by McLean, Jay
“Connor,” she repeats, pushing on my shoulders.
I raise my eyebrows in question.
“I have a question,” she says, and I nod, adjusting the bulge in my pants. “Why have you still got so many clothes on?”
I chuckle under my breath and settle back against the wall. I take a swig of the whiskey. “I’m just trying to take my time. Enjoy this moment with you.”
She exhales through her nose and then moves to straddle me. Hands linked at my nape, she says, “I’m sorry about your season.”
I shrug. “It’s done. But hey, it means I have a bit more time on my hands. At least with games. I still want to get some good training time in if that’s okay.”
“You don’t need my permission,” she laughs out.
I push off the wall, kiss the top of her breast. “I just want to make you happy, Ava.”
She pulls back, takes my face in her hands. “You do.”
“Yeah?”
She rolls her eyes. “I mean, you’d make me happier if you took your shirt off.” So I reach behind me and pull my shirt off. She runs her hands over my shoulders, down my chest. “Much better.”
“Now, you.”
She takes off her top, and then her bra, and sits in front of me in all her beautiful glory. I lower my head, flick her nipple with my tongue, loving the way her breath staggers when it leaves her. I keep at it, moving from one to the other, over and over, my hands curled around her waist as she grinds into me. She feels so small beneath my touch, so fucking perfect. I run the back of my fingers down her stomach until I find the top of her underwear, but she stops me, her fingers lacing with mine. I look up at her, eyebrows raised. “No?”
“Not yet.”
I exaggerate a pout. “When?”
She starts to slide off of me, and I internally cry, but then she starts undoing my fly, releasing me completely. Her hand curls around my cock, stroking, and I tilt my head back, my eyes closed. I feel her heated breath first, then the wetness of her tongue and everything else is a blur when she starts working me in her mouth. I open my eyes, a moan escaping when I see her watching me, her lips thinned around me. We’ve never done it like this before, so open, with the lights on. It’s always been dark, everything under the covers, and I’m already so fucking close, and I tell her that. But she won’t fucking stop. I gather her hair to one side so I can watch it all, my hips rising, thighs tensing, and about to—“Fuck, stop.” I pull on her hair, force her away.
“No, I wanted—”
I practically throw her to the side, trying to calm the hell down. She’s on all fours when she cranes her neck to look back at me. “Connor!”
I get behind her, slide her underwear down her legs and groan at the view in front of me. And then I go to town, lick every inch of her until she’s moaning—my name mixed with God’s—again and again, and I flip to my back, bring her back down to me. She grinds against my mouth, her thighs squeezing the sides of my head, while her fingers tug at my hair. She’s loud. Louder than she’s ever been, and it turns me on more. She screams when she comes, her pleasure coating my tongue. My chin. She only takes a second to recover, moving down my body until my cock’s at her entrance. I grab a condom from my nightstand and hand it to her, sitting up when she rolls it over me. I kiss her. Hard. And she returns it with the same lust, same passion. I slide into her effortlessly, our moans of ecstasy filling the room. Sweat coats our skin as we find a rhythm, her back arched, arm outstretched, hand on my thigh. I reach behind me, my hand pressed to the mattress, giving me enough leverage to meet her thrust for thrust. I find her clit with my thumb, stroke her once, testing. She loses it, begs for more, and so I do it again and again until she loses her rhythm and falls forward. Her teeth clamped on my shoulder, her release coming in the form of moans that vibrate against my flesh. “Goddamn, Connor. What the hell’s gotten into—”
I don’t let her finish before I flip her off me. Chest on the mattress, ass in the air, and I can tell she’s exhausted, and I should be, but… teenage hormones are one hell of a drug. I get behind her and pull on her hips until she’s exactly where I need her. My hand glides up her spine, to her shoulder, and I grip her there. “Is this okay?” I ask because we’ve never been in this position before and I want to make sure.
