Stolen Crush

by Stunich, C. M.

  I was attracted to him, and I didn’t want to be.

  Birds of a feather.

  My fingertips trace his body, feeling up his most intimate parts with a curiosity that burns.

  I remember the way he shuddered at the café when my hair brushed against his skin, leaning forward and letting the frayed end of my braid tickle across his skin. He lets out a sharp hiss, eyes closing as I tighten my hand around his body. My mouth ends up on the side of his neck, tasting the slight saltiness of his skin. We both showered when we got back, rinsing the dust from the ATV accident off, so there’s a faint tang of soap there, mixed with Parrish’s naturally attractive scent.

  Is it attractive to everyone or just me?

  My lips kiss his pulse, tongue trailing down the side of his throat until I find his chest. Gently, so as not to hurt him, I scrape my teeth lightly against the scales of a blue-green dragon, following the length of it until I get to the tail. When I move back up, I get bolder, flicking my tongue across one of Parrish’s nipples.

  “Holy shit,” he murmurs, shaking now, panting hard. “I can’t take much more of this.”

  I pause briefly, lifting my head up to look at him.

  “It’d be nice if we had some lube …” No sooner has the suggestion left my lips than Parrish is grabbing my hand away from his dick and bringing it to his mouth. He licks my palm with long, slow strokes of his tongue, wetting my skin as I stare at him in abject fascination. My own body is quivering, a pulsing at the apex of my thighs that makes me want to wiggle and writhe against him.

  “Nice and wet.” He releases me, our eyes locked together as I find his velvety body again and wrap my fingers around him. His hips try to move with me, but I’m sitting atop his thighs, pinning him down, holding him in place.

  We’re in the basement of his grandmother’s house, with Tess and Paul and the kids upstairs. It’s dangerous to do this, a huge risk to both our futures in this family. Yet it doesn’t matter. We may as well be in a different universe right now.

  Ours mouth find one another again, tongues sliding together, tasting each other. It’s glorious, like the opening of a brand-new door that leads into an undiscovered world. I never want it to stop, this feeling that’s untangling inside of me, like a plant with reaching tendrils, blooming flowers, bloodied thorns.

  Parrish is writhing now, his hands clamping down on my waist and squeezing hard. We’re pressing into one another, his pelvis pushing up off the bed, my own rubbing against his thighs. He starts to move faster, kisses me harder, building this hot frenzy between us that makes it hard to form rational thoughts.

  When he shudders and digs his fingers even harder into my hips, I bite the side of his neck, and it’s game over. For him, anyway.

  “Shit,” he murmurs, shaking and swallowing hard as I continue to run my tongue along his pulse. “Here.” Parrish sits up slightly, tearing his shirt and hoodie over his head and handing them to me. Presumably, it’s to clean up with. “Sorry about that,” he adds as I clean my fingers off with the fabric. It’s sort of … all over the place, but we’ll deal with that later.

  “Sorry for what?” I ask, and then he’s grabbing the back of my head and kissing me all over again. He very carefully slides his hand under the waistband of my pj pants, making certain he doesn’t get any of his own release on his fingers. And then, oh my god, he strokes along the wetness of my panties, and I forget whether my name is Dakota or Mia or something else entirely.

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?” Parrish asks, pulling back just enough that I can see the cocky, satisfied smirk on his lips. “You like that, Gamer Girl?”

  “Very much so,” I breathe, gasping as he pushes the panties aside and slips a single finger into me.

  “Roll over.” I don’t miss the way he repurposes my command from earlier nor do I miss the way that I also scramble to comply. As soon as his finger slides out, I miss it and wish it were back. I shove the pants down my hips and Parrish helps me tear them over my feet, chucking the fabric aside before he positions himself beside me. The fingers of his right hand stroke over the fabric of my panties, paying special attention to the places that make me gasp and writhe the most. “Tell me what you want,” he asks, biting my ear and making me wish we were alone so I could let out all the happy sounds resting on the tip of my tongue.

