."
He laughed. "So impatient."
He was about as romantic as a freaking fence post, and when it came to foreplay, the word wasn't even in his vocabulary. Thankfully, it didn't take much for me to be wet as water, and eager. "Alistair…" I warned.
He grabbed my hips and thrust into me. I let out a surprised gasp and braced myself, meeting his rhythm with my own frenzied need to come. I reached beneath me and rubbed my clit while he rocked into me.
It didn't take me long to come, and Alistair, never with much stamina, came within seconds of feeling me clench around him.
I collapsed against the seat while slowing my breathing. He straightened and tucked himself back into his jeans. "Damn, I needed that."
"Me, too."
He went around and got behind the wheel while I got back into my clothes and we continued on our way to the party. Classy, I know.
And that's about all I remember from that night. I don't know how, but I managed to wake up the next morning in my own bed. Sneaking out of the house was a bitch, but trying to sneak back in while drunk was a nightmare.
Olivia quirked an eyebrow at me when I shuffled into the kitchen in my robe, heading straight for the coffee pot. I scowled at her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
She shrugged and took a sip from her mug. "Oh no reason. But for someone who went to bed early last night, you look pretty hung over."
"That's ridiculous. I didn't sleep very well, that's all." I swore she had a crystal ball, and got her kicks from spying on me twenty-four seven.
I poured a cup of coffee and sat down across the table from her. She smiled and pushed an envelope toward me. "This came for you."
"He actually wrote back?" I ran my fingernail under the sealed flap and pulled out the letter. I wasn't sure what I expected our correspondence to consist of. I assumed he'd be dumber than a brick and just as inarticulate. But I guess I'd been wrong about him.
"What does he have to say?" Miss Nosy asked.
"Nothing much." Braden had my curiosity piqued, but for some reason, I didn't think Olivia needed to know that. "It's only like two lines. He says he's working to get his GED and he asked about you. By name."
Her eyes went round and she said, "What?"
"You must have left quite an impression on him all those years ago." I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at the horrified look on her face. Score. "I think I'll go write him back."
I giggled to myself and left her gawking at me while I went back up to my room to reply.
Dear Braden,
It was good to hear from you again.
I will be glad to graduate, that's for sure. Not too sure what I'm going to do about college, yet. I might take a year off. I'm sure that won't make the reverend very happy, though.
I bet your music boxes are amazing. You must be pretty proud of them.
So, you're planning on moving back to Hensteeth when you get out? I can't wait to get out of this town. But, hey, to each his own, I guess. I bet Jeb will be happy to have an extra hand around the marina. As you know it can get pretty busy around there during the summer months.
What kind of girl do you think I am that we wouldn't have anything in common? Is it because I'm a preacher's daughter?
Olivia is in college. One of her teachers is the reason I'm writing to you.
Your Uncle Jeb is a great guy. What about your brother? Is he in WTJDC with you?
You mentioned you're seventeen. Are you getting out when you're eighteen?
Thank you for writing. Feel free to write again.
Do you have any tattoos?
Sincerely,
Claire
CHAPTER SIX
Braden Sayer
From where I stood, it looked like the dude they called Ape had thrown the first punch. Everyone picked on Ape. It was because he was huge for a kid his age. At only fourteen, he already weighed more than two of me and was as solid as a linebacker for the NFL.
I wondered how long it was going to take before he finally snapped. Most of the time he was docile and went out of his way to avoid people, but that morning in gym class he lost his shit.
We were running laps around the tiled gymnasium floor and someone, I think it was "Badass" Billy Hargrove, stuck his foot out and tripped Ape. When he hit the ground, it reminded me of how the earth would shake every time they used dynamite to blast at the rock quarry near Devil's Fork Lake when I was a kid.
Time stopped as Ape grunted and pushed slowly to his feet. Murder had colored his eyes blood red and he had his sights on Billy.
Tyler Mays and I exchanged nervous glances. "Fuck a duck," he whispered, pulling me to the side of the room. He rubbed his hands together, and a grin snaked across his scrawny face. "Stand back, Sayer, this is fixin' to get ugly and I want a ringside seat. I've been waitin' for someone to wipe the floor with that fucker Hargrove's ass for three years now. Shit yeah!"
He was right. We'd all been hoping someone would stand up to Billy, and as badly as I wanted to stick around and watch it happen, I knew I had to get out of there. Getting caught up in any kind of violent behavior, even if it included just watching, could get my early release hearing pushed back. No effing way was that happening.
I was there long enough that I saw Ape connect one of his mighty bearlike paws with the side of Billy's pockmarked face. Ape was surprisingly agile on his feet and I knew Billy had two chances of survival. The guards would intervene before Ape ripped his head off his shoulders, or Billy would turn and run like a little girl. But I wasn't sticking around long enough to find out.
