Landon & Shay - Part One: (The L&S Duet Book 1)

by Brittainy Cherry

  “You’re just so easy to turn on,” I pushed out, my head feeling dizzy. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be high—dazed, confused, fan-freaking-tastic.

  A slight moan escaped my lips as he pressed his hips up and kept them there. I closed my eyes in bliss as he began rubbing back and forth against my jeans. My forehead fell to his and my eyes fluttered shut.

  “Yes…” I whispered, which made him grind even more. My fingers landed on his shoulder blades and I dug in ever so slightly as he moved his lips to my neck and began sucking. “Yes…” I muttered once more, loving it more and more as he continued doing it.

  He groaned against my skin as his voice went deep and smoky. “Let me taste,” he begged, grunting against my neck.

  My mind was clouded, I could hardly breathe, and oh my gosh, how did this feel so good?

  “I…I’ve never…” I’d never had a boy go down on me before, and even though I wanted it, I heard Eleanor in the back of my head. This is a part of it…this is part of the game. “No,” I said hurriedly, leaping out of his lap. “No, no, no.”

  I stood up and shook my hands and kicked my legs around.

  He sat up straighter and cocked an eyebrow, though that wasn’t the only thing he was cocking up, that was for sure. His gold member was trying its best to burst right out of those sweatpants.

  Also, boys shouldn’t be allowed to wear sweatpants around us girls. It makes it almost impossible to think straight.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  I started pacing back and forth. “This is just part of the bet. I got caught up in the moment, but this is the bet.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “Shay, this isn’t the bet. This is just you and me right now.”

  “And what are we exactly?”

  “I don’t know, we’re just us. Look, you’re overthinking it.”

  “I’m not. I mean, I am, but I don’t know how not to. If the bet wasn’t hanging over my head, I would just be free willy about it and all, but the bet does exist, whether I like it or not. And I can’t just hook up with you, okay? I can’t.”

  “Okay.”

  He said it so effortlessly that I was completely thrown off once more. “Wait, what?”

  “I said okay. We don’t have to hook up or make out. Listen, I get that we have a game going on, and I get that you’re on red alert, but if I’m honest, real honest, I just like being around you. Do I want to screw your brains out? Yes, obviously. But am I okay waiting until you’re ready? Of course. Especially since you’re a virgin.”

  “What?” I stood up straight. “Who said I’m a virgin?”

  He snickered and pointed toward me. “That face right there. I wasn’t sure, but I wondered just based on how you tense up sometimes when we’re making out when my hands wander.”

  I felt embarrassed, exposed…like a child. He could tell I was a virgin, which obviously meant I was doing something wrong. But what? How?

  “Stop that,” he told me.

  “Stop what?”

  “Overthinking and chewing on your collar.”

  I dropped the shirt I hadn’t even noticed was in my mouth. “I just feel stupid, that’s all.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s clear I’m inexperienced, and you’re not.”

  “Chick.” He stood up and moved over to me. He placed his finger beneath my chin and raised my head to make sure our eyes were locked for his next words. “Kissing you feels like kissing heaven. You’re far from inexperienced. You being a virgin doesn’t change the fact that you’re the best kiss I’ve ever had. I could kiss you all day and not get sick of it. But you being a virgin? That’s a big deal, and I won’t take that from you until you’re willing to give it away. Okay?”

  I shyly nodded. “Okay.”

  “Also, just for future reference”—he moved his mouth to my ear, and his hot breath had every hair on my body standing straight up—“there are a million ways I can fuck you and keep you a virgin.”

  My cheeks heated up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He finally cleared his throat. “Okay, well, I’m going to run to the bathroom really fast and handle this, uh, issue in my pants. Then we can just talk and—fuck…” His voice faded as he realized my hand had slid into his sweatpants. My fingers wrapped around his hardness, and I began stroking it up and down slowly. My heart was pounding in my chest, and part of me worried Landon would hear it, but when I looked at him, his eyes were shut and there was a smile glued to his face. It was clear he wasn’t thinking about my wild heartbeats at all, because he had his own experience taking place.

