by Lauren Helms
My hand wanders to her stomach as I capture her mouth for another deep kiss. Suddenly, she pulls away, gasping a little when the fresh night air hits her lungs. I pull back, just slightly, and smirk as I take in the sight of her.
"I'm a virgin," she sputters, and the smirk falls right off my face. "I thought I should tell you, in case that's a problem."
I shouldn't be surprised at this revelation. She's so damn sheltered, it doesn't make sense for a girl who wasn't allowed any freedom, hardly any outside relationships to have sexual experience. Deep down, I thought her and Cameron might have done something.
The thought of him, or anyone else for that matter, with their hands on her makes my blood boil. This means, if she lets me, I’ll be her first. While that's normally not something I seek out, because it's Zella, the thought makes me about ten times harder than I already am.
"So you thought now was a good time?" I joke.
"Well, it didn't seem right to just mention it on the drive here, or at the Cuddle Duck, or you know, in front of Fred and Anna." She huffs, and it's fucking cute.
"I know, Blondie. Now was the right time." I lean in and kiss her nose.
Her breath hitches.
"I'm glad you told me, but what does that mean for us?" I readjust myself because having this conversation with a giant boner digging into her heat is just fucking distracting.
She swallows and nods. "Right. Well. I'd like...." She's having trouble spitting it out, so I lean in and kiss her cheek.
"What do you want, Blondie?" I whisper.
"I want to have sex with you." She says with all the confidence in the world. A slow grin grows across my face.
"That's good to hear because I want to have sex with you too." I can't help but chortle.
"You do?" She's surprised, and if I could hang my head, I would.
Instead, I lean in and rest my forehead on hers. "Very much so, Zella. I've wanted you for a while. Thought I made that clear last night."
"I guess you did, but I don't have a lot of experience with this kinda stuff, so I wasn't positive."
"Well, now you know." I lean in and kiss her other cheek. Now that I've started, I can't stop.
"So, what now?" she asks as I kiss down her jaw.
"Now, we head inside and go to bed. We're not going to have sex for the first time, on a scratchy blanket, in the backyard of your parents’ house."
She giggles.
"When I make love to you for the first time, it will be in a bed, where we are alone and at no risk of being interrupted, and I'm going to take my time. I'm going to kiss every inch of your body and make sure your first time is nothing short of amazing."
She shivers.
I kiss back up the path I just made down her neck. "You like the sound of that, Blondie?"
"Yeah," she breathes.
I'm tempted to take her right here and now, but this needs to be special. Reluctantly, I pull away.
"But right now, we are going to bed. I knew we don't leave until lunch, but I could spend hours devouring you, and I don't want to drive on little sleep." I roll from my side and push up off the ground.
"Fine," she slights with mock annoyance. "Whatever you want to do."
I chuckle as I wait for her to stand, then I fold up the blanket.
We walk hand in hand back to the house. It's not terribly late, but I expect to toss and turn with sexual frustration for a good while tonight. The longer I spend with her, the more I'll want to say "fuck the waiting". With us staying in the Cornors’ guest rooms, I know it would be in poor taste to do all the things I want to do to her here. Gotta be fucking patient.
Outside of Zella's room, I pull her in and give her the sweetest goodnight kiss, leaving the pixie breathless.
"Night, Blondie." I pull myself away from her and walk a few feet to my own door. "See ya in the morning."
She mutters something in the dreamy tone of hers and slips into her room.
I fall asleep with a damn grin on my face and hand on my dick, with thoughts of Zella naked in my bed.
Talk about sweet fucking dreams.
Fred and Anna see us off right after an early lunch. The send-off is teary but hopeful. They make plans for Zella to come out over Christmas break. Though she doesn't want to leave them yet, she's in good spirits on the way home. Unlike the start of our trip, when she couldn't get a grip on her guilt. I'm curious to see if she ends up telling her mother about the meeting, but I don't dare bring it up right now. I refuse to ruin the moment.
