by Naomi Martin
I nod. “Yes. I’m sure.”
He gives me a sultry smile and rolls his hips, and I feel his length slipping past my lips. He pushes harder and I moan as he slowly slides his staff deep into me, filling me completely. I’ve never been with somebody so large and thick before, and there’s a slight pinch of pain as he stretches me open. That pinch of pain, though, is soon overwhelmed by a pleasure I’ve never known, the two combining to make everything feel powerfully vivid.
“God, yes, Owen.”
He kisses me again as he starts to rock his hips, plunging himself into me in a slow, steady rhythm. I grip his shoulders and he draws in a sharp breath when my nails dig into him. I tighten my thighs around him and he pumps his cock into me, his rhythm growing faster and harder. The sound of our bodies crashing together and our cries of pleasure mingle with the rustling sound of the wind blowing through the undergrowth.
Owen presses his mouth to mine forcefully, nearly stealing the breath from my lungs as he thrusts into me harder. Our bodies grow tense and I feel that familiar pressure growing low inside of me. Bracing himself on his arms, Owen looks deeply into my eyes. They shine bright with affection and his smile lights up the world around us even more than the moon and the stars above.
I feel his cock beginning to pulse inside of me and it sets off an explosion of sensation that has me gasping for breath. As the waves of my orgasm crash down over me, my entire body stiffens and I work the muscles inside of me, squeezing his staff. It’s too much for Owen and pushes him over the edge. He throws his head back and groans as he explodes inside of me. We cling together, our mouths finding each other and our tongues swirling together as he pulses and I feel his warm, sticky seed filling me up.
Eventually, he rolls over onto his back and pulls me to him. I lay my head down on the hard planes of his chest and trail my fingertips up and down his stomach, relishing the moment as the sensations of our lovemaking continue to pulse inside of me.
Owen places a kiss on the top of my head and when I look up, I find him with an enigmatic smile on his face.
“What is it?” I ask.
He gives me a small shrug. “I just – I enjoyed this a lot, Winter.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Maybe a little.”
“Why?”
He runs his fingers through my hair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I guess it’s been a really long time since I connected with somebody like this.”
I nod, understanding completely. This may be the first time in my life I’ve connected with anyone like this. Before, I used sex like I used drugs – as a means of anesthetizing myself to the pain I was feeling. But with Owen, it just feels… different. I crave sex with him not as an anesthetic, but because I genuinely like him.
“Do me a favor?” he murmurs.
“Sure.”
“Be careful around Olivia.”
I raise myself up on my elbow and look down at him. It’s a strange thing for him to say, given that he’s friends with her. I purse my lips and narrow my eyes at him.
“Why would you say that?” I ask.
“Because you don’t know her like I do,” he tells me. “She can be downright… vicious.”
“She’s been nothing but nice to me.”
“For now,” he concedes. “But she can turn on you in a heartbeat. I’ve seen her do it. My two cents is, you spend more time with somebody like Bonnie and less time with Olivia.”
“Owen, I–”
He presses his lips to mine, cutting me off. Our kiss deepens quickly and soon, my reply is lost in a sea of sensation and emotion.
Chapter Eleven
“So, how did your date with Owen go?”
I set Bonnie’s drink down on the counter in front of her. I can still hear the ring of disapproval in her voice, but it’s fainter. I can tell she’s trying her best to contain it and I appreciate the effort.
I give her a small smile as memories of the whole evening – especially making love with him under the stars – flash through my mind. The mere thought of having him inside of me sends a fiery energy through me, warming me from the inside out and making my every nerve ending tingle.
“It was great,” I tell her.
She takes a sip of her drink, fixing her eyes on me. “That’s it?” she presses. “That’s all you’re going to give me?”
I laugh as I clean the latte machine in front of me, wiping the foam off the steam wand. I’d gotten a job at Grinders – unlike some of my friends, I don’t come from a wealthy family and I need to earn any spending cash I have.
“It was nice. He took me to dinner at Cinzo’s and then…”
I let my voice trail off and look away, feeling my cheeks flush with heat. She stares at me expectantly for a long minute, waiting for me to continue. All I can seem to do, though, is stand there, cleaning the same machine I’ve been cleaning for the last few minutes, and smile like an idiot.
“And then?” she finally prompts me.
I sigh and bite my bottom lip. “And then he took me to the Bluffs.”
Her gasp is audible and her eyes grow wider than dinner plates as she gawks at me, knowing full well what a trip to the Bluffs means.
“You didn’t,” she says.
I look away, my cheeks burning. I’m sure turning an unnatural shade of red. I take a couple of deep breaths and let them out slowly, trying to muster some sense of dignity. I remind myself that there is nothing for me to be ashamed of or embarrassed about – I did nothing wrong.
“Don’t look so shocked and horrified,” I reply.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”
“You know I like him.”
“I didn’t know you were going to jump into bed with him the first chance you got.”
I sigh and look around. Thankfully, the place is only half-filled and there’s nobody sitting close enough to us to overhear.
“It’s not like I planned it. It just happened,” I assure her.
The look of disapproval on her face is as plain as day. Any pretense she had of trying to make an effort to rein it in has vanished completely, and it really pisses me off.
