by Ella Fields
“Can I push one in?”
“Please,” she said.
My pinky finger moved to her entrance, dipping inside just a little, as my thumb kept rubbing her.
Her eyes widened, then her lashes lowered as a slow whine vacated her lips. I was coming without any warning whatsoever, so caught up in the sight of her shocked, then sated expression.
Cum spirted out of my swollen cock, landing on her thigh in thick ribbons, and I cursed, desperately seeking her mouth. She gave it to me, her tongue laving at mine and her thumb stroking my cheek.
“Whoo, yeah buddy! Rock that truck.”
The male voice sent ice dripping through every vein. We both stopped, our foreheads touching as we stared wide-eyed at each other, waiting for the crunching footsteps outside the truck bed to pass.
“Should we see who’s under there?” That sounded like Ross, one of the seniors.
“That’s Jackson’s truck. He’ll lose his shit.”
They laughed, wandering off, and Willa breathed a huge sigh of relief, a tiny laugh hitting my chest when her head did.
I didn’t laugh or feel any relief.
The whole drive home, her hand in mine, mine still sticky with her, it was all I could do to remember where we lived, I was so shaken.
The lights were out when I pulled in the drive and put the truck in park.
Willa unclipped her seat belt, her eyes burning into my rigid profile. “Talk to me.”
How she knew even though I hadn’t said a word made my lips hitch.
Turning to face her, I studied the bow to her upper lip, the tiny dimple that appeared as she munched on it, and those green sprinkles in her eyes. “You’re beautiful.”
Her lashes lowered, then rose with a flutter. “You’re upset.” I was, but I didn’t want to upset her by talking about it. I went to open the door, and she grabbed my arm. “Don’t.”
Sighing, I slumped back against the seat. “That was close, Wil. Too fucking close.”
Her hand reached out, satin fingers against my cheek. “So we’ll be more careful. It was risky. We know better.”
My eyes closed as I laid my hand over hers, moving it to my lips to kiss.
That was the crux of it. We knew better, yet we hadn’t cared.
In the days after, I couldn’t forget how close we’d come. Or how much I hadn’t cared at the time.
We might’ve just been two crazy kids, but I knew, even then, that I couldn’t live without her. And that was what would happen if anyone found out.
Not only would I be forced to do so, but she would be ruined in every way.
Willa
Eighteen
“You can drive,” Dad said, tossing me the keys to his truck.
Staring down at them, then at him, I smiled. “I have to warn you, I’m not the best driver.”
He chewed his lip, then shrugged. “She’s older than you anyway, get in.”
I did, setting the cookbooks and gift cards he’d bought me for my birthday in the back seat.
The old beast grumbled to life, and I moved the seat forward so I could reach the pedals, then clipped my seat belt on and adjusted the rearview mirror.
Dad had finished his last tour two months ago, and I’d been hanging out with him every week since school let out.
“So how’s the job going? Andrew treating you well?” Andrew was a friend of his he’d met during training. At only twenty-two, he’d lost his hand and almost his arm while overseas. After a few years, he picked himself back up and opened his own truck rental business with the payout he’d received.
“Too well.” Dad laughed. “All the bastard wants to do is talk about the good old days and yap my damn ear off.”
I smiled at that. “He loves you.”
Dad chuckled. “Seems so, because no one else would handle the fact I hardly get any work done and drain his coffee supply.”
His gaze fell on me as I wound through the backstreets toward the old dusty highway that leaked into the cove. “So what’d your mom and Heath get you?”
He might’ve been accepting of the fact I called Heath Dad, but that didn’t mean he would ever do so himself. Understandable. “A new apron, these cute pink baking trays, and…” I crinkled my nose, hesitating, then rushed out, “And a new car.”
I’d had my license for a while, but I hadn’t asked for a car. I hadn’t needed one.
Quiet rained down, and he sniffed, jerking his head. “Nice. What is it? An Audi?”
I blew some hair off my face. “Close. A Volkswagen.”
