Keeping 13: Boys of Tommen #2

by Chloe Walsh

  I could feel him, hard as steel between my legs, rubbing and grinding against my most private of areas and I moaned, shifting closer, wanting more than anything for him to just press harder.

  "Christ." His hands roamed all over my body. "You feel so good." His hand slipped under the hem of my shirt, fingers grazing my side. "Taste so fucking perfect."

  His hands were everywhere; on my legs, on my hips, in my hair. He touched me everywhere except where I needed him to and that only seemed to make me more frantic – more desperate for him.

  I was behaving like a deranged maniac but I just couldn’t contain myself a second longer. I could feel the aching want I had for him deep in my bones, driving me on, encouraging me to push for more. Heat pooled inside of me; a deep, unsettling, throbbing ache.

  His tongue and fingers only seemed to intensify that throbbing sensation until I was literally pulsing down there. My heart was beating at a hundred miles an hour, the passion and driving need making my movements reckless and clumsy, as my body instinctively chased after an unfamiliar feeling that only his body could provide.

  I was a virgin, but that didn't mean I was clueless about sex. I read enough books, watched enough movies, and listened to enough stories to know all about the male body and orgasms. And even though I'd never felt one before, I was well aware that the tingling jolts of pleasure rippling through me every time Johnny thrust his hips against me, were a small promise of pleasure.

  Oh my god, I might come, the sudden thought sparked to life inside of my mind, causing me to moan into his mouth and buck my hips in encouragement, I think he's going to make me come.

  Reveling in the feeling of being pinned beneath him, and clouded by lust, I slipped a hand between our bodies and touched the front of his school trousers, shivering when my hand came into contact with his erection.

  "Don't, baby," Johnny groaned into my mouth, pulling my hand away and pinning it above my head. "Or I'll lose it."

  "Are you sore?" I breathed, panting against his lips. "Does it hurt?"

  "You're killing me, Shan," Johnny groaned and buried his face in my neck. "Fuck, baby." Nipping and suckling my flesh, he kissed a trail from my collarbone to my lips before thrusting his tongue into my mouth once more.

  I couldn't take it.

  I honestly couldn't.

  Desperate for more, I slid my hands under his school shirt and clawed at the taut, rippling skin beneath. My fingers on his stomach did something to Johnny, because he pressed me deeper into the mattress, moving harder against me. The hand he was using to pin mine traveled to my leg.

  Cupping the fleshy part of my thigh, he hitched my leg up higher and rocked his hips into me. His fingers dug into my skin so hard that I felt my tights rip, but I didn't care. He could rip them to shreds and I wouldn't stop him. Moving higher, I felt his fingertips trace the edge of my knickers. He hesitated and I felt like crying. Frustrated, I hooked my fingers into his waistband and tugged hard. That was all the encouragement he needed; his hand slipped behind me to palm my ass, squeezing and pulling me closer to him as he continued to rub against me.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it was entirely inappropriate to be rolling around on my best friend's bed with my boyfriend, but my brain could only hone in on the word boyfriend. Everything else was inconsequential in this moment because Johnny was my boyfriend, and my boyfriend had me on my back, making my body shake and tremble. It was the only male touch I'd ever welcomed. He was big and masculine and was using all of his strength to make me feel good.

  In this moment, I didn't care about my family or my bullies, I didn't fear the unknown and I wasn't worrying; all I could think about was the desperate need I had inside to just link with him in every way possible.

  The sound of foil crackling broke through my lust-filled thoughts and I jerked when something sharp stabbed my thigh. "What's that?" I asked, sounding breathless as I tore my lips from his. I rolled my hips and felt the sting again. "Ouch."

  "Are you okay?" Concern flickered in Johnny's eyes, drowning out the desire, and he quickly pulled back to kneel between my legs. "Shit, did I hurt you?"

