Peyton's Path: Fickle Fate: Book 3

by SM Olivier

  “Paxton,” I gasped and giggled at the same time. “I want you inside me.”

  He shook his head. “No. You taste so good. I need more.”

  I tried to squirm from his tongue, but he reached up and placed a hand on my pelvis. He emphatically shook his head.

  “It’s too sensitive,” I whimpered.

  He lifted his head, and with a speed that surprised me, he hovered above me. He had a lust-drugged glaze in his eyes as he grasped my jaw. His mouth lowered to mine. I could taste myself on his lips and feel his tongue erotically entwine with mine.

  He linked his fingers with mine, and I could feel his erection against my thigh. I could feel his precum leak on me. When had he gotten naked? I moaned at the thought and ground my thigh against him.

  “Please let me feel you,” I beg.

  “I want more,” he nearly growled in my ear before he was down between my thighs once more.

  The sensitivity didn’t completely fade away before another orgasm snuck up on me. I lost all speech and feeling as my second orgasm found me. My body felt heavy and not like my own.

  Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I heard him say, “You are so beautiful. I love hearing you call my name, falling apart. I love your taste. I’m hooked, addicted even.”

  I felt him crawl up my body again, his mouth and tongue worshiping nearly every inch of me.

  “Are you still alive, Peyton?” he asked with a slight smirk in his tone.

  I slowly drifted back down to earth and opened my eyes, studying his face. Just like when he was immersed in his photography, I loved this other look on him. No wonder girls chased him at that party we’d attended. He was a magician at foreplay.

  He was so achingly handsome. A lock of his light brown hair had fallen over his forehead and into his eye. He was all man but looked boyish with that hair in his eye. My heart melted.

  I felt his cock on my belly, and without hesitation, I reached down and grasped him. I wanted to be irritated that he denied me when I wanted to feel him inside me. However, the orgasms he gave me had more than made up for what I thought I'd wanted.

  “You told me I didn’t have to beg.” I gently but firmly squeezed him with a smirk of my own. “I begged for your cock and you wouldn’t give it to me.”

  His eyes rolled in the back of his head, and he groaned, undulating against my palm. “I need a condom.” His next groan sounded nearly painful as he said sheepishly, “I don’t have any in here. I haven’t needed them for a long time.”

  My eyes widened slightly as his words sunk in. I realized what he was telling me. I was reminded of his wild and crazy side after his parents and siblings passed, which was followed by hooking up with a lot of girls. He had come a long way from the guy who had sex, drank, and got high to numb the pain.

  “Not even in your wallet?” I teased him.

  “No,” he pouted almost boyishly as he dropped his head on my shoulder. “Next time?” he inquired hopefully. “I don’t need it. I’m happy I got to watch you fall apart twice and taste you.”

  I knew this was true from the rumors I’d heard. Apparently, Paxton got more joy from giving pleasure than receiving it. Little did he know, that didn’t work for me; I wanted him to join me on the euphoric plane of bliss.

  My greedy core was wet. I shimmied slightly up and lined Paxton’s cock up to my passage. “Or…” I whispered in his ear before nipping his ear once more. I felt his shudder and heard his groan in my ear. I loved having this power over him. His responses were addicting.

  “You can enter me bare,” I continued.

  His head snapped up, and before he could decide, I pushed the tip of him into me.

  “I know you got checked, plus I’m on birth control. Give me your cock, Paxton,” I commanded him.

  His eyes had the lust-drugged glaze in them as he bit his bottom lip. “Are you sure?” He eased slowly into me.

  “Yes,” I gasped out. Paxton wasn’t as thick as he was long, so long.

  He continued to sink into me, and it was almost painful once he was entirely inside. I didn’t know if it was his length or my forced celibacy that caused the slight discomfort.

  He intuitively seemed to realize my body needed to adjust to him, despite the two orgasms that should have helped his entrance. He kept his upper body poised above mine, his forearms braced on both sides of my head. A myriad of emotions crossed his face.

