by Cam Johns
“Can you take me home?” I ask, slightly stepping back.
He furrows his brow. “Of course, come in.”
“Umm, I’ll just wait downstairs.” I turn, and basically, run away.
He grabs my arm and spins me back around to face him. He stares down at me, his eyes ablaze, and I can feel the rage exuding from him. I don’t understand why he’s upset, but the look in his eye tells me I should probably not attempt to run again. He cups my face. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Getting the hell away from you, apparently.
Before I can respond, he pulls me into his room, slams the door, and pushes me against it. He doesn’t say a word. He glares down at me; his body seems massive as he leans his muscular arm over my head.
“These jeans are a bit tight, don’t you think?” he asks, not taking his eyes off of me.
I don’t respond, suddenly mesmerized by his light brown eyes. My breathing slows, but my heart seems to palpitate faster while my body remains feverishly rigid. It’s like I’m glued to this door, not knowing how to make my feet move or my mouth form words.
It may be my inexperience with men that has me so captivated. I’m overcome with the need to be touched. Touched everywhere. Suddenly, I feel him unbuttoning my pants, then slowly pulling the zipper down. But I don’t move. His eyes remain fixed on mine, daring me to stop him.
I can’t let this happen right now. Right here. Rushed.
This isn’t how I planned my first time. I’m sure he must think I’m experienced, considering I have yet to stop his advances… or rather his intrusions. He can tell I want him. And I doubt a woman has ever told him no. I think I’ll be the first. But he should know what he’s getting into. I’m not the type of woman he’s used to. The woman that spreads her legs because he said so. I’ll want more. I deserve more, regardless of what my mother has tried to drill into me.
“Ashton, I’m—”
He smothers my lips with his before I can get it out. This time it’s more aggressive. He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth before shoving his tongue down my throat and back out. His fingers find their way to the rim of my underwear, and I finally get enough control over myself to grab his hand and open my eyes. They’ve darkened even more, but he doesn’t move his hand from its position. “I’m-I’ve… I’ve never done this before,” I whisper between breaths.
“Are you telling me no?” he asks, as his eyes slowly soften.
I stare up at him, not understanding why he’s so forceful now. Or ever. Or whatever the hell is happening right now. How does he expect me to give him whatever he wants when he wants it? “Ashton. It’s just too much. Too fast.”
There’s a glint of sadness behind those eyes, but I can tell he will respect my pace. He smiles, removing his hands from my middle but slides them around to my butt instead. “Does that mean I can’t touch this either?” He rests his forehead against mine, nudging my head up to look at him. “I wish I could put into words how beautiful I think you are.” He teases me by barely touching my lips, slightly moving against them in short upward motions, causing my body to pulsate with a lascivious need I had not realized I was capable of.
Although my body is yearning for Ashton’s hands to roam free, I think we should wait. I respond to our need with my lips, letting him devour the only thing I’m allowing him to.
8
You Haven’t Heard the Last of Me
Ashton
I never thought the touch of a woman could melt my insides like this. It seems every time her lips caress against mine, they bore a hole through me, opening my heart up to whatever this woman is willing to offer me. At this point, she pretty much can have all of me.
“We need to talk.”
She giggles. “Oh, now you want to talk?”
She’s right, talking should have come first probably. But she has no idea how long I’ve been yearning to be near her. To hold her. And to one day have her. Completely. I pull her to my bed, pulling her on my waist, so she’s straddling me.
“I thought we were talking?” she asks as I squeeze her bottom, wishing she wasn’t wearing these jeans.
I take a deep breath, taking in her beauty, trying to control my need to devour her lips again. “I’ve wanted you for a long time,” I admit, caressing her cheek as she stares down at me, cocking her head to the side, clearly confused.
“No, you haven’t.” She giggles uncomfortably, placing her hands on my chest, causing my stomach to flutter.
“Cyn, I’m serious.” I kiss her softly, unable to fight my need to feel her lips again. But the anxiety that fills me is keeping me at bay as if it’s a sin to fall for Cyn.