  "No, it wasn't you –" Patting the mattress, my hand stumbled on several sharp-edged packets. "It was this," I breathed, raising one of the little square packets up for inspection. My body flooded with heat when I registered what I was holding. "Uh, these must have fallen out of your pocket," I mumbled, glancing down at the pile of condoms on either side of my waist. "They must have fallen out of your pocket," I corrected, counting sixteen condoms – seventeen including the one I was holding.

  Johnny stared down at the condom in my hand, blinked several times, and then shot off the bed faster than I'd ever seen him move on a pitch. "Jesus Christ," he strangled out, running a hand through his hair. "It's not what it looks like, I swear." Muttering a string of curse words, he began to pace the floor. "Fucking Gibsie," he bit out, jaw clenched. "He's going to ruin my life."

  "Gibsie?"

  "They're his," Johnny choked out. "Not mine."

  "Oh." Pulling myself up on my elbows, I watched him stalk around the room like a madman. "Okay."

  "I'm just holding onto them for him," he hurried to add, still pacing. "I did not bring those over here for any other reason than I forgot they were in my pockets."

  "It's fine."

  "For fuck's sake," he groaned, stopping to cup the back of his head. "I wouldn't…I mean I'm not…I didn't expect to have sex with you."

  "You didn't?"

  "What?" He gaped at me. "No, Shannon, of course I didn't."

  "Oh." I glanced down at the condoms before looking back at him. "Why?"

  "Because I –" His mouth fell open and it took him a few moments to recover. "Wait – what?"

  "Uh, nothing," I mumbled, embarrassed. "It doesn't matter."

  "You want to have sex?" he pressed, watching me warily. "Is that what you're saying?"

  "I don't know." Nervous, I stood on the other side of the bed, with my back to the window, watching him back with equal wariness. "I mean, I'll do it if you want to?"

  "Is that a trick – what the –are you – fuck!" Holding a hand up, Johnny placed his other hand on the top of his head and took several deep, steadying breaths. He looked like he was about to explode as he rolled his lips between his teeth and eyeballed me. "Just give me a minute."

  I nodded. "Okay."

  "I'm not having sex with you," he finally said when words found him again. His voice was torn, his expression pained. "We're not having sex, Shannon," he reiterated, voice strained. "It's not happening."

  Oh god.

  "I'm sorry." Flustered and mortified beyond belief, I quickly pushed my skirt back down. "It was a stupid…I don't even know what I was thinking – I mean, of course you don't want to – ugh, just forget it –"

  "I want to," he quickly corrected. "Believe me, I want to. I promise. But I just can't."

  "Oh." My gaze flicked to the tent he was pitching in his grey school trousers. "Because you're still sore?"

  "No, baby," he choked out, throwing a hand up. "Because you're not ready."

  "But I said I'd do it if you wanted to," I whispered.

  "Exactly," Johnny groaned loudly. "You said if I wanted to – not because you wanted to." Shaking his head, he walked over to the bed and sank down. "It's way too soon."

  "But when you were with Bella you were having –" I snapped my mouth shut and hovered by the window, watching him. "Never mind."

  "Jesus," Johnny muttered, dropping his head in his hands. "Is that what you think I want?" When I didn't respond, he straightened up and looked at me. "Come here." He patted the mattress beside him. "Come sit with me for a bit."

  I watched him carefully for a moment before letting my shoulders sag in defeat and walking over to sit down.

  "Talk to me," he said quietly. "Tell me what's going on inside that head of yours."

  "I just…" I stopped short and tensed up, unable to get the words out.

  "Y
ou just what, Shannon?"

  "Nothing."

  "Talk to me."

  "I just want you to want me in all the ways you wanted her," I blurted out and then flamed in embarrassment.

  "No." Johnny shook his head. "You don’t want that."

  "But I really do," I admitted glumly.

  "So, you just want me to want to fuck you?" he demanded, tone heated. "You want me to only want sex from you? To fuck you and spend the entire time wondering how fast I can get away from you?" He stared hard at me, daring me to tell him yes. "Or wonder how long is socially acceptable to stick around after pulling out of you? Five minutes? Half an hour? Do I have to kiss and cuddle you or can I leave and wash the smell of you off my body? Because that's how it was with her." He ran a hand through his hair and growled. "There were no feelings involved. It was sex and nothing else."

