by Penny Wylder
He turns back to Leigh. “So when you come here on a high horse you haven’t earned, demanding to speak to him, telling him to take you back, don’t you see how ridiculous you look? And on top of that, to insult Stella and use the relationship we have to make yourself look better in comparison? You make me sick.” He’s addressing the whole room now. “Stella and I are both adults. We enjoy each other’s company. We make each other happy. You,” he points at my siblings, “haven’t stopped telling her that you wanted her to be with someone. I’ve only been here a week and I’ve heard you say it at least ten times. Now you find out she is with someone, and you don’t like it because there’s an age difference…” He shakes his head. “If we’re both happy why does it matter to anyone else?”
There’s a warmth in my chest as I look at him, and I realize that even though my family is looking at me with shame, I don’t feel it. I’m not ashamed with being with him. Trevor crosses the dining room to me, and takes my hand. He presses a kiss to my lips, soft and chaste, and it feels amazing to not be hiding that.
Leigh gives Trevor a withering look. “Nice speech, asshole. You know as well as I do I’m the best thing that ever happened to Brad, and he needs me. So don’t tell me I’m a terrible person when you’re the one getting your rocks off with an old woman.”
“That is enough.” Brad’s voice cuts through the air. “Leigh, I want you to leave.”
“What? Why?”
Brad huffs a humorless laugh. “It’s the fact that you even have to ask why. You forced your way into my home, insulted my mother, insulted my best friend. You cheated on me, and treated me terribly. We are not, nor were we going to, get back together. You interrupted—and ruined—a day that was supposed to be for my family. So will you please, get the hell out of my house?”
Leigh looks around at everyone. If she’s hoping for some kind of support, she doesn’t get it. She stalks towards the front door, rage written in every line of her body. “Leigh,” Brad calls to her, and she turns back. “Don’t even think about trying to use this against me at school. My mother is a better woman than you’ll ever be. She deserves to be happy, and if Trevor makes her happy, then I’m all for it. I’ll have strong words for whoever ‘happens’ to hear otherwise.”
The slam of the front door echoes loudly through the house.
Brad turns to us, and I feel a bubble of hope rise up. It’s so fragile, and I don’t really want to say anything in case it breaks, but I have to know. “You’re okay with it?” I ask softly.
He gives me a lopsided smile. “It’s a little weird,” he says, “but I know how good he is. If this is what you want, why would I be mad about that?”
I reach out and pull him into me for a hug. “Thank you.”
He pulls away and looks at Trevor. “If you hurt my mom, you know what’s coming for you.”
“I do.” Trevor laughs, the sound releasing the tension that was in the air. He takes my hand in his again, and I feel the touch through my whole body.
I look towards my siblings, and none of them seem to know what to say. Finally, Bradley clears his throat. “You know, this isn’t exactly what we meant.”
“I know.” I say, “but it’s happening. Please try to accept that. Be happy for me.”
Anna comes over, holding her stomach. “We are, sweetie. We just…it’s a little non-traditional.”
“Well,” I shrug, “there hasn’t been much in my life that’s traditional anyway.”
Brad claps his hands together. “After all that, I think I’m ready for some dessert. What do you guys think?”
“I’m all for that,” Maria says, and the spell breaks. Everyone falls back into their roles, trying to make things normal. Or at least a new version of normal.
Brad says to Trevor, “So I guess you haven’t been sleeping on the couch, have you?”
“Do you really want to know?” Trevor asks.
“Good point.”
Brad finds a Christmas movie for us to watch and we all go back into the living room with various desserts. Pie, ice cream, brownies. This time though, Trevor and I sit together. I sit on the end of the couch, and he sits next to me. I kick off my shoes and tuck my legs over his, grinning like an idiot to be doing something so normal. I lean on his shoulder after finishing my dessert, and I ignore the little looks that everyone keeps giving us. They don’t matter.
Later, after Maria and Anna are gone, and the rest of the family is packing to leave in the morning, the three of us are left in the living room.
Trevor is the one who speaks first. “You sure you’re fine with this, Brad?”
Brad looks a little uncomfortable. “Yeah. I think I will be okay once I get used to it. I mean, if you had asked if you could date my mom, I probably wouldn’t have said yes.” I laugh, but he goes on. “But I’ll be okay with it. Besides, if I need it, I already have all the blackmail I need.”
“Thanks man,” Trevor says.
Brad stands, stretching. “I’m going to bed. See you guys in the morning.” He starts to walk up the stairs and stops. “For the record, Trevor, if you two get married, I’m not calling you dad.” He disappears before either of us can say anything.
We sit in silence for a while, just enjoying sitting together without worrying about someone walking in on us.
“So,” Trevor says, “now that people know, does that mean I can make you scream when we’re not alone?”
“I think I’d still like to spare everyone that embarrassment.”
He sighs. “Fine. But I’m still going to try.” He picks me up and carries me into my bedroom, kissing me before the door has even shut behind us.
Epilogue
Christmas Day
Christmas day is so much simpler than family Christmas. There’s only a few presents to open, though I held back one. I gave Trevor a nice shirt, but that’s not his real present. Trevor hasn’t given me his yet either—I think he’s hesitant to give me whatever it is in front of Brad.