  “You feel so good,” he groaned into my mouth before capturing my lips with his. “I’m not sure I can last.”

  I was unable to respond as he kissed me, which in turn quickly chased away all discomfort. I tilted my hips up, and he gasped, moaning before thrusting out. He began to set a rhythm of short strokes in an attempt to let my body get accustomed to his length.

  The fire in my lower belly grew, and soon I was wrapping my legs around the small of his back. I was ready to take every inch of him.

  “It’s okay,” I reassured him with a small smile. “You gave me two orgasms. That’s more than enough.”

  He shook his head with a look of determination. “That won’t do. I’ve never been or wanted to be bare in a girl. I don’t want to come when I haven’t felt my forever girl come around my dick first.”

  He tilted his hips forward, setting an almost painfully slow pace as he pressed against my clit. The sounds of our intermingling moans and groans filled the room.

  “More,” I begged him as the sensations of our lovemaking danced across my nerve endings.

  I was so close, I could feel it, and I was greedy for it.

  Our eyes met, and he picked up the pace, reaching down between us. His thumb circled my clit.

  “Let me watch you come,” he commanded.

  I nodded and kept eye contact with him, which was hard when all I wanted to do was close my eyes to feel the sensations more acutely. Then I realized the look in his eyes was better than any aphrodisiac. He looked at me like I was his everything, like I was the prettiest damn girl in the world.

  “Paxton,” I gasped as he continued to drive in me with an almost frantic pace. I felt another orgasm overtake me, and I heard a high pitch whimpering. I realized it was coming from me right as Paxton leaned down and kissed me.

  He gave me all of him with no restraint, and soon was groaning in my mouth. When he came, my name was on his lips.

  “I love you, Peyton,” he said in a litany over and over again as I felt him come inside me.

  He continued moving inside me until I knew he was spent. When he collapsed on top of me, he was careful not to give me his entire weight, and I smiled against his shoulder.

  Once we were breathing normally again, and I could move my limbs once more, he slipped an arm under me and rolled so I could lie on top of him.

  I realized then he was quiet. Too quiet. I looked up at him and saw a frown between his brows.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him.

  He gave me a feigned smile that I saw through immediately.

  “Never better,” he answered.

  “Liar,” I accused.

  He turned so that we were now facing. “I never knew it could be like that,” he said quietly. Lying on his side, he propped himself up on an elbow. I shifted, mimicking his pose, a mere six-inches separated us.

  “What?” I asked him in confusion.

  “Sex,” he muttered, almost in embarrassment. “The connection I feel with you. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating.”

  “What’s there to be terrified about?” I inquired softly with a frown.

  He trailed his fingers over my ribs and my hips several times. Fear began to creep up, but I tried to be patient as he gathered his thoughts. I knew how he got lost in his head at times. I learned sometimes it was best to just let him formulate his words instead of pushing him.

  Finally, he looked up, and I saw a reflection of a very lost and scared little boy.

  “Everything good in my life disappears, Peyton. My birth mom was fifteen when she got pregnant with me. My sper
m donor promised to stay by her side but skipped town the first chance he got. My birth mom's parents found out she was pregnant and told her she had a choice. She could terminate me or leave. My mom chose to leave. She moved to the city. She dropped out of school. She lived in shelters until she found a laundromat to work at. By the time I was born, the laundromat owner had given her a small room in the back.

  “I don’t have many early memories of my mom, but I knew we were happy. On her days off, she would take me to the park. When she earned enough money, she bought us a small television and we would cuddle on our bed and watch movies. I knew we were poor. I barely ever received gifts. I was never full, but it didn’t matter because I knew my birth mom was trying her best. Then, one day, she met this older man.”

  I stiffened and slid in closer to him so I could lay my head against his chest. I moved my fingers soothingly over his back. Dread filled my stomach as I imagined what happened next.

