She stops trying to talk to me and we both stare at the screen. And I wait, body taut with the thought of Savannah on the other end of the phone, staring at her screen, typing out responses that she doesn’t have the guts to send. It gives me hope that my damned infatuation isn’t one-sided. But I’d be delusional if I believed this. There’s no way that Savannah could ever want a dirty old bastard like me.
Savannah
It was a horrible day. I lay back on my bed, stretched out beneath the covers as I hold my phone over my face with one hand. Texts from Derrick keep popping onto the screen, texts that further continue our argument that started in school.
He’s mad at me because I skipped classes to try to fix my car and told me I should have brought him with me. I know he’s probably confused. But I don’t know how to explain it without him reading between the lines. Or maybe that’s so far off in left field that he wouldn’t ever suspect. Aside from this, dad decided that I shouldn’t eat tonight because he said I look fat. My stomach gurgles with hunger and I close my eyes, hating it all.
What are you doing right now? The text arrives on my screen and my stomach jolts with something more than hunger.
I’m laying in bed, I decide to say, spasms of excitement rushing through me.
Texting him this, imagining him in his bed laying there thinking about me while I think about him is something that makes me tingly with desire. The rare times that I masturbate, it’s feelings like this that come before it. That signal to me that I can’t handle the deep ache inside me anymore, and that I need to touch myself until I reach that release.
Distractedly, I begin to trail my fingers over my belly under my shirt.
Good. It’s late. Comes his response, deflating me. But then…You should be asleep. What is keeping you awake?
I bite my lip and my heart pounds in my throat. I lean my head back into the plush of my pillow and let out a shaky breath.
Are you going to give me more advice if I tell you? I joke.
Not if you don’t want it. But I think the word you’re looking for is guidance.
I smile and shut my eyes tightly before texting back.
I would take guidance, I respond, my skin buzzing with electricity.
On what? His response fills in below mine immediately.
“What am I doing?” I whisper to myself, throwing the palm that had been tracing my belly over my forehead and eyes. Does the fact that he’s texting me mean that he wants me, too? Would a normal adult be texting a High School girl? How strange is this, exactly? I’ve never done anything like it before, and I feel dirty and sinful. Knowing my pussy is throbbing with delicious sensations makes it that much worse. I’m actually…horny. Has Derrick ever made me feel this way?
Anything you want. I text.
I need some direction. I don’t know what you need help with if you don’t tell me. Is his response.
Do I dare? My head pounds with warning while my pussy screams with need.
I’m supposed to be a good girl. I’m top of my class, always on time, always nominated for either most popular or good-looking. Last year I almost made Prom Queen. This year as a Senior I have it in the bag. What would people say if they knew the goody-two-shoes was texting a thirty-four-year-old man, her vagina wet just at the thought of him?
If anyone found out, I’d lose everything that I am. Maybe that’s what makes it so exciting.
You’ll stop texting me if I tell you. I decide to test the waters.
No, I won’t. If you need me, I’m here.
I move my hand down and press my fingers against my panties, skating my fingers across the ridges of my slit. I touch lightly, hesitantly, my breath quickening as I imagine that this is his hand.
I’m thinking about how interesting you are to me, I text quickly with one hand.
Interesting?
Yes. You’re an enigma. I think about you a lot, I reveal, and instantly I feel panic. But it’s too sweet to the taste. My panic pushes me on, and I push two fingers against my pussy lips, playing there as I succumb to my need.
Do you? You think about me while you’re in your bed, Savannah? He texts back, and I almost moan, but close my lips over the humming cry in my throat. I push my panties aside and slide my fingertips against my folds, then I dip between, gasp, and swirl my three center fingers against my clit.
Yes. I know I shouldn’t, I stab my fingers against my phone while simultaneously trying to maintain the building of pressure.
But you can’t stop yourself? He asks, and I can almost see the curious darkness creeping over his handsome face.
