Right

by Jana Aston

  I gasp and call out his name, my palms pressing against the wall securely to keep my balance.

  “You okay?”

  I breathe in and out for a second. “Yeah. It’s really deep. You’re really deep.” I wiggle my hips. “It’s good.”

  He withdraws several inches and I close my eyes. The slide is so good. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the feeling of him inside of me. He’s so thick and long and being this full drives me wild, the slide of his cock splitting me open my personal nirvana. He presses into my lower abdomen with his hands, pulling me onto him as he drives in again, and I almost come right there. Holy shit, the pressure of his hands against my stomach, combined with him inside of me, it’s too much.

  I mumble something and he stills, sunk as far as is physically possible inside of me. I feel his stomach against my ass, the fabric of his pants against the backs of my thighs, and I’m reminded that we’re fucking in a closet during a party.

  “Still okay?” he asks.

  “Yes.” I sigh. “The thing with your hands, it’s good.”

  He presses firmly against my stomach, the heel of one hand dragging across my skin, and thrusts again.

  “That. Oh, my God, Sawyer.” I shove on the wall, pushing back on him with the only leverage I have, and he starts to fuck me in earnest. The sound of the party is a backdrop to the slaps of skin against skin and the rustling of clothing inside the closet.

  My head drops forward, my hair a curtain around my face. I can make out our feet from the fragment of light coming under the door. Polished black shoes planted on the floor outside of the tips of my heel-clad ones, barely touching the ground. I watch my toes rock back and forth as he slams into me from behind and it’s so deliciously dirty.

  “I’m close, Sawyer,” I tell him, clenching tightly around him, increasing the drag of his cock as he slides backward. “Fuck me as long as you want. I have to come,” I warn him, trying to keep my arms firm on the wall as I climax.

  “That’s quite the offer, Boots,” he responds as he slows, but does not stop. He thrusts slowly through my orgasm, my body pulsing around him, the friction increased from my muscles contracting around him. I feel every bit of it with his deliberate slide.

  “Sorry,” I pant. “Sorry I came so fast. Holy fuck, Sawyer.” My chest is heaving with exertion, even though I’m doing almost nothing but holding my upper body off a wall. Sawyer’s doing all the work on this one. “Do you want a blowjob or do you want to keep going?”

  He pounds into me from behind, the smack of his skin against mine renewing my desire like a whip.

  “No, I don’t want you on your knees on the tile floor in a hotel closet, Everly.”

  Shit. He’s so sweet.

  Then he fucks me so hard I worry about the safety of my wrists and I end up with both forearms pressed against the wall to keep my head from cracking into it.

  He comes with a husky grunt, stilling as he presses me into the wall, his body pressed along my back for a long moment, before setting me down on my feet and withdrawing.

  “I’m turning on the light.”

  There’s a light?

  I squint, the warning doing nothing to help my eyes adjust to the sudden invasion of light. I grumble, leaning against the wall, annoyed I have to stand right now. I want to lie down on something soft while Sawyer runs his fingers over my naked back and I fall asleep with my head on his shoulder. Instead I have to pull myself together and slip back into this party.

  Sawyer wraps his fingers around the base of the condom and slides it off his cock, then ties it off into a knot. He’s still partially erect. I love watching his dick, seeing it in all its various states. It fascinates me. I love that he doesn’t care—he’s not shy about my curiosity in the slightest. I asked him to come on my tits last week just so I could watch. Not shockingly, he was happy to oblige that request.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off him, watching him masturbate, knees on either side of my hips. His arms—fuck, those arms. His biceps flexing as he held himself over me, jerking himself with one hand, rougher with himself than I ever am with him. Then he came, erupting onto my chest, and I didn’t know where to focus. On his face, watching me while he did it, or the actual release onto my skin. I mean, I don’t ever get to see that.

  The look on his face when I ran my hand through it, spreading it over my tits, well, that was a look that will be embedded into my memory forever. And a moment later when he tossed my legs over his shoulders and stuck his face between my thighs… well, I think he enjoyed it too.