  “Put two in,” I breathe back at him, and he makes this … god, this pleased purr that has me writhing all over again. Parrish kisses all over my face in a way that’s more affectionate than lustful, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

  “Done.” Parrish does as I asked, slipping two fingers into the aching heat of my core, using his thumb to continue stroking my clit through the panties. He never stops kissing me either: on the mouth, the forehead, the neck. When he moves that hot mouth of his to the bralette and takes one of my nipples between his teeth, I almost die. No joke. Write that epitaph because I’m on my way.

  That’s when I wonder if I’ll really do it right now, go all the way with him.

  I want to.

  Oh my god, I want to so badly …

  “Hey Parrish,” I whisper, but it’s hard to think with his fingers sliding in and out of me the way they are. “Do you want to …?” I start, but I don’t get a chance to finish because he’s staring down at me with those beautiful eyes of his. It’s practically edible, that gaze. Honey and toasted coconut and chocolate, all twisted together in this powerful stare that has me quivering beneath him.

  “Want to what?” he asks very carefully, very slowly, almost like he’s unwilling to put the idea in my head.

  “If you have protection, we could maybe …” I trail off again and then suck in a deep breath. If you can’t say it, you’re not mature enough to do it. “Fuck?”

  “Fuck?” he queries back at me, and I cringe. Not a great word choice maybe, but it’s already out there. Oops. Parrish pushes his fingers in even deeper, all the way to the knuckles, and I throw my head back into the pillows. “I don’t want to just fuck you, Dakota.”

  Just fuck …

  “What do you want to do then?” I whisper back, but then he’s covering my mouth with his own again, his hand moving faster, pushing in harder and deeper. The feel of him inside of me is exquisite, a sensation that I won’t soon forget. My stomach muscles clench so tight that they almost hurt, and I feel this coiling deep inside of me. It’s a pressure that needs release, a wave that wants to break. “Keep going,” I choke out, too far gone to finish our conversation just yet.

  If he doesn’t want to ‘just fuck’ then what else does he want to do?

  “Dakota, I—” Parrish starts, nuzzling against the side of my neck. He’s about to say something else; I’m about to fall through a wormhole into an entirely different universe, one that’s crafted of pure pleasure.

  But then we hear it.

  Footsteps.

  He pulls back just enough that I can see the color drain from his face, and then he’s rolling off the side of the bed onto the floor. He hits with a grunt as I scramble to my feet in a near panic. I can taste my own heart; it’s all the way up in my throat, choking me.

  Rather than try to get dressed, I act like I’m getting undressed. I tear the bralette over my head just seconds before Tess raps her knuckles on the door and then opens it because, you know, I don’t deserve any form of privacy.

  “Mia—” she starts, but even though I hate the sound of my not-name, I’m too rattled and disoriented to care. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  Tess blanches and steps back, closing the door quickly.

  There’s an awkward moment where I just stand there, panting and aching, my thighs clenched, body quivering. I was so close, so freaking close …

  “Do you happen to know where Parrish is?” she asks, and it takes me three tries to answer.

  “No idea. He mentioned the movie and then I think he went outside …” Is that a good lie? I hope it is. I really hope like hell it is. I notice Parrish’s hoodie on the f
loor and kick it under the bed before I snatch some clean clothes from my bag and yank them on.

  There’s definitely evidence in here that we were doing, um, certain things. I’d rather Tess didn’t come back in. In an effort to prove that nothing’s wrong, I open the door wide and step out, scooting past her to head for the bathroom.

  “Would you like to watch the movie with us?” Tess asks me softly, and I pause. I’m not looking at her, facing toward the back door that leads to a cement patio. The arcade machines are on my left, the bathroom door on my right.

  I glance back with yet another forced smile. I’m getting good at those, aren’t I?

  “Actually, I think I’m going to study a bit. Finals are coming up quick.”

  “Okay …” Tess hazards, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair. I turn away, hoping I can make it to the bathroom before she tries to engage in anymore conversation. My mind could not be further away from here right now. Parrish. All I can think about right now is him. “Dakota, I’m sorry.”

  That gives me pause.