Dad whistled. “How’s she drive?”
“No idea. I haven’t driven it yet.”
Dad boomed with laughter. “That brother of yours waits on you hand and foot, doesn’t he?”
My cheeks warmed, and I failed to slow quick enough for the yellow light, wincing as we drove through the red.
Dad’s gaze seared into my profile, and I fumbled for something to say. “See? Crappy driver.”
“Shitty driver,” Dad said. “None of this crap business. If you’re going to cuss, do it right. The intention’s already there.”
I laughed, seeing his point. “Mom would have a conniption.”
“Wouldn’t be the first or last time, and you’re not a shitty driver.” He hummed. “Just easily flustered. We can work on that.”
I was relieved to hit the highway, knowing we were only ten minutes from home. “I barely passed my test.”
He waved his hand, then turned up the radio, but not enough to kill the opportunity for conversation. “But you did pass. So what’s the plan now, Miss Eighteen? Are you heading to any raging parties tonight? Need a ride home?”
I frowned as drops of rain began to dot the windshield as the burning sun sank low into the distant hills and cliffs. “You would?”
“I mean, I’d rather you didn’t party,” he laughed out, “but if you’re going to do it, I’d like to make sure you’re okay, yeah.”
Mom and Dad would never think of it that way, though they weren’t naïve enough to think we didn’t attend them. They just preferred we hid it to keep it from being a point of contention. Not that I did much partying, and Jackson had toned it down some in recent months.
“Don’t worry,” I said, offering a quick smile. “I’m staying in. The rain messes with my hair.”
Another raucous laugh that made my smile deepen and stay in place as we discussed what courses I was looking to take in college.
College, I thought to myself as I rushed inside, hurrying to escape the rain, was something Jackson and I hadn’t spoken much about. The exception being at dinnertime with our parents.
Jackson had his schools picked out as soon as he knew he wanted in on the family business. Me? Well, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. Something with my hands. The thought of sitting at a desk day in and day out made me want to weep.
Jackson was in the living room with Dad, looking over plans for the new winter jersey line. “Hey,” Heath said, glancing up. “Good time?”
We’d already celebrated my birthday together with brunch at my favorite pancake parlor in town.
I nodded, swinging the purple gift bag around my waist as Jackson continued to look at papers.
Heath grinned, then returned his attention to them, too.
I’d be worried Jackson hadn’t even realized I was home if I hadn’t noticed the way his hand tightened around the designs and how his eyes had flicked to the side. To my bare legs.
Brushing my hand over the short peach ruffle skirt I was wearing, I skipped out of the room and bounded upstairs to shower.
Mom was in my room when I exited the bathroom, steam trailing me, my fingers tugging at the messy bun I’d thrown my hair into. “Hi,” I said.
She jumped, then smiled. “You scared me.” Flicking through the gift cards, she muttered, “He didn’t give you a card.”
“He did,” I said, depositing my clothes into my hamper. I tapped the desk where I’d set it next to the others I�
�d gotten. One from Daisy, one from Mom and Heath, and one from Dad. “I’m going to scrap them.”
Mom eyed the new glossed pearl scrapbook album Jackson had bought me, then the card beneath my nail—the one I would hide as soon as she left—before a smile wriggled into place.
Walking over, she clasped my face within her hands, her eyes growing wet as she stared at me. I was the same height as her now, which she constantly berated me for, saying it wasn’t fair. “It feels like just yesterday I was bringing you home from the hospital, and now, you’re off driving cars, looking at college applications, and cooking everything yourself.”
I smiled. “That last one has been a thing for some years now.”
“Shush.” She laughed, then sighed and placed a kiss to my brow. “You’re making me emotional. Now I need wine.” She released me and waved a hand, and I smiled after her as she brushed at her face.
The moon was grazing the cards and the gift bag on my desk when my bedroom door opened, silent and swift, after eleven.