  He pockets the condom and zips himself up, then turns to me. “You okay there, Boots?” There’s a smirk on his face that indicates he knows damn well that I’m fine. Well fucked, but fine. He closes the distance between us and nudges my chin up with his finger, then presses his lips to mine. “There’s a bathroom around the corner,” he says, straightening my hair with his fingers before bending and pulling the underwear still around my thighs up to my hips.

  I nod and he grabs my hand before killing the light, then walks us back into the party like he owns the place. He walks me to the ladies’ room and I have a fleeting thought wondering if he’s ever fucked anyone else in that particular closet before deciding that I don’t care. I don’t give one fancy fuck who he’s been with, I’ve got him now and I’m keeping him.

  I enter the bathroom and head straight for a stall to clean myself up, but I’m waylaid by Chloe and Sandra sitting in the lounge portion of the ladies’ restroom. I’ve walked into a conversation and a sad Sandra.

  “Oh, hey.” I wave and eye the stalls across the room.

  Chloe frowns and eyes me slowly. “At the party, Everly? Really? He lives like ten feet away. Jesus.”

  Sandra’s eyes widen as she glances between us, getting Chloe’s meaning.

  I shrug and head for a stall. “You’ve seen him, right?” I call out. “His place is much too far away when he looks like that.”

  “Oh, God,” Sandra replies behind me.

  “Be thankful you don’t live with her. Weekend update takes on a whole new meaning.”

  “I can hear you!” I call from behind the door.

  “I know!” Chloe calls back.

  I finish and wash my hands then walk over to where they’re sitting, hand on hip.

  “Hey, it’s all fun and games now, but who do you come to when you want to know if it’s normal for a guy to come in under a minute?” I point to myself. “Me. That’s who.” I raise an eyebrow in challenge.

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Now”—I turn my attention to Sandra—“why are you two hiding in the bathroom?”

  “We’re not hiding,” she says, slumping on the sofa. “We’re just sitting for a minute.”

  “Come on.” I step forward and hold out my hands to each of them. “Get up.” I pull them up and then stop at the mirror next to the door to freshen my lipstick and smooth out my hair. “I didn’t get you all sexed up to hide in the bathroom. Let’s go get Gabe.”

  Thirty-Seven

  We exit the bathroom. Sawyer leans against the banister surrounding the rotunda behind him, speaking with a couple of people I don’t recognize.

  “I’ll meet you guys in the game room,” I say, nodding to the room next door that’s set up with video games. Then I slide in next to Sawyer, his arm going around my waist the moment I’m close enough. He introduces me to a couple of guys I won’t remember in an hour as I spy Gabe at the bar.

  “I need a drink,” I tell Sawyer as soon as the guys leave our sides, keeping Gabe in my line of sight.

  “I’m sure,” he replies dryly. But he doesn’t fight me on it, instead walks me straight over to Gabe, standing at a tall table near the bar with a brunette. She needs to go, obviously.

  The guys shake hands and I immediately see the ease between them. They’re friends, I realize. I give Sawyer a little side-eye glare. He could have provided me with this information earlier.

  “You’ve met my girlfriend?” He no
ds to Gabe and introduces me to the brunette. I’m given her name at this point but I promptly forget it. I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, but no. She needs to find someone who is not Gabe.

  The guys delve into sports talk while I drum my fingers on the tabletop, strategizing. “How long have you two known each other?” I interrupt when I catch something about rowing come into the conversation.

  “Since Harvard,” Gabe replies. “Roommates,”

  “Uh-huh,” I respond. I flick my eyes over to Sawyer and he smiles.

  I smile back as I pull my phone from my dress pocket. “Oh,” I say, frowning at the screen. “Oh, my.” I hold a hand over my mouth in faux shock and flash wide eyes at the table, catching the amused expression on Sawyer’s face as he waits for whatever stunt I’m about to pull.

  “Sandra isn’t feeling well,” I announce. “Headache. Gabe”—I turn to him, placing my arm on his sleeve, eyes imploring—“could you drive her home?”

