Whipped (A Second Helpings Story)

by Sierra Hill

  Whipped

  A Second Helpings Story

  By

  Sierra Hill

  Copyright © 2018 Sierra Hill

  Published by Ten28 Publishing

  Cover Design: Tracy Lorraine

  Photography: Adobe Stock (Standard License)

  Proofreading: Debbie Dumke

  All rights reserved.

  Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without prior written permission by the author, except where permitted by law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact sierrahillbooks@gmail.com.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or used factiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, business establishments, or educational systems is entirely coincidental.

  All products and/or brand names mentioned are registered trademarks of their respective holders/companies/institutions.

  Dedication

  To my sister, Jen.

  I’m thankful for you and your daughters.

  And I hope this book will give you the belief in second chances and new beginnings.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  It’s impossible to get through a Thanksgiving holiday without some dysfunctional family drama.

  It’s just a hard and fast rule: if more than two members of the same family are gathered under one roof, they’ve been plied with savory food and holiday cocktails, and they’re required to spend time together – it’s a sure recipe for disaster.

  Except this Thanksgiving the discord isn’t with my family – albeit, my aunt Zoe is really getting on my last nerve with her man-bashing ideals. No, this year, I’m all whipped up over the guy sitting directly across the dinner table from me. He’s no relation to me (thank God, ‘cause that would be just ewww) but we did practically grow up together.

  Jase Lathrop is not of any familial relation to me or a member of my extended family. He just happens to be the boy I’ve had a crush on since I was a tween, when I had plump cheeks, pimples adorning my chin and a mouth full of braces. He also happens to be the guy who kissed me and then dissed me four years ago.

  It adds an entirely different meaning to diss-functional to this family gathering.

  “Jase, it’s so good to have you join us tonight, sweetheart,” my mother coos, blotting her lips with the holiday-décor’d napkin before returning it neatly back in her lap.

  My eyes snap to her as I see her smile sweetly at our unexpected guest.

  My dad chimes in with his booming voice, raising his glass in a toast.

  “Here’s to Jase. Thank you for your service.”

  A chorus of “here-here’s” goes around the table with the clinking of glasses, as I sneak a surreptitious glance at Jase through my lashes.

  He sits in his military uniform, as sexy-as-can-be, his smile as genuine as it’s always been, but this time when he snags my gaze, I notice there’s something a little darker residing there. The heat from his eyes seems to travel across the table, landing heavily between my legs, where I have to clutch my thighs together tightly to relieve the ache.

  That heat is quickly doused with the fact that he’s still off limits to me. Jase is my older brother Chris’s best friend. The one who practically lived here when we were kids, hanging out every weekend and during summer vacations until he and my brother graduated four years ago, each going their different directions. Chris went to college and Jase went off to the Marines. And I stayed back to finish high school.

  It was the night of their graduation party when Jase kissed me, making all my teenage fantasies come true and my teen emotions go wonky. It was only a kiss to Jase, I’m sure. It probably wasn’t even a memorable one for him since he was pretty drunk and by then had kissed a hundred girls. But to me, it meant everything.

  Although he’d been drinking, the kiss wasn’t a sloppy, slobbering drunken kiss. Jase knew what he was doing – cupping my cheeks in his hands, slipping his tongue across the seam of my lips, tasting me gently, before tilting my head and giving me the most sensual kiss of my life. He didn’t know it, but it was my first kiss.

  The perfect moment was cut short, however, when Chris called down the stairs that night and informed Jase they were heading to another party. The look Jase gave me was half apology and half longing. Everything about our kiss was over before it even began and left me hungry for more. Pining over a guy I’d never have a real chance with.

  Except now that same guy is staring at me with an expression I can’t quite interpret.

  By the way his dark gaze caresses my skin, turning my insides all hot and bubbly like the toasted marshmallows on the sweet potato casserole, it sure feels like there might be a chance.

  The way he’s looking at me suggests he wants me for his after-dinner dessert tonight.

  Chapter Two

  “I’ll go get dessert served.”

  I watch, intrigued, as Cecilia jumps from her chair, practically toppling it over in her haste to get away from the table.

  I don’t blame her for needing to get out of here. The last two hours have been hell for me as I’ve sat in agony and regret, watching CC pick at her food, catching her furtive glances through her lush lashes that have set me on fire. That shy smile on her face and her golden shoulders exposed by the cut-outs of her blouse, have tortured my sanity with the need to touch her.

  I’ve known the Sundstrom’s since Chris and I were in middle school, when my mom and I moved to town after the divorce. As his best friend, I was always over at his house, hanging out and having sleep overs. At first, CC was just an annoyance, as any little sister is to teenage boys. But as we grew older, I watched her blossom and turn into a beautiful young woman.

  By the time she was fifteen, no longer wearing a mouth full of braces and filling out her bikinis like some pin-up girl, she became every fantasy in my pubescent spank bank. But there was nothing I could do about it.