His weight settled over me, the cool tip of his nose nudged my cheek before soft lips dragged over it, searching for mine.
Grabbing his head, I pulled, and pushed my tongue inside his mouth, sighing with relief when his stroked mine.
After only seconds, he drew back, and I frowned. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll foil my plans.” Tugging me from the bed, he handed me my orange summer robe, helping me into it. “Follow me,” he whispered into my ear.
Excitement curved my lips and sent my feet hurtling after him, padding over the floor and down the stairs.
Outside, he stopped me on the patio, closing the door as quietly as possible. “We have to be awake before the sun, but I thought…”
He trailed off as we neared the tent he’d fixed at the back of the yard. There were no lights this time, likely to help avoid detection, but inside, everything else was the same as it had been three years ago.
“Jack,” I breathed, blinking back tears when I saw a few fireflies flitting about in a Mason jar atop the makeshift crate table.
His hands settled on my shoulders, sliding up and down my arms as he gave me time to collect myself.
Cupcakes with lopsided, melted frosting sat on pink paper plates with a batch of brownies in my green Tupperware tub beside them. Lemonade sparkled in two glasses with paper polka dotted straws.
Moving to them, I laughed as I picked a cupcake up and sniffed it.
“The sniff test?” he asked. “Really?”
He took a seat beside me, and I scrunched my nose, taking a bite. Chewing, I bobbed my head from side to side. “It’s actually not bad.” It wasn’t the best I’d had, but it was better because he’d made it. “Did Mom help you?”
He took one and bit into it, frosting sticking to his upper lip. “She told me what to do, then raised her hands and said she wanted no part of disappointing you.”
I smothered a laugh, almost choking on the thick fluff in my mouth.
“So how was your dad?”
“Good,” I said, swallowing and smiling.
He tilted his head, studying me. “You always look happy after seeing him.”
“He’s…” I struggled to find the words. I didn’t want to compare him to Heath. I loved them both, but they were two totally different men. “He’s my dad,” I said, soft and quiet.
Jackson nodded in understanding. “He let you drive his pride and joy?”
I snorted. “Yes, and I practically ran a red light.”
Jackson laughed. “You shouldn’t have passed that test.”
About to lick the frosting from my fingers, I thought better of it and crooked my finger at him. “Come here, you’ve got something…” I gestured to his upper lip, where a tiny bit of frosting had smeared.
He bent forward, rolling his eyes a little.
I leaned in to lick it, then swiped my finger over his cheek.
Laughing, I fell back, bouncing onto the blow-up bed as he grabbed a cupcake and held me down with my hands over my head. Grinning, his eyes never left mine as he smooshed it into my nose, then all over my lips.
We both howled until we remembered we shouldn’t, and sobered, staring.
His gaze darkened, and his chest heaved as he blurted, “I’m in love with you.”
I forgot all about the frosting stuck to my nose and lips and cheeks, all about the parents who would disown us in the house behind us, and saw only the rise and fall of his chest. The lashes that refused to meet as he stared with an intensity that I’d never seen before.
The pulsing beat of my heart echoed in my ears as he repeated himself. “I’m in love with you. I didn’t know what it was or if it would just go away. But it hasn’t. It’s only deepened, grown fucking roots in every part of me.” He swallowed, the sound thick, and then said, “Say something?”
His confidence as he’d confessed, laid everything out into the balmy night air for my ears and heart to catch, made his last words ring with vulnerability.
A vulnerability he shouldn’t be feeling, because he knew, he had to know. “I bet I was in love with you first.”
Finally, he blinked, then shook his head, silent laughter painting his strong features with strikingly sharp beauty.
Lowering his head, his entire body, he licked the frosting from my nose, then my lips, then my cheeks. “You’re still a brat,” he murmured. “My brat.”
“Always,” I promised, forcing his mouth back to mine. Our hands explored, heated touches, and then he was stripping me of my clothes while I was tearing at his.
Naked and sweating, we rolled and tangled together on the bed, laughing whenever it squeaked in protest.