Brad loved his money and his small gifts, and he gave me money too—a gift card to a clothing store he knows I like, with one rule: I’m not allowed to buy anything black. I laughed at that, but I agreed. I’m prepping for our Christmas dinner with Maria, but I would really love to give Trevor my gift before that happens.
I’m a little embarrassed by what I’m about to do…but oh well. I tap Brad on the shoulder and have him follow me into the kitchen.
“What’s up, Mom?”
I hesitate. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to do me a favor.”
“Sure.”
“Can you go to the store and get some…” Crap. I should have actually thought of something we needed first. “Eggnog. We’re out of eggnog.”
He gives me a look that tells me he sees right through me. “Eggnog?”
“Yes, eggnog.”
“And how long would you like me to be gone while getting this eggnog?”
My entire face goes bright red. “What?”
“How long do you need me to leave to he can give you his present?” He clears his throat. “Sorry, so I can pick up the eggnog.”
From the living room, Trevor calls, “Two hours, dude.”
“I’ll be back in one,” Brad says loudly.
I give him a squeeze on the shoulder, as he puts on his coat. I know it’s weird for him, but he still smiles as he goes out the door. At the very least he’s trying to be happy for me. As soon as the door shuts, Trevor is in the doorway, pulling me back into the living room. “He very much knows what’s about to happen.”
Trevor laughs. “Well he knows what happens when we go to bed, too.” He reaches into the tree, and pulls out a rectangular box. It’s long, flat, and beautifully wrapped in royal blue paper streaked with gold. “Merry Christmas.”
I sit down on the couch, tearing open the paper. Inside is a black box, soft and velvet, like—
Like jewelry.
“Trevor…” I say, unable to make myself open it.
He sits
down next to me. “Open it.”
I do.
The necklace is beautiful. Nestled onto more black velvet, a silver chain holds a diamond. The diamond itself is set in silver, and it looks like it’s a tear drop of a falling star. “It’s beautiful,” I say, not able to look at him. I’m not sure what this necklace means.
He snakes his arms around my waist and turns me towards him. “Stella, please don’t overthink this. It’s not a ring.”
“I know,” I say, letting out a breath.
“We’re too new for any of that, but I saw this and I want you to have it. It reminds me of you.”
Unexpected tears prick behind my eyes, and I let him pull me in for a kiss. “Thank you.”
He takes the box from me, and I hold back my hair as he fastens the chain around my neck.
“Gorgeous.” He gives me a low whistle. “There’s only one thing I’d like more.”
“Oh?”
“To see you in the necklace and nothing else.”
I laugh softly, thinking of the way he made love to me this morning, long and slow. “You’re insatiable.”
“When it comes to you? Yes.” He tugs my shirt over my head and tosses it aside. He grins. “I was hoping I’d get to unwrap my favorite present.” He takes off my bra, stopping to cup my breasts. Just his touch makes my nipples harden into peaks. “I love watching them do that.” He lifts one of my breasts to his mouth and I’m suddenly soaking wet. He lifts me to standing and takes off my pants, planting kisses on the skin that he reveals. My panties are last, and Trevor presses his mouth to me, running his tongue along my pussy and circling my clit before standing again.
“Do I get to undress you?” I ask.
“Not this time. Close your eyes.” I do as he asks, hearing the rustle of fabric as he takes off his clothes. Suddenly his arms are around me, lifting me up and carrying me into the bedroom.
“I have seen my bedroom, Trevor,” I say, stifling a giggle.
He sets me on the bed. “Just humor me.” The mattress dips and I feel his body behind me. I hear the sounds of the condom before he pulls me against him, my back against his chest, and I let out a moan as he presses his cock into me. “Open.” I do, and I know why he wanted me to humor him. He’s faced us towards my large mirror, and I take it all in from the sparkling diamond on my chest to his cock inside me. I get wetter at the sight.
He thrusts, and I see him move in the mirror. He kisses my neck, and I watch him, feel him bite my skin and smooth it over with his tongue. “I wanted you to see me fucking you, with nothing but my necklace on your skin.”
I shudder as he thrusts his hips again, and I do watch. He starts to fuck me, and I watch his cock move in and out, covered in my juices. I watch as he moves his hands to cup my breasts, taking turns working my nipples until they’re swollen and hard. I watch as his hand creeps across my stomach, fingers moving to circle my clit, matching the speed of his cock. I watch until I can’t watch anymore, my head falling back against his shoulder as pleasure gathers in my center.
Trevor pulls my legs further apart, and I say his name as plunges in deeper, harder. I squeeze down on him, and I hear him groan. He tilts his hips, short, fierce thrusts hitting the place inside me that breaks me open. My voice is one long moan and I need more. I need all of him.
His arms come around me, locking me to him as he fucks us both towards the finish line. I’m holding on to him just as hard, and I start to see stars. My nerves gather into a tiny point, and I think I might be screaming Trevor’s name. With a last burst of speed, Trevor drives into me and my climax rushes through me at the same time I hear him cry out. The pleasure is shooting through my veins and I know that I’ll never have enough of this feeling.