Zella is once again singing to the music feeding through the car stereo. She's wearing a light pink skirt that comes to her knees but rides up every time she shifts in the seat. I have to say, it's making my mouth water being able to see the creamy skin of her thighs. We've been holding hands, but I can't hold back any longer.
Letting go of her hand, which is resting on the armrest between us, I reach over and place it on her upper thigh. I look at her from my peripheral vision and wait for her to grow uncomfortable. Instead, she weaves her arm through mine and continues to sing along.
After a few minutes, my fingers itch for her skin. I brush my thumb under the hem of her skirt. Still no reaction. Moments pass, and I casually adjust my hand fully under the hem and up a few inches. This time she smiles.
Just as I consider trying my luck at moving further up her thigh, she giggles.
"You might want to save it for the hotel tonight, big guy. I'm not sure I want roadside sexy time starting out."
I push out my bottom lip in a pout and move my hand back to where I started but leave us skin to skin.
"You have a point, Blondie." Once we get her good and sexed up in the bedroom, roadside sexy time is back on the table for sure. I'm personally adding that to her bucket list.
Unable to keep my thoughts off of sex, I decide some conversation is necessary to keep my sanity in check.
"I've been thinking about your bucket list." Taking my eyes off the road briefly, I find that I've got her attention.
"Oh yeah? Tell me about such thoughts." She props her elbow on the middle console armrest and leans her chin on her fist.
"How serious are you about getting a tattoo?"
"Very. I know what I want." She leans down and pulls something out of her bag, a thin journal. She flips through it, and I realize it's not a journal, but a drawing pad. She turns it my way, and there are several sketches of a whimsical sunflower, but in the center is a tiny firefly. The drawing is feminine, but not at all childish, which is what some girls get when they go with flowers or animals.
"That's wonderfully you, Blondie." I smile at her, and she sets the pad in her lap. "I've got a buddy who has his own studio. He did a couple of my older tattoos. With just a short detour, he'd be an easy stop. It would only set us back a couple of hours. It would get us to the hotel later, but I'm good to drive."
"I love this idea. I was going to ask you to take me anyway, since I don't know anything about tattoos. And I'm ready to get it today." She slides her drawing pad back into her bag after gifting me with the brightest smile.
God damn, she's gorgeous.
15
Zella
"To be clear, Blondie, not all tattoo parlors are created equal. You want to make sure you do your research before you get a tat. James's place is top-notch, up to code, and clean. Some places are not."
The space we are in is part of a strip of small retail shops in the middle of a tiny college town. The shops range from clothing boutiques and a dog treat bakery, to what you could refer to as hippie-type stores. There are tons of restaurants and bars and even a late-night cookie delivery shop. At eight at night, the streets are full of college-aged students. The music from the bars and street chatter carries in through the tattoo parlor windows as Ryker and I sit in the empty lobby at the front of the store.
The parlor closed to the public an hour ago, but the owner, James, was thrilled when Ryker called, and he offered to open it up for us to both get tattoos. I'm a mix of exci
tement and nerves as we wait for James to transfer my tattoo to his guide. I hadn't done a lot of research on the art of tattooing, but Ryker said they could use my drawing to create a guide, and then I would have my own artwork as my tattoo.
I clutch the notebook, that holds the recently ripped out page, and look around at all the artwork on the walls. I take it all in.
"Nervous, Blondie?" Ryker asks as he grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth and places a soft kiss on my knuckles. Since last night under the stars, he hasn't been able to keep his hands to himself.
I can say with absolute certainty that I love every minute of it.
"Yes, but in a good way," I tell him, leaning into him so I can place my head on his shoulder. "Are you getting a tattoo tonight?"
"I wasn't planning on it. The one I want to get is going to take a while, and I don't want to be here all night." He kisses the top of my head.
"How long do you think mine will take?"
"Probably about thirty minutes or so," James answers as he walks out from the hall that leads to the back. "I'm all ready for you, Zella, if you guys want to just follow me back."