No, and I don’t want to stop. I want to keep going, I text, rubbing myself harder as I gasp and glow with sexual prowess. My entire body quakes with eagerness. How long has it been since I last gave myself an orgasm? Since Derrick last clumsily touched me over my pants?
Then keep going. Don’t stop. You shouldn’t ever deny yourself the things you want. Is his response.
Okay. I won’t. I text him back, slowing my hand between the messages I send out.
Good girl. What kinds of things do you do while you think about me?
I let out a groan as my legs flex and I arch my back, pressing my pussy against the flat of my palm. Does he truly want to know? I’m so deeply embedded in this disaster that there is no turning back.
I touch myself. I text back, a sick thrill gathering in my belly. I have to.
Where do you touch yourself?
My heart beats wildly and I buck against my hand, angrily seeking my release.
You know where, Mr. Draper.
Are you doing this now? He asks, and I exhale in frustration, my orgasm gliding just beneath my sopping wet flesh, bristling at the edges of my tight core muscles.
Yes. Please. If that’s okay. I text back, tears nearly stinging my eyes as my pelvis pounds with the urge to orgasm.
If that’s what you want, then do it. Sometimes all we need is a release.
My heart is racing, my palm and fingers attacking my clit and pussy. I fuck myself against my fingers, and I cannot hold back the small whines that gather in my throat. Oh, Mr. Draper. My sexy, gritty, rugged man. Then an unwelcome image comes into my mind—her, kissing him in the bleachers.
What about you? I ask, pulling back from my orgasm harshly. Do you think about me?
I flip over onto my stomach and keep my phone pressed nearly up against my nose as I wait for his response, one hand threaded beneath me as I taunt myself, my cheeks hot as I rock against it.
“Savannah?” I hear my dad coming up the stairs, and I fly into a sleeping position, lungs heaving, body shaking, trying as hard as I might to calm my breathing. I’m so close to climaxing I may scream.
“Yeah?” I call, hoping he won’t come in.
“What are you doing up there?” he asks me from the stairwell, his voice muffled by the door.
“I was doing a quick workout before bed,” I toss out, feeling absolutely stupid.
I’m thinking about you now. His text glows on my screen, and I reach down and in frustration flutter my fingers over my clit, body burning on the precipice of insane pleasure.
What about your girlfriend? I text back, feeling a bit more possessive than I should, given that he’s my boyfriend’s father as well as unreachable for me in any sane reality. I can’t claim him, nor ask him to be mine. Even if my dirty little heart longs for him and everything he is. His alternativeness, his mystery, his firm masculine physique.
Don’t worry about that. Right now it’s only us. He says, and then adds. I need to know you’re enjoying yourself. What do you feel?
I feel like my body will explode, I tell him, and can feel the pink tinge of a blush on my cheeks.
“Okay. Once you’re done, shower and go to sleep!” dad calls up to me.
That’s what you want to feel. Keep going until you shatter, Savannah.
I bite back yet another groan as I increase the speed of my fingers. I fuck myself and then rub my clit vigorously.
I don’t even care if dad can hear me. I continue as directed, imagining him. Wishing he was here. Knowing that this is wrong and yet it’s the first thing that I’ve ever done for myself that is selfish. And maybe I need to be selfish.
Just pretend I’m there with you. My hand is your hand.
I roll back onto my back and I gasp when I hit a peak that I’ve yet to reach before. I toss my phone aside and hump my hand as I urgently massage, rub, and impale myself with my fingers. It washes over me like a tidal wave, pleasure snapping through my limbs, culminating in one giant pinnacle in my core. My ass is lifted and my back arched as I stroke out every last drop of my orgasm. The noises I’ve made are primal, and I never even imagined I would respond that way.
I felt you. I text him, rolling onto my side as I attempt to gather myself and slow everything down again.
Good girl. He says this yet again, and it gives me a sense of satisfaction. I smile into my phone and lick my lips. You deserve that, and more.
And more? I question.
