by Annie Stone
Oh my God, can seventeen-year-old boys kiss!
And that’s the thought that snaps me out of it. He’s seventeen. He is Carter’s son. I am cheating on my boyfriend with his own child.
I break away. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asks, a small smile on his lips.
“I can’t.”
The smile disappears. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“This can’t happen again. Please, Hunter. Promise.”
I can tell he doesn’t want to. He sighs softly. “I can’t promise that, but I can promise I won’t initiate it.”
14
Mackenzie
“Hey, Mac,” Sheila says when I come in.
“I need to talk to you,” I say, walking into my office. She comes after me, her curiosity piqued.
“What’s up?”
I close the door and sit down in one of the armchairs. “I’ve messed up.”
“What do you mean messed up?”
I bite my bottom lip, unsure how to say it. Finally, I decide to just say it. Bracing myself for her reaction, I say, “I cheated on Carter.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Maybe I should also mention that all my friends love Carter because he’s a really awesome person, human being, friend, and…man.
“I… Oh my God,” I breathe. “Yesterday, I kissed Hunter.”
“Who’s Hunter?” Almost immediately, Sheila’s eyes widen. “His son?”
I nod, mortified. “Yes, his son. And he’s a minor.”
“Why?” she asks, shocked.
“I have no idea!” I whisper. “His lips were on mine all of a sudden, and then…I ended up kissing him back.”
“You’re the adult, Mac. You should have done the right thing.”
“I know.”
“You love Carter.”
“I know.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Look, I don’t want to make you feel worse about it than you already do, but what do you think Carter would say if he knew you were kissing his seventeen-year-old son?”
I wrap my arms around myself. “He wouldn’t be impressed.”
“Uh, yeah.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Do you have feelings for him—the kid—Hunter?”
“No,” I say, and it’s true. I like him, but not like that. Still, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have met him under different circumstances. But that doesn’t matter. He’s my boyfriend’s teenage son.
“So why did you do it?”
I rub my eyes. “It started when I had a huge fight with Carter. He had to go to New York again, and today’s our event, and I wanted him to come. He said his work was worth something—financially—and mine wasn’t, so I had to understand when he puts work first.”
“Hm,” Sheila says. “But, Mac, don’t you think he’d treat this place and your job differently if he knew what happened to you?”
“Maybe,” I mumble.
“I’m sure he would,” Sheila says firmly. “Carter’s a good guy. But how did a fight with him lead you to his son? Was it revenge?”
“No!” I say quickly. “I was just… I was in my room crying, and Hunter came in. And, somehow, I ended up telling him everything…”
She raises an eyebrow. “You told Hunter what happened, but haven’t told Carter?”
I nod and bite my lip.
“Why?”
I shrug. “Hunter kind of drew his own conclusions before I told him anything. And he was so sweet and understanding…”
“And then you kissed him.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Mac, I don’t know what to tell you. Except: don’t do it again. You love Carter, and you know it was wrong.”
I nod. “Should I tell Carter?”
Sheila shakes her head. “I usually vote for honesty, but in this case… Carter wouldn’t understand, Mac. It’s not like you kissed just anyone. You kissed his son. A minor.”
“I know.”
“And Hunter would get in trouble with his dad, too. Do you want to get between them like that?”
I shake my head. “No, of course not.”
“Then I wouldn’t tell him,” Sheila says resolutely.
“What if I told him I kissed somebody but didn’t say who?”
“He’ll ask, and you’ll have to give him a name. Are you prepared to lie? Come up with something plausible? Like a colleague? Or some stranger?”
I shake my head. “I just won’t say anything.”
She nods. “I think that’s best. As long as it doesn’t happen again.”
It will never happen again. Because he’s still in high school. He’s a minor. And it doesn’t change anything that he’ll be eighteen in less than four months. Because he’s Carter’s son.
That night, in a beautiful evening gown made of purple silk, I stand in the rented ballroom and greet our guests. After a while, I get on stage to do the opening address, and then we auction off the donations we received from stars. Jean’s contacts in the MMA scene and Shane’s Hollywood connections—his father’s a famous director whose last five movies have grossed more than a hundred million each—have made this auction a pretty big deal.
But, still, something’s missing for me. While my coworkers are all here basking in their families’ support, I’m standing here on my own. Gulping, I fight against the knot in my throat.
Suddenly, I feel an arm around my shoulder. I flinch before I turn and see Carey’s happy face. Stunned, I stutter, “What are y-you d-doing here?”
He shrugs. “Last night, it sounded like you could use some support. Sorry we’re late.”
“We?”
“Hunter’s here, too,” he says, pointing behind him.
And there he is.
They both look smashing in their suits, and I can’t help smiling at these two boys I’ve only ever seen wearing jeans and sneakers. I lean into Carey’s embrace. “Thank you,” I say, my eyes going moist.
He smiles. “You’re family.”
Tears leak from my eyes then. Family. How long has it been since I heard this word?