  She was Chris’s little sister and too young for me at the time, so all I could do was watch from afar. It wrecked me then, and it’s absolutely tormenting me now knowing what those soft, luscious lips taste like. I want a second helping of what she’s dishing out.

  My pants are feeling a little snug – and not just from all the turkey I ate. My cock is pressed against my thigh with only one thing on his mind – kissing CC again. And maybe doing a whole lot more than we had a chance to four years ago.

  That one kiss – and the silken feel of her hair as I ran my fingers through it – along with the breathy gasp that escaped her mouth that night - took with me through the hells of bootcamp and has been embedded in my dreams all this time.

  The memory of that kiss and the way she looked at me afterwards – as if I’d hung the stars just for her - has me wanting to lay her out on this table and devour her just like I did with the food on my plate.

  “I’ll help CC with dessert,” I say in a gusty breath, standing in a rush as all eyes land on me.

  Mrs. Sundstrom gestures with a wave for me to sit back down.

  “Nonsense, Jase. You’re our guest and that’s not needed.”


  But I shake my head and follow in the direction CC went, finding her at the kitchen counter with her back to me.

  The door swings closed on its hinges, the squeak of it alerting her to my presence.

  This may be the only chance I get to be alone with her. To tell her how much I’ve missed her. They way I’ve always felt about her. How I only realized it once I was gone and it was too late. My tongue is inconveniently tied up in knots as I stand frozen in the middle of the galley like a deer in headlights. Thankfully, she’s bold enough to address the elephant in the room.

  “You kissed me and then left me, Jase.” She turns suddenly, wielding a very large knife, dripping bits of pumpkin pie on the floor as she pivots toward me. “Do you know what that does to a teenage girl’s psyche?”

  A gurgle of laughter lodges in my throat over the contrast of the serious tone in her voice versus the dollop of whip cream on the end of her nose. Cute but deadly. Taking a cautious step forward, I hold my arms up in surrender, employing a tactic I learned in my time in service. When in any sort of standoff, physical or otherwise, the trick is to make your opponent feel comfortable before you strike.

  “You can murder me with that if you want, Cecelia. And I probably deserve your wrath. But with a room full of witnesses out there, you might not get away with it.” I lift an amused brow and motion my head toward the doorway.

  As if it finally dawns on her, she tracks my gaze with bewildered eyes to the knife in her hand. She covers her gaping mouth with the other hand and shakes her head. Turning, she places it down behind her and drops her forehead into her palm.

  Her laugh is a startled chuckle. “Oh my God, you must think I’m batshit crazy.”

  It’s been a long while since I’ve last seen or been near Cecelia, but I’d never think that. My feet blindly move toward her on their own accord and I’m suddenly surrounded by the botanical scent of her skin. A little floral with some pumpkin spice sprinkled in for good measure. My entire body is hungry for her.

  I continue my slow momentum until my face is inches from hers. I cage her in with my arms bracing me against the counter. The heat of her body magically penetrates mine through layers of clothing, burning me up like I’m in the oven set on bake.

  She won’t meet my gaze, but bites down on her lip with uncertainty. Her pulse point at the base of her neck thrums and thumps, and I want to bend down to suck on it. Lick her soft, sultry skin and inhale her delicious scent.

  I stop myself from doing any of that but do duck my head to her ear and whisper my misgivings.

  “You’re not the crazy one, here, Cecelia. I am. I’m crazy for ever leaving you without an explanation. I’ve always had a thing for you.”

  Her breathy gasp has my smile broadening, knowing I’m getting through to her and that maybe she might have similar feelings.

  “Wh-what do you mean?”

  Encroaching on her space even further, I tilt my hips so my erection connects with the heat of her center, covered only by a gauzy skirt, pinning her with my body against the granite.

  “That kiss we shared…it’s the best damn thing I’ve ever had. I’ve never forgotten the feel of your lips. Or your taste…goddamn, CC. You had me whipped up so hard and you didn’t know it. I want it again. Right now.”

  Pulling back so I can see her face, my head bent, I dart my tongue out to flick the sweet cream on the end of her pert nose. It gives me so many suggestive ideas I let out a groan.

  I’m just about to go in for my second helping to reenact that kiss we shared when the door swings open and Chris pushes his way into the kitchen, his back toward us, carrying an armful of dishes.

  Although I’m able to step back to provide an appropriate modicum of space, I still feel the weight of CC’s breasts where they pressed against my chest. I place my hand over the spot in the wake of the loss.

  Chris turns and shoves the plates in my hands.

  “Hurry up and get dessert served. We’re going bowling!”

  Chapter Three

  Bowling. Shit, I forgot.

  It’s our family’s annual Thanksgiving tradition and something we’ve done every year since I was a young kid. It’s normally something I’m excited about, loving the friendly competition and festive mood.

  But right now, after that hot encounter with Jase, it’s the furthest thing from my mind. Not when my entire body is jumbled up and wanting what he was offering me. Hungry for that kiss he was just about to give me before my brother so rudely interrupted.

