Stir Me

by Crystal Kaswell

  I unzip her shorts. She arches her back, shifting out of them, and I bring my hands to her inner thighs. I slide them up, and up, and up, closer and closer. Her skin gives way to the soft fabric of her panties. I press my hand against them. They're already wet. She already wants me so badly.

  She shudders again, her eyes squeezed shut, her head tilting back. I run my tongue around her nipples, and she shakes with every flick. I suck harder, and harder, until I feel her nails on my skin.

  She looks down at me, her hair falling over her face, her eyes locked on mine. "You're wearing too many clothes." She pulls my T-shirt over my head and scans my body. "Still too many."

  She reaches for my zipper, but I stop her.

  "I'm not done with you." I slide my arms around her and run my hands from her back to her ass.

  She shudders. "But... I want to... to you..."

  "I want to taste you, Ally. And I'm not going to stop until I make you come."

  She groans and softens her body, relaxing so I can position her. I take her into my arms and lay her on the couch. She closes her eyes, lost in her desire. She's all mine. I dig my fingers into the sides of her panties and pull them off her hips as slowly as possible. She shakes as they pass her hips, squirms as they reach her knees, arches her back as they fall off her feet.

  I bring my hand to her thighs, pressing her legs apart. Then I press my lips into her thigh. My first kiss is soft. The next is harder. Closer to her.

  "Oh," she groans. She reaches for my shoulders, squeezing tight. But I continue my pace, dragging my lips up her thigh, kissing and nibbling her soft, tender skin.

  Then I reach her folds. She's so wet already, and I soak her in as I slide my tongue over her. She tastes so good, sweet, and her groans are music in my ears.

  I work my way towards her clit, sucking on her lips, sliding my tongue against her folds. She's so soft and wet against my mouth, and I lick her from top to bottom then back again.

  Then, when she's panting loudly, when her nails sink into my back, I press my tongue flat against her clit. She nearly screams. I do it again, a soft, slow stroke. She groans, a little louder, her thighs falling flat onto the couch. I lick her again, and again, and again, soft slow strokes all the way.

  "Luke." It rolls off her tongue like it's her favorite thing in the world.

  She's lost in desire. She's so fucking sexy and she's close. I have to taste her as she comes.

  I spread her lips apart with my fingers and lick her from top to bottom. She pants, her back arching, her legs squeezing my ears. I slide my tongue over her cunt. Mhmm. She's getting sweeter, saltier, closer. I press her thighs against the couch, hard, and I go deeper, my tongue plunging inside her. She groans. "Fuck. Luke. Fuck."

  "Oh, fuck," she groans again. She shakes. Moaning. Rocking her pelvis into my mouth.

  I lick her again. She gasps. Her nails are so hard on my shoulders. Her voice is so high. This is the spot. I lick her again, harder and faster. She wraps her legs around me. She pants. She moans. She screams. But I don't stop. I lick her again and again, all her want and need pouring into me.

  "Oh, fuck, I'm... Oh, fuck Luke..." She rocks into me one last time, her voice cracking, her nails hard against me as she comes.

  She tugs at my hair, pulls me back to her, a goofy smile on her face. "Jesus fucking Christ." She collapses next to me.

  But she's not done. She presses her hands into my ass and wraps her legs around me. Her lips graze mine. A soft kiss. Then harder. Her tongue probes my mouth, swirling around mine.

  Her hands are on my hips. She pulls my boxers to my knees and brushes her hand against my cock. Heat spreads through me again. I need to have her like this. I need to come inside her.

  "Get on your back," she says

  And I'm not about to deny her when she's looking at me like she's going to consume me. She presses her lips into my neck as she strokes my cock. I bring my hands to her chest and rub her nipples.

  "Mhmm," she groans

  Her grip tightens and she strokes me harder. Fuck. Warmth spreads through my pelvis, moving towards my legs. God, I want to be inside her, our bodies together as one.

