“Fuck!” He stills, pouring himself into the condom, and I can feel the veins around his cock rippling with his release.
He collapses on top of me, both of us sated and sweaty, breathing hard.
I’m in so much trouble. Because … I will do this again and again, despite the fact that he can’t promise me a thing.
15
Chloe
The humid air is sticking to my skin, the fog machine casting weird patterns on the wall. The tutu I wear sticks to my legs as I attempt to move across the party, my princess crown jamming into my head when someone bops me on the head from above.
“Why did the boys insist on coming to this Halloween party? I can barely move!”
Minka and I are making our way across a house that would usually be considered enormous. But with this many drunk college students packed in, it’s like a horny sardine can. I just hold on to her tight and try to follow her spots through the crowd. She and Owen came as Perdita and Pongo from 101 Dalmatians. You couldn’t miss her spots from a mile away.
Finally, we break through, getting a fresh burst of air as we stumble out the back door and onto the giant deck tacked onto the back of the house.
“Oh-ho, no way. Didn’t anyone tell you you’re supposed to dress up as something for Halloween, not come as you actually are?”
I turn to see Miles standing against the railing, looking devastatingly handsome in a three-piece suit, his blond hair completely slicked back.
I smile, looking down at my princess costume. “Apparently no one told you that. You know, since you came as a rich asshole.”
Minka and Owen break out in a fit of giggles at my sudden brashness.
“Well, well. Look who found a sense of humor while she was left in her castle. Did you practice your jokes on the dragon keeping you there?”
“Very funny. Seriously, who are you supposed to be?”
Miles reaches inside his jacket, retrieving a little toy water gun and shooting it in his mouth. “Bond. James Bond. With tequila, not vodka.”
I laugh as he grimaces from the aftertaste of the alcohol. We’ve been doing this since we slept together last week. Flirting, sniffing around each other. I know I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, but he’s making it so hard. Twice he’s made out with me full-on in our rehearsals, and I’ve cut it off when I can force enough sense in my head.
But tonight? With it being All Hallows’ Eve and him looking like that? I’m not responsible for my actions.
“So, princess. You got a prince tonight? Or has no one been trekking to the keg for you?”
“A keg? That’s not fit for a princess. Although a cranberry and vodka I’ll take.” I wink at him. I feel very bold tonight. After all, I’m not myself.
“Coming right up.” He pulls a James Bond move and disappears back into the house.
“What the heck is going on with you guys?” Minka eyes me, the spot over her eye making her look more exotic than ever. If that were even possible.
“I’m not sure. We are just doing whatever comes.”
“Whatever comes, huh?” Owen snorts and Minks hits him.
Miles moves back in with my drink, and I sip on it for something to do. We all stand there, Minka and Owen flirting quietly with each other, Miles smiling at me and alternately looking around the party.
“So, do you want to dance?” He offers his arm to me.
“Hm, for some reason, I think we might be good at this. I’m not sure why I have that feeling.” I tap my finger on my chin in a sarcastic expression.
“Come on, spoiled princess.” He grabs my hand and puts his other arm on the small of my back.
Walking through the party like this, people can’t help but look. Miles is so tall, and such a powerful force on campus, that people stare at anything he does. The fact that he’s parading his dance partner around a party, I’m sure this is only going to the fuel the “who’s hooking up with who” rumors from the show.
But right now, I don’t care at all. All I care about are the tingles spreading up my back, the main source of which is coming from Miles’s warm, large hand spread over it. He ushers me into the house and into the living room, where a huge makeshift DJ setup covers the entire front wall.
Miles grabs my hips and turns me around, pulling my back to his front. The hip-hop beat blares over our heads, spreading and infusing everyone around us with energy and rhythm. He picks up the slower undertone in the music and snakes his fingers up my body, tickling from my hips to my ribcage and back again.
I turn my head so that my cheek rests on one of his chiseled pecs, my eyes turned up to look into his face that is bent over mine. We body roll to the beat, our entire forms in tune with the other.
His exotic eyes gleam in the glow of the black light shining on us, and I can’t help but notice the hot desire burning in his orbs. I know what he feels because I’m pretty sure my eyes are mirroring the same thing.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he whispers in my ear, nibbling on the lobe. Shivers work their way down my skin, collecting and pooling low in my sex.
I shove back farther onto his cock, feeling the rigid form outlined in his suit pants. I turn around, pushing his jacket off his shoulders until he throws it across the room, never to be found again.
“Miles! Wasn’t that expensive?” I giggle as the song changes to an upbeat pop song.
“I don’t care,” he growls, diving in to lick at my neck as he winds his long arms around me, pulling me as close as our bodies can get.
My body flushes from hot to cold and back again, his hands roaming my back and butt, toying with the layers of my tutu. I reach for the tie he’s wearing, pulling on it as I dip myself back, his hands roaming my cleavage. I’m so turned on that I don’t even care who’s watching, that there is a room full of people around us.
“Come with me.” Miles drags me with him, almost hauling me off my feet as he finds the stairs in this mansion and flying up them. When we come to the first doorway, he pushes in, and we’re greeted by dark silence.
