Tempt

by Joya Ryan

  I slam on the brakes because I heard a tremor in your voice. I imagine you in the ladies’ room, me coming out of you, and you being…happy? Thinking it was special. Giving me your panties and smiling at me. This was a first for you, obviously. But it’s a first for me too. I can’t have you hurting like this. I can’t have this ruined.

  “It is different. You are different. I don’t do this with anyone else,” I say definitely. “Jesus, Shay, do you have any idea what you do to me? I need you all the damn time and tonight wasn’t about fucking you outside of a bar; it was needing to be inside you before I lost my damn mind.”

  It all came out in a jumbled, blurry statement of noise and I couldn’t stop myself.

  “I need you too,” you whisper. You glance down at your lap and shake your head. “I’m trying to be cool. Trying to be whatever it is you want and I get lost. I think of you all the time and worry you’ll think I’m an obsessive girl. But I do. All I want is you.”

  I cup your face and your eyes meet mine. Your creamy skin with my dirty hand on it makes me flinch. I don’t deserve you. And yet, I like that you obsess over me. Because I’m over my ass in deep with you, baby.

  “You’re special,” I say. Because it’s the truth. It’s all that makes sense.

  I kiss you softly on the lips. Your taste, your sweetness, seeps down my throat and I need you again. More. Always more.

  But I need to get a grip. I need to be a good guy for once in my life. Not just the persona of a good guy.

  “Let me take you home,” I say.

  You nod.

  We make our way in silence. You hold my hand in your lap. I turn off the lights and pull up slowly to your house. I stay on the street.

  “Would you come in?”

  I frown. “Your grandma is home.”

  “She’s sleeping. Can you be quiet?”

  I grin. “I think the better question is, can you?”

  You smile, a sly sweet smile that has a flirty pink behind your cheeks. I love it. I thought earlier that I love you. Which is ridiculous. On my part. You’re lovable. But the notion of me loving you is something I can’t entertain because I can’t even get over the fact that my dirty hand gets to touch your face.

  “We can cuddle?” you say in the most innocent tone I’ve ever heard and I, honest to God, don’t know if you’re serious or kidding. Because I’d cuddle the hell out of you. I also would fuck the hell out of you. But we have limitations.

  Don’t we always…

  “You want to risk this, baby?” I ask you.

  You look at me for a long moment. “What’s life worth if we don’t take risks?”

  I want to laugh at your sweet naivety. Or maybe it’s bravery. Because I’ve never risked much. Other than my health. And when I was in that world and using, I couldn’t fathom wanting anything more.

  Now, I do.

  You.

  But you’re risking more for me than I am for you. I still race. I can have my home, my career. I can stick around town and, sure—I’d be looked at sideways for stooping so low as to soil you. I’d get hell from my family, but I like to think I can handle them.

  But you, Shay?

  You have so much to risk. But you’re not staying here, so it’s okay, right? Our secret is okay? Maybe I’m just trying to make myself feel better. Maybe I’m too selfish to care about anything beyond this moment. Maybe we both are risking way more than we’re admitting so we can have this—whatever this is—between us.

  Your hand is on mine. You haven’t taken your eyes from me.

  I can deny you nothing.

  I turn the truck off and you smile. We get out and I meet you at the back door of your house. You step quietly, slowly open the door, and a slight squeaking sound comes off the jamb. You hold your breath. I feel it in the night air. A stillness.

  You step foot into the kitchen, then take my hand. I follow you quietly. You’re alert, peeking around the corner to the living room. Your grandmother is sleeping. Snoring loudly. A few pill bottles on the coffee table. Pain meds, sleeping pills, something else…

  Looks like Nana is out for the night.

  “Is she okay?” I ask and lifting my chin at her assortment of drugs.

  You nod. “Yes, she knows what to take. I check in on her meds every other day.”

