by Leddy Harper
“Rylee.” My name was throaty, moaned along the sensitive skin beneath my ear.
I ignored his desperate plea and carried on. My hormones had taken over, and I no longer cared about talking. The way he made me feel as he ran himself against me, pressing into my eager bundle of nerves, took over my rationale. I hooked my fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts and boxers, and then pushed them down. He grunted, and it ignited something in me. I’d never heard that noise from him before. I wanted to make him do it again.
I pushed against him, just enough to sit forward and flip him onto his back. I don’t know where the motivation came from, what came over me, but I took control and led the way. I straddled his hips and kissed him before trailing my lips down his neck, his chest, his stomach, until I reached his erection.
Saliva pooled beneath my tongue at the anticipation of what I would do. This was all new—for him, too—but at least he’d seen graphic videos. I hadn’t even done that. I was completely clueless, other than the little I’d heard from kids at school. I was only fifteen, so it wasn’t like I knew too many kids with this kind of experience. But I wanted to do it.
“Rylee, stop. Don’t. You don’t have to do this.” His voice sounded strained, and I knew how much control it took him to stop me.
I glanced up and met his heated gaze. The pale green had darkened and fused with the blue until it was almost a passionate turquoise color. I knew he didn’t really want me to stop, but had said so because he knew me. He knew my wishes and my comfort level. Normally, I’d be the one pausing and taking a break, saying we needed to slow down. But not this time. Not now. The way he moved on top of me had done something to me. Changed me.
Provoked me.
“I want to, Killian.”
“I can’t handle you ignoring me after this.” The pain in his expression nearly gutted me.
I placed a soft kiss on his bare hip. “I won’t. I promise. Let me do this for you.”
He blew out a steady stream of air and relaxed into the bed with his attention turned to the ceiling. I looked down at the throbbing pulse in his hard length and the thick vein running along the underside of it. This was the first time I’d ever seen one—not counting the drawings they’d used in health class. I wanted to take it all in, savor this moment, remember every second of it.
I held his hard shaft and lowered my lips to the tip. Liquid beaded at the top, and I slowly raked my tongue over it, needing to know what it tasted like. The subtle saltiness didn’t turn me off. In fact, it encouraged me to go further. Just knowing I did that to him, that I brought it on, made me soar with confidence.
His fingers threaded through my hair as soon as my lips parted around the crown. I flattened my tongue over the tip, taking in his flavor. I had no clue what I was doing, but I decided he’d either tell me or I’d figure it out as I went.
“Rylee…” he groaned out and tilted his hips up, pushing himself farther in.
When I lowered my mouth onto him, he hissed, and then sucked in sharply through his teeth. I loved how I made him do this. I set this in motion. I turned him on. It was a high unlike any other, and I never wanted it to stop.
I took him in as far as I could and then slowly pulled back, hollowing my cheeks as much as possible. I loved the feel of his hardness in my mouth, on my tongue, tasting every bit of him like no one else ever had. I savored every second, drawing it out slowly.
Suddenly, on my way down for the third time, his grip tightened in my hair. He held my head down and pushed deeper into my mouth. He went farther than I’d taken him in the first two passes, and I choked, trying to pull back. But he wouldn’t let me. He held me against him, the tip of his penis hitting my gag reflex. I thought I was going to throw up. Tears filled my eyes, and before I knew it, something warm flooded my throat. His hold on me fell away, and I was able to back away from him. I swallowed and coughed, choking on bile and his ejaculation.
He pulled his shorts back up as I jumped off the bed. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and turned around, not facing him. I couldn’t. The thought of looking at him soured my stomach. It rolled and felt weak, as if I were on the verge of vomiting. A few of the girls in school talked about how great it was to please their boyfriends, but I didn’t understand. It was nothing like that for me.
His hand came down onto my shoulder and I jumped away from him. The movement caused me to whirl around until I faced him. And my heart immediately fell to my feet. He had no idea what he’d done. He didn’t understand my reaction. The creases in his brow, his narrowed gaze and wrinkled nose, gave him away. He was concerned for me. Frightened. Worried.
“What’s wrong, Rylee? Did you not like it?”
Words failed me. I couldn’t form enough to explain it to him.
“I’m so sorry.” He closed the gap between our bodies and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. His face fell to my shoulder and his breath heated my skin through the cotton of my shirt. This was his way of comforting me. It almost worked, until he slid his hands to my front and tried to unbutton my shorts. “Let me make it up to you. I want to do it to you, too.”
“No.” I pushed against him. I didn’t know what was going on with him, and a part of me didn’t care. I’d told him I would always accept him, but at some point I had to draw the line. “I don’t want you to return the favor. That’s not how you make it up to someone, Killian.”
“What did I do?” Apprehension flooded his tone, deepening the pitch into a desperate rumble.
I met his sad stare, his sorrow practically tangible. “I just don’t need you to reciprocate right now. That’s all. We should talk, not do…this. What’s going on with you, Killian? What happened tonight?”