“Yeah,” she breathes out. I pull back and then enter her slowly, watching every inch of me fill her, then I lean down, my chest to her back. I kiss between her shoulder blades as I start to move again, slowly, but she leans up on her outstretched arms, her neck craned to look back at me. “God, you feel so good inside me,” she whispers, and I try to hold off. She grips the top of my headboard with one hand, the other going between her legs, feeling where we connect. “Oh, fuck,” she moans, “that’s so fucking hot.”
I look down, the image in front of me driving me insane, making my dick pulse. “You should see it from my angle.”
“Oh, god, I’m going to come again, Connor. I can’t—” I reach around, find her clit again. My jaw tenses when she tightens around me. “Fuck, babe. Fuck me.” I hold her to me, my hand on her hip, so I can fuck her harder, faster, like she’s pleading for me to do.
It’s the filthiest, dirtiest sex we’ve ever had, but it’s also the most meaningful. Because we let go of the past, and we let go of ourselves. We find comfort in each other, in asking for what we want. We take our time to explore each other’s bodies, to claim them.
The room is constantly filled with the sounds of our sweaty bodies slamming together, of the moans of pleasure, of the screams and grunts of our releases. Over and over. Again and again. We don’t stop. Can’t. But we take breaks every now and then, and we talk, we drink a little more, we laugh, we shower together, and then we go back to the exploring, and the teasing, and tasting until finally, finally, we’re done. Spent. We collapse in each other’s arms, exhaustion taking over us. “One day,” I breathe out, my chest rising and falling, “when I’m in the NBA, we’ll live in a house so big that we can do stuff like this all the time, and we can be this loud, and your mom won’t hear us.”
Ava’s head pops up from my chest. “Why would my mom be there?”
“Because she’ll live with us.” My eyes narrow. “Duh.”
“She will?”
I nod. “Who’ll take care of the horses?”
“What horses?” she asks.
I flick her forehead. “Her therapy horses, stupid.”
She smiles wide. “You’re going to buy my mom therapy horses?”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”
She shakes her head, laughing quietly. “Why do you say all this like it’s something we’ve spoken about so many times before?”
“Oh yeah. I never actually told you.” I adjust my head on the pillow. “I’ve just thought about it.”
A frown tugs on her lips. “Do you really think about that stuff?”
My eyes drift shut, sleep quick to consume me. “Ava, my future with you is all I think about.”
Chapter 25
Connor
I wake up to my phone ringing, and my eyes feel like they’re burning when I open them. Every one of Ava’s limbs is somehow wrapped around me, and it takes me a moment to untangle myself from her to search for my phone. I find it in the pocket of my discarded jeans and cringe when I see Dad’s name on the screen. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey. You still sleeping?”
“Yeah, Ava was over last night and uh…” I try to swallow, but my throat’s too dry. “Hey, is there any chance you could call the school…” I trail off.
He’s silent a beat before answering, “Yeah, I can do that.”
“You’re the best dad I’ve ever had,” I mumble.
Dad chuckles. “Big night?”
“Kind of.”
“No drinking and driving, I assume?”
“No. My car’s still at Rhys’s, and I’m not going to lie; we had a little here, too. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I prefer you to be honest, but just remember, you�
�re still a minor, Connor.”
“I know.”
“Is Ava taking the day off, too?”
“Yeah.”
“So, I’ll see you both when I get home?”
Next to me, Ava stirs.
“Mmm-hmm,” I murmur.
“Should I bring home some breakfast from the diner?”
“Literally the best dad in the entire world and I’m not even joking this time.”
“I have to use the bathroom,” Ava mumbles, climbing over and around me to get out of bed.
“We need to call Ross, too.” My agent. He’ll be thrilled to hear how bad my stats were from last night.
“Sure.”
Ava skips her pile of clothes and opens my drawers, finding a pair of boxer shorts and an old jersey. She throws them on.
“All right. Well, I’ll let you go,” Dad says while Ava rummages through her bag. She pulls out her phone and a plain white box. She throws the box on my lap before exiting the room.