Another time. Think about me tomorrow when you’re at school, he texts, and I take a deep breath. Suddenly, my eyes fill with unexpected tears. I clasp my hands around my phone and hold back a sob. What have I done? This is something I’ll never be able to get back. This is my boyfriend’s father. Someone who I shouldn’t be attracted to no less think about. What would people say? My heart beats now, chaotic within me. I shouldn’t, yet I did. I broke the dam and flooded my life with my inner darkness.
I’m a fool. I’ll hate myself for this, and always remember that this was the worst choice I could make because now I have nowhere to hide. Now, the truth is something lyrical, something morbidly poetic that cannot be unsaid. Insecurity and doubt claws at my brain, and I shove my face into my pillow and throw the covers over my head, hating myself, horrified at what I’ve done.
Wyatt
The next day comes, and it feels different. The air shifts around me as I sit up in bed, my head foggy with remnants of what felt like a dream. I’m extremely tense and look at the rising sun out the translucent curtains covering my window, trying to figure out if what happened had been real or not. I grab my phone from the charger and…there it is. Confirmation of what occurred. Confirmation that she wants me, just like I want her. Confirmation that maybe I don’t have to be as alone as I thought.
I’d forced Jade out as soon as I sensed something different in Savannah. Jade had been confused, but I couldn’t explain. I just told her that it was time for her to leave and that I felt that this was something someone in a relationship would do, and that I wasn’t comfortable. That watching a movie with her after fucking her shamelessly against a wall wasn’t comfortable.
Whether she was offended or not, I couldn’t tell. I was too focused on the vibrations of my phone.
Once she’d left, I went up to my bed and laid down to focus obsessively on Savannah’s texts.
Now it’s back to reality. Draper Auto Shop won’t run itself, and there are too many men there that count on me to be there nearly twelve hours a day. Luckily for me it’s my own business and the only car shop in town, which means that it’s been very profitable. If I wanted, I could move into one of the upscale modern homes dotting the forest hills. But there are too many memories here in this house. Memories that I should let go of, but can’t. And a nice house and nice things have always seemed excessive to me. I’d rather save my money for Derrick’s trust fund, even though I know that Krista and Charles have it handled. It wouldn’t feel right to offer him nothing.
Why else would I work so damn hard?
I know that what Savannah and I have done is wrong. Although she’s eighteen, does this truly make her legal? Does it make it morally acceptable? I haven’t touched her yet I feel like she’s devoured and completely consumed my soul. And if it were anyone but her, I’d hate this feeling. Another thing that I know is that I could be ruined by this. She could tear my heart out. That’s what young women do, don’t they? They’re fickle and don’t know what they want. Usually. I just can’t help but think that Savannah is different.
But then, there is Derrick. My son. I’ve betrayed him in a way that a father should never do, and I hate myself for this. If he ever knew, what would he do? Would he cut even the small amount of ties that we have right now? There’s virtually no way for this to end well. No matter what, Savannah and I are a shooting star destined to die in blackness.
I wonder what she feels right now. Does she regret it? I won’t ever push her or be the first one to reach out. I want her to come to me so that if something ever does happen between us, I can know that it was of her own volition, and I never manipulated or persuaded her to want me. It’s shocking enough that she said what she did last night, but maybe it’s just a schoolgirl crush. Nothing special. Nothing meaningful.
She’ll most likely wake up for school this morning and forget that it even happened. And I can’t even be mad at her. Because she’s young, and she has her entire life ahead of her. She doesn’t need some disgusting ass thirty-four-year-old holding her back. I would despise myself even more if I hindered her in any way, and this could easily happen.
I head to work once I’ve showered and dressed, grabbed my tools, Nuke, and a hot to-go coffee from the kitchen. Nuke’s tail slaps happily on the rough leather seats and he sticks his snout out the open window as we drive through town. The air chills me, reminding me that winter is just around the corner, and winter in Thornwood is always blistering and dark. It’s like without warning the ground freezes up and everything grows quieter, and suddenly you can hear the deadly ocean crying out for summer.
