To Be Your Last

by Rae Kennedy

  He avoids looking over at me as we play. He also doesn’t seem to be looking toward Sheila either, who is happily telling Logan all about her favorite type of yoga pants. She’s so worked up about them she’s actually bouncing. She’s bouncing but her boobs totally stay in place. Fascinating.

  I’ve got this one. It’s down to Colin, Logan, and me. I lay down my cards—a pair of fives and a pair of Jacks.

  “Dammit!” Logan lays down his hand with a pair of Kings then takes his shirt off. He winks at Sheila and she giggles as she scoots closer to his side.

  “You won.” Colin puts his cards in a little stack and quickly stuffs them into the deck.

  “Hey, why didn’t you show your hand? What did you have?”

  “Doesn’t matter, you won.” He pulls his shirt over his head and then he’s sitting there all bare-chested and I forget what I was about to say.

  “Let’s take a break,” Logan says in his gamemaster voice.

  “Who wants to smoke?” Jace stands from the circle.

  “Hell, yeah!” Boner Three says, hopping up.

  I stand, stretching my legs, and Colin is up next to me, lithe as he moves closer, backing me up to the wall. His hands go to the wall on either side of me, his whole body sort of caging me in, making my breath hitch.

  “Having fun?” his voice is low, raspy.

  The scent of beer is faint on his breath and his skin smells like soap and male musk. I dare to reach out and trace the curve and dip of his obliques with my fingertips. I’ve touched him so many times these last couple weeks, but not this much bare skin. It’s warm and smooth and raises into goosebumps at my touch.

  “Are you?” My voice is equally as hoarse.

  “Not really.” But he tries to hold back a shiver when my fingernails rake over his ribs.

  “Are you just standing here like this to hide my body from everyone else?”

  “Maybe,” he says with the tiniest smirk.

  “I don’t think you need to worry about it. They were definitely all looking at Sheila, not me.”

  His tongue briefly flicks out to wet his lips. “Trust me, they weren’t.” And then he gazes down my chest to where my breasts are heaving almost out of my bra. He’s not even being subtle about it.

  Oh.

  “Are you ready to go back to the room yet?” he asks.

  I glance past him to where Jace is standing by the large dresser with rolling papers set out next to a little plastic baggy full of green clumps of marijuana. Next to it is an even smaller baggie with a white, powder substance. I’ve never seen hard drugs in person, so I’m not sure what it is, but definitely something I’d rather not stay to find out.

  “Yeah. Let’s go back.”

  “Thank fuck.” Colin immediately picks our clothes off the floor and helps me dress like he can’t get my clothes on fast enough.

  Boner Three hoots at us as we head for the door. “Yeah, Colin’s going to get some!”

  Colin ignores him, slings his arm around my shoulders, and walks us out the door.

  He lets out a sigh when we get back to our room. “Thanks for leaving with me.”

  “I don’t know why you think it was such a big deal. It was just some fun.”

  “You might not have thought it was so fun when it turned into an orgy.”

  I roll my eyes. “It was not about to turn into an orgy.”

  He sits on the foot of his bed to take off his shoes. “Well, they weren’t about to put all their clothes back on and watch The Weather Channel.”

  “And you think I couldn’t have handled it?”

  He doesn’t say anything, just gives me a look that basically says, “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “Why? Because I’m a virgin? Well, I’m not a virgin because I’m afraid of or averse to sex. I’m a virgin by choice, because I’ve set boundaries and I know how to say no. If I had been uncomfortable I would have left. I don’t need you chaperoning me.”

  I don’t know how he gets me so heated so quickly, without hardly saying anything.

  He rubs the back of his neck, tilting his head back so he’s looking at the ceiling. “I don’t think you realize how close you are to being in over your head.” He lets out a breath. “You’re so young and naïve—”

  And there it is. What he really thinks of me. What he’s always seen me as.

  “Get out.”

  His face twists in confusion. “What?”