  I grab her hips and bring her towards me, the tip of my cock slipping inside her. A wave of pleasure rocks through me. But I can't stop to savor it. I need to feel her around me.

  I go deeper. Fuck. She feels so good, soft and wet. I pull her closer, thrusting into her, filling her.

  She groans. Her eyes squeeze closed again. She rocks against me, again and again. A warmth spreads through my body. Pleasure, everywhere. Her hands dig into my skin. "Luke. Fuck, Luke," she groans.

  We lock eyes. She's so sexy like this, lost in her lust, her teeth sinking into her lips. "Fuck," she groans. I pull her closer, holding her body steady as I thrust into her. God, yes. Fuck, yes. She's so fucking. She's so...

  I kiss her, hard, sucking on her lips. My hands are on her chest, circling her nipples, and she moans into my mouth. She's so close already, and she feels so fucking good.

  "Harder," she groans.

  And I thrust harder and deeper and stronger.

  "Harder," she groans again.

  I shift our bodies until I'm on top of her. She moans, pulling me close, wrapping her legs around me. "I want to feel you come again," I say.

  She kisses me as she shifts her legs around my shoulders. She's completely pinned, completely at my mercy. I thrust into her, deeper and deeper. She's so soft and warm and tight. Jesus. I'm almost...

  "Luke," she groans, her hands on my ass.

  "Louder."

  "Luke," she nearly screams it.

  Fuck. Her eyes close. And then it's her nails again--a sharp pain against my back that only heightens my pleasure.

  She groans. "Fuck, Luke, Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm... fuck..." She squeezes me.

  I thrust again. A little harder. A littler deeper.

  I groan. I'm all instinct, thrusting into her, filling her, kissing her. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Her nails, her lips, her skin. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I sink my teeth into my lips as it overtakes me. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I come, my cock throbbing as I fill her.

  She pulls me close, her arms and legs wrapped around me.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The shriek of my ringtone pierces the otherwise calm silence. It's Samantha. I peek into the bedroom. Alyssa is in her own little world, her hands curled around her Kindle, her eyes glued to its screen.

  She turns towards the sound, her eyes connecting with mine. "Samantha?"

  "Yeah."

  "I'm not going to be upset if you answer."

  I nod. She motions for me to close the door. That must be a sign of trust.

  I answer. "Hey."

  "Hey," Samantha replies. It's almost a whisper.

  Her parents must be home.

  "Is everything okay?"

  "I can survive a few days without you," she says. "But this isn't really a social call. And I have to make it quick."

  "Date with Mr. Whole Foods?"

  "No, that's not happening. Not after my fun attempt to get to the afterlife again."

  Fucking hilarious.

  "I have a few interviews in L.A.," she says.

  "That's great."

  "I want to move back as soon as I can. My parents are driving me crazy."

  Tension knots in my shoulders. "My friend Mike could help you find a place."

  "Yeah, Mike is great." She takes a slow breath. "But I already know where I want to live."

  I clear my throat. "Where is that?"

  Samantha sighs. She wants me to say all this for her. She wants me to offer the house back, so she doesn't have to ask.

  "Luke... you know where."

  "Where?"

  "I want the house."

  She says it so bluntly, as if I have no say in the matter, as if it doesn't matter that I've been living here for six months. Or that she dumped my sorry ass and promised to move out. Or that she didn't even want the house when she tried and fail
ed to leave me. She didn't even want me to buy her out of her half of the mortgage, not with Edward fronting the money for the down payment.

  She wanted her conscious clean, so she could live happily ever after with him.

  "Luke? Are you there?"

  "Yeah."

  "I know I don't have any legal standing, but I want it. It was a long time ago, but it felt like home."

  "When did it feel like home? When you were fucking my father or when you tried to kill yourself in our bed?"

  She sighs. "It's not just where I tried. It's where I survived. And before that, we were happy. I was happy."

  "When were we happy? Because most of what I remember is a crock of shit. Since you were fucking my father for, what, two years? Three?"

  "Luke..."