We stand and do just that. The area is an open space with three work stations. There are two small rooms, and then the hallway continues further back. I look around, eying the tiny rooms before sitting down in a dentist-like chair.
"Those rooms are for piercings and tattoos that you wouldn't want other customers to see," James says as he sits on a stool next to the chair.
"Why get a tattoo if you don't want anyone to see it?" I frown.
Besides me, Ryker snickers, and James nods.
"Oh, no. I mean in places on the body, like in the genital area or on the ass." He waves a hand over his crotch, and my face flushes instantly. I must be as red as a tomato because Ryker laughs harder.
"Blondie, people get a lot of things done here that others might not want to see, let alone think about." He takes his own seat on a stool from a nearby station. Using his feet, he rolls himself next to me.
"All right, you said you wanted to do this on your shoulder, so you're gonna have to take your shirt off." James gathers some supplies. Thank goodness I'm wearing a thin camisole under my shirt. I'm not totally down with Ryker seeing me in my bra for the first time with another guy in the room.
I hand my discarded top to Ryker, and he surprises me when he folds it carefully and sets it in his lap.
While he didn't grow up with an easy life, he's never known hard labor, but he's got a little bit of a gruff look. He's a mix between clean-cut and bad boy, and I can't get enough. While I haven't had a chance to see them all, I know he has several tattoos. The boots on his feet make him look like he fits in at the Cuddle Duck more than he does at Camelot University.
So the gentleness he uses with my shirt, the delicate way he reaches for my hand, and the sweet smile he gives me, heats me from my core. I cross my legs and squeeze my thighs shut at the thought of him finding out just how gone I am for him right now.
His sweet smile fades into a knowing smirk and wink just as James asks me if I'm ready. He instructs me on how to sit, which brings me face to face with Ryker.
James informs me, "It's going to pinch, a fuck ton. Since there is less meat back here on your shoulder blade, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch. You sure you want it in this spot?." I bite my bottom lip and nod. I’ve always wanted a tattoo here, I don’t want to back down from a little pain.
"All right, here we go," he says from behind.
I slam my eyes shut, and Ryker places a kiss on my forehead right as the first pinch of the ink stains my skin. I don't know if the pain was offset by his kiss, but the feel of the tattoo machine on my skin barely registers on my pain scale.
Ryker chats with me and catches up with James over the next half-hour, and before I know it, the sound of the gun stops, and James tells me he's done. He grabs a hand mirror, and we walk over to the floor-length mirror.
I lay eyes on my new tattoo.
A feeling of breathlessness washes over me at the meaningful image on my shoulder. "It's perfect," I whisper.
James smiles and walks back to his station. I meet Ryker's eyes in the mirror, and I'm struck by the lust I see in them. Breaking the connection, I turn back to James, and he tells me about how he's going to bandage it up and how to care for it.
As we head back up to the front, I ask James about the bill, and he tells me that it's been taken care of. I start to object, but he interrupts me. "I owed Ryker a tattoo, so don't worry about it." His smile is warm; I can tell an argument would get me nowhere.
We say our goodbyes, and Ryker promises to visit James over the summer break.
It's a little past nine when we decide to grab a bite to eat before finding a place to stay for the night. Even though Ryker was willing to drive some more, it's late. I really don't care if we get home later than we planned tomorrow.
After burgers, fries, and milkshakes, we stop by the cookie shop and buy some for the road tomorrow. That's my excuse at least, Ryker jokes that all the cookies will be eaten before we fall asleep.
We are able to find a tiny motel, ten minutes outside of town, with only one room left.
Ryker carries both of our bags, and I grip the key in my hand as we climb the rickety stairs to the second floor.
"I don't have high hopes. This place isn’t as nice as the last one we stayed at," he mumbles.
When I unlock the door, we are greeted with a sparse room. A slight musty smell hits my nose, but it's not completely unpleasant. It isn't the smell or the lack of decor in the room that garners my attention, it's the full size, singular bed in the middle of the room that makes me gulp.