“Nothing’s going on with me. Nothing happened.” He fell to the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. This was him shutting down. I knew it. But I couldn’t do anything to stop it. God, I wanted more than anything to pull him back out of this hole, but I didn’t know how to remove the anger roaring to life inside me.
“Something happened; I’m not an idiot. I saw you running down the street. It’s late, and you never run this time of night. It looked like you were running from something. I only want to know what it is so I can understand this better.”
He didn’t speak, didn’t look at me, only sat hunched over with his elbows dug into his thighs, furiously shaking his head back and forth.
“You choked my friend, Killian!” My voice rose and shook, despite the control I tried to keep. I balled my hands into fists in an effort to rein it back in, although I wasn’t sure how successful it’d be. “You charged after him, put your hands around his neck, and choked him. Then you take something that’s supposed to be good, something I wanted to do for you, and hurt me.”
Killian finally glanced up, his eyes wet with unshed tears.
“Not only did you choke Ross with your hands, but you choked me with your dick. I may have never done that with anyone before, but I don’t think that’s normal. I don’t think that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered in a low, gruff tone.
“It doesn’t matter. Whether you meant to or not doesn’t change the fact you did. Which means something’s going on with you. Something happened tonight, and I just want to know what it was so I can help. Please, Killian…” My voice cracked and a wave of tears threatened to break through at the sight of his palpable pain. “Tell me what it is. Let me help you. Let me be there for you.”
Silence filled the room while we did nothing but stare at each other. My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it. Seconds passed before the first tear fell free, slipping down my cheek. And then another. More followed, no longer trailing from my eyes to my chin, but cascading in rivers of pain, grief, and helplessness. Pouring from my face onto my chest in waves of vulnerability. Just before I opened my mouth to plead with him one more time, his bedroom door creaked open.
“Is everything al
l right in here?” Elise stood in the doorway with one arm crossed over her chest, her eyes soft.
I glanced at Killian once more, but he had his sights set on the floor in front of him, refusing to meet my gaze, refusing to acknowledge his aunt’s presence. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and then turned to Elise with as much of a smile as I could muster.
“I should get going. It’s late.” I didn’t bother looking back or saying goodbye before squeezing through the opening between her and the frame and heading for the front door. No one stopped me. They both let me walk away.
I barely slept all night, unable to control my emotions. Anytime I fell asleep, it wasn’t for long, and it wasn’t restful. I tossed and turned, cried, spent far too long thinking about Killian and what he could’ve possibly been going through. I hated how obviously he struggled, yet couldn’t come to me. Refused to open up when it was clear he needed it the most.
After I climbed out of bed, I went to the window to see… I didn’t know what I went to look for. It wasn’t like I could see his house, but I guess part of me had hoped I’d catch him on the fence. Instead, I found a folded piece of paper slipped through the screen, resting against the glass pane.
I’m sorry. For everything that happened tonight. About your friend, about you. About the fight. I never meant for any of it to happen. Before you found me running, Elise tried to talk to me about going to your school. Then she brought up me talking to you. I don’t know how she knows, but somehow, she’s aware I speak to you. And I hate that she knows. She didn’t seem mad or upset, but it doesn’t change the fact my secret isn’t really a secret anymore. And you’re no longer the only person who knows. I guess that set everything into motion. She left the house and my brain started going. I couldn’t stop myself from remembering it all.
Then your friend got out of the car. I swear, Rylee, I don’t remember going after him. You were in front of me one minute and then trying to break it up the next. His shirt triggered something in me—a memory. It was identical to one of the guys in my house. My mind had already been back to that night, and seeing it must’ve snapped something inside me. I can’t explain it. And I can’t excuse it. It was wrong to go after him. I just want you to know I’m aware of that.
I only wanted to kiss you. Only wanted to hold you and feel you for a few minutes, knowing you can calm me unlike anyone else. I don’t know how we went from kissing to you going further. I’ve never felt anything like it before and I guess things got out of hand. I can’t apologize enough. I need you to know I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I never want to hurt you. Ever.
And I’m sorry I couldn’t open up to you tonight.
He signed it the way he did every letter he left me: With the moon and the stars, Killian.
I stood and wiped away a tear I didn’t know had escaped. My mind was made up, even before getting dressed. Before heading out to the kitchen. I knew what I needed to do—what I had no choice but to do. I had to see him. Had to know he was okay. Had to let him know I forgave him.
I’d forgiven him long before I read the letter.
Before I woke up.
Before I left his house last night.
“Where are you off to so early?” my mom asked from the kitchen table with a coffee cup in her hand. She slid her glasses off her face and set them down, along with her tattered paperback. She always used bookmarks instead of bending the pages, which I found comical, considering she bought books from used stores, and most of them were already creased and very well worn. But she believed you had to take care of everything, regardless of how abused it was when you got it. To her, the book was new, and she’d treat it as such.
I sat down across from her and met her brown eyes, the same as mine—except smaller and less droopy. “I’m going to see Killian. We kinda got in a fight last night, and I want to make it right.”
She studied me for a moment, blinking more than normal. “I thought you were out with Malika. Did he go, too?”
