Addicted After All

by Krista Ritchie

  He gives me a look like really? Because I’m drinking water? His brow ticks upward a notch. “You think this is work for me?”

  “You get all sweaty and out of breath so…yeah,” I mutter. “It can be work for me too though.” My words tumble out fast. “Lots of limber positions and…stuff.” Shut up, Lily.

  I twist in the sheet and comforter, tangling up and being suffocated by the fabric. After a quick decision, I roll onto my belly, untwisting a bit. Now I’m in the perfect position for my favorite position. I prop myself on my elbows and peek back at Lo.

  He’s watching me intently while he casually sips his water. Torture. Sheer torture.

  “You just gonna stand there?” I ask.

  “Maybe.”

  I squint. “Are you teasing me or do you need some help…?” I flush. “You know…” I nod towards his cock, which doesn’t look like it needs any aid. Good job, Lil. I internally give myself a pity-pat on the shoulder.

  “It’s me, love,” he says, sauntering to the dresser. He finishes off his water and sets the glass down. “You don’t have to be embarrassed to say what you mean.”

  He nears the bed and climbs on top, the mattress rocking with his weight. His hands travel up my hips, and he easily flips me onto my back again. His eyes dance across my flushed face.

  “So say what you mean,” Lo says in a soft voice, his warm breath tickling my flesh as his mouth descends towards my chest. He sucks gently on my nipple, teasing.

  “Hmm…” My eyes flutter closed at the new sensation. I clutch the sheet underneath me. “Do you…want me to give you a hand job or a…a…” think, Lily! “…a blow job?” I open one eye and then both, smiling. Nailed it.

  His tongue flicks the sensitive bud before he says, “No. But that’s adorable of you to ask.”

  “Now your turn.” I nudge his leg with my foot.

  His lips lift in amusement. “Lily Calloway, would you like me to give you a hand job?” Yes. His palm brushes over the tender spot between my thighs. A gasp catches in my throat. “Or head?” Double yes. He kisses a trail from my breast to my belly button and down, down, down.

  I almost moan as his mouth reaches the best spot ever. But he stops just before he relieves any ache. He raises his head once more, awaiting my answer. I’d love to say yes to both, but I would love both of us to get off even more.

  “Or,” I say with a shallow breath. “Option C.” I go to turn over again, but he grips my hipbones firmly, keeping me flat on my back. That didn’t work.

  “Option D,” he combats. That sounds good. All I hear is Option Dick. My mind, I tell you. No one should be allowed to enter. I absorb each little movement he makes. Still kneeling, he snatches a pillow and stuffs it underneath my bottom.

  He begins to peel off the sheets and comforter, exposing my naked body. My heart drums with each passing second. I remember the days where I’d jump him right off the bat. Where I couldn’t control myself. But I take pleasure in this moment, in his self-assuredness and ability to please me so entirely.

  I can lie here and watch and wait. It builds me to a better place.

  His hand skims the length of my leg before he lifts both of them higher. Then he bends my knees, tucking my leg underneath his arm, grasping the other. My heart misses a beat as his pelvis fits perfectly against my entrance.

  Missionary. Anal sex. Together, this has become way more intimate.

  Slowly, he fills me, every inch of his hardness ignites fireworks inside my body. The most electric, sweltering sensations that I want to bask under night and day. When I’ve taken all of him, he leans forward and kisses me deeply.

  I struggle to reciprocate, heady and dazed. “Lo,” I whimper against his lips.

  “Relax, love,” he coaxes. And then he thrusts. Deep and rhythmic. I grip his hard biceps and focus on keeping my legs raised so he can go further. I inhale sporadically, short breaths that sound like gasps. One minute in, and I stop exhaling, my head dizzying with this bliss.

  Lo pauses mid-thrust. “Breathe.”

  I buck against him, trying to complete his cock’s travel. Lo drops one of my legs and grips my hip instead, his fingers digging into my flesh. “Breathe.”

  Okay. Okay. I take a deep breath, my head less light than before and my chest not as constricted. Satisfied, he continues his course. His gaze carries this hypnotic intensity that pulls me under, amber swirls filled with lust and passion and want.

  Cravings that mirror mine.