“I thought you hated me. I mean, you basically fucked everyone but me,”
she snaps.
Her attitude only entices me further. But obviously, she was paying attention all these years.
“I wasn’t ready for you. I am now.”
She stares through me in search of any inkling of deception, but there is none. I need her to see that. I want her to know she can depend on me. To be there for her. To protect her. To show her how much she’s worth when she doesn’t believe it for herself. But she doesn’t say a word. She just glares at me.
“What exactly are you ready for?”
I place my hand on her cheek, gazing through her deep brown eyes, hoping she believes these words. “All of you.”
Without a word, she kisses me, and I reciprocate her intensity. Her force pushes me back on the bed, pulling her with me. My body enflames as she lets herself go. She grinds into me, turning me on as I grow beneath the thin material of my towel. I squeeze her ass, pushing her against me harder as she moans into my mouth.
“I have to go!” She sits up abruptly and climbs off of my lap before I can stop her. She becomes frantic, almost frightened.
“Wait. What are you talking about? Go where?” I ask, standing, fixing the towel at my waist before it falls to the floor.
“Ashton,” She grabs her bag from the floor. “I have to go home, like right now.”
The urgency in her eyes urges me to get dressed. Although I don’t understand how we went from me, almost getting what I’ve been longing for to us leaving the house. Whatever the reason, I can tell this is not a battle I can win.
While driving across town to her home, the car feels intense. Penny and Charmaine, who are constantly playing around with each other, seem nervous… frightened even. Cynthia is no better.
I know her. I know her body. She may be silent, but that silence speaks volumes. She’s staring out of the window, clutching her bag on her lap. She keeps herself glued to the door as if she wants to stay as far away from me as possible.
I knew it. It was too much for her at once. I should’ve tried an actual conversation with her instead of immediately trying to jump her bones as if I’m some dog in heat. That’s no way to show a woman how I genuinely feel for her. This isn’t about sex for me. I respect and care for her.
Goddamit, Ash! Now she probably thinks I’m only going after her for one thing. It’s not like I don’t know she’s a virgin. How could I not? I’ve never seen her with anyone, ever. She is all about school, work, and family. Nothing stops her, and that’s what intrigues me even more.
I don’t like how little she pays attention to her surroundings. She had never once noticed me watching her, not even when I was sitting directly across from her during her lunch breaks at JJ’s.
“Are you okay?” I finally ask.
She stares at me with these somber, empty eyes, not the same glare from a half-hour prior. That look of eagerness and, I’m hoping, devotion is gone. Replaced with dread. Is it because she’s nervous about how her mother will react to her being out all night? It can’t be as bad as they’re making it seem. She’s grown now.
I park in front of their home, and they immediately file out of my Audi SUV. I grab her hand, furious she’s leaving without a word. “Cyn, wait!” I wait for her to turn back and face me, but she
doesn’t. “I’ll call you later.”
She nods, and my heart drops to the floor. I don’t like this. Is she running from me?
I watch as they file into the house, shutting the door behind them. She never looks back.
I ruined it. I’m such a damn arrogant prick sometimes. After all this time, I thought I’d learn from mistakes, but obviously, I haven’t. I’ve learned nothing at all. I stare at the fading blue door of their house, wanting to knock but choosing to give her the space she needs.
Maybe some distance will be the smart move, although that has never been my strong suit. Even when Cyn thought I hated her, I was closer to her than she knew. I’m such a fucking creep.
I start my car back up, staring at the house just as I see her appear in the front window. I don’t like the ominous feeling radiating through me as I examine her body language. She’s backing up, holding her stomach with one arm and raising her other arm as if defending herself.
What the fuck?
Then I see it. What causes me to jump out of a running car, head straight for that faded blue door, and kick it in. The first thing I see is Penelope and Charmaine cowering in a corner, holding each other crying. I swiftly turn toward the direction of where I saw their mother punching Cynthia in the face. Their mother is so enraged she hasn’t even heard me kick the door. It’s like she completely blacked out and had no idea what she was doing.