“No. I saw him when Ross brought me home.” When her gaze hardened and her breathing slowed, I knew I needed to give her more information. “Mom, he was outside. When we pulled down the street, he was running. He looked mad or upset…or something. So we stopped and I got out. It was just three or four houses down.”
“So what kind of fight did you get into?”
“I knew something was going on, but he wouldn’t tell me.”
She cocked her head to the side and squinted her eyes. “Does he run with a notebook?”
I knew what she was getting at, and I hadn’t realized the trap I’d fallen into when I opened up to her. She didn’t know he spoke. Like everyone else, she was under the impression he was mute, silenced. And although I trusted my mom, I couldn’t betray Killian.
“No, he doesn’t. But he refused to answer me.”
“How’s he supposed to answer you in the middle of the night, on the side of the road, without a pen and paper? Did he finally learn sign language? Did you read his mind?” She wasn’t rude in her questioning; she simply wanted me to see things from a different point of view. Anyone who knew my mother, knew she played the devil’s advocate, and she played it well.
“Mom…” I shook my head and lowered my gaze to where I ran the tip of my finger in a circle on the glass tabletop. I wasn’t so much deflecting as I was buying time. “We walked back home together, but he refused to go get a notebook. He wouldn’t tell me anything, just kept shaking his head anytime I asked what was wrong.”
“Did you go inside his house?”
I couldn’t tell by her tone if she already knew the answer. She was so hard to read most of the time. Usually, if she asked a question point blank like this, she already knew, and lying would only make things worse. I wanted to go see him, to make things right, and if she caught me in a lie, that wouldn’t happen.
I nodded, refusing to meet her burning stare.
“Was Ms. Newberry home?”
This time, I did look up, met her eyes, and saw the truth in the chocolate pools. She knew. I was busted. “No, but she—”
“You know the rules, Rylee. If I don’t want you in his house alone with him during the day, what makes you think it’s okay to be there without his aunt at night?”
“Mom…” I leaned forward and pleaded with her, holding her stare with mine. “She was on her way home. And I only went inside to get him to talk to me. I figured it’d be better inside than standing in the dark alone. Ms. Newberry came home and I left. If he didn’t open up to me with her gone, he wouldn’t tell me anything with her there. So I came back—before curfew might I add.”
“I know what time you got in. I heard the door. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with you disobeying me, regardless of the reasons. Couldn’t your argument wait until today?”
I shook my head and my shoulders drooped. Defeat weighed heavily on me, knowing she would put an end to my plans to see Killian today—and possibly for the rest of the week. My parents were tough…loving, but tough.
“I know you care a lot about him,” she started and placed her hand over mine on top of the table. “He’s not a bad kid. I don’t know too much about him other than what I’ve seen, and what I’ve been told by you and Ms. Newberry. But it’s enough to know he’s a good kid. However…”
I knew there’d be some sort of objection. There always was. She had a way of seeing things from two perspectives, both sides—good and bad. Growing up, she never let me focus on the bad things. If something happened, if I got a low grade on a test, she acknowledged it, but always turned it on its head. There was always a positive side to every negative—and in turn, a negative to every positive. I huffed, but let her continue.
“He’s sheltered, Rylee. He never goes anywhere, doesn’t have friends other than you. I’d be willing to bet he’s got the mindset of someone five years younger than you. He’s been through a horrific ordeal, and sometimes, things like that change a person to their core.”
“You don’t know him, Mom
. I appreciate what you’re saying, but you don’t get him like I do. Yes, he’s sheltered. You got that right. But you’re wrong. He does go out. He has his learner’s permit and will get his license when he turns seventeen. He has a home tutor and has completely caught up in school—in fact, he’s above grade level in half of his subjects. Killian is smart, not at all like you’re portraying him to be.”
“I never said he wasn’t smart.”
“You said his mindset is that of an eleven-year-old.”
“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean when it comes to school. Life in general. His social skills.”
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. My mouth opened to say something, but she cut me off, silencing my thoughts. My heart. My breathing. All with one question I hadn’t anticipated.
“Have you had sex with him?”
My chin dropped, mouth gaped, eyes wide open and set on hers. “No, Mom. I haven’t.”
She tried to play it off, but relief was palpable in her exhale. Her shoulders lost a little of the tension that pulled them back in her perfect posture. And then her eyes softened right before they closed for a beat, more than likely sending a silent thank you to the heavens above.
“Why would you ask me that? I’m fifteen.”
“I know, honey. I was just making sure. I know you two are more than friends, but I don’t know how much more. Because you don’t tell me. You’ve tried to play it off for years, and maybe you are only his friend, maybe you care about him more than you’re willing to admit, but I’m your mother. It’s my job to see through your words. I’m allowed to be concerned.”
“Well, we are just friends. I like him. I won’t lie about that. I think he likes me too, but I don’t know if that’s because he doesn’t really know anyone else.” I patted the top of her hand and offered her a genuine smile. “I appreciate your concern, Mom. I really do. But I think Killian is as safe as I’m going to get. You don’t even want to know the kinds of boys I go to school with. Be thankful I’ve chosen Killian to like and not someone else.”