  My nerves sing in euphoria, and then his hand finds my wetness, his fingers filling me even more. I moan into this bed, not able to keep eye contact anymore. The world is spinning. His movements in sync. His fingers. His cock. They pound, pound, pound. His breathing as ragged as mine. His mouth that falls open in pleasure.

  He is ice. So cold it burns.

  My moans escalate, uncontrollable.

  And then the worst sound in the entire world breaches our bedroom.

  Crying.

  Babies crying.

  My heart catapults. “Stopstopstop,” I slur together. My eyes flit to the baby monitor, the light blinking as the noises emit from the speakers. I frantically push him off, even though he’s already backing away.

  In a panic, I jump off the bed and throw on one of Lo’s baggy crew-neck shirts. The black fabric falls just above my knees.

  “Lil, calm down. He’s fine. He can cry for a bit and be okay,” Lo consoles.

  No. I made a promise to never choose sex over him. This is my first real test. And I’m going to pass. “I’m going to check on him,” I say, tying my damp hair into a messy bun. “You can finish yourself off in the bathroom.”

  Surprise shrouds his face. “Did you just tell me to masturbate?” Yeah, that happens never.

  I don’t have time to answer him. I’m already on my way to the door. He sprints after me before I open it, and his hand catches hold of the wood, blocking me in.

  “Lo,” I whine. I cringe at my voice.

  “Take some breaths,” he tells me. “I don’t want you to panic every time this happens. Just relax, okay?”

  Deep down, he must sense that this is more than just a baby crying. “I’m relaxed,” I say in a stiff voice.

  “You have nothing to prove, Lil.”

  A lump rises in my throat. “You don’t have to masturbate,” I tell him. “If you can wait for me, we can finish together later.”

  “Yeah?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “If I open this door, will you promise to walk to the nursery and not run?”

  “Promise.” I hold up my pinky, and instead of hooking his with mine, he kisses me on the lips. My heart thumps, and then he draws back, removing his hand from the door frame.

  I gingerly walk down the hallway, all the while feeling his hot gaze on my back. When I slip into the nursery, I pick up my pace and dart to Moffy’s crib.

  “Hey, shhh, it’s okay,” I whisper, lifting him in my arms. I check his diaper. Clean. And then I start the good ol’ pat-and-rock technique, attempting to calm down a six-week-old baby. He’s not supposed to be eating for another hour.

  From the nursery across from Moffy’s, Jane cries incessantly. I peek out into the hallway and crane my neck. Connor and Rose’s bedroom door is still closed. We all agreed on not employing the “cry it out” parenting method since there are two newborns in the house. It’s just way too loud.

  If Jane keeps crying, Maximoff won’t stop.

  A second later, Lo exits our bedroom in a pair of black drawstring pants. I glance at his crotch. What happened?

  “I couldn’t wait.” He kisses me on the cheek. “Sorry, love.” And then he rubs Moffy’s little head and tuft of dark brown hair. “You hate your cousin’s crying, don’t you, bud?”

  And like magic, my sister’s bedroom door blows open. Connor appears—holy shit. I don’t have anything to shield my eyes with. My hands are occupied with a baby. “Lo,” I call for help.

  He easily reads my thoughts, based on
my red flush and alarm. His palm covers my eyes, even if it’s a little too late. I saw Connor’s bare chest, glistening with sweat. And more than that. His drawstring pants are way more revealing than Lo’s. Maybe because he’s in the moment where there is much more to be revealed.

  Oh my God. Forget, Lily, forget.

  I’m trying.

  “Excited to see me?” Lo banters.

  “Always, darling,” he replies lightly. “Sorry I took so long, Lily.” Lo drops my hand about the same time that Connor disappears into Jane’s nursery. A safe view.

  I rock Moffy in my arms, but his blubbering doesn’t cease. It’s most likely because of Jane, but my nerves only heighten. Feeling helpless, I pat him a little more. Hoping he’ll calm soon.

  “Here.” Lo collects our son from me, and the wails grow, more high-pitched and screechy. It’s like daggers in my heart. “It’s okay, little guy. You’re safe with us.”

  Jane’s screams soften. Maybe he had to change her diaper or she wanted to be held. Connor leaves the nursery a minute later, even though Jane hasn’t stopped completely. Lo and I are in the doorway, waiting for her to quiet so Maximoff can go to bed.