I grab her arm mid-swing, just as she begins to hit Cynthia again, who is now defenselessly lying on the floor. The woman stares back at me, astonished someone has stopped her from exacting her punishment. The empty look in her eyes explains the intensity of that car ride.
The mother, who I know is Tracey Kellan, yanks her arm from me. “Who the fuck are you? Get out of my house!”
I don’t respond to her. I try and keep my composure, being mindful that she is a woman and their supposed mother. Had circumstances been different, my fist would be plowing through the assailant’s face. “Cynthia, please get your sisters and get in my car.”
Cynthia stares at me, scared to move a muscle. Her mother turns to face her, daring her to motion towards me.
So, I stand between them, using my brooding presence to remind their mother she’s no longer in charge. “Cyn, do what I said, please.” I don’t budge, standing in front of Tracey with my arms crossed as if I’m some sort of bodyguard.
Cynthia does what I ask, shutting the door behind them.
I stand there in the same position, wondering how someone who abuses their children can call themselves a mother. How can she be falling down drunk in public, sleeping around with all these men, and bringing them home around these girls?
I know quite a bit more than I will ever let Cynthia know, but that shit is done now. They’re never coming back here. I don’t care what strings I have to pull because of Penelope and Charmaine being minors. What I do know is none of them are ever stepping foot back in this damn house.
“You think I’m scared of you, Ashton Preston?” she spits.
So she does know who I am. But let me explain it further.
“You should be.” I slowly begin to walk her back with my towering body until she reaches the small dining room set and falls to the chair. I lean over her, placing one arm on the back of the chair she’s sitting in, and the other on the table.
Tracey stares up at me, unrelenting. She’s a strong woman but still a coward for hitting her kid. She needs to be put in her place, and I need to be the one to do it. “You think I can’t slit your throat right now and not get away with it?”
Her fearlessness slowly dissipates. I’m sure she realizes I can do whatever the hell I want to in this town. The power my family has obtained here will get us anything. Allow us to do anything. And even she knows this. It’s written all over her face.
“You haven’t heard the last of me.”
The look in her eyes reiterates that fact. But she’s been forewarned. “If you step one foot into my side of town, you’ll regret it.”
9
Making Plans
Cynthia
I knew this would happen. I should have never gone out. Or I should have come home when I planned to initially. Or even right after breakfast. I know better. When am I going to learn that nothing good lasts forever? Something that has been drilled into me since my grandparents’ deaths. With my mother’s fists. With her anger. With her tirades.
But now, he knows. He knows everything. He knows too much. I wince at the pain in my stomach as we drive quietly in his car. Back to his house, I guess. I watch as he grips the steering wheel, driving much faster than he did previously.
He’s angry. Pissed. His veins protrude through the skin of his muscular arms as the redness in his skin begins to rise on his face. Suddenly, he pulls over recklessly in the middle of nowhere and jumps out of the car, slamming the door. I watch him pace back and forth on the luckily empty block, surrounded by more trees than homes.
“Stay here,” I tell my sisters, who are quietly holding each other’s hand in the back seat. I slowly step from the car, holding my belly that aches with each sudden movement. I pace over to Ashton, who is now leaning against the back of the truck. He furiously stares at me, as if I did something wrong.
“How long has she been hitting you?” His look tells me I should be honest.
“Most of my life,” I shamefully admit with my head down. “This is the first time she’s hit me in the face.” She never wanted bruises to be seen.
He places his hand on my chin, lifting my head and slightly turning it to examine the damage before letting go. He walks past me and begins pacing again before charging back and punching his own car, making a slight dent. I jump back, causing yet another pain in my stomach, then peer at the back of the car to check on my sisters.
“Ashton.” I place my hand on his shoulder while he has his back to me. “I see you’re upset, but you have to calm down before you scare them.”