But I like winter. It lends to the recluses and caters to lonely souls.
Then my phone vibrates.
I’m so sorry about last night. Please forgive me. It won’t happen again.
I curse under my breath and then pull over to type out:
It’s already forgotten.
Then, angrily, I drive the rest of the way to work, trying not to think about anything that reminds me of her. Until I get there and I see her car.
Fuck. It’s going to be a long day.
Savannah
“So where the heck were you?” Elaina interrogates me as we start our stretches for the mile run out on the giant field of grass in the center of the track. It’s Tuesday, and every Tuesday bright and early it’s the Senior’s day to run their hearts out. I’m extremely hungry. I didn’t have a chance to eat this morning, and my stomach slips around inside me, an empty sack that causes my belly to burn.
“I took my car to the shop. I didn’t think my dad would like it if I came home and he heard the noises,” I tell her. I didn’t have a chance to tell her this yesterday as the rest of our classes aren’t together. She raises her brows and sighs as she nearly does the splits in her tiny dark green spandex shorts and a white t-shirt. I wear the same thing as her. It’s what we wear to cheer practice after school too.
“Your dad is such an asshole. Does he seriously not care about anything?” she asks bitterly.
“He’s just busy,” I mumble. Elaina knows bits and pieces of how my dad is. The few times that she’s stayed at my house he’s revealed outbursts, shocking her into silence that I know equals both judgment and vehemence.
“Maybe. That doesn’t excuse him being a total ass to you,” she reaches over and grabs the tip of her white running shoe.
I shrug, lowering my gaze to the vibrant blades of grass.
“Isn’t he going to be mad that you skipped classes?”
My chest tightens.
“Do you think he could find out?” I ask.
“Um, yeah? They call your parents if you don’t show up. I’m surprised you weren’t laid into yesterday when you got home,” she says, flicking the end of her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder.
“Are you serious?” My entire body seizes with fear. If he finds out, he’ll take everything from me. Even the small amount of freedom that I have right now will be locked down and shut a
way from me. Sitting there on the grass, I feel limp and dazed. I purse my lips, trying to hold onto my serene outward appearance. Then I see a tall, swaggering body headed toward us, and my belly flutters.
Derrick and I haven’t truly recovered from yesterday. I hadn’t texted him back after the experience with Wyatt purely out of shame. It felt wrong to try to work through the argument so soon after I’d just come around my own fingers imagining his father.
Extreme, immaculate guilt surfaces within me. How could I have done this? Part of me wishes I could talk to Elaina about it, or even Greta and Kaitlyn, my two other close friends. They understand sex and boys on a level I don’t. Although, it’s not as if I spread my legs for Wyatt. It just feels like I have.
“Can I talk to my girlfriend alone?” Derrick crouches in front of us.
His strong calves are shown off in his loose jogging shorts, and his shaggy dark blonde hair falls over his eyes as he glances between the two of us with a resigned expression.
Elaina rolls her eyes and hops up.
“Fine. But I’m coming back in ten minutes,” she promises.
She knows that he’s mad at me, and she’s disgusted with his possessiveness. Once she’s gone, he focuses on me and takes a deep inhale as if he’s trying to compose himself.
“I’m sorry. I overreacted last night,” he says, crouching above me on the grass. “You’re not the type of girl that skips class. It made me think…” he blows out a breath and rolls his eyes. “Well. I really like you Savannah. I won’t go into detail here. I just wanted to apologize for acting like that last night and blowing up your phone.”
“It’s fine,” I say, swallowing the thickening emotions in my throat. “Honestly. No big deal. I’m over it.”
Derrick smiles at me, smoothly. The kind of smile you’d expect from a jock who knows he’s in control of a situation. The smile that shows his understanding of just how much he’s correct in his assumptions that I “want him” and “can’t get anything better.” It’s better to let him believe this mistruth. Him knowing the reality of what I think would ruin us. Would ruin me.
The Prom Queen's Sinner: Thornwood Small Town Forbidden Romance Book One Page 6