“I don’t need to justify myself to you, Bonnie,” I snap.
Her eyes narrow and her jaw clenches. I can tell I’ve pushed a button with Bonnie, and she’s not happy about it. Without a word, she gets up and grabs her bag off the counter, storming out at the same time Olivia happens to be walking in. She gives Bonnie a curious glance, watching her huff away with an amused smirk on her face.
“Trouble in Nerdville?” she asks.
“Be nice.”
She holds her hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood in here. It obviously needs it.”
Ignoring her, I set about making Olivia’s favorite drink, just to give myself something to do. I need a minute to myself to gather my wits about me again. I close my eyes and focus on my heartbeat, doing my best to dispel the heaviness that’s settled down around me.
“So, what was that all about?” Olivia asks. “Why’d Bonnie go tearing out of here like you broke her heart?”
I shrug and hand Olivia her drink. “I guess I did.”
Her eyes widen and a scandalized smile touches her lips. “Did she, like, have a girl crush on you?”
“No, nothing like that,” I reply quickly. “She just doesn’t like that I’m… seeing Owen.”
She takes a sip of her drink then purses her lips, an expression of faux-understanding crossing her features.
“Oh, she doesn’t like that you’re having mind-blowing orgasms with a good-looking boy instead of the handle of her hairbrush?” She laughs. “Jealousy is such an ugly thing.”
I try to stop it but the laughter erupts from my throat anyway and, of course, I feel bad that I even find it funny in the first place. I wad up a napkin and toss it at Olivia. She giggles as it bounces off the end of her nose.
“I said be nice,” I remind her. “Or at least be less of a bitc
h than usual.” I amend. “And I never said I was having sex with Owen.”
“Ooooh, feisty. I like it,” she says. “And you didn’t have to. You just have that ‘I’m getting good sex’ glow about you.”
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “Shut up.”
“What time are you off?”
I pick my phone up and look at the time. “Half an hour.”
“Perfect. You’re going out with me tonight.”
“I am?”
“Yes, you are,” she confirms. “We’re going to put in an appearance at Blackjacks.”
“Liv, it’s a school night–”
“Wow. I see we never left Nerdville, after all. It’s like invasion of the Bonnie snatchers or something.”
“You are awful.”
“And you are coming,” she retorts. “I need a wingwoman.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “Fine, let me call my mom and tell her I’ll be late.”
“Good girl.”
* * * * *
My mom wasn’t thrilled with me going out on a school night, but since she’s still caught up in the novelty of me having friends, she indulged me. While she isn’t as fond of Olivia as she is of Bonnie, Mom likes her well enough. My mom says Bonnie is her favorite of any friend I’ve ever had but after the time I spent hanging out with the “wrong crowd” and otherwise being a social castoff, she thinks it’s a good thing that I have a wide and diverse group of friends – all things that work in my favor.
“So, is your boyfriend going to be there?” I ask Olivia. “Is that why you need a wingwoman?”
“He’s not my boyfriend. Yet.” She grins. “And yes, he’s going to be there.”
After I got off work, I stopped by Olivia’s place to get ready. She let me borrow some of her clothes, she said, so I wouldn’t have to answer any of my mom’s questions about where we were going. But I think it’s more likely that she wanted to doll me up a bit more than usual. She’ll never come right out and say it – preferring to take subtle jabs at me, instead –but she thinks my fashion sense sucks.
I suspect she won’t outright fashion-shame me just because she knows my family isn’t as well-off as hers. Knowing Liv as I do now, it’s a curiosity to me that she is as good a friend to me as she is. She typically only runs in affluent circles. Her best friends – or as I like to call them, her minions – Victoria and a brunette named Tricia are both from very wealthy families and are always walking fashion plates.
I’m like the square peg in Olivia’s round social circle. But for whatever reason, she’s taken a shine to me. And, given the social currency it’s given me around school, I’m not complaining. Maybe the masses aren’t parting for me when I stroll down the hallway, but they aren’t actively icing me out anymore, either. People are paying attention to me. They know my name and I can see something like jealousy in the eyes of some of the younger girls around campus. They look at me like I’m actually somebody.
I know it’s petty and shallow. But the attention I’ve been getting from not just those who are lower on the social ladder is… nice. It’s not just them, though. Of course, I’m being lavished with attention from Owen, which I’m enjoying immensely. But Asher and Samuel have both been treating me really nicely and paying attention to me as well.
It’s terrible, I’ll be the first to admit. But I’ve never gotten this sort of respect, attention – and in some cases, even the admiration – from so many different people, and I’m lapping it up the way a kitten relishes a bowl of cream.
I do my best to not let it go to my head and keep my feet on the ground. I know how transient these bouts of popularity can be. All it takes is the wrong word in the right ear and before you know it, you go from being a near-celebrity on campus to a school pariah. If there’s one thing the popular cliques love more than themselves, it’s eating their own and knocking others down the social ladder. I’ve seen it happen too many times to be naïve about it. Popularity is fleeting, so while it lasts, I intend to wring every ounce of enjoyment out of it that I can.