  I feel dizzy, like the air rushed out of my lungs all at once. Samantha wants this house. I knew she'd want it eventually. I promised it to her. I expected to give it away.

  But that was before Alyssa. Before we kissed here, before we spent long, tired mornings here, before we started to make a life here.

  "It's my house," I say.

  "Can we not fight over it?"

  "You didn't want it when you dumped me."

  "Please." She's pleading. "I have enough to buy out your half and throw in a little extra for the interest. I don't want to go back to some sterile apartment complex."

  "So find another house. This is my home now. Mine and Alyssa's."

  "Luke..."

  "You don't even know if you'll work on the Westside. What if you get a job in Pasadena?" I lean against the wall to stay upright. She can't take this away from me. From us.

  "It's always been mine," she says. "Edward wanted me to have it."

  "Fuck you."

  "Luke, I didn't mean it like that--"

  "He was my father."

  "I know."

  "He was my father a long time before he was your boyfriend."

  "I know."

  "Do you fucking know? Because every time you bring him up you act like you're the only person who ever cared about him."

  "Luke..."

  I dig my fingers into the phone. "I dealt with him my whole fucking life. I was there, at my mom's funeral when he refused to cry. I don't care if you loved him. I don't care if he hurt you when he rejected you. He was my father."

  "I didn't mean that."

  "You think it's your house just because your boyfriend fronted the down payment?"

  "He told me--"

  "You know what he told me?" Anger seethes through me. I usually fight it back, but not this time. "He told me that he was happy for me. Happy I finally got my life together. I had everything. A business, an ambitious fiancée, and now I'd finally have a home. It was the first time he'd said something nice to me since before my mom died."

  "I'm sorry." It's not earnest. It's not "I'm sorry for your pain." It's "I'm sorry you're such a fuck-up."

  "He wasn't just the asshole you were fucking behind my back. He was my father."

  "I know. I'm sorry."

  "Did you ever love me or did you just want to get closer to him?" The room is spinning way, way too fast. I shouldn't push Samantha like this, not two weeks after a suicide attempt, but she's trying to take away my home.

  "Of course," she says.

  "When?"

  "I always loved you. I just wasn't in love with you."

  "Don't bullshit me with clichés or I'll never speak to you again."

  "The first year," she says. "You were so sweet to me. You treated me so well. But after a while, you were different. Farther away."

  "So it's my fault you were fucking him?"

  "No," she says. "But he was so smart and successful, and he made me feel safe. It only got serious once I started working with him. All those late nights and work dinners." Her voice gets lower. "At first, we only talked about you."

  "I asked you to marry me well after you started working with him."

  "I know."

  "Why did you see yes?"

  "Because I wanted to love you. I wanted it so badly. I didn't want to be with Edward. I didn't want to be in love with him."

  She takes a sharp breath, but right now I don't care how she feels. Her words are a knife in my chest.

  "Luke, I'm sorry," she says. "I wish I could apologize enough."

  "Then stop trying to take my house."

  "I earned it." She sighs. "He was ashamed to be with me. He was the one who always talked me out of breaking up with you. I wanted to end it. I wanted to stop stringing you along, but he was worried about you. And about his reputation. About how it would look. Even when I offered to keep our relationship a secret for a while, to leave the firm, he wouldn't do it. He didn't want to look like some asshole who stole his son's girlfriend."

  "You could have told me," I say. "I could have used the mercy."

  "I'm a coward." Her voice breaks. "I tried to tell you at the hospital. I'm a pathetic coward. I was ruining your life then, and I'm ruining it now. You should stop talking to me. Keep the house. I don't need it. I won't need anything."

  "Sam, don't--"

  "I don't deserve your friendship," she says.

  "That's not what I want."

  "I'm sorry." She chokes back a sob. "I'm a bitch," she says. "I was such a bitch. You should stop talking to me. You should move on with your life, to some woman who will treat you better."

  "No, Sam..."