“Don’t forget to call the school,” I remind Dad.
“I won’t. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye.” I hang up and open the lid of the box.
My heart stops.
My breath halts.
Two toy cars.
One red. One blue.
Lightning McQueen and Sally.
My hands shake when I flip them over, a part of me already knowing what’s there: the initials CL carved into the metal, so everyone at daycare knew they were mine.
Bile rises to my throat, and I lurch forward, get to the trashcan just in time. Ava rushes into the room, dropping to her knees, her hand on my back. “Damn, how much did we drink?”
Another bout, and this is not how I want her to see me. Or smell me. I wipe my mouth along my forearm, my eyes on hers. “Where did you get that?” I breathe out, my heart racing, panic rushing through my bloodline.
“What are you talking about?”
“The cars!”
“What cars?”
“The box, Ava!” I shout. “Where did you get that box from?!”
“Some lady gave it to me.” Her eyes widen. “Why are you yelling at me?”
I take a calming breath because she doesn’t know. And I don’t want her to. “What lady?”
“I don’t know. She was there after the game when I was waiting out in the lot for you.” Her chest rises with her sharp inhale. “Why? What—”
“Sorry,” I cut in, blinking hard. I pinch the bridge of my nose to alleviate the pounding in my head. “I was just confused, and this hangover…” My words are rushed, just like my pulse, but I don’t want her to see it. To start asking questions. Because she will. And I won’t have the answers. “I’m sorry,” I repeat and sit back on my heels. I’d forgotten I was naked. I look up at her; worried eyes look back. “It was so much happening at once,” I lie, trying to get out of my head. I hate lying to her, but I can’t… I can’t fucking deal. “With Dad on the phone and my head hammering and you—” I try to smile. “You looking as fucking cute as you do right now.”
A hint of a smile. Good. It’s working.
“I should go clean this up,” I say, lifting the trashcan. “And brush my fucking teeth.” I put on a pair of boxer shorts before leaving, taking the trash can with me. Then I go to the bathroom, splash water on my face, and urge my body to slow the fuck down. Everything is happening too fast, blood pumping, pulse raging, head spinning—all of it’s too swift, too much. I grip the edge of the sink, stare at myself in the mirror.
This can’t be happening.
Not now.
Not ever.
Ava.
I just need to get back to Ava, and everything will be okay. Everything will be normal again.
I clean the trashcan, brush my teeth, and make my way back to my room. Ava’s in my bed now, lying on her side, the covers pushed down on one side as if she’d been waiting for me. She smiles. “Good morning, boyfriend.” And she’s everything. She’s all I need. All I want. She’s enough to calm me down, to fill my heart with peace. I pick up the cars, throw them in the trash and get back into bed with her, forgetting everything else. She lifts her head, allowing my arm to find its home around her. “What do you want to do today?” she asks.
“Anything you want.”
Ear to my chest, she settles there, her finger tapping at the same rate as the pulse she’s listening to. She whispers, looking up at me, “I want to get lost in your magic.”
Chapter 26
Ava
I’m quick to grab my phone and switch off the alarm, not wanting to wake Connor sleeping beside me. It’s been a few weeks now since the team lost regionals, and we’ve spent almost every night together. Mom and Trevor don’t seem to mind it. In fact, the first night he didn’t stay, Mom was asking for him the next morning, worried that something had happened between us.
Connor groans when I start to get out of bed, his hand finding my arm. “I’m up,” he murmurs.
“No, you’re not. Go back to sleep.”
“No, I’ll help with breakfast.” A second later, he’s snoring.
He hates that I let him sleep in, but he needs the rest. He’s still training as often as he can, trying to make the most of what the coaches have to offer before he goes to Duke in the fall. My chest aches at the thought of him leaving, of not being able to have these moments with him every day. But my pride in him quickly kills those thoughts. I kiss him once before leaving the room and going to the kitchen. Mom’s already up, sitting at the table with her tablet. “You okay, Mama?” I ask, kissing the scars that made her the woman she is today. I used to think they’d made her a stranger, but the meds she’s been on lately have given the real her back to me, and I couldn’t be happier because of it.