“So, what is this guy’s name, anyway?” I ask.
“Donovan Salvino,” she says.
Her voice is dreamy as she speaks his name, and I can practically see the cartoon hearts floating above her head. It’s cute – until I remember that she’s talking about a man more than twice her age. Then, it starts to border a bit on the creepy side.
“What’s your long-term plan with this guy?” I wonder. “I mean–”
“What are you? My mother?” she snaps.
There’s a hard, brittle edge to her voice that tells me I hit a very sore spot. But she quickly recovers and after a deep breath, her smile – if a little shakier – returns to her face.
“He’s going to wait until I graduate, and then he says he’s going to leave his wife,” she explains bluntly. “And after that, who knows? Maybe we’ll live out on Lake Como, or just settle for a place in the Hamptons.”
“Wow.” I really don’t want to say the wrong thing. “That sounds – great.”
I can see in her eyes that she desperately wants to believe it will happen. That this Donovan Salvino character will whisk her away to live some fairy-tale life, with Olivia starring as the princess. But the jagged edge in her voice tells me that somewhere deep down inside of her, she knows the reality of the situation – that she’s screwing some guy old enough to be her father who has no intention of leaving his wife and comfy life.
I don’t even know if she’s consciously aware of that reality right now, though, as caught up in the fantasy as she is.
It makes me feel sorry for her. It really does. Olivia is clinging to the illusion of a perfect and charmed life that is never going to happen – even if she can’t acknowledge that, even to herself, just yet. And it makes this man she’s so hung up on all the more disgusting to me. From his perspective, I’m sure it’s ideal – he gets to live out every middle-aged man’s fantasy by banging an eighteen-year-old while going home to his life of stability every night. And when Olivia gets to be too much of a problem, he’ll simply cut her loose.
It’s beyond disgusting, and I hate this man with every fiber of my being for doing this to her. It’s a story as old as time itself, and I wish like hell I could make her see it for what it is and dump his ass. But I know that until she’s ready to see it, she won’t. And she’ll only resent me for trying to make her see that he’s a man preying on a younger girl’s vulnerability and desire for happily ever after.
Olivia is not stupid by any means. And she’s far too cynical and jaded to be this naïve. It baffles me to no end that she’s let herself get so deeply wrapped up in this guy. I can’t believe that she’s abandoned her common sense so easily for wishes and promises from a married man who is just using her to get his rocks off.
“Come on,” she says brightly. “My Prince Charming awaits.”
“Yeah,” is all I can think to say.
We get out of the car and she hooks her arm through mine, practically pulling me along with her like a horse at a plow – and I don’t know if it’s because of her excitement to see Prince Charming or my desire to keep her from getting in deeper with this guy. We get to the door and the walking mountain in the designer suit sitting on a stool beside it gives us both a warm, welcoming smile.
“Good to have you back,” he says.
“Glad to be back, Timothy,” Olivia replies.
He opens the door for us and ushers us inside. The door closes with a firm thud as Olivia pulls me down the hallway and into the main room. Just inside the threshold of the main room of the club, she starts scanning the crowd anxiously, looking for all the world like a nervous prairie dog searching for predators.
“There he is,” she announces and pulls me along with her again.
“Oh, goody,” I mutter under my breath.
Chapter Twelve
Olivia and Donovan are stuck together like glue on one side of the booth and I’m seated on the other with my drink, feeling like the biggest thi
rd wheel in the world. Their murmured conversation is punctuated with wet, sloppy kisses and I turn away, looking out over the room. Even though it’s a weeknight, it’s still surprisingly crowded.
A small group of girls my age are grinding against men around Donovan’s age on the dance floor, while others stand in small knots with men wearing three-piece suits, drinking and snorting lines of coke together, laughing and getting cozier as the drink and drugs continue to flow. From where I sit, I can see a number of older men with their hands on the asses or up the skirts of girls young enough to be their daughters.
Even though I’ve been here half a dozen times or so now, what people do out in the open shocks me. That girls my age allow themselves to be used and fondled in exchange for a few drinks or a bump of coke is absolutely crazy. Of course, as I glance back at Olivia and see her with Donovan’s tongue down her throat while she gives him a handjob under the table, I start to think that maybe these girls are just looking for what she has – an older man who whispers honey-covered promises of a fairy-tale life into their ears.
Ultimately, I’m pretty certain that all of them are going to be as disappointed as Olivia will be, in the end.
“You know, Winter,” he starts, “I have a couple of friends who would be very interested in you.”
His deep, rumbling voice, touched with a faint English accent, cuts through my thoughts and I turn to look at them across the table. Olivia’s eyes remain riveted to Donovan, and she’s got a dreamy smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye that makes me think she is actually in love with the man. The pity I feel for her wells up like a tidal wave, because I know this is not going to end well for her.
I watch as his eyes slide up and down my body and a small smile touches his lips. He looks at me like a predator might look at a prey animal – plump, moist, and ripe for the picking. I suppress the shudder that ripples through me when I recognize that lustful gleam in his eye.
“I dare say, you are quite lovely, and you would be right up my friends’ respective alleys,” he tells me. “Shall I make an introduction?”