  I wasn’t completely sure what I was doing. Everything I knew about hand jobs, I’d learned from Raine, Tracey, and Cosmopolitan. Heck, everything I knew about sex came from Raine, Tracey, and Cosmopolitan.

  As I stroked up and down, Landon seemed to like it, seemed pleased, which made me pleased. We moved back to the couch when I noticed his legs about to buckle, and as he sat down, I got on my knees and kept stroking, nice and slow.

  “More pressure,” he said as he exhaled between groans of pleasure. “You can hold it tighter, Shay. I promise you won’t break it.”

  I did as he said, and his smile grew even more.

  I pulled my hand out of his pants for a moment, slid my tongue along my palm, and slid it back in for more strokes.

  Cosmo hand jobs 101: Make him sweat, make it wet.

  “Yes…yes…and the head…rub the head…” He sighed, obviously enjoying every second of it.

  Odd kink, but okay.

  I cocked an eyebrow, and even though I didn’t understand completely, I did as he requested. I began rubbing his head with my free hand, tangling my fingers in his hair as I kept stroking at his privates.

  Within seconds, Landon burst out laughing, making me lean back, a little puzzled. “Not my head head, Shay. My dick head. The tip of my cock.”

  Oh.

  Well, that was shockingly embarrassing.

  I yanked my hand out of his pants, horrified, and covered my face with my hand. Then I realized I’d been stroking Landon’s penis with said hand and now I had penis face, and he was probably staring at me and my penis face and—

  Ohmygosh this is where I die.

  The complete horror that sat in my gut was nauseating, and I thought about darting out of his front door, transferring schools by Monday, and never seeing Landon and his stupid penis again.

  Bet’s off, Landon. Moving to Europe. Adios mi enemigo!

  “It’s okay.” He laughed.

  “It’s not,” I coughed out through my penis fingers that were still hiding my surely red face.

  “No, trust me, it is. These things happen when you’re figuring this stuff out.”

  “I doubt anything like this has ever happened to you.”

  “Trust me, it has.”

  I spread my fingers against my face and narrowed my eyes as I peeked his way. “Tell me.”

  He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, which I’d gone ahead and messed up for him. “Okay. The first time I ever went down on a girl, I was going at it like a madman, licking, slurping, having a damn feast, and when I asked if she was enjoying it, she replied, ‘Uh, that’s the back door, not the front.’”

  “Oh my gosh…” My hands dropped to the ground, along with my jaw. “You ate a girl’s butthole?!”

  “You don’t have to sound so entertained by it,” he spat out, but I couldn’t help it. The fit of giggles wouldn’t stop escaping me. He wrinkled his nose. “Stop laughing,” he ordered, but I couldn’t.

  The squeals kept flying out of my mouth at a rapid speed, and I bent over into a howling fit at the idea of young, naïve Landon licking a girl’s butthole.

  “Stop,” he ordered again, but with a slight smirk on his face. I couldn’t have stopped if I’d wanted to; it was all too perfect and wrong.

  The more I laughed, the bigger his smirk grew. Then, he leaped toward me, tackling my body. “Fine, if you want to laug
h so much, let me help.” He began tickling me, making me burst into more laughter. I was rolling back and forth, trying to break away from him, but he kept tickling me nonstop. “Surrender!” he commanded.

  “Okay, okay, I surrender!”

  “Say Landon is the best and Shay was wrong for laughing at him.”

  “Landon is the best and Shay was wrong for laughing at him,” I echoed.

  “Okay then.” He stopped tickling me, and I instantly missed his fingers running along my skin.

  Our breaths were both heavy and tired from the wrestling. He boxed me in with his body and lowered his face so it was inches from mine. I pressed my hands to his chest and felt his heart beating. It was wild, erratic, untamed—like mine.