  “I was around five,” he continued, brushing his lips against my forehead. “He had this weird hold over her. He had power over her, and I didn’t understand. He would take her out on these dates, and at first, she would leave me for a night, maybe two. Every time she returned, I felt like she was changing.

  “Eventually, she disappeared for a week or so at a time. She would leave me a box of cereal and maybe some knock-off pop tarts. I learned how to ration them after the first time of eating them within a few days. The owner of the laundromat found out she wasn’t working like she was supposed to and kicked us out. We moved me into this shitty apartment, and things got worse. She was rarely home, and when she was, she was high as a kite and had bruises all over her. My beautiful young mother had become a shell of herself.

  “She taught me how to keep my mouth shut. She told me if anyone found out she had to leave me from time to time, I would get taken away. She said the system would hurt gorgeous boys like me and I believed her. She was the only family I ever knew. Through our thin apartment walls, I could hear the alarm from Ms. Hernadez’s clock. I knew it was time to get up and go to school. If I didn’t go to school, I didn’t eat. I walked to the subway every day, picking up any change along the way to catch it. I would go to school, where I got free breakfast and lunch and learned what kept and what didn’t.”

  I tightened my arms around his waist, my stomach roiling with unease at his words. I wanted to hunt his mother down and kill her, if she wasn’t already dead.

  “One day, she never came home,” he continued. “The cops caught me digging through the dumpster by this restaurant around the corner. I got placed in the system while they looked for her. I was able to point her out from a mugshot they had of her. She had already been arrested for prostitution, soliciting an officer, and possession of drugs and released several times.

  “It took them over a year to find her. By then, I had already been in five different foster homes. I was living with Mam and Da when I was told they located her at a rehabilitation center. She had met a new man, and he didn’t want kids. She had a choice again: me or the streets. She chose her new man. She was charged for abandoning me, but her new man had the charges dropped. I begged to see her. I thought I could convince her to keep me. She sent a letter to me. She apologized for leaving me but explained that she was too young to care for me properly. She told me I would be placed in a better home and asked me never to look for her.”

  Silent tears fell down my face, and my heart broke for what he’d gone through. It explained a lot. Now I knew why he had abandonment issues. I understood why he hoarded things in fear of them getting damaged or taken.

  “Everything good in my life leaves me,” he whispered once more. “My birth mother, Mam, Da, Duncan, Polly, and Mandy. When you were taken, I thought the universe wasn’t done screwing with me. I try,” he said in a pained voice, “…try to be a good man. I try to do right by others.”

  I rolled him over so I could straddle his hips. I pushed the hair off his face and kissed his lips. Our tears mingled together.

  “You’re birth mother is a piece of shit,” I told him straight. “You didn’t make her disappear or choose a man over you. “Mam, Da, Duncan, Polly’s, and Mandy’s death was a freak accident. It was the drunk driver's fault for choosing to be so stupid and selfish. We have no control over other people’s foolish actions. I was taken because some very sick individuals saw the likeness between my aunt and me. They had created this weird, twisted family and wanted me to be a part of it. Your actions didn’t cause my abduction. The universe, God, isn’t trying to punish you. You’ve done nothing wrong, Paxton. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Your behavior doesn’t cause your trials. If our actions punished us, then people like Tormentor would have been suffering a long time ago.” Then I kissed him once more.

  “I’m screwed up,” Paxton confessed in a broken whisper.

  “So am I,” I responded back. “We can be screwed up together, forever.”

  He took in a few deep, fortifying breaths. “Forever?” He seemed confused for a moment.

  “If you’ll have me.” I nuzzled his neck.

  I didn’t know what our future held or where our paths would lead us, but somehow I knew, even if those paths split for a while, someday we would have our forever together.

  “Of course,” he said emphatically. “I love you, Peyton Delaney, and I want forever with you.”

  I smiled. “Good, because I love you, too.”

  He cradled my face, a smile curving his lips. “You love me?”

  The look of awe and surprise on his face made my heart speed up.

  I giggled. “That’s what I said, Paxton Massey.”