  First off, she used my actual name. Second, she’s apologizing?

  I turn around, a spark of hope flaring in my chest.

  “I’ve been giving you the cold shoulder, and that isn’t fair.” We stare at each other down the length of the hallway. I’m hyperaware that Parrish is listening in, but somehow that makes this easier, like I have an ally now or something. “You’re my daughter, and I want you to be a part of this family.”

  My smile gets a little less forced feeling.

  “I’m sorry I went behind your back, Tess. But I really do love the Banks; I miss them. I miss Maxine, and she’s so close—”

  Uh-oh.

  If I were a writer like Tess, I might say something like: The expression on her face was nothing short of a landslide. Where once stood a mighty forest, there was only mud. It was as if the whole world came tumbling down in an instant, toppling trees, smothering homes, bathing the world in quiet pain.

  I’ve infuriated her. Again.

  “Yes, well, I accept your apology.” Tess raises her chin and levels a look on me that could kill. “But I’m not budging on this. If I find out you’ve contacted them, or if you’ve seen that girl, I will ship you off to military school. Do you understand me?”

  I just stare back at her, eyes wide, mouth gaping. All those happy, sparkly, bubbly feelings that Parrish churned up inside of me disappear, and I’m left free-floating in the middle of an emotional void.

  “You’d … send me to military school for talking to my family?”

  “This is your family,” Tess snaps back at me, and then she closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. When she opens her eyes to look at me again, I have to take a step back. The force of her stare is like a blade to the heart. “When you turn eighteen, I can’t stop you from doing what you want. Until then, you are my daughter. My daughter. Not Saffron’s. Not Carmen’s. Mine. You, Parrish, Kimber, Ben, Amelia, Henry … you’re my entire life.”

  “Possession isn’t love—” I start, but the way she’s looking at me tells me that I better stop now before it’s too late.

  “Let’s let the subject lie, shall we?” she asks, and this time, it’s her that forces a smile. “I really am sorry about ignoring you all weekend. Maybe tomorrow you can ride with me in the front of the SUV and Paul can sit in the back?” She cocks a brow like this is supposed to be funny, and then turns on her heel to leave.

  For several minutes, I just stand there and stare after her.

  Eventually, Parrish comes to me. He’s fixed his pants and slipped his shirt back on (the hoodie is um, dirty), and he smells so good, feels so warm when he wraps me up in his arms and pulls me close. I can hear his heart thundering, digging my fingers into the fabric of his shirt and closing my eyes. I won’t cry today. I won’t.

  This time, when I pull back, it isn’t me who has tears.

  It’s Parrish.

  “Are you okay?” I ask because he’s gritting his teeth even as his eyes get watery, flooded with emotion that he tries so damn hard not to show. His King Sloth act is just that: an act. He pretends not to care because he cares too much.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he whispers, looking down at me with such pain, like his very soul is being ripped in half. “I just don’t know. Tess is … she’s my mom, Dakota. She’s my mom, and you’re her daughter, and I … I can’t do this.” Parrish tears away from me, heading down the hallway as I chase after.

  He tries to close his door, but I shoulder my way in anyway, watching as he presses his palm to the wall beside the window. His head hangs down, and he’s panting like he’s run a marathon.

  “I thought you liked me,” I say, and now I’m wondering if I might cry, too.

  “I do,” he whispers, glancing back at me, his pretty hair falling across his forehead. I can’t stop thinking of his eyes as he looked down at me, burying his fingers in my heat. It felt so good, too, so magical. Why is this happening? Why, why, why? “I really do.” He turns around to look at me, his expression stark and exposed, intimately vulnerable. “I was attracted to you from the first moment I saw you.”

  I laugh, but the sound’s a little sniffly.

  “I thought my fuckability rating was a three?” I ask, trying to make light of the situation. Parrish gives me this sad, awful smile in exchange.

  “I gave Chasm a two; it’s all bullshit, Dakota. Everything is bullshit. You’re the only real thing that I have.”

  “Please don’t say that,” I whisper, because it feels like I’m being told goodbye somehow, or like I’m being broken up with.