  "No, I don't want that," I admitted quietly. "I just want to be what you want."

  "You are," he urged, tone heated. "I don't want what I had with Bella. I want what I have with you."

  "You promise?"

  "I fucking promise, Shannon!" Leaning forward, Johnny rested his elbows on his thighs and exhaled heavily. "Listen to me; Bella was a mistake." He grimaced as he spoke her name. "I think I knew she was a mistake even when I was fucking– uh, making the mistake," he quickly amended, casting a guilty look in my direction. "I was disconnected and I wanted to feel something for little while." He sighed again. "I could see my friends and the lads on the team with girlfriends and all that shite. Like Hughie and Katie? Christ, even Gibs and Claire. And I don’t know, Shan, they all seemed so carefree, so fucking reckless about it, that I was jealous." He looked at me when he said, "It gets lonely when you're traveling on one path and all of your friends are on another path together, and I guess I just craved some sort of connection with something or someone other than rugby. But it never happened for me." Straightening back up, he rested a hand on the mattress and turned to face me. "I just couldn’t, you know? I've never been able to connect with anyone like that." He shrugged helplessly, blue eyes locked on mine. "Until one day, I looked up from my life and there you were. All blue eyes and full of secrets." He cleared his throat several times before saying, "And I've never felt more connected."

  "Johnny…"

  "No, hear me out, Shan," he hurried to say, resting a hand on mine. "I can only tell you what I know," he added, tone hoarse, eyes heated. "And that's from the very first day you walked into my life, you changed me. That very first time I saw you? You sparked to life something inside of me." Releasing a heavy sigh, he shrugged, eyes locked on mine. "And I haven't been the same since."

  My heart galloped wildly in my chest. "Really?"

  He nodded slowly as a small smile crept across his face. "Boom."

  I blew out a shaky breath. "Boom."

  "So, to answer all those fucked up thoughts in your pretty head, I don't want Bella or anything even remotely like what I had with her," he continued. "I want what we have together. I want our friendship. I want your company. I want our conversations. I just want time with you. And I'm not in any rush. I don’t want you to feel like you don’t know where this is going, or when I'm kissing you that I'm looking for more than you're ready to give. I won't do that to you. I won't take what you can't give, and I won't push, okay?" He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Sex isn't even important. It's just one fucking part of it – a part that can wait for as long you want."

  He was right.

  Oh god, he was totally right.

  Mortification swamped me.

  "I don't think I'm ready, Johnny," I whispered, cheeks flaming.

  "I know," he replied, smirking. "And that's okay."

  There wasn't an ounce of hesitation in his voice, and I clung to his certainty. "Okay," I croaked out, shifting closer.

  "You make me happy," he whispered. "I want to stick with that. I want to stick with you."

  "Johnny…" my voice trailed off as I contemplated the importance of what he'd just said. "You make me happy, too."

  "And I think I owe you another pair of tights." He poked at the huge ladder in my tights and shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry."

  I smiled. "It doesn't matter."

  Smiling, he lifted his arm and I slid into the space. "I like where we are, Shan." His words curled around my heart like a comfort blanket. "We'll get there when we get there," he added after a contented pause of silence. "I'm not in any hurry." I felt his lips brush the top of my head. "Not with you."

  33

  Thank You, Jesus

  Johnny

  I was a saint.

  No joke.

  I was fairly sure I deserved a medal for the self-restraint I displayed in Claire's bedroom earlier. I doubted there was another lad my age with feelings for a girl like the ones I had for Shannon – for a girl who looked like Shannon – that could have stopped that from progressing.