  I nod and follow you down the hall to your room. We still have to be quiet. But I like being in your home, with you. Everything else from earlier fades to the fact that you’re holding my hand and guiding me to your room.

  Your own space.

  And you’re letting me in it.

  You quietly open your bedroom door then then usher me in. I’ve been in this house so many times when I hung out with your brother, but never your room. Never with these eyes.

  You have a small desk near the door with a pile of books that look to be about medicine, physics, and geometry. Your bed is a full size. Smaller than my king, but it suits you. The light pink comforter and matching pillows makes me grin. You’re cute, baby.

  The moonlight shines through billowy white curtains and I can see your milky skin. You gently push me to sit on your bed and stand before me. The moon bathing you.

  I can’t breathe.

  You’re a goddess.

  You take your shirt off slowly.

  Then your hair falls loose as you pull the tie. Ruby locks on alabaster skin is the best sight I’ve ever seen. You are the best sight I’ve ever seen.

  Then you peel your jeans off.

  No panties.

  Because I have those. I reach out for you, but you take a step back.

  “Stay right here,” you whisper. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

  I want to tell you to stay, but you’re already walking away and out into the hall to the bathroom across the hall. Your ass is the vision that knocks the words from my mouth. My God, you really are perfect. I sit in silence. The moonlit darkness is still and calming. I hear the water turn on. Hear you step beneath it. I lay back on your bed, one hand behind my head and think of you. Standing beneath the hot water.

  The clean smell of your pillows and sheets surrounds me. I feel you. I never want to leave this room.

  I don’t know when I closed my eyes, but when I hear you step back through the bedroom, a towel wrapped around you and wet hair down your back, I open my eyes and am met with that vision. The vision I will remember for the rest of my life. No matter age, future, plans, school, racing…I’ll remember this.

  You walk toward me. I track your movements like an animal stalking prey.

  You get to the edge of the bed. I still lay there, staring.

  “Drop it,” I say, nodding at the towel.

  You fold your lips together, then do as I say.

  Good girl.

  With a deep breath, you stand before me. You’re perfect.

  I reach out and run my palm up your smooth ass. Your hip. Your back.

  I pull you to the bed.

  You straddle me, but I scoot down. Keeping a tight grip on your hips, I position you to straddle my face. Your inner thighs pressed against my ears.

  “What are you doing?” you ask with a squirm.

  “Staying quiet,” I say.

  I lick your sweet clit. Your taste like warm water and skin. Your pussy is damp from the shower but getting wetter from the inside out.

  “I…I’ve never done this,” you whisper.

  I smile and lick again. “I know,” I breathe against you.

  I look up and can see your perfect tits, your sweet mouth, your eyes closed and trying to figure out what to do. You like this.

  Your hands move around like you don’t know what to touch. I kiss your clit, then lick, then kiss, like I would your mouth. Shoving my tongue deep in you only to retreat and kiss.

  You’re breathing harder.

  “Touch whatever feels good, baby.”

  You move your hands to your tits and rub them. It’s a turn on that I can’t stop watching. You rock on my tongue while massa
ging your perfect breasts.

  Your wet hair is trailing beads of water down your nipples and landing on my face.

  I love it. Need you. Want to watch you fuck my mouth and get yourself off. I want to taste it.

  You rock on me, slowly, but deep.

  I grip your ass with my fingers splayed wide. I feel you move on me. Love how you flex and groan with every motion.

  I flatten my tongue so your clit can run along it, while flicking the tip up to penetrate you with each slide.

  You’re breathing my name. Your hips moving faster. Your hands rubbing your breasts harder. You pinch your nipples then rub the sting away. You are a siren. Naked and glowing in the moonlight while riding my tongue to your end.

  I taste you getting wetter. You’re close.

  With my hands still splayed on your ass, I pull you close and hold you to my mouth. I lick wildly and you gasp, forcing yourself to hold in a scream. I’m hard and want you so badly. But what I want more is for you to find your pleasure using me. I’m here for you, only you, baby.