  “Kiss me,” I whispered.

  He did as I said.

  “Again.”

  Another kiss.

  And again, and again, and again…

  We molded together, and his crotch pressed against me. The air that had been laced with laughter was now filled with desire. The stiffness in his pants came back, and I was thankful for that fact.

  If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.

  “Couch,” I whispered.

  He moved without needing me to say anything else. As he sat down, I returned to my kneeling position.

  His eyes stayed locked with mine. “You don’t have to do this, Shay,” he promised, and I knew that.

  But I wanted to do it. I wanted to please him and his head, and this time I was going to give the right head the pleasure.

  I started slow again, and the way he grew in my grip turned me on more than I’d known it could. I picked up speed, and my thumb circled the top of him.

  “Yes, that, oh my gosh, yeah…” he moaned. “Geez, Shay…right…oh fuck…”

  Each time he groaned in pleasure, I felt myself getting more and more turned on. I began thrusting my hips in sync with the motion of my hand. Up and down, up and down, up and…

  “Babe...” I liked the sound of that. He’d never called me babe before. “Shay, right there…” I liked it even more when he moaned my name as if I controlled his mind and heart with my touches. “I’m going to…Shay, I’m going to…pull away,” he warned, but I didn’t.

  I kept stroking, up and down, up and down, harder, harder…my hips grinding against the air as my hand ground against his rod.

  “Fuckkkkk,” he groaned as his body tensed up and he released himself into my hand. I kept stroking, feeling elated and hot, and horny, and proud.

  It felt so good to make him feel that way, too.

  I pulled my hand out of his sweats and slowly licked my fingers as he watched. It was salty and disgusting, but I tried my best to play it off.

  He laughed. “You don’t have to do that,” he promised. “You can just wash it off. Trust me, you did enough. Geez…” he muttered, collapsing against the couch. “That was everything. You. Are. Everything.”

  I went to the bathroom to clean myself up, and before I washed my hands, I stood in front of the mirror and finished licking my fingers clean.

  I found that I did actually like it. I liked how he tasted on my tongue.

  When I was done, I headed out to the living room, where I found Landon wearing a different set of sweatpants. He smirked my way.

  “Truth or dare?” he asked me as I plopped down on the couch beside him.

  “Truth.”

  “I truth you to take off your pants.”

  I laughed and threw a pillow at him.

  He shrugged and tossed his hands up in defeat. “I had to try.”

  Fair enough.

  I shifted around in place and crossed my arms. “Can I make a change to the rules of our game?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?”

  “We have to make it real. Only our truths, no lies. No more pranks. No trying to make each other swoon or trying to get under each other’s skin just in an attempt to win the game. I need you to be you—the realest version of you, and I’ll be the realest version of me. Then, if one of us falls in love, that’s game. That’s how we’ll determine a winner, by being real.”

  He grimaced and rubbed his chin repeatedly. “Only truths?”

  “Only truths.”

  A sigh rolled through him, and he lowered his head a bit before looking up and locking his stare with mine. “I think that’s an unfair playing field.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because my truths aren’t really something worth loving.”

  Oh, Landon.

  Just those words alone made my heart ache.

  “I think that’s for me to decide, not you,” I said. At first, he hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he was willing to show me his dark sides, to open up in a way I was certain he’d never opened up before. But there I was, holding out an olive branch, giving him a chance to be real for the first time in forever.

  “Come on, Landon,” I whispered, giving him a small smile. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  His brow knitted, but then he gave me a small smirk. It was so tiny that I almost missed it, but luckily, I was studying him from all angles.

  “I’m not good at talking about my feelings, really. I kind of close up,” he confessed.

  “Okay.” I walked over to my backpack and pulled out a spare notebook and a pen. “If you can’t talk about them, then write them down in here and let me read your thoughts.”

  “Do you always have spare notebooks lying around?”