Trevor’s arms are still around me, and I can see us in the mirror, sweat-soaked and spent. I watch his cock slip from me, the movement sending off tiny aftershocks. He pulls me down onto the bed with him. “Now you’ll think of this whenever you wear that necklace.”
“I’m fine with that,” I say, kissing him hard. Somewhere through my sex fogged brain, I remember. “Your shirt wasn’t your real gift.”
“It wasn’t?”
I swat him on the arm. “You thought I’d only get you a shirt?”
He’s laughing. “I honestly didn’t know what to expect.”
“Come here.” He follows me into the living room, and I do my best not to be distracted by his nakedness. I pull my own gift from the tree, a plain and unassuming white envelope. I hand it to him, and he opens the flap, pulling out the paper I’ve folded up inside.
I watch his face as it moves from confusion to understanding. “Is this what I think this is?”
“It depends on what you think it is. If you think it’s reservations for a resort over spring break, then yes.”
His eyes go wide. “Really?”
I’m suddenly nervous. “I thought it might be nice to go away and just be the two of us without anyone we know to make it seem weird. That is, if you think you’ll still like me enough in a couple of months to go away.”
A brilliant smile cracks across his face and he closes the distance between us in a second. He’s kissing me or I’m kissing him and it doesn’t matter. “It’s perfect,” he says. “Ridiculously perfect.”
We kiss and explore and laugh and somehow when my mind clears for a moment I realize that we’ve ended up on the floor. “How much time do we have?” I ask.
Trevor raises himself up and cranes his neck to see a clock. “We still have half an hour.”
“I wonder what we could possibly do with half an hour.”
He rolls over me, and I feel his cock pressed against me, hard and ready. He smiles that wicked smile. “I can think of many, many things.”
THE END
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Know what happens when you bring a bottle of cinnamon whiskey to a party? Nothing good, that’s what. It should come with an additional warning label: May cause extreme stupidity and drunk sexting.
I blame it on Emily. Who needs enemies when you have friends like her? She bought the booze and it was her idea to come to this frat party in the first place and practice at being twenty-one before my birthday tomorrow.
I admit, it started off as a good time. Several of my friends are here, the music’s perfect, and there’s a hot tub, so bonus. I’m a crack shot at beer pong and hit the best of all the flat notes during karaoke. But, as we all know, good times and good decision-making aren’t one and the same. I may or may not have butt-chugged Gray Goose with future lawyers and house wives. And I probably danced topless on the sofa since that’s what all the pictures on Instagram are showing—only I don’t pay too much attention to those since that shit can be photo-shopped. During all of this, I lost my shoes, and who knows what happened to my bra.
At least Emily is here to keep me in check. She has always been the responsible one—about as responsible as a toddler dog-sitting, but still, she’s a better grown-up than me.
She suggests a group of us get together to play Would you rather in one of the quieter rooms. It’s a game. No big deal. A game can’t get me in too much trouble, right? Yeah … right.
Her question for me is, “Who would you rather fuck, your ex or his dad?”
Of course I choose his dad, because he was hot and my ex was kind of a douche. Thing is, I’ve always had doe eyes for older men. It all started with my dad’s best friend, Paul. He looks good for his age, a silver fox covered in tattoos, and is in better shape than most guys who go to my school. And OMG those tropical blue eyes and five-o’clock shadow on a strong jaw. Yes, please.
We’ve been flirting since I turned eighteen. He’d tell me how beautiful I was, complement my ass in a pair of j
eans, or notice how nicely I’ve developed. It was all innocent. Never going too far, no touching or talking about sex or anything like that. But I want him. Bad. Just thinking about him has me pooling between the legs.
I lean against the pool table, looking around at all these young bucks strutting around the house in their polos and cargo shorts. I wonder which one I can use for the night. Maybe do some role playing, pretend he’s Paul, have myself a daddy fantasy.
A cute jock-type walks by with all his muscles and cocksure youth. His boner is about as subtle as a rocket launcher smuggled under spandex pants. The way he stares at me leaves no questions about his interest. Though I’m definitely in the mood, his baby face just won’t do because I know how this story ends. I’ve read it many times—well, not that many. Enough to count on one hand … and maybe some toes.
I see it so clearly: We’ll end up in his sock-stinky room full of pizza crusts and porn magazines littering the floor. The glow from his snake terrarium and the video game he has on pause will double as mood lighting. He’ll fumble around my body aimlessly and expect me to oooh and ahhh and appreciate all the pleasure he’s not giving me for five minutes until he gets his rocks off. Then he’ll promise to call the next day. I’m bored just thinking about it. So I don’t even bother.
When he heads toward me, I cover my face with my phone and pretend he doesn’t exist. He’s sober enough to get the hint.
I continue to play with my phone even after he’s gone. My ass is wet and sticky from spilled drinks on the floor. I move to the stained, threadbare couch next to Emily and find Paul’s name in my contacts. When I’m bored I like to look through our old texts. Birthday wishes from last year, a Merry Christmas here, Happy Thanksgiving there. There are pictures of us during a houseboat trip, and at an airshow. Unfortunately, my parents are in all the pictures too.