  “I want you out. Go sleep somewhere else. I don’t want to be around you right now.”

  “Are you serious?” He stands up, hands falling to his sides.

  “Do I look fucking serious?”

  I must look fucking serious because he picks up his bag and goes to leave. “Shit, Gray, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “I don’t want to talk right now, either.” I’m upset and frustrated and maybe about to cry and don’t want him anywhere near me. I don’t want him to know how much his opinion of me hurts.

  He gives a slight nod, his dark lashes silhouetted against his cheeks.

  When the door latches, I realize my hands are fisted in little balls, and when I open my hands they ache.

  If he thinks I’m too young and naïve, I’ll just have to show him what I’m capable of.

  * * *

  When Colin texts the next day to ask if I’m coming to the show, I reply only one word: No.

  I’m flooded with texts from all the guys around the time the concert lets out but I’m too busy getting ready for the after party. The real show.

  I have to lie down on the bed to squeeze into the itty bitty black dress Kyla packed for me. I can barely breathe and it pushes my boobs way the heck up there, but yeah, I’m going with it. I put on extra mascara so my lashes look longer and darker against my light blue eyes and lipstick the color of merlot on my normally bubble gum pink lips. Quite the task to make the lips look good when you’re slightly inebriated and wobbly.

  The hotel room door bursts open and all four of the guys barge in. Logan and Dean are in front. Logan calls, “Gracie,” the same time Dean says, “Blondie?”

  I smile sweetly at them.

  “Are you okay?” they say in unison, coming to me, Logan pulling me in for a hug.

  “I’m fine.”

  “We thought you might be sick.” Joey pokes his head up between Logan and Dean’s shoulders.

  “Nope,” I say, still smiling.

  “Yeah, you definitely don’t look sick.” Logan looks me up and down with an appreciative thumbs-up, and Dean whistles.

  Colin is standing back, leaning against the door with his hands in his pockets, eyes downcast.

  “Oh, Honeymuffin,” I singsong to him.

  He lifts his head up, a curious furrow to his brow.

  “Are you going to come see me?” I open my arms, holding them out for him.

  He pushes off the door. He stalks toward me cautiously, hands still in his pockets.

  When he reaches me, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around my waist and hold me tight against him, cheek to cheek, his skin warm against mine.

  He feels and smells so nice I almost forget my objective.

  He pulls back so we’re nose-to-nose. “Are you still mad at me?”

  “Why would you think that?” I keep my voice light, saccharine.

  “You didn’t come to the show.”

  “I was tired.”

  His gaze flashes to my mouth, lower to my cleavage. Just for a split second.

  “You’re drunk,” he says.

  “I was thirsty. Minibar.” I shrug, my arms still encircled loosely around his neck.

  “This dress is tiny.”

  “It’s child-sized. Should fit just right.”

  He rolls his eyes then moves in closer, our bodies pressed together. “Gray—” He turns his head back toward the guys. “Go on ahead. We’ll be right behind you.” Then he looks back to me and lowers his voice. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  I shake my head. “I want to go.
I’m starving. Haven’t eaten all day.”

  “You heard the lady. She’s starving. Let’s feed her!” Logan yells, heading out of the room.

  I follow, pulling Colin by the hand behind me.

  * * *

  Colin watches as I pull out a tiny minibar-sized bottle of huckleberry vodka out of my purse and add it to my sprite. It’s quite delicious and I don’t pay him any attention, even as his hand flexes on my hip. I press closer to his side as I continue to sip my drink, smiling and chatting with Dean and Joey.

  “What is this? What are you doing?” Colin whispers in my ear.

  I turn to him, giving him as much of a wide-eyed innocent look as I can muster. “What do you mean, Sweetie Pie?”

  “That. What’s going on?”

  I bat my lashes at him. “You know me so well and what’s best for me. Surely you can figure it out.”

  He darts his eyes over my shoulder to where I see Dean straighten in his seat, hardly holding back his smirk.