  “You’re an eleven, you know? At least for me.” He looks away, toward the window above the desktop computer. I wonder if that, too, belonged to his grandfather? “But I love Tess. She’s always been there for me. All my best memories are when we’re together. My dad is …” He lets out a sharp, angry laugh. “My dad just doesn’t get it. Tess always has. Tess has always taken care of me. This would kill her, absolutely kill her.”

  “She doesn’t have to know,” I continue, taking a step forward. “We could just keep it to ourselves …”

  “Forever?” Parrish finishes for me. “Because once I let myself have you, really have you, I’ll never be able to stop. And it wouldn’t matter if we were thirty: if Tess found out, she would disown us both. I don’t want to lose her; I already lost my mom once.”

  I just keep staring at him in complete disbelief. What have we even been doing for all these months? This careful love-hate dance. What was our talk about in the ATV? What did we just do?

  “Is this what you do with all your girlfriends?” I whisper, wishing a hole would just open up and swallow me. Parrish gives me a soft, sad sort of look that’s actually a million times worse than his scowling or his eye narrowing or those times he curses me out when we bump into each other in the kitchen.

  “I don’t have girlfriends, Dakota. I hate people. I hate everyone except for you, and Chasm, and Tess.” He pauses for a second and then sighs. “Oh, and Maxx. Sometimes. When he isn’t annoying me.”

  “This was your first time …?” I trail off, leaving the question hanging in the air between us.

  He just keeps fucking staring at me.

  “Does it matter?” he asks, but then, as if he can sense that I’m on the verge of a meltdown, decides to add, “yes. I don’t just mess around with people. I’ve never liked anyone before the way I like you.”

  Ugh.

  I feel like I’ve just had Cupid’s arrow shoved right up my ass. This conversation is equal parts enlightening and devastating.

  “It was just easier for me to pretend,” he continues, moving toward me again. As soon as he’s within grabbing distance, I dig my fingers into his shirt and press my forehead against his chest. He stiffens up briefly before wrapping me in his arms. “It was easier to pretend, Dakota.”

  “So now what?” I whisper as he strokes my back, and I wish we were still half-naked i
n my room.

  “Chasm really likes you,” he tells me, but even though I also sort of like Chasm, all I can think about is Parrish. “Maybe …”

  “Don’t. Don’t say it. I don’t want to talk about Chasm right now.”

  We stand there for a long time, too long probably.

  Eventually, I pull back and so does Parrish.

  “So now what?” I ask, wondering how it’s possible for life to go from ‘greatest moment of my existence’ to ‘steaming pile of dog shit’ in an instant. “You don’t even want to try?”

  He looks away for a moment before running a tattooed hand over his face.

  “I didn’t say that. I just need time to think.” Parrish looks back at me, the edge of his mouth quirking up in a slight smile. “Do you need my help cleaning up?” he asks, and I nod, because I’m not about to clean up the mess from his orgasm. I didn’t exactly get one myself.

  We head back to the room together, and he collects both his hoodie and my bralette from the floor, snatching the top blanket off the bed and throwing all the items in the washer. Luckily, there are two laundry rooms in this house: one on the top floor and one down here.

  “Leave your door open?” he suggests as he turns around, parking his ass against the side of the machine and crossing his arms over his chest. I nod and start to turn away when he reaches out and grabs my wrist; our gazes clash with a rush of heat. “For what it’s worth, I don’t like the way she treats you. I don’t know why she’s doing it, why she’s being so mean to you when she’s always been so affectionate toward me.”

  I very carefully extricate myself from his grip. Not because I don’t want him to touch me, but because I do. So, so, so, so much.

  “Like you said, I’m a crushing disappointment to her.” I offer Parrish a weak smile before heading into my room and curling up on the bed with just a sheet. He follows me in, covers me up with a spare blanket from who knows where, and then heads into his room.

  After a while, I hear his words, soft and vulnerable in the quiet: “goodnight, Dakota.”

  He may as well be saying goodbye for all it’s worth.