  His eyes widen in surprise at my audacity, then he grins, glancing towards the room that Sandra went into a few minutes ago. The glance is so brief I almost miss it. Then his eyes are back on mine and he rubs his fingertips across his temple. “Sure, sure,” he agrees, then a moment later, “She needs a ride?” he asks, even though he’s just agreed to give her one.

  I nod with what I hope is an earnest expression. “She does.” Then I type out a rapid text to Sandra, informing her she has a headache and Gabe is driving her home.

  A flash of annoyance crosses the brunette’s face as she realizes any plans she had for seduction tonight will not be realized. Her eyes take one last hungry sweep over Gabe before she excuses herself. Bye, Felicia.

  “Hey, remind me to update you when we’re back in the office,” Gabe says, nodding to Sawyer as he turns towards the room Sandra last went into. “Our guy has a new lead in Los Angeles. He thinks he’s close.”

  Sawyer flexes his jaw and runs a hand down his neck, but nods as my phone dings with a reply from Sandra.

  WHAT?!?!

  He’s headed towards you now.

  I don’t even have a headache!

  No kidding. I recommend putting out, but you do whatever you’re comfortable with. Have fun!

  I pocket my phone with a satisfied smile as Gabe enters the room Sandra’s in.

  Sawyer shakes his head, a look of resignation on his face. “I should really get better control of you,” he mutters.

  I snort. “If you’d wanted a controllable girl you’d have never gone after me.”

  “That’s fair,” he agrees with a wink.

  “Did you notice he never even asked where she was? Because he knew. Because he’s been keeping an eye on her all night!” I point my finger in triumph.

  “Duly noted.”

  “Sandra is so getting laid tonight,” I muse with a contented sigh.

  He groans. “We’re definitely done talking now.”

  Thirty-Eight

  “Do you think a sex tape is an appropriate birthday gift?” I dump a cupful of ice into the blender on top of the milk-and-coffee combination I’ve already dumped in. I squint at the blender and then grab the chocolate syrup bottle and overturn it, making sure the chocolate is flowing before I glance back at Sophie.

  It’s mid-morning and the early rush at Grind Me is over. Sophie is refilling the napkin dispenser at the register while I mess with my creation in the blender.

  “To clarify, you mean filming yourself having sex with Sawyer?”

  “Uh, yeah. What else could I mean by a sex tape?” I dump a handful of chocolate chips into the blender and start peeling a banana.

  She shrugs. “How would I know? Maybe you meant a celebrity sex tape. Or a tape of you working a stripper pole.” She tosses me a cheeky grin.

  I pause, frowning, then shake my head. “I don’t have time to learn how to work a pole before his birthday so that’s out.”

  “I was joking about the pole.” Sophie pulls a box of straws out from under the counter.

  I add the banana to the blender. “No, it was a valid suggestion. Maybe next year.”

  “Next year?” Sophie’s ponytail whirls as she turns around and leans against the counter. “You’re already planning gifts a year out?” Her eyebrow is arched, a smile on her face.

  “I’m already planning gifts for the rest of our lives.”

  “All the shit you gave me about being too serious with Luke so quickly and you’re head over heels in love with Sawyer in just over a month?” She’s got her hands on her hips, head tilted in dismay.

  “I was wrong.” I shrug, and snap the lid on the blender.

  “Huh,” Sophie replies, once the blender stops.

  “Huh, what?” I ask, dumping my drink into a cup and snapping a lid on it.

  “Huh, I didn’t think you’d admit defeat on that so quickly.”

  “When you’re wrong, you’re wrong.” I hop up onto the back counter and stuff a straw into my drink. “Holy shit, I’m a genius. Taste this.” I hold out the drink to Sophie, wiggling my wrist back and forth in excitement. “So good!”

  Sophie takes the cup from my hand and sips, then grimaces and hands it back. “Disgusting.”

  “It is not!” I take another sip. “Who doesn’t like chocolate and banana?” I’ll admit, some of my concoctions are pretty bad, but this one is happiness in a cup.

  “No.” She shakes her head. “I like chocolate and bananas, but something is off about that.” She points to the cup in my hand.

  I glare at her and take a big obnoxious sip, causing an air pocket in the cup and a loud slurping noise that I encourage, wiggling the straw around. “Your taste buds are damaged or something.”