  You reach down with one delicate hand behind you and grab my hard dick. You ride out your orgasm. I feel rain on me and I love every sweet tasting morsel.

  You hold on tightly to my cock like it’s your lever of support and your cool grip on my hot cock almost makes me come instantly.

  Your body trembles and you slowly move down my body. Releasing my cock, you lean over, your breasts lingering above my mouth as you move down. I snag one between my lips and suck quickly. A “pop” sound echoes through the darkness and you gasp. Goosebumps are littered over your skin.

  It isn’t until your lips land on mine, your wet hair falling around my face, that I feel you take my cock deep in your wet cunt.

  It all happened in one slow, fluid movement. I exhale, needing to breathe. Not realizing I hadn’t in several seconds. You kiss at my lips like you’re tasting me. Tasting yourself on me.

  You move your hips side to side. Slowly. So damn slowly I can savor every perfect caress of your tight heat surrounding me.

  Your hands are on my chest. As much as I want to kiss you, I also want to see you. I grip your hips and nudge you up. You rise, straddling me. Your tight stomach leading up to high breasts that bounce when I thrust up.

  So, I thrust again.

  And again.

  Your mouth is open, but you stop yourself from moaning, gasping. But I need to hear just one thing.

  “What’s my name, baby?” I whisper.

  You look me in the eye and say, “Coe.”

  My neck is tight, my chest heavy with the word. With you on me. You sway and rock. Finding your rhythm. Take your time, baby, I’m not going anywhere. We have to be quiet. I have to somehow keep control.

  You rise up, then down, then sway forward and back, letting me feel every inch of you. And, my God, do you feel good.

  I want more. I want to feel you come on me again. Only this time, around my cock.

  I sit up and face you. Kissing along your neck, I wrap my arms around you, hugging you tightly. You run your fingers through my hair as I bury my head in your chest and kiss the top of your breasts.

  Holding you close, I surge up and hit you deep. A small moan escapes your pretty mouth and your pussy gets even wetter. I surge again, and again. Hard and deep and silent.

  I catch a glimpse of my tan arms around your slight frame. Your creamy skin contrasting against mine. You are delicate and soft. I am strong and fierce. You make me feel those things. Make me want to be those things for you.

  “Coe,” you whisper in my ear.

  Slowly, I rock in and out of you, thrusting deep. I snake my tongue out to taste your nipple and you cling to me. Hug me like you’ll never let me go.

  Your tight sheath flexes and releases around me, coming for me.

  Good girl.

  I’m there, baby.

  “Shay,” is the only word I can say as I release deep into you, hugging you even closer with every stroke.

  Your breaths match mine. Heavy and wild. You kiss my forehead once, twice, three times.

  I wonder if this is what true affection feels like.

  Chapter 7

  “Where are you taking me?” you ask as we drive out of town.

  The desert spans out for miles and nothing else is in sight. The term “back road” off the interstate is used loosely. The only time us Mojavens see outsiders is when they take the interstate that cuts near our town because it’s the main drag to get to Vegas from California. Still, it’s pretty dead all the time. A few cars here and there, but overall, it looks like Death Valley on one side and Mojave Desert on the other. Endless nothing.

  Until we hit the windmill farm. Big white towers slowly spinning. Hundreds of them take up the nothingness. I turn and weave around the big turbines along a dirt access road.

  “I’ve seen the windmills, you know?” you say.

  I smile. Yeah, we all have. Locals know the towers are out here. I used to come out here with my buddies in high school to drink beer. It’s what beyond the windmills that is special.

  “Ever been twenty miles past them?”

  You frown. “No, why? Just to see more of nothing?”

  “Your generation doesn’t appreciate all the myths we set up for you.”

  We get to the end of the towers and I hit the gas. We blaze past the windmills, leaving them until they’re little white specs in the dust behind us. You smile and hang on to the handle above your passenger door. You like going fast. Your skin brightens and your lips curl into a grin that is one I recognize. Pure satisfaction.