  I shake off my lustful thoughts and think fast. How can I get us out of this? What can I say that will keep me home alone with Jase? Because that rocket in his pants was not my imagination and my teenage dreams deserve to be played out. Just this once.

  I rub an invisible spot on my temple, grimacing a little for added affect. “You know, I feel a migraine coming on. Probably from all the carb overload. Maybe I can stay back and clean up the kitchen and then lay down for a bit. I can catch up with you guys later.”

  My eyes dart between Chris and then Jase, who I hope catches on to my lie and jumps in to play his part.

  Rubbing a hand over his belly – which by the way, I can see shifting underneath his movements, like a rolling inchworm over ridged landscape – he shakes his head.

  “Ah man. I think the tryptophan has gotten me, too. And since I have a pretty bad case of jetlag from my trip, I think some shut eye will due me some good. How about I stay and help you clean up, Cecelia? Then we can both rest up and head to the bowling alley later.”

  Chris gives a growl of disapproval, trying to figure out what’s going on and whether he should believe us or not.

  “Dude,” my brother laments, clearly not good with this change of plans. He places the dishes in the sink and lays a thick hand on Jase’s shoulder. “You don’t have to help clean up, bro. But I get you might need some rest. That’s cool, man. I’ll tell my folks.”

  Jase’s eyes find mine as my brother loads up his hands with plates of pie, a guilty look of collusion shared between us.

  My brother turns his head back to address Jase. “Feel free to take my old bedroom, man. That bed is still super comfy. And you, little sister…”

  Chris wags a finger at me as I open one of the cupboards to extract the biggest bottle of Aleve I’ve ever seen.

  “I hope you feel better. I want you to have fun tonight.”

  Oh, I think there’s a good chance of that.

  I nearly choke as I pretend to go through the motion of opening the bottle of pills I don’t really need, and watch Chris walk out the door. All the while my body reacting to the thrill that Jase and I are about to do something very naughty and very clandestine.

  It’s another agonizing thirty minutes before everyone’s done with their desserts and are bundled up for their trek to the local lanes.

  When the last person is out the front door and it shuts behind them, I barely have time to hit the Start button on the dishwasher when Jase pounces, the two words he says pushing my own start button.

  “Bedroom, now.”

  Chapter Four

  I literally stalk her up the stairs as we stop on the second-floor landing, Chris’s old bedroom is to the right down the hallway. There’s another stairway heading up to the loft where CC’s room has always been.

  CC grabs my hand to pull me toward Chris’s room, but I stop her, shaking my head and lifting my eyes toward her bedroom.

  “I spent a lot of time in Chris’s room when I was in high school fantasizing about you up in your room. That’s where I want you.” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively, earning a blush from her already flushed, pink cheeks.

  One of my most vivid fantasies I had of CC when I was a teen was me quietly leaving Chris’s bedroom in the middle of the night and treading up the stairs to her room. I’d open the door to find her lying in her bed wearing nothing but a slip of a nightgown. I’d walk to the edge of her bed in my bare feet, my cock protruding from my waistband, aching to be touched by her.
>
  She’d sit up, shredding the blankets from her lap, and scoot to the end of the bed. Her fingers would reach out to grasp at my hard flesh, pulling the material down so I could spring free. I’d slide the edge of her nightie’s silky material up to her waist, exposing the bare skin of her creamy thighs, my knuckles skimming all that softness. Her moan skittering around the room.

  Bunching the nightie in my fist, I’d find her without panties and I’d bury my nose in the scent of her arousal suffusing my nostrils. My finger would find the wet center of her pussy and I’d bring her to a beautiful orgasm.

  “What are you thinking about right now?” CC asks, jarring me from my dirty and probably criminal thoughts of teenage Cecelia.

  She lays down on her bed, wiggling out of her shirt, staring up at me with a sexy smile alighting her face. Holy shit, this is so much better than any fantasy I could ever conjure up inside my filthy brain.

  My finger circles her belly button as she lifts her hips in what looks like some kind of yoga move. One called “fuck me now and don’t stop ‘til I drop from exhaustion.”

  The corner of my mouth quirks up as I drag my fingers down the flat of her belly. I’ve already divested my uniform and am left in my dress pants and t-shirt. When I reach the top of her skirt, I make like I’m about to pull it down, but instead, push all the filmy material up so it bunches around her waist.

  “I was thinking about you as a teenager. How I had fantasies about fucking you right here in this very bed. Taking your virginity as you screamed my name so loud it woke up everyone in the house.”

  “Oh my God, Jase,” she moans, the sound zinging right to my dick, which is already hard as a fucking rock. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? I would’ve…”

  CC shyly turns her head, as if embarrassed for asking and covers her face with an arm. It doesn’t hide the flush across her chest and neck. Cute and sexy.

  I hover over her, my hands on either side of her head, our mouths nearly touching, the heat of her body radiating through mine.