All humor fled when his hand settled between my legs, and then he was kissing a path down my body to where his fingers were driving me mad.
He’d done this to me time and time before, and every single time, I thought I’d combust as soon as his mouth touched me, and his hands gripped my thighs.
His tongue dived and dug deep, his hold relentless as he forced my thighs around his head and my hips began to rock.
“Jack,” I rasped out, delirious as he kept nudging me with his nose and poking my entrance with his tongue.
I splintered apart, but he didn’t stop until my body quit quivering, and my legs tried to remove themselves from his bruising hold.
He lifted his head, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth, then climbed over me to let me taste what he’d done.
Hooking my legs around his waist, I rolled us, laughing into his mouth when we almost slipped off the bed, then I tore away and found him hard and wanting.
“Wil,” he said, then groaned when my lips descended over the engorged head, and I fed as much of him into my throat as I could. “Fuck. You’re getting too good at this.”
This, to my dismay, was something he’d let Ainsley do, so I was determined to be better at it. Childish and stupid, probably, but I didn’t care. I wanted him writhing and panting beneath me because I made him feel like shouting my name to the heavens.
His neck corded as his head fell back, his hips jutting up and forcing his cock farther inside. I took it for a few seconds, then gagged.
“Shit, shit,” he muttered, pulling me off him with desperate hands.
I scowled as he wiped saliva from my chin, and settled over his lower stomach, straddling him. “You were going to come.”
He stared up at me, and my stomach became a firework display, rattling and popping as I read what he wanted. “Yes.”
I smiled, and he laughed. “I haven’t even said anything.”
I reached for his jeans, and he squeezed my ass while I fished the condom out of his pocket. “This says enough.”
“Brat indeed.”
I tore the wrapper with my teeth, then handed it to him.
He put it on with expert precision, with an ease that made me feel a little ill. “I thought you hadn’t…”
He pulled me down to the bed, rolled over me, and settled between my
damp thighs, then brushed some hair from my face. “I haven’t.”
I frowned.
He grinned, then ducked his eyes. “Fuck, this is going to sound so stupid.”
It clicked then, and I bit my lips to keep from laughing. “You’ve been practicing.”
A nod, then he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “Every time I get a hard-on you can’t fix.”
My arms looped around his neck, his chest meeting mine. “That’s quite all right then.”
“Is it?” he said, eyes laughing. I nodded, and he kissed each corner of my mouth. “Happy Birthday, Bug.”
I kissed him, hard and pleading, taking his bottom lip with mine.
“Are you sure?” he said, his hand caressing the curve of my hip, shifting my leg over his lower back.
“No,” I said, and when he paused, I continued. “I’m desperate.”
His eyes shut, and I laughed.
I stopped when he reached between us, fumbling for a beat, then felt him enter.
I could do nothing, not even breathe as I watched his eyes and nostrils widen, his breath leaving him in a rush that hit my lips. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezed.
My exhale rocketed out as he pushed until he couldn’t anymore and then stopped.
With his arms braced beside my head, he kissed me. Gentle, coaxing sweeps until the pain faded into discomfort, and my fingers sank into his hair, needing him closer. We were closer than we’d ever been, as close as two people could get. Every part of us was touching, connected, yet I wanted more. I wanted him where the rest of him lived, everywhere, to fill the unoccupied spaces of my body that were already owned by him.
My skin pebbled as his tongue stroked mine, then my lips, then my tongue again. “I knew this would feel good, but shit, Bug,” he rasped. “I never want to leave, and I’m scared if I move, I’m going to blow.”
“Then we’ll just do it again,” I whispered, voice thick.
He hummed, tilting my head back with his nose so his mouth could make love to my neck. “You’ll be sore.”
I didn’t care. “And it’ll be worth it.”
He began to move then, sharp hips jerking back and forth, careful and deep, and fire lit me from the inside as everything burned. “You okay?” he said, blowing out a hard breath.