Tyler's attention was one hundred percent on what was about to go down and he didn't notice me as I slipped quietly out the side door and jogged back to my room. I'd have to relive the smack-down through the countless retellings I was sure to hear in the coming days, because lockdown was a matter of seconds from happening, and I needed to be on my bunk reading the latest letter from Claire when it did.
I'd probably already read it three times at least. The scent of cherries had faded, but if I stuck it right beneath my nose and inhaled while I closed my eyes, I could still smell her, and I'd be damned if it didn't smell good enough to eat. I was embarrassed to say that just thinking about it made my dick semi-hard, which sucked since I didn't even know her that well. I felt like some kind of a pervert and privacy was something no one had, and any beating off had to come under the covers at night. And it had to be quick--and silent.
I yanked at my sweatpants and tried not to let my attention-starved body think about something I'd never been a part of, except in my imagination. I groaned and flopped onto my stomach in
an effort to hide my painful boner. It was all I could do to resist rubbing one off. Instead of fantasizing about her, I replied to the woman who was unwittingly the cause of my painful erection. What the hell was wrong with me? I hadn't seen Claire since before I was old enough to think about girls that way. I was seriously fucked in the head if I thought the reverend's daughter could ever want anything to do with me.
Dear Claire,
I enjoyed hearing from you. Your letters are a pleasure to read.
If you decide to take a year off and not go to college right after graduation, you might decide you don't want to go at all. Sometimes it's better to grab the bull by the horns and just do it. That's what Uncle Jeb always tells me.
Folks seem to like my music boxes. Working with wood was my way of focusing on something other than the crap hand I'd been dealt. Then I figured out I was actually pretty good at making things, so I kept at it. It brings me in a few extra bucks, and I enjoy doing it so it's a win-win situation.
I'm honestly looking forward to moving back to Hensteeth. If you've never had a choice about where you live, Hensteeth wouldn't seem all that bad. Trust me; anything is better than losing your freedom.
Jeb will be glad to have an extra pair of hands around the marina, especially during the boating season. I've always loved the water, so it will be a little like heaven on earth for me, I'm sure.
I meant no disrespect when I said we wouldn't have anything in common. Truth is, I don't care what kind of girl you are; I enjoy getting your letters. What I meant to say was that when I get back home you're not likely going to want to hang out with someone who's spent all his growing years locked up in juvie.
It looks like I owe Olivia a thank you, seeing as she's the reason you decided to write me. J
My Uncle Jeb has been my lifeboat many times over the years when it felt like my ship was about to sink quicker than a canoe with a hole in it. My brother is here at WTJDC, but we don't see each other much. He spends a lot of his time in trouble. Some people aren't capable of learning from the error of their ways, I guess. We may look alike, but trust me when I tell you, that's where all our similarities end.
I'm seventeen, and if I'm lucky, my eighteenth birthday will be celebrated in Hensteeth. They're thinking about letting me out of here on account of good behavior.
What do you do for fun during the winter months? Do you ice skate? I used to be a pretty fair ice skater back in the day. Ha ha!
That was a random question, asking me if I have any tattoos. I suppose it's because I'm locked up, but no, I don't have any. Some of the boys do, but it's against the rules. I do plan to get one as soon as I get out though. What about you, do you have any tattoos? You can send me a picture if you feel brave enough.
Sincerely,
Braden
Before I changed my mind about asking her for her photo, I quickly folded the paper and stuffed it into the envelope. I'd give the letter to Uncle Jeb this Sunday when he came for his visit, and ask him to hand deliver it to her for me.
I hadn't mentioned to Uncle Jeb that I'd been writing to the reverend's daughter. He was always supportive, but I didn't know whether he'd approve of our exchanging letters. Near as I could tell, it was all harmless fun, and it gave me something other than the sunrise to look forward to each day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Claire Copeland
"Claire!" Olivia called. "Someone's here to see you."
I wrinkled my nose and contemplated ignoring her. I couldn't imagine who'd be stopping by on a Monday evening to see me, but I knew if I didn't go downstairs and at least make an attempt at being sociable, she'd pitch a fit about how I needed to try and be nicer to people.
Jeb Sayer stood in our living room, his hat in his hands. He nodded and smiled in my direction. "Hello, Claire. I drove over to see my nephew yesterday afternoon."
And you're telling me this why? I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I didn't. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope. "He asked me to bring this to you."
"Oh, Braden. Right. Thanks, Jeb." I gave him a weak smile. For some reason, I felt heat creep into my cheeks. "We're pen pals. It was Olivia's idea."
"He's a good kid. I 'spect you could do a lot worse." He turned to leave and Olivia narrowed her eyes at me.
"Seems like a nice guy. Thanks, Jeb."
He nodded and turned to leave. "Tell your daddy I said hello."