  Hours later and I was still coming to terms with the best and worst thing I had ever done. Because I wanted inside that girl more than my next breath and having her dangle her virginity in front of my nose like a fucking Grand Slam medal was the worst kind of temptation. But I did the right thing, dammit. I stopped it. I put what she needed before what I wanted, and that knowledge put me somewhat at peace. So afterwards, when I had smoothed things over and we went downstairs, I drank hot chocolate with her friend, I made the small talk, I provided the reassurance I knew she needed from me, and I reined in Gibsie as best as I could, and I did all this with the worst case of blue balls known to man.

  When Sinead Biggs came in from work a little after nine and gave me and Gibs our marching orders, I could have wept with joy. As messed up as it sounded, I was relieved the woman had showed up and kicked us out, because I needed a timeout.

  I needed to go home, and fast, because I couldn't take it anymore.

  It had been over five fucking months, and pain or not, I was going to come.

  Even if it killed me, dammit.

  I could hardly speak a word the entire drive back to my house. The anticipation was killing me and I was racked with nerves. Fear, excitement, and lust were the dominant emotions rushing through my body, driven forward by the memory of Shannon on her back, with me between her legs.

  Thankfully, Gibsie was brooding silently in the driver's seat and didn't turn off the engine when he pulled up outside my house. Instead, he offered a half-hearted, "I'll pick you up in the morning, lad," before returning to staring out the windscreen.

  I had no clue what was wrong with him – I presumed he was sulking over being thrown out by Claire's mother – but right now I couldn't worry about it because I was going to fuck myself, dammit, and his problems weren't my top priority.

  When I stepped inside my house, I had a feeling Jesus Christ himself was looking down on me because my mother was on a work call, barking orders into a headset while she paced the kitchen floor with a folder in her hand. I swear to God, I could have dropped to my knees and broke out in prayer at the sight. When she tried to make eye contact with me, I quickly hurried upstairs, using the crutch more for her sake than mine.

  Temporarily evicting Sookie from my room, I swung the door shut and started ripping off my clothes. Why I felt the need to strip down bollocks naked, I would never understand, but I was burning the hell up and needed the reprieve.

  Feeling a fucked-up concoction of excitement and fear rush through my body, I sat, still as a statue on the edge of my bed, and stared down at my fully erect dick.

  Here it goes…

  With my entire body coiled tight with tension, I dropped a hand and held my breath, waiting for the pain I was so damn used to feeling – the one I associated with my dick.

  One stroke…

  Two strokes…

  Three tentative strokes…

  When the pain didn’t come, I released the breath I'd been holding in, flopped onto my back, and stared up at the ceiling. "Thank you, Jesus."

  Closing my eyes, I drummed up every d
epraved image I had of Shannon and went to town on myself.

  34

  Flashing Lights and New Information

  Shannon

  My body was coiled tight with tension the entire drive back to my house. The familiar feeling of dread had resumed its post of strangling the good out of my day. All thoughts of Johnny had retreated back into the box in my mind that I kept him safe inside of, as I numbed out all emotions and switched into survival mode. It was like locking sunshine in an old, cobwebbed chest, not trusting the darkness around me not to taint it.

  Like a sixth sense buried deep down inside of me, I knew there was trouble before I saw it. I could feel my body temperature dipping to the point of arctic, with my blood turning to ice in my veins. Every muscle in my body locked tight with fearful anticipation.

  I wasn't naïve enough to try and assure myself that everything was fine this time. The sight of my house lit up like a Christmas tree, with every window flooding yellow orbs of light, and the line of cars parked next to the usually deserted footpath outside, not to mention the blue and yellow Garda car, was sign enough that my silent affirmations would indeed be fruitless ones.

  "Shannon, pet," Mrs. Biggs said in a concerned tone when she pulled up outside of my house. "Is everything okay?"

  "It's probably fine," I croaked out, quickly unfastening my seatbelt, as the jagged claws of panic tore at my gut. "Thanks for the spin, Mrs. Biggs," I added, reaching for the door handle.

  "Wait – would you like me to come with you?" Claire's mother asked, tone laced with tenderness, as she placed a hand on my shoulder. "I can park up, honey, and walk you in –"