Excited, I walk them around the ballroom and introduce them to my coworkers. Hunter and Shane hit it off like old friends, and Carey’s fascinated by Jean’s fight stories. I’m still sad Carter isn’t here, but Carey and Hunter are a worthy replacement. It feels amazing to have them here.
All night, I feel Hunter’s eyes on me, but he doesn’t try to catch me by myself once.
The bench by the football field is hard and uncomfortable, but Carter’s in New York. It’s Hunter’s first game, and Carter sent me in his stead. I would have come, anyway, because I know this game is important to Hunter, but finding replacements for Carter is becoming quite a habit in our household.
Shaking the thoughts away, I try to focus on the sport. Hunter’s got an important position on this new team, and it’s his last year of high school. I get the feeling he’s hoping for a football scholarship to college, even though he doesn’t really need to think about paying for college with his dad’s support. Carey’s on the team, too, but he’s not playing today. He’s the second-string quarterback, so as long as Devon’s playing, he’s on the bench. But that puts him into a great position for next year.
I’m not so interested in the sport itself, but the boys are important to me, even if it hasn’t been easy between me and Hunter lately. I avoid him, while he gently tries to spend more time with me. I can still see the pain in his face when I ignore him, but I don’t know how else to deal with the situation. I see so much more than just excessive hormones in his eyes, and as much as I don’t want to hurt him, I keep doing it again and again.
It’s easy to watch him from this distance, see all the catches he makes. He plays a really good game, if the crowd’s cheers are anything to go by. I’m proud of him, which is quite remarkable when I think back to how he was a few months ago.
When the game ends, I walk toward the exit, where Carey’s waiting for me.
He sh
akes his head, laughing. “Did you see how amazing he was?”
“Yeah, but what else is new, huh?” I say, only half joking. “I mean we’re talking about Hunter, right?”
“So you think I’m amazing?” It’s clear in Hunter’s voice how happy this makes him as he walks up behind me.
I turn around slowly. “You know damn well you’re good at football.”
He nods slowly, squinting. Then he throws Carey his car keys, and Carey starts toward the car. I start toward mine, but Hunter grabs my hand and pulls me into a corner near the bleachers. “Mac…”
I gasp. “Please don’t…”
“I can’t help it,” he says. “It rips me apart inside when you won’t talk to me or even look at me.”
I free my hand from his and knead my fingers. “And it’s ripping me apart how guilty I feel.”
He shakes his head, confused. “Why would you feel guilty?”
“Because of Carter, a-and you.”
“Because of me?”
“You’re seventeen,” I hiss, trying not to cry. “I feel so horrible.”
“Mac, come on! I started it,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t do anything.”
“But you’re still a child…” As the words leave my mouth, I almost choke on my own tongue. I’m doing to Hunter exactly what Carter did to me—telling him his feelings and actions don’t count because he’s too young. How could I have so little respect for him?
“Okay,” he says quietly. “I see. So that’s how you see me.”
I want to stop him, but he turns and runs toward his car too abruptly for me to act. God, how could I be so mean? I feel sick. My hand flies to the chain-link fence to steady me. I am so stupid.
Instead of going home, I drive to the rage mountain and sit down on the dusty ground. I stare out at the ocean, feel the sun on me, and slowly grow calmer. I have to apologize to him.
The next day, I approach him several times, but he blocks me out at every turn.
Christmas comes and goes, and we only just manage to make the best of it. Except for Carey, who enjoys himself greatly, apparently happy to be having a nice family celebration again.
But things aren’t great between Carter and me. We haven’t talked about what happened, instead just pretending it didn’t happen. And I’m feeling increasingly guilty. I can hardly look him in the eyes anymore.
One night after Christmas, Carter comes into the bedroom just as I’m about to lie down. He goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and then comes back and starts undressing. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” he says, and I know he doesn’t mean right this second. But I don’t know what to say. Instead, I watch him. He is slim, with long, athletic muscles. His butt is tight, and his upper body nearly hairless, just a streak running downward from his belly button, like a signpost. His face is manly, his blue eyes cooler than Carey’s, whose eyes always shine. His blond hair is short, and he’s well groomed.
He’s handsome. Incredibly handsome.
I watch him take off his pants and stand in front of me in nothing but boxers. He’s hot. There’s no other way to put it. “Mackenzie, something’s wrong,” he says. “Something’s wrong with us. I love you. And I don’t want to lose you. I know I’m a workaholic. I know I’m asking a lot of you, leaving you here with the boys, but I thought your relationship with them had improved. I didn’t think you’d mind. But if you don’t want this, I’ll find another way.” He sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches for my hand. I let him take it, and he strokes the back of my hand.
“I kissed another guy,” I blur out.
Carter frowns. “You what?”
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why. I…”
He pulls his hand away, and crawl onto my knees, trying to get close to him. “You kissed somebody?” he asks softly.
“I’m so sorry, Carter. I love you. I swear it. I am—I’m happy with you.”
He scoots away from me. “If you were happy, you wouldn’t have to go kissing other men.”