Miles pins me up against the door, the move making me wetter than I already am, my nipples beading into hard, hot buds. He bites at my neck, suckling and drawing deep moans from my throat.
“What if someone comes in?” I gasp as he starts drawing my tutu down, rolling the tights from my hips.
“Aw, come on, princess. Live a little. Doesn’t this turn you on?”
I don’t know how he knows it, but he does. This turns me on. The thrill that someone could hear us, someone could come in.
His fingers inch my tights down, and I want to scream at him to hurry up. I am sweating, burning up, and Miles’s slicked back curls descend to my nipples, sticking out so distinctly across my pink tank top. When his wet, hot saliva hits the material, I groan, the sensation almost too much for me to take.
“You taste amazing, even like this.” His words make me even hotter.
And then he shoves his big hand inside my tiny thong, searching until he finds the bundle of nerves that blow me to smithereens. I wiggle against the door as he rubs my throbbing clit, trying to chase the stars bursting in front of my eyes.
“Miles. Now.” I need him.
He straightens, grabbing his wallet and fishing out a condom.
“Did you know this would happen?” I smile, still in a hazy comatose state.
“I never assume anything when I’m with you. You make me act like a crazy person. I had to come prepared.”
He unzips his fly, pulling his large cock out through the zipper opening, leaving the rest of his pants buttoned. It turns me on even more, this dirty way he positions himself. He rolls the plastic on, pinching the tip in a way that makes my clit throb harder.
“Get on the bed.”
I saunter to the bed.
“Lie back.”
I lie back, spreading my legs for him. I’m so wet and hot that just that motion makes me hurtle toward the edge of orgasm. Miles moves over me, nudging my thighs open more with his
giant limbs. His shirt hangs open on his shoulders, the leathery expanse of his chest rubbing against the material of my tank top.
“Look at me.” He grunts, and thrusts into me in one, smooth motion.
I keep my eyes locked on him as I let out a breathy yelp, adjusting to his massive size. Everything about Miles is bigger than life, and it’s the same deal in the sex department.
“God, Chloe. You feel amazing.” He pulls almost all the way out, and slams in again, making me whimper.
I am so close to the edge that I can practically taste the orgasm about to grip me by the spine.
“Miles …”
“Yes, say my name.”
Miles begins to really move, and I know we aren’t being quiet anymore. Thank God for the pounding speakers downstairs. He’s cursing and pinning my hands back, and I can’t help the loud moans escaping my throat.
It only takes a minute before I’m exploding, the orgasm rolling down my neck and back in waves.
“Fuck.” Miles slams into me, holding himself there while he comes. I watch the euphoria light up his face, the way he tenses but completely relaxes all at once. He collapses on me, both of us filling our lungs with air and clutching each other.
“Well …” he’s breathing heavy when he lifts up and smiles at me. “Happy Halloween.”
16
Miles
She moves slowly, wafting through the air like a delicate flower on the breeze. Her presence is everywhere, all around me, making the air smell with her scent, all the light in the room emanates from her being. Her long mane of black silk sways as she goes, loose and cascading down her back like a waterfall. She exudes elegance, her slim figure twirling intricately across the shiny wood floor.
Chloe is an angel, sent down by the gods with the sole purpose of dancing. We’re in the middle of the Dancing with the Greeks ballroom floor, having just stepped on to perform our dance, and I can’t tear my eyes away from her. I think I may have forgotten the entire routine.
But when she gets to me, finally touching my arm, it’s like she infects me with her energy, and I grab her, taking her body into our first of several lifts in this dance.
We have a freestyle this week, and because our other two dances both encompassed emotions like sex and silliness, Chloe thought it would be a good idea to get emotional for this one. Which, of course, I had a bitch of time at doing. I’m not even good at acting emotionally in real life, and now she’s asking me to pretend? To play a part?
Practice on Saturday had been a mixture of her trying to teach me some ballet acting, loosen me up to really pour my heart into the dance, and me inappropriately touching her and pinning her to the wall while I trailed kisses down her neck.
Chloe runs from me suddenly, her play acting at being in this tumultuous love affair she wants us acting out in this performance. I play along, running as elegantly as I possibly can—which makes me look mostly like a drunk elephant—and throwing my arms around her, cradling her back to me.
She wanted us to dance as if we are playing two people at the end of a relationship. Two people too scared to let go but only hurting each other more by staying. I try not to look into that too much. I know I told her I couldn’t promise her anything, and I am really hoping we can keep this arrangement going. Because I really like the benefits.
And I actually like Chloe. Despite my earlier impression of her, she isn’t all that high-maintenance. She’s smart and soft-spoken, and she’s just overall really nice. The fact that she is sexy as fuck also doesn’t hurt.
She pushes me back before falling, and I catch her under the arms at the last second, swinging her around before throwing her high into the air, where she twists around to face me and I catch her by the waist. As I slide her slowly down my body with all the control I can muster, I see a spark in her eyes. She’d been damn nervous about that lift, balking at least half a dozen times in practice on Saturday. Now that it’s over and we’ve done it flawlessly, I can see just from her lilac orbs that she is pumped.