  “She’s still crying,” I state the obvious.

  Connor hesitates in the hall, his eyes flitting to his bedroom in concern. “I have to check on Rose for a second,” he tells us quickly. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  “Wait, what?” Lo snaps. “Look, Moffy won’t stop unless Jane does. Can you please deal with your baby first?” I’m about to offer some help. Lo can rock Moffy and I’ll take care of Jane, but Connor speaks fast and walks even quicker.

  “In five seconds, I won’t be alive long enough to deal with my baby.” When he opens his door, I hear Rose curse him out.

  My eyes widen. “Do you think she’s like…” Tied up? I can’t even utter the words though. It’s not an image I want in my head.

  Lo cringes. “Let’s not go there.” Fine with me.

  I kiss Moffy’s head and rub his small back while Lo bounces him lightly. We wait for a couple minutes before both Rose and Connor emerge from their bedroom together. Rose, in a black silk robe, has reddened, flushed cheeks. She looks more pissed than aroused.

  When she sees us, she points at Connor. “Blame him.”

  “What’d he do to you?” Lo asks in jest. “Steal your broomstick?”

  She glares. “I’m not telling you.” And then she stomps into the nursery with her husband. In an instant, Jane’s cries start to die down.

  “Thank God,” Lo mutters. Maximoff’s eyes start fluttering closed, his lips parted as he breathes.

  I smile at him, running my finger over his smooth cheek. “Do you think they’ll be friends?”

  “Who?” His brows scrunch. “Janie and Moffy?”

  I nod, trying not to smile too much at Jane’s nickname, also coined by Ryke. Connor and Rose have made a point not to use it, but it’s going to catch on by some people. And I envision Maximoff growing up with his best friend Janie.

  Even though he’ll never have siblings, he’ll have her. And I bet he’ll look after her too. If he’s anything like his dad, he’ll want to keep Jane safe.

  “As much as the idea of Rose’s spawn terrifies me,” Lo says in a quiet voice, setting Moffy back in his crib, “I would kind of love them being friends.”

  “Me too,” I whisper. After leaving the nursery, we both tiptoe back to our room, and when Lo shuts the door, his attention turns to me.

  His hands lower to my waist. “Finish what we started?”

  It takes me a moment to realize that he’s talking about sex. A light bursts in my brain, bright and beautiful. I’m not as evil as I thought I’d be.

  Lo said as much.

  “I love you,” I tell him. He’s my teammate. My sidekick. The person I want to tag in for every tough moment in my life. My very own Scott Summers.

  { 48 }

  LILY CALLOWAY

  I tweet: Getting ready for Hale Co. charity event with my sisters #raidingRoseCobaltcloset

  I attach a photo of Daisy and me jumping on Rose’s bed. I’m a bit blurry and flailing in the pic, but Daisy looks cool, her fists raised and platinum-blonde hair sticking up mid-bounce.

  “Try these on, Lily,” Rose says, splaying a gray Calloway Couture dress beside a lilac one on the edge of the bed. Right as I climb off the light blue comforter, my phone chimes in quick succession, a bunch of Twitter notifications.

  “Did you tweet?” Rose asks flatly. She tightens the strap to her silk robe. Like Daisy, I’m only in a bra and panties while we figure out what to wear. But I made sure we were fully-clothed when we took the earlier pic.

  “Maybe…” I hesitate. “The publicists never said no.” The response, at first, wasn’t what I wanted, I’ll admit. Celebrity Crush ate up a story about how I was “trying too hard” to promote Raisy. But the fans seem to like all the interaction. Like photos of Lo and my sisters. And status updates. Since Princesses of Philly ended, people are naturally curious about our daily lives.

  I’d rather give them the real story than the media create something fake. And with social media, we have the chance to do that. I even expressed this to my mom yesterday (in person) over coffee at Lucky’s and she agreed with me. Like really, really agreed.

  “Mom said it was a good idea,” I remind Rose.

  She rolls her eyes. “Of course she does. She wants our family to be relevant for as long as possible.”

  “But this is something in our control,” I express. “And we’re a part of a fandom.” There is nothing more exciting than that.

  Rose stays quiet on the matter, straightening the fabric of the gray dress, but I can tell she’s mulling over the idea of social media.