A strange feeling runs through my veins. I'm excited for what's to come with Ryker; I'm ready to lose a piece of me that I've held so close for so long. Ryker feels right—he's the right person to do this with. I hope, not just once or twice. At the same time, I'm nervous. What if I'm not good at the whole sex thing? I'm not a sexy person, I'm inexperienced and innocent. I need to find my inner confidence, so I overcome the unsureness of it all.
I watch Ryker walk across the room, he lays my duffel on top of the tiny dresser under the television and places his on the floor.
"I'm going to grab a quick shower." He fishes through his bag and disappears into the bathroom. Seconds later, the shower turns on.
I let out a breath and walk to my own bag to find a pair of sleep shorts and a tank. After changing, I walk to the bed and prop up the pillows and try to find the right position to lay that keeps my weight off my back shoulder. My new tattoo doesn't hurt much, but it's tender and isn't all that comfortable when I put pressure on it.
I'm leaning against the headboard, scrolling through my Instagram feed when the bathroom door opens. Ryker is in a pair of gym shorts and nothing else. His hair is spikey with wetness, and as he walks in front of the bed to put his clothes in his bag, a few remaining drops of water glisten on his chest. His shoulders are spectacular. The smooth skin of his broad, muscular shoulders is painted in several tattoos, mostly tribal-like designs.
My fingers itch to trace every single one. His skin isn't covered, there's more tanned skin than art, but there's enough to keep my fingers busy.
Just like that, heat pools in my core and creeps up my body, desire overtaking all my emotions. His calf muscles are strong, and I wonder if he works out. He's crouched in front of his bag, looking for something.
It gives me more time to take him in. I'm looking forward to when he turns around, so I see what art covers his chest.
He stands and turns, catching me staring. He smirks and walks to the opposite side of the bed. I take the opportunity to feast my eyes upon the amazingness of his chest. He tosses his wallet onto the bedside table.
"Blondie, you like what you see?" His voice is husky, and his expression is unwavering.
I drag my eyes up to his chest to his face. My mouth is dry, so I just nod.
Fire flashes in his eyes as he lowers
himself to the bed. My heart pounds in my chest. He sits facing the headboard, placing us face to face as he slides in next to me. He leans his hand on the bed next to my hip and uses his other to gently caress my cheek.
"Watching you get that tattoo was sexy as hell, Blondie." He digs his fingers into my hair.
I smirk but narrow my eyes. "Yeah?" My voice comes out breathy.
"Yeah, made me want to do a bunch of stuff to you." He leans in, I can feel his breath on my cheek. "Made me wish like hell that we had been alone."
I clear my throat. "What kind of stuff?"
"Where to start? I wanted to kiss you," he says, as his eyes drop to my mouth.
I smile, looking up at him beneath my eyelashes. "And?"
"I wanted to rip your clothes off." He leans into my neck, and I stretch to the side, providing him easy access.
All I can muster in response is a "hmm-hm."
"I want to plunge my fingers into your hair and..."
Normally, I'd be okay with that, but I startle us both by interrupting him. "Watch the hair, buddy! If you mess it up, I won't be able to get it back in a braid in the morning." He blinks at me, and I add, "Lifting my arms hurts, so it will be hard to re-braid." And suddenly, I'm embarrassed at my predicament.
He lets out a deep laugh. "You are the sweetest fucking thing, Zella." He calms his laughing, but a huge smile covers his face. He leans in again. "I promise to watch your hair, this time." And he kisses me.
The kiss is passion and desire. It's warm and wet. The taste of his peppermint toothpaste on his tongue leaves tingles on my own. Suddenly, thoughts of all my insecurities about being intimate with Ryker flee. His hands cup my cheeks, my hands on his chest.
My hunger to be closer to Ryker is nearly impossible to ignore. Without breaking our kiss, I get on my knees. He starts to pull himself off the bed but refuses to break the connection, so he gently pulls me along with him until he's standing next to the bed in front of me.