“I’m fine, sweetheart, just wanted to get back to my book.”
“That good, huh?”
She nods. “Reading has helped me a lot, actually.”
“It has?”
“I think it allows me to feel like I’m living, you know?”
I switch on the stove and put the pan on the heat before turning to her. “What do you mean?”
“It was starting to get to me—being in the house all day—this allows me to see and feel things without ever leaving.”
“Do you want to leave?” I ask. “Because you can, we all can, like we did with Connor and… you went to his game, and that wasn’t so bad.”
She shrugs. “Maybe one day I’ll feel more comfortable. This town isn’t very friendly.”
“Yeah,” I sigh out, my mind lost with thoughts of our future. I just need time, I tell myself. Soon, we’ll be out of here for good.
“Hey,” she whispers, looking toward my room. “Is Connor here?”
“Yeah, he’s sleeping.”
“I have a surprise for him.”
I smile. “What’s your surprise?”
She gets to her feet and undoes the tie of her robe, revealing what she’s wearing underneath. I can’t help but laugh. “He’s going to love it.”
A couple of hours later, my bedroom door opens, and Connor appears, rubbing his eyes. He walks into the kitchen, stopping when he sees Mom standing by the sink, her back turned to him. Eyes wide, his instant grin fills my heart with joy. I say through a laugh, “Look what Mama got Trevor to order for her.”
Wearing a high school All-American jersey with Connor’s name and number on the back, Mom turns around, her smile matching his.
“Hey, it looks good on you!” Connor exclaims, suddenly awake and full of life. He moves to her, kisses her right on the scars like he does most mornings. “Where did you even get this? I don’t even have one yet.”
Mom giggles. “I have my ways,” she says, patting his cheek. “When do you fly out?”
“Just before midday,” he answers.
“Is your dad going with you?”
“Nah, he couldn’t get the time off work.”
“Really?” I ask, cutting into their conversation, my concern
evident. “Will you be okay?” I try to ask the question as vaguely as possible because I know about his fear of airports, but Mom doesn’t, and I don’t know if he wants her knowing.
Connor winks at me, his smile still there. “Yeah, I’m good, babe. I’m a big boy now.”
Trevor walks into the kitchen and drops down in his chair, grumbling, “Mama Jo, you never wore my jerseys.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “That’s because football’s for pussies.”
Connor busts out a laugh, and I giggle, squeezing Trevor’s shoulder as he says, “I feel like I’ve been replaced by the golden boy.”
“Never,” Mom tells him, laughing as she walks toward the door.
Connor waits for her to be far enough before baring his teeth, grinning at my brother. “She loves me more.”
Trevor shakes his head. “Get out of my house, you Shawn Mendes looking motherfucker,” he grinds out, but he’s joking… I think.
“Shawn’s hair is darker,” I say, though I do get where Trevor’s coming from.
“Who’s Shawn Mendes?” Connor asks.
“Who’s Shawn Mendes,” Trevor mimics under his breath.
“Boys. That’s enough,” I warn, raising the spatula in my hand. “Now you two get along, or I’ll beat the both of you to within an inch of your lives.”
Trevor shivers. “You’re scary,” he says, at the same time Connor takes the spatula from me, smacks my ass with it.
I exaggerate a moan as I bite my lip, look up at him.
Connor laughs.
Trevor mumbles, “I do not want to know what goes on behind closed doors with you two.”
Ignoring him, I ask Connor, “Are you sure you can give me a ride to school?”
“Yes.” He takes over cooking his and Trevor’s breakfast for me. “I don’t want to miss out on any more time with you.”
Trevor gags.
Connor adds, “I’ll have plenty of time. Enough for me to come home and pack.”
“You haven’t packed yet?”
Trevor speaks up, “He’s a guy, we don’t need much.”