  "I'm sorry. No, you should have it. It's yours. He was your dad. You're entitled to it. Besides, you deserve the hush money more than I do."

  "No," I say. "You need it."

  It's not like I have a choice. I have to say yes. It's either I say yes, or I worry that this is the thing that will push her. That she'll do it again because there's this hole in her heart that's shaped like our house. It's either I say yes, or she hints that she's going to try to kill herself again.

  She always puts me in this position. My only choices are do what Samantha wants or dare her to make due on her latest threat to attempt suicide.

  How long have her requests been veiled threats? Do this for me or else I'll be so miserable I'll give in to my suicidal impulses again. Come see me or I'll be so lonely. And I don't feel safe lonely. I don't know what I'll do... Please, Luke. Please, don't leave.

  Another wave of dizziness hits me.

  Samantha has me pinned. I'm not going to ignore her. I'm not going to sentence her to depression. I know she's manipulating me. She may know it too.

  But I still have to help her.

  I can hate it as much as I want. I'm not going to abandon her now.

  I just hope Alyssa will understand.

  I take a deep breath. This house means a lot to me, but only because it means a lot to Alyssa.

  Samantha's breath slows, until she's calm. "I'm going to figure out exactly how much I owe you."

  "I don't care about the money."

  "I do. I already can't pay you back for how much you've helped me. I'm not going to be in debt for half a mortgage either."

  "We can split it exactly."

  "No. He put in for the down payment."

  "Why don't you draft a contract? I'll start looking for a new place."

  "Are you sure?"

  I clench my fists. This is my best option. "He would have wanted you to have it."

  It's awful, but it's my best option.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Alyssa and I enjoy almost a week of normalcy. She spends every night at my place. We do nothing of consequence. We read by the pool or watch TV on the couch or play cards in the kitchen. It's a perfect picture of what our life together could be.

  We touch and kiss and hug and fuck everywhere in the house. Now that I know I'm losing it, I want to mark every inch of it as ours. I make her come in every spot where such an act is conceivable--the breakfast table, the kitchen counters, the desk, the pool. Every floor and wall in that house must be ours.

  Everything is easy until Friday night. She sits on the
couch, her arms curled around a pillow, her attention on the floor.

  She shakes her head. "I don't know if I can do the food challenge tomorrow."

  "You can do it."

  She looks at me for a while. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

  "Yes."

  "And you won't get upset if I start freaking out?"

  "I promise."

  "Or if I want to use you as a distraction."

  "You'll be thoroughly distracted."

  She bites her lip, digging her nails into the pillow. "Things are good right now. I don't want to ruin that."

  "Things will stay good."

  "What if you freak out?"

  I sit next to her. "I won't."

  Her eyes are glued to mine. Like she's studying me. "But what if it's too much and you lose all the respect you have for me?"

  "Impossible."

  She looks back at the floor. "Okay. We'll do it tomorrow. After dinner."

  "You okay?"

  She nods but her eyes stay on the floor. "I'm going to hang out in the spare room for a while."

  She offers me a quick smile and recedes into the spare room, her room. Her room for another few weeks at least.

  ***

  The morning is easy. We drink cup after cup of tea and coffee. We spend hours watching TV on the couch. We eat lunch in the backyard.

  But something changes in the afternoon. Alyssa is a nervous wreck. She paces around the pool, her eyes on the concrete.

  "How about a walk?" I offer.

  She nods, but her attention stays on the ground. I'd love to grab her and pin her to the couch to thoroughly distract her, but that is only going to make things harder.

  She collects her shoes and purse and we make our way to the marina. It's a nice day. Warm and sunny.

  But Alyssa is obviously uncomfortable. She walks fast, clutching her purse like it's a lifesaver. I give her space. I'm going to do everything I can to make it easier.

  She stops at a curve and presses her hands against the metal railings. Her gaze is on the water, but she's a million miles away.

  "We can talk about it," I say.

  She shakes her head and digs her hands into the railing. "No, we should probably pick up something to use." She motions to the shopping center a few blocks away.