We grab each other’s necks with just one hand each, moving around one and other in close circles. And finally, we stop, sinking to our knees, hands still pulling on each other’s necks, and finish the performance staring into each other’s eyes with one lone spotlight trained on us.
Then the room fades to black. And the audience explodes.
“Wow! What a fantastic performance. Let’s hear from our judges!” Brooke Sayers comes out to join us on the floor, and lays a firm grip to my right bicep, lingering there just a second too long. Ever since I left her at the first after-show party, she’s been making passes at me. Very unsubtle passes. I move out of her grasp, cradling Chloe to my chest. I place one hand on her hip, the other hooked gently around her shoulders. I run my thumb back and forth on her collarbone, and when I feel her butt clench at the caress, all the blood in my body drains into my dick.
Janglit, the sloppy sociology professor, starts the talk. “I study social behavior. I observe people and how they interact. While the dance was technically good, I have to say, I wasn’t convinced. Chloe, you are as good as they come. You are a prodigy, a star. You can play the part as well, which will take you far. But Miles, I could see through you. You looked like you were acting, instead of embodying the emotions.”
Fuck. Merilee and Vittle echo his sentiments. “Do you want to leave her? Do you love her enough to leave her, to let her live a whole and fulfilling life? I just didn’t feel it.”
We end up with three eights, our lowest scores yet, and I’m pissed. I’m not a fucking actor and I’m not a fucking dancer either. I’m a goddamn ballplayer.
I say this to Chloe when we enter the classroom that serves as our dressing room.
“I know that. But we rehearsed this over and over. I just … is it that hard for you to show emotion? I mean, I know you’re not the most open person, but that dance, it was heartbreaking. You didn’t feel that?”
I shrug, not really understanding what she’s getting so dramatic about. “Not really …”
“Haven’t you ever loved someone? Loved them so much that you can’t even imagine …”
I see red. “That I can’t imagine what, Chloe? Losing them? Nice.”
Her sharp cheekbones color under the weight of her embarrassment, and her eyes fill with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Miles. I didn’t mean that, I know how—”
“You don’t know shit. You have the perfect little family, am I right? A loving mom, a dad who treats you like the spoiled brat that you are. You have no idea what it’s like to not have one single person on this earth that loves you. To have the only one that ever did get ripped away from you, leaving you with the two shittiest people ever put on this planet. So sorry, if it’s a little hard to act like I’m hopelessly in love with a girl that I’m only just fucking. I’ll try to be more emotional next time.”
Chloe looks like I’ve slapped her. Her skin is ashen, and she looks like she might be sick. It’s not until I get a handle on my rage that I realize what I’ve done.
“Shit, Chloe, no I …”
“Hey, campers! That was so great, I thought the performance—” Minka takes one look at Chloe and rushes to her, taking Chloe’s fragile body in her arms. “What the fuck did you do to her?”
She’s screaming, demanding to know what happened, because Chloe’s just standing there, frozen, not speaking. Owen puts a hand on my arm, his futile attempt to keep me calm while he questions me.
“Hey, man, what happened here? Everything okay?” His gentle tone pisses me off, and I violently shake his fingers off me.
“Don’t touch me.” I take a step toward Chloe. I have to take those words back, she has to know I didn’t really mean them. “Chloe, I’m sorry—”
Minka cuts me off when a tear spills down Chloe’s cheek. “Get away from her, Farris. You’re a fucking prick, you know that? She deserves so much better than your piece-of-shit self. A boyfriend who actually sees her for the kick-ass chick that she is.”
/> “Who the hell said I was your boyfriend? We’re hooking up, I thought I made that clear.” I direct this question at Chloe, who starts to cry harder and shake her head.
“Just go,” she finally says, her voice sounding like broken glass.
I look around at the three of them, their eyes filled with varying stages of anger and disappointment. Even Owen’s.
This is how the people in my life look at me. Like some kind of damaged joke. I better be used to it by now, it’s how my father has looked at me my whole life.
I turn and walk swiftly from the dressing room.
* * *
“Dude, that dance chick of yours is hot. You smash that?”
Nate Hudson’s words float over me, my body a puddle of mush on the Kappa couch. Someone passes another joint in front of my face, too fast for me to intervene and take another hit before someone else is reaching for it. Shit, I’m high as fuck. The room is spinning, but in slow motion.
“Huh?” I say to no one in particular.
“I asked if you fucked that sexy little partner of yours?”
The fury I should feel pulsing through my veins never comes, thanks to my good ole friend Mary Jane. But now I’m ticked that I don’t feel furious. This is what I wanted, to mellow out. Right?
“None of your fucking business, Hudson.” My tongue feels fuzzy in my mouth.
Nate laughs. “Woah, all right, buddy. All I’m saying is she has some nice dick-sucking-lips. I’d like to test them out, that’s for sure.”
“Watch your fucking mouth.” I meant for that to come out with a sharp edge, but instead, it sounds like I’m singing.
Some of the other brothers who stayed up past the after-party chuckle. It was about two a.m., and I’ve been glued to this couch, high as a space cadet, for about four hours. Ever since I left Chloe in her own pile of tears. I am such a disgusting prick.
Over the Fence Box Set Page 30