  The server arrives with our food and Colin drops the subject. As I eat with one hand, I place the other on Colin’s leg. Mid-thigh. None of this knee bullshit. I’m feeling bold. Confident. I’m feeling sexy and, if I'm being honest, drunk. But that’s beside the point. I may have come off a rough year where I experienced a hit to my self-esteem, but I am not a delicate, timid wallflower.

  I slide my hand higher up his leg. The denim is rough against my skin. His thigh is hot under his jeans, hard and muscular. I move my hand so slightly, so slowly that I don’t think he’ll even notice. But at the exact moment my fingers move upward, he stops drawing lazy circles on my arms. He only stops for a beat—but it’s enough.

  We keep eating our dinner and he keeps stroking my arm, perfectly relaxed as I keep my hand glued in place to his thigh.

  I move my palm farther up. We’re firmly in upper-thigh territory now.

  His breath hitches.

  I pretend I don’t notice and just keep chatting with Dean to my right.

  This time when my hand slides up to just below his crotch, I squeeze.

  He chokes on his bite of food.

  All eyes at the table turn to him.

  “You all right, man?” Logan asks.

  I pat him heartily on the back. “What happened, Love Bug?”

  He coughs a couple times into his fist and takes a drink of water. He clears his throat and assures everyone that he’s fine until they resume their previous conversations. His grip on my hip loosens and he slides his hand up my side. He stops at my ribs, this thumb rubbing in a circle as he pulls me in closer.

  His voice is almost a growl, vibrating against my ear. “What’s your endgame here?”

  I shrug, turning into him so my breasts drag along his torso. “You tell me.”

  He shifts his hips and I bite my lips as I watch him try to discreetly adjust himself.

  I lift to my knees on the booth seat and lean to him, giving him a great view of my cleavage and letting my lips drag lightly along his neck up to his ear. “Oops, did I do that?”

  “Gray—”

  “I had no idea that would happen. I mean, I’m so young and inexperienced...”

  I swing a leg over, settling down on his lap, our faces close. He glances around behind me, probably to the other people at the table, but I don’t care who’s watching. His hands are on my hips, fingers massaging into my flesh. He licks his lips, his breathing quickens. My skirt is so short and tight I can barely spread my legs enough to straddle him, and if he lowered his head, he would surely be able to see the tiny strip of black fabric that is my underwear. But he keeps his eyes on my face and I appreciate that.

  I roll my hips forward, just enough to create some friction between. Just enough so that I have no doubt what I’m doing to him as I feel his hard length along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

  His grasp on my hips tightens. “You’ve made your point. Can we go back to the room now?”

  “I don’t want to go to the room. I’m having fun here. Aren’t you having fun? Because”—I grind against his erection again—“it sure feels like you’re enjoying yourself.”

  His eyes roll back at the contact between our bodies but then they snap back to me, darkening. He grips my upper thighs hard, holding me still and away from the bulge under his zipper. He’s touching me just below where the hem of my skirt is shimmied up, his thumbs on the inside of my thighs. So high up. His touch sends tingles up to my center and I realize my panties are soaked through. So much that I can feel my arousal, slick between my legs. If he were to move his thumbs up just a bit, he’d surely be able to feel it on my thighs.

  “How far are you going to push this?”

  “Hmm...” I try to rock forward again, but his hold is on me is firm and I only manage to nudge forward an inch. Just enough movement that his thumbs slip under my skirt, and the second he feels how wet my skin is, his eyes widen.

  “Fuck,” he says under his breath and his lips are slack, his breathing shallow, his pupils are so large his eyes are almost entirely black.

  He rubs tiny circles on my skin with his thumbs, warm and slippery, the extent of my arousal obvious to both of us.

  I twist my fingers in the hem of his shirt, my knuckles brushing against the hot skin just above his waistband. And we stare at each other, practically panting, my heart pounding so hard I can’t hear anything else.

  After a few minutes I break the silence. “Let’s go back to the room now.”