  “If you say so,” she says, her expression indicating she thinks no such thing.

  “Back to my potential sex tape, it’s a good idea, yes?” I don’t wait for an answer before continuing my case. “It’s impossible finding gifts for a guy with enough money to buy anything he wants. And what man doesn’t want a recording of himself banging his girlfriend? Every man wants that. Am I right?” I look to Sophie for confirmation.

  “Sex tapes and anal. It’s on every man’s wish list.”

  I grunt. “Yeah, and I already told him I’m saving anal for marriage, so that’s out.”

  “Wait, you’ve never had anal?” Sophie’s eyes widen, her voice a whisper.

  I glance at her face and slap my drink down on the counter. “You have?” I’m stunned.

  She darts her eyes away from mine and then back, biting her lip and nodding, her face red.

  “How is this possible? You were a virgin five minutes ago and you’ve already progressed to anal?” I shake my head. “Oh, my God. I’m an anal old maid.” I drop my forehead into my hand with a slap, then sit up straight, my hands gripped around the counter’s edge as I lean forward to get Sophie’s attention. “Did you like it?”

  Sophie clears her throat and glances around again, like someone is going to catch us discussing this and post about it on Facebook. “Yes,” she whispers, then looks at the ceiling as if she can’t meet my eyes while she admits it. “It’s, um, good. I don’t want to do it every day, but occasionally, yes, I like it.”

  “Huh,” I say. “Well, then.”

  We get a customer then, so Sophie helps them while I sit on the back counter and Google sex tapes with my phone, which, as it turns out, does not give you instructions about how to make a sex tape, but instead pulls up links to sex tapes that have already been made. I change my search to making a sex tape and get similar results. Has no one made a blog entry about this? I mean, where do I start? Can I use the camera on my phone? Do I need industrial lighting?

  I tap the side of my phone with a fingertip and sigh, watching as Sophie adds sprinkles to a hot chocolate for the little rugrat peering over the counter, its mother standing nearby stirring cream into her coffee. It’s kinda cute, I decide. She’s kinda cute, I correct myself. Moms probably don’t like it when you refer to their kids as it, even in your
head.

  “I hope my ass looks that good after I have kids,” I comment, watching them leave, hand in hand.

  “First forever, now babies?” Sophie jokingly clutches her chest. “My heart can’t handle it.”

  “No.” I snort. “Don’t be stupid. First forever, babies in a decade. And trust me, my happily ever after does not involve a surprise pregnancy. Not happening.” I wave my hand in the direction of the door. “She was cute though. I’ll babysit for you and Luke.”

  “Funny.” Sophie laughs. “Real funny.”

  The door dings again and I look up to see Sophie’s brother walk in. He’s wearing a suit, and I catch a glimpse of the badge clipped at his waist when his jacket flaps open from the wind as the door swishes shut behind him. I have got to finagle a way for him and Chloe to meet, I muse as I call out a hello and then turn my attention back to my fruitless internet search on sex tapes while Sophie and Boyd chat at the register.

  Then a thought pops into my head and I look up. “Boyd!” I call out excitedly. You should always use your resources.

  They stop talking and look my way, twin expressions of inquiry on their faces.

  “Do you know how to make a sex tape? Like, specifically? I get the sex part,” I say, waving my hand, “but do I need a special camera? Or a tripod or something? Do you know?” I ask earnestly, scratching a dry spot on my knee.

  “Everly!” Sophie snaps in response.

  “What?” I ask, confused. “Look at him. Odds are he’s filmed it a time or two.”

  Sophie’s eyes bug out. “Do I need to remind you that you have a brother?”

  “I know I have a brother. I’m not going to ask him for advice on making a sex tape. That’s disgusting.” What is wrong with her?

  Sophie shakes her head. “Yeah, and that’s my brother,” she says, pointing at Boyd and making a face at me.

  Oh. Yeah.

  “Well, can you wait in the back room?” I ask, wrinkling my nose. “There’s a shocking lack of information available on the web.” I hold up my phone as way of proof. “Sawyer’s birthday is in a week.”