As soon as Jeb was out the door, Olivia put her hands on her hips and stared pointedly in my direction.
"Why are you glaring at me? I thanked him for bringing the letter to me. What more do you want from me?"
She rolled her eyes and said, "You act like I'm forcing you to write Braden."
"You blackmailed me."
"I admit to doing that. But you've kept writing to him, and I'm not making you do that," she said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. "Jeb's right, you know."
"About?"
"He's right that you could do a lot worse than Braden Sayer. Take Alistair Anderson for instance. He's about as worthless as they come," she said.
My mouth dropped open and the only snappy comeback I could think of was, "Whatever, Olivia." I spun around and headed back up to my room.
Yeah, I admit it, Alistair wasn't exactly somebody I'd choose for my own daughter to date if I had one, but he was okay. If I could keep him from passing out, he wasn't a half bad lay. Alistair wasn't someone I intended to spend the rest of my life with. He was a diversion for right now. Admittedly, if something better came along, I wouldn't feel any obligation to keep doing him. In a town the size of Hensteeth, the pickings were slim. I still had no intention of hooking up with Braden Sayer.
By definition, he was definitely a bad boy. But there was something about him that had me acting a fool every time I got one of his letters. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to meet him face to face. He seemed nice enough from the letters he'd written. For a brief instant, I wondered what it would be like to taste his lips, feel his arms around me, and his breath on my skin--which was crazy considering I hadn't seen the boy since he was twelve. Maybe I was looking for someone to fix.
An involuntary shiver slithered up my spine and I rubbed my arms.
Dear Braden, I wrote.
It was nice hearing from you. Your Uncle Jeb brought your letter by this afternoon after school.
To be perfectly honest with you, I don't know if I want to go to college at all. I know I should, but at this time in my life, I'm not sure what I want to do. On the other hand, going away to college would be a great way to get me out of Hensteeth.
I can relate with you about being dealt a crap hand in life. Did you know that my mom died in childbirth with me? I believe that's why my dad resents me. It's no secret he prefers Olivia over me. I'm okay with that. As the saying goes, nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending. Wow, that was deep. Don't expect such enlightenment to come from me often. LOL!
Some days I feel like I have no freedom at all. Of course, our circumstances aren't the same, but on some level, I get what you mean. I take my freedom where I can get it these days, and truthfully, it's a vicious cycle. I get claustrophobic and I rebel. I rebel and I get caught. I get caught and I get grounded. I get grounded and I become claustrophobic. See what I mean? You'd think being eighteen would make a difference. But not to my dad.
I like the water too. There's nothing better than floating around the water on a lazy summer day. Some of my best times have been the ones spent with friends on Devil's Fork Lake. Not a care in the world except for who's buying the beer and whether I put on enough sunscreen.
Olivia might have been the reason I wrote the first letter--she blackmailed me--but continuing has been my choice.
What are your music boxes like? Describe one of them to me. I'd like to see your work.
I can relate to what you said about you and your brother. Olivia and I are like oil and water most of the time.
But she is my sister, and I guess that means I have to love her. And I do, but there are days when I don't like her very much. Even though we're not twins, we look a lot alike, and people often assume we are. Don't let anybody kid you, Braden. It's all about what people think. Especially in a small town. J
If you're in Hensteeth for your eighteenth birthday, I'll bake you a cake.
I don't ice skate. Seems sad that I've lived by Devil's Fork Lake my whole life and not once have I been on it when it was frozen. I'm not a fan of cold weather, and I have an irrational fear of falling through the ice and not being able to get to the surface. Actually, it's a recurring nightmare of mine.
I don't have any tattoos, either. I want one, but my dad would freak out if I went through with it. What are you going to get?
I will see if I can find a picture to send you.
Later,
Claire
It was almost dinnertime when I finished my note to Braden, so I went downstairs to see if Olivia needed my help in the kitchen. We took turns making dinner. Even Dad helped sometimes, when he was home.
I hummed a tune as I set the table. When the room around me fell silent, I stopped what I was doing and frowned at Olivia and Dad, who were both staring at me. "Why are you two looking at me like that?"
Dad shrugged with a bemused look on his face as he added sugar to his coffee and slowly stirred. "Why are you in such a good mood this evening?"
"What makes you think I'm in a good mood? I'm still grounded. Maybe I'm just going bonkers from being held captive against my will."
Olivia snorted. "Like being grounded has ever kept you from doing what you wanted to do."
"Says someone who's never been a prisoner in her own home," I muttered. She wasn't going to spoil my mood. It's not like I still didn't do whatever I wanted, I just had to learn how to be stealthier about it. Lucky for me, after spending most of my teen years in trouble for one thing or another, I'd learned to be resourceful. I knew how to sneak out of the house without getting caught. That brought another grin to my face as I finished what I was doing.
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