  I laughed. “Doesn’t everyone?” I took the pen and wrote a question on the first page for Landon to answer. “Here. Just reply to the question whenever you feel like it and leave it in my locker. You can write a question, too, and you can ask me anything. We don’t even have to discuss whatever we write out loud. We can just read each other’s truths and go from there. Deal?” I held my hand out for him to confirm our agreement.

  He shook my hand. “Deal.”

  As we touched, a spark raced through my system, and I probably held on to his hand a second too long…or he held on to mine too long. Either way, we were holding each other, and we didn’t let go too fast.

  I liked the way it felt when his skin touched my skin.

  When the feeling became too big, I dropped his hand. “I should probably be getting home actually. It’s pretty late.”

  “Wow, a hit-it-and-quit-it kind of thing. I feel used, Chick.”

  “Well maybe someday I’ll let you use me back,” I shot back, and a part of me was shocked that the words even left my mouth. “Walk me to my car?”

  “Of course.”

  We walked out and he opened my car door for me like the gentleman I’d never thought him to be, and I thanked him. “Oh wait, one last question,” I said.

  “What is it?”

  I pushed my tongue in my cheek and wiggled my nose. “Was there any leftover tissue in her butt from wiping, and if so, did you accidentally swallow it?”

  He shook his head, laughing. “I hate you so much.”

  “I hate you, too.”

  “Yeah, well, I hate you the most,” he promised before he leaned in and kissed my forehead.

  It felt so much more intimate than anything we’d done before. Forehead kisses had officially become my favorite thing he had given to me.

  “Drive safe, Chick,” he said before stepping away. As I drove home, the butterflies in my stomach remained, and every time I thought about my hand wrapped around his hardness, every time I envisioned his face as I brought him to completion, my whole body would heat up all over again.

  When I arrived home, I felt as if I were floating on air. My heart was soaring from my interaction with Landon, but all of that came to a crashing halt when the reality of my life at home slammed back into me.

  It was quiet, calm as a river moving downstream. I couldn’t think of the last time it felt that tranquil at my house, but it wasn’t a peaceful calmness. It was terrifying.

  “What’s going on?” I asked as I wa
lked into the living room.

  Mima stood there with her coat on and three suitcases at her side. There were also a few boxes stacked up beside the suitcases.

  Mom looked up from the dining room table and stood up. She walked toward me, and I noticed the puffiness of her eyes right away. “Shay…we’d thought you’d be back a little bit later, but—”

  “What’s going on?” I repeated, cutting her off.

  Mima smiled my way, the saddest smile I’d ever seen. I hadn’t had a clue that Mima had the ability to give sad smiles. That was enough to break my heart.

  “We’ve all decided it might be best if I move into my own place. I’m going to be staying in a small apartment down the way.”

  What? No. “You can’t leave. This is your home. We are your home,” I choked out, feeling my body began to tremble. Mima couldn’t leave us. She was the key to the strength of our household. She was the anchor that kept us grounded, and without her there…

  We’ll collapse.

  “Mima, no. Put your stuff away. This is silly,” I argued, moving over to her suitcases. “This is your home. You can’t go.”

  “Shay—” Mom cut in, but I snapped at her.

  “Is this because of Dad?” I barked, my chest feeling as if it were on fire. “Is this because of him? If so, he should be the one to go. I smelled it, too, Mom. I smelled the alcohol on his breath. I bet you did too, didn’t you? And did he ever explain how he could afford those earrings? Mom, he lied. He lied to us, not Mima. He should be gone, not her,” I said, my voice shaky with anger. How was this happening? How was my grandmother the one being pushed out when my father was the liar?

  This isn’t right.

  “Shay, please understand,” Mom said, her eyes watering over. “This wasn’t an easy decision.”

  “It’s not a decision at all, because she’s not leaving. Tell her, Mima,” I begged, shifting my stare to my grandmother. Her eyes were watery too, which broke my heart even more. Mima was strong. She didn’t cry. She didn’t break. She was our strength.