  He groaned before rolling me over, then placed kisses on my face, lips, neck, chest and working his way down.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped as his mouth hovered over my mound.

  “Showing you how much I love you,” he said wickedly before his mouth closed over the top of me.

  I groaned as his tongue ring found my clit.

  He showed me how much he loved me, well into the night and into the early hours of the next morning.

  13

  ●

  Undesirable Visitor

  It felt like I had this renewed burst of energy. I couldn’t explain it. My body was sore, and it felt like every step, every movement, was being squeezed from me, but I fed off it. Carry You by Ruelle and Fleurie played from the speakers, and I lost myself in the lyrics, the music, the emotions it evoked in me.

  Sweat dripped from my brow as I leaped into my tour jeté. I made sure to keep my head elevated and not anticipate the landing. As I was taught, I imagined an invisible string pulling my spine and torso straight up to the ceiling.

  I got lost in the music, continued the choreography I had created for this song. As I immersed myself in the lyrics, I realized I was dancing for Paxton. He bared his soul to me last night, and I wanted to make sure he knew he would never be alone ever again. I wanted to hurt his mother. I wanted to be angry at God for what he had been through.

  Then I realized that we all had our own paths to follow. We might not know why we went through the stuff we did, or why good people continually suffered, but sometimes there was beauty in the breaking. Call me twisted or deranged, but I wouldn’t be half the person I was without the storms I traveled through.

  I didn’t think Paxton would be the man he was today, either, if it weren’t for the trials he had faced. In his pain, I found my strength. In his need for me, I felt a renewed purpose. My fears and pain still lingered on the edges, but they now felt dampened. It was like the sharp edges had been dulled to a blunt edge.

  I had set my music on repeat. I went back through the dance moves I had created, adding more technical movements in places where I felt I could push limits. My limbs shook, my heart raced, yet I continued.

  Dancing and my night with Paxton brought me peace, determination, and a drive I hadn’t felt for some time. I had felt numb for some time, allowing my fears to cloud my vision.
I had forgotten the strength I carried within.

  I wasn’t delusional enough to believe I was cured, or that my triggers didn’t exist. I wasn’t, and they did. However, I was finding my center once more. Up until this morning, I’d felt off-kilter. I felt like I was literally walking on thin ice and in danger of falling in at any moment.

  When the song ended, I shook out my limbs and rolled my neck. I took a long drink from my water bottle. I wiped my brow with my towel and waited for the music to start again.

  When it didn’t, my brows furrowed, and I turned towards the sound system. Anya and one of the new instructors were leaning on the wall beside it.

  The hour before we were dismissed for lunch, Starr and Alex had instructed us to work on our solos, duets, trios, or any areas we might need to work on. They were going to visit us in the practice rooms while we self-practiced.

  Zane and I had already worked on our duet before the school opened, and Starr had met us for our practice session. We weren’t where we needed to be, but there was a considerable improvement since yesterday. I wasn’t sure if it was because I had “let go” or because I’d felt more confident today. Either way, Starr seemed pleased with our progress, and she seemed to believe we would have it nailed down by Saturday.

  I also gained confidence in the group number. I had all the moves down and even got a few compliments today. When Alex had dismissed us for self-training, I felt compelled to dance to the song and movements I had stuck in my head since early this morning. Last night, as Paxton and I drifted off to sleep, Ruelle's music had been playing and I took it as a sign.

  Zane had humored me on the way to the dance studio and allowed me to play my music. I played it over and over again. I didn’t know why some songs spoke to me more than others. Somehow, that song had. I wanted to be the one to carry Paxton and let him know he’d never be alone again. He had held me, and I wanted to be the one to take the heavy weight of his emotions as well.

  The younger, new instructor looked positively giddy and clapped her hands in excitement. Anya’s school was growing. Whether it was through the free publicity she got from my abduction or the growing recognition of the talent she produced at competitions was still unknown. She had to hire a few more instructors to keep up with her school's new demand and growth.