  * * *

  His hand lingers on my hip when we enter the room. “Can we talk now?” he asks.

  “All right.” I take a couple steps back so we’re face-to-face and wait.

  “I’m sorry I upset you yesterday. What I said came out wrong. I don’t know why I feel such a strong desire to protect you.” He rakes his fingernails over his head, through his hair, and down the side of his jaw. “It’s just that you’re so...”

  Young. Inexperienced. Ignorant. Naïve.

  “Good,” he finishes.

  Oh.

  “And I hate the thought of you putting yourself in compromising positions.”

  “Well, the whole point of me running away with you guys was to get a little compromised.”

  He nods. “Right. And that’s your decision to make. I won’t get in your way.” He takes a step closer to me. “But will you promise me something? If you want to get compromised, I don’t care what it is—you want to get wasted or snort cocaine off someone’s ass—will you make sure I’m there with you?”

  I smile. “I don’t plan on snorting anything off someone’s ass, but yeah. Okay.”

  He smiles too, just for a second, then he’s closing the space between us. “And one more thing—” His expression is serious again, eyes hooded, and he’s so close I can smell his sweet manly musk. “If you want to get compromised with someone, you can come to me.”

  CHAPTER 15

  My foggy, alcohol-laden mind has trouble making sense of what Colin just said. Did he just say I can come to him for sexual favors?

  The whole idea is absurd and I burst out in a fit of laughter. “Like, what? You want me to come ask you to give me my first orgasm?”

  Colin’s eyebrows shoot up.

  I didn’t—why the fuck did I just say that? Vodka, I thought you were my friend!

  “You’ve never had an orgasm?” He tilts his head, a curious curve forming on his lips.

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “Yes, actually, you did.”

  I stand there, mouth open, unable to speak. I can’t lie about it—my hot cheeks have already given me away.

  “Let me guess.” He reaches out to lift my chin and look up at him. “You went down on your boyfriend and he never returned the favor?”

  I shake my head slowly, afraid to blink.

  “Shame.” His gaze falls down to my lips, down to my dress and back.

  This dress is way too small. I can’t breathe. And I’m too hot. Why is it so freaking hot in here? My ch
est is heaving with my quick breaths and I’m afraid my boobs are going to pop right out the top or rip the dress altogether.

  “And...you’ve never given yourself one?” he continues.

  Holy hell. What the fuck is this conversation? But he’s speaking softly, his expression sweet and sincere, not like he’s judging, just curious. It makes me want to answer. Not that I seem to have any filter at the moment anyhow.

  “No. I mean, I’ve tried a few times. But... I don’t know... Nothing really happened. At least, I don’t think it happened. I’d probably know, right?”

  He nods as he chews on his lip. “Yeah, you’d know.”

  We stand, silent for several beats. Hearts pounding. Words unspoken. An electricity in my skin. An overwhelming urge to take his hand and pull him to me. To touch my lips to his and feel our bodies shudder against one another.

  “I’d like to help you with that.” His voice is hoarse. His hands are at his sides but his fingers flex, like he wants to touch something.

  “Uh...” I swallow hard. Don’t let me down here, vodka. “You want to give me my first orgasm?”

  He licks his lips and closes his eyes and lets out a barely audible moan. When he opens his eyes, I see a flash of what looks like pain before he steadies his expression again. “No.”

  No? Dammit, vodka! I want to curl up and die. I turn away from him, determined to go lie on my bed in the fetal position and do just that. But he hooks his fingers around my elbow and stops me.

  I don’t want to look at him. My face is burning in humiliation.

  “Gray...” His tone is gentle. “I want to help you give yourself your first orgasm.”

  All the air in my lungs rushes out in a whoosh and I can’t form words.

  “You shouldn’t have to rely on anyone else to give you the pleasure you want.” His grasp around my elbow slides down my arm to take my hand. He snorts. “Especially from guys your age. Most of them think they can get a girl off if they fuck her hard enough during penetrative sex.”