“It was only once, and I stopped it immediately, as soon as I realized what I was doing.”
Carter’s calm, but every muscle in his body is tense. “Did you sleep with him?”
“No, Carter, no. It was just one kiss. I swear.”
“If it was just a kiss, then why have you been acting so cold with me these last few weeks?”
My eyes go moist. “Because…I’m so embarrassed.”
“About a kiss?”
I nod vigorously. “I cheated on you. I cheated on you even though I love you. It doesn’t matter whether it was a kiss or something else. Cheating is cheating.”
He runs a hand over his face. “Well, I can forgive a kiss.”
I feel hope bloom inside me. “Really?”
“Yes. If it was just a meaningless kiss, I forgive you.”
I throw myself around his neck, kissing him, saying, “thank you,” over and over. He wraps his arms around me and strokes my back.
“It’s all right, sweetie. I forgive you.” He kisses my neck.
Moaning quietly, I pull away and kiss him all the way down his chest. Then I slide to the floor and kneel in front of him. His eyes are on fire as I hook my fingers into his boxers and pull them down. His penis is already semi-hard when I grab it. I rub him up and down until he has a proper hard-on.
“Take it in your mouth,” he says quietly.
I grab the root of his penis, massage him in a circular motion, and lick the tip. He moans and, with one hand, loosens the braid I wear my hair in when I sleep. Then he buries his fingers in my hair, his eyes at half mast, hazy with lust.
My free hand strokes his testicles, gently reaching around them.
“In your mouth, sweetie, come on,” he murmurs as I tease him.
I open my mouth, put my lips over my teeth, and take him in. A quiet growl is enough encouragement. I start sucking him. My lips move up and down, and my tongue licks the underside of his velvety shaft, along the bulging veins.
His grip around my head gets firmer, and I don’t have a lot of room left to move my head. But his hips push against me, and I take in more of him. He starts making gentle thrusts, like he’s asking me whether it’s okay. I nod, and he starts moving faster.
“Fuck, sweetie, this is good,” he groans.
His tip thrusts against the back of my throat, and my eyes tear up. Memories of my father flood my head, and I fight against thoughts that have no place in a consensual adult relationship.
“I’m almost there,” he says hoarsely, thrusting further into my mouth.
I nod. I can take a few more seconds of this. I try to relax and make it as good as possible for him. It’s not physically uncomfortable, even if he keeps hitting the back of my throat, and it’s pretty hot, like usual. But the memories it’s triggering this time are painful, and I wish I could stuff them in a drawer somewhere in the depths of my soul—lock them up and throw away the key.
He moans as his fingers claw into my skull, and all the muscles in his body tense up. With a growl, he comes, and I taste his cum in my mouth. Swallowing, I gasp for air as he pulls out of me. Sitting up, he pulls me up into his lap, gently puts his hands on my face, and gives me a passionate kiss. “Wow, sweetie… That was… Wow.” He smiles at me.
Nodding, I lean against him. It takes me a moment to center myself again. To breathe and free my head from the paralyzing thoughts pushing toward the surface. I’ve had Carter inside my mouth so many times before, and never had a problem with it. Why am I having these thoughts now?
He lays me down on the bed and rubs my clit before pushing inside me. We make love very gently, and for the first time in weeks, I can feel the connection between us again. With a smile on my lips, I fall asleep in his arms.
15
Hunter
School here in San Diego is just as easy as it was in Miami. I pass my SATs with flying colors. Theoretically, I can take my pick of universities. But what do I want?
Along wit
h Devon, I’m a football star. King of the school, I could have any girl spread her legs for me. But what do I want?
“Hey, Fisher’s throwing a party today.” Devon slaps me on the back as he sits down beside me outside at lunch.
“I know.”
“Are you going?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Come on, we’re going.”
I frown. “You’re going? Why?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know. Ava wants to.”
The two of them haven’t been to a party in forever. And why would they? We all go there to get laid. But they’ve already found each other. And I haven’t seen any action in ages. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right.
“She’s up to something,” I say. “You know what it is?”
He laughs. “You’re starting to understand how her brain works, huh?”
I look across the courtyard. Chatter and laughter are everywhere. I don’t know when I realized how much I hate this, but I do. I don’t mean the talking and the laughter, but this fake chitchat, this behavior with only one goal: to have a good time. Get some pleasure. Like monkeys. It just doesn’t cut it for me anymore. I guess a lot has changed since last summer. A lot inside me. I’m a little scared I’m gonna grow a pussy if I keep thinking like this.
“Keep me out of it,” I mutter. Because I couldn’t care less if Ava’s up to something, as long as it’s got nothing to do with me.
“So you don’t feel like going to a party?” Devon asks incredulous.
I shrug. “It’s always the same bullshit.”
“I thought you were into that sort of bullshit.”
I can only shrug again. I know I used to like partying. But recently, I want… well…more.
Meaning. I want my life to have meaning. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just depressed because I’m not getting laid. Maybe. But for some reason even meaningless sex doesn’t sound good anymore.