  I check the Twitter replies and smile.

  @ToriKPierce3: @lilycallowayX23 Lucky! I want to raid Rose’s closet too!

  @Pippa_Woo: @lilycallowayX23 ILY! OMG!

  “Speaking of fans,” Daisy says with a mischievous smile. She pulls out a manila package from her purse.

  I frown while Rose’s back arches in sisterly protection.

  “Security goes through fan mail now,” Rose retorts. She stopped opening the mail about the same time people were sending her black whips, ball gags, and amateur porn videos.

  “It’s not fan mail.” Daisy jumps up on the bed theatrically and pumps the package in the air. “I was browsing through fan sites, and I stumbled on a merchandise store.” She wags her brows, her grin so contagious that my lips curve upward.

  I snatch the lilac dress before it wrinkles and watch her open the package.

  Rose plants her hands on her hips, intrigue glimmering in her yellow-green eyes.

  Daisy reveals a pair of boy-short panties. She flashes me the butt. White letters say: I LOVE LOREN HALE! They even have a cute pink heart beside his name.

  I wear a dopey grin. “For me?”

  “Who else would they be for?” Rose snaps.

  I try to shoot her a withering glare, but hers kills mine in an instant. Oh well. I’m too happy anyway.

  Daisy tosses me the panties. “Will Lo like them?”

  I nod repeatedly, already imagining his surprise when he sees his name on my ass. “I’m wearing these to the party.”

  Rose rolls her eyes again. “You’re not having sex at the charity event.”

  “But I just like the idea of having him near my butt.” I realize that came out kind of wrong. “Not like that,” I add quickly and then frown. “Okay, kind of like that…I’m confused.”

  Rose sighs and ushers Daisy to keep opening the package. Rose likes presents, so maybe she’s expecting a bedazzled fan shirt for herself.

  Not too shy about changing in front of my sisters, I switch panties, and the new ones fit perfectly. Daisy bounces on the bed a little as she displays the next article of clothing. “I bought some too.” She shows off I LOVE RYKE MEADOWS! panties, only with a sun instead of a heart.

  “So cute,” I say with a bigger s
mile. “You should wear them tonight too.”

  She nods. “Definitely.”

  “Please tell me there is not a matching Connor Cobalt one,” Rose says with narrowed eyes. She is drilling holes into our littlest sister.

  “These are cute,” I remind Rose.

  She raises her hand at my face, and then Daisy chucks a pair of black cotton panties at Rose. I sidle next to her as she inspects them.

  Rose lets out an unamused laugh. “No.”

  They say: I LOVE CONNOR COBALT!

  A lipstick kiss included.

  “He’d love it,” I tell Rose. I can see his million-dollar grin at the mere thought of this saying on Rose’s ass.

  “Exactly,” she says. “I don’t need to pad his ego.”

  Daisy laughs. “It doesn’t say Connor Cobalt is the smartest guy ever. It just says that you love him.”

  I interject, “Exactly. Ha!”

  “Ha nothing,” Rose retorts, though the panties are still in her hands. And she still scrutinizes them more closely.

  Daisy springs off the bed, landing on her feet. While she changes panties, she tells Rose, “You’re not losing a game or anything. You’re winning it.”

  I nod repeatedly. “Daisy is right. You’re in a power position. You can tease him.” I touch my chest. “Trust me, I know. I’m a sexpert.” I never thought I’d be able to say that without blushing or feeling ashamed. I bite my gums to keep from smiling. I’m proud of myself, and it’s a weird thing to be. I revel in this triumph. I’m nearing the last stretch of a long bumpy road, bruised from falling, but still running. It feels good.

  “I’ll never live it down if I wear these,” Rose tells us, folding them neatly. She pauses, hesitates. And then begins unfolding. “Fuck it.” She takes off her panties beneath her black robe.

  Daisy and I hop together, cheering Rose on. “Put them on! Put them on!” we chant.

  She hisses at us to be quiet, her eyes on the door like someone is going to walk in any minute. They aren’t going to. It’s locked—

  The door swings open. I thought I locked it. Lo shuts it behind him, but thankfully Rose has already finished switching out her panties.

  “Loren!” Rose shouts, about to claw his face to shreds.