  We get into sight of what I was looking for.

  “Holy crap!” you say.

  I smile and pull up to the first of over a hundred airplanes sitting in the middle of the desert like a parking lot without lines.

  “What is this?”

  “Airplane graveyard,” I say.

  Your mouth is open and eyes wide and you stare at all the abandoned planes. I drive between two columns of Boeing 747s and park. You get out and I meet you at the front of the truck.

  You look up in wonderment, then walk slowly toward a plane and reach out to touch it.

  “I’ve never seen a plane up close in real life before,” you say.

  I frown.

  “Seriously?”

  You nod and look over your shoulder at me. The sun glints off the Boeing.

  “I’ve never been out of Mojave. Going to Vegas for school will be the first time. I have orientation and there’s a lot of resources for tours and campus connections, but I’m…”

  You look back at the plane and run your fingers along the wheel.

  “You’re what?”

  Your slight shoulders lift, then fall.

  “I’m scared,” you say softly.

  Your hair flows down your back, your hand moving along the plane. I wasn’t prepared for that word—or that feeling. You’re scared?

  All I want to do is make that better. But more than that, I want to understand. It’s not like I’m some jet-setting man of travel, but I’ve had experiences. Gotten out of Mojave here and there. I’m also older and have an income now that allows for that. I never thought of things truly from your perspective before. I’ve gotten so hung up on you being “young” that I forgot what that really means. It means you have so much left to explore. So much life to live. So many opportunities.

  I come up behind you and touch your hair. Follow the fountain of it down your back. Your shoulders relax.

  “You’re going to do amazing things,” I say. “The unknown is scary, but you’re going to step into that unknown and you’re going to handle whatever comes at you.”

  “How do you know?” you ask. You turn and face me, your eyes wide and pleading. As if I hold the answers. I wish I did, baby. All I can tell you is the truth, though.

  “Because you’re a fighter. You have more strength and ambition and work ethic than anyone I’ve ever known. And you have the brain to back it up. You’re going places,
baby. Vegas is just the starting line.”

  You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You lean in and kiss me. Soft, slight, like the breeze that rolls through the desert on a sunny afternoon. I breathe you in.

  “You’re the strong one, Coe Anders,” you say against my lips.

  Before I can refute, you pull away and spin, hustling along the planes and checking them out.

  “This is just incredible!” you call out from another row down. I slowly follow you. Letting you explore. “I wish we could get in them.”

  Ask and you shall receive, sweet girl.

  I make a couple turns until I find the old push steps near the blue Boeing from the seventies. I push it up to the plane and call out for you. You’re running toward me, the sound of awe and glee in your voice.

  You see the steps and jump up and down. “Oh, my God! How did you do this?” you ask.

  “I didn’t do anything; I just found this place,” I admit. I step up the first step and reach my hand out. “Wanna see what it was like to fly in 1977?”

  You smile and nod wildly. Taking my hand, we go up the steps and I open the aircraft door. The plane is well preserved. The windows are obviously closed tight to keep dust out. It’s clean, even fresh smelling. Like stepping back in time. Or into our own private world.

  “Oh, my God,” you say with amazement as you walk in and look over the rows and rows of seats. Then you turn and head toward the cockpit. Of course, you do. Smart girl like you is trying to figure out how to fly already, no doubt.

  “They used to film movies out here, I think. Those scenes where you see people sitting on the planes and stuff. But no one has been out here in a long time,” I offer.

  “This is incredible,” you say. You mess with the buttons. Nothing turns on, of course, but you look so happy. So excited. It’s a good look on you, baby.

  I take a seat in first class and stretch out, letting you explore and take all the time you want. You are smiling as you come my way. You walk right up to me, all the confidence in the world, and straddle my lap. You wrap your arms around me and kiss me deep.