He hangs his head before turning to face me. I place my hand on his cheek, forcing him to close his eyes to my touch.
“I’m sorry, but you’re not going back there,” he whispers.
Clearly, he’s not thinking straight. I can’t kidnap my sisters. “I can’t just—”
He opens his eyes angrily, stopping me from saying another word. “You’re coming home with me. Get in.” He walks away from me and gets in the car.
I move as quickly as I can to do as I’m told. It’s obvious he’s upset, but I don’t understand why he’s mad at me. I’m not sure what he expects me to do. It’s not like I could’ve told him what was going on; we weren’t talking. We weren’t even friends. All of a sudden, because I’m aware of his feelings, I should’ve just known to come to him? No, that’s just not how this works or is going to work.
Within minutes, we are back at his house, and he’s texting on the phone frantically with someone. I’ve never seen someone’s fingers move so swiftly like that. I hope he’s not planning to do anything to my mother. Regardless of how she’s treated me, I never want anything bad to happen to her. She is my mother, after all.
The girls waste no time running back into the Preston home as if they own the place. I immediately think I’ll need to talk to them because I don’t want them getting used to being here. This is only temporary. His parents will be back soon, and they will want these nobodies removed from their home, and I have every intention of being out of here well before then.
Suddenly, I see Ashley frantically running down the stairs. Was he talking to her on the phone? She heads straight for me, pulling me into a tight hug, causing the pain in my stomach to return. I try not to show I’m hurting because she’s concerned. I’ve been dealing with this my entire life. The bruised skin will fade, but the damage is painfully stitched within me. That’s not going anywhere. I’m used to it. She holds me at arm’s length, examining my face. Her eyes fill with tears before she pulls me back into her embrace.
“I’m so sorry this has happened. I should’v
e made sure you got home.” She sniffles.
Oh no, she thinks this is her fault. “Ash, no. I’m okay. You didn’t make me stay.”
“Here.” Ashton hands me a pack of ice and a bag of peas. “Go up to my room and put the peas on your face and the ice on your belly.”
I stare at him, not wanting to leave the girls to their own devices right now, but he doesn’t look like this is a negotiation.
“Don’t worry, I’ll look after them,” Ashley offers and leaves Ashton and me in the foyer.
I stare up at Ashton, whose anger has somewhat dissipated as he crookedly smiles, I guess, to assure me everything will be fine. But that smile ignites something else within me. I quickly hop on my toes, throwing my arms around him to kiss him hungrily, almost in an animalistic manner.
It’s as if the adrenaline has finally rushed through my veins and is now being unleashed onto him, my momentary savior. He eagerly accepts the taste of my fanatic embrace, equally mashing his lips against mine with the same intensity. He grips my ass to lift me to his waist and carry me up to his room, never leaving my lips. That is until we are at his bed.
He gingerly places me down, sliding me across, and stands between my legs. I place the ice packs at my side as he pulls his shirt off quickly and glares down at me. He smiles, noticing me gawk at his perfect body all the way down to his abdomen, which forms a perfect, muscular V-shape. He leans forward on the bed, placing his hands at either side of me, hovering on top of me.
He doesn’t move any further, so I wrap my arms around his neck and slowly bring his head down to mine. His body calmly follows, lying atop of me, but I ignore the pain. This pain is worth it. He begins to kiss me more gingerly this time, slowly sliding his tongue into my mouth and back out. He pulls at my bottom lip with his teeth before trailing his lips down my neck. He bites into my skin, then kisses the spot softly before intentionally slithering his wet tongue in a circular motion. He repeats the sequence, down my neck before lifting slightly to pull my shirt over my head, exposing my braless breasts. He stares up at me as he begins to flick his tongue around my nipples, making them harder and wet. My body begins to convulse with the unfamiliar pleasure of my hardened nipples. He squeezes both of my breasts as he makes his way further down my belly but suddenly stops.
