by Gemma Weir
A knock on the door startles me and I sigh wearily. “Just a minute.”
“Only coffee, then I’ll distract them so you can leave,” Mom whispers conspiratorially through the door.
“Thank you,” I whisper back, pulling in one more calming breath before I reach out and twist the doorhandle. Stepping into the hall, I cross to the dining room, taking my place at the table and shuffling my chair as far away from Mitchell as I can get it without making it completely obvious what I’m doing.
Dad, Cam and Mitch are chatting away, but when he notices I’m back, Cam points at me. “Hey, guess who came to visit me today?”
“Hopefully a cleaner, your apartment is a dump,” I barb back.
“Huck Barnett. Told me that he had to carry your drunk ass home last night.”
“He what?” I snap.
“He was freaking out about where you keep your house key, how dangerous it was for you to be out drinking. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he has the hots for you,” he laughs.
Rolling my eyes, I take the coffee my mom hands me. “His older brother is dating Bonnie, and apparently that means he’s decided to become my honorary big brother. He came round and told me off this morning too. No idea why he came to see you though,” I say dismissively.
“Isn’t Beau the oldest Barnett boy?” Dad asks.
“Yep, I think he’s early forties, the same age as Bonnie’s brother.”
“He’s too old for her,” Dad chides.
“They seem pretty smitten with each other, and age is just a number,” I shrug, finishing my coffee in three gulps.
Jumping up, I take my cup and dessert plate to the kitchen, smiling at my mom when she follows me in. “I’ve told them to go get settled in the family room, give them a minute, then go,” she whispers, cupping my cheeks and leaning forward to press a kiss against my forehead.
“I’m never going to marry him, Mom,” I tell her quietly.
“Thank god!” she whisper-shouts.
Ten minutes later, I’m dashing down the sidewalk, away from my parents’ home and my ex that just won’t take the hint. When I reach my apartment block, I press in the code and the door clicks open. Pushing inside, I take the elevator to the second floor and pause outside my door. I lean down and lift the doormat, but the space where I normally keep my key is bare.
It takes me a moment to remember that I took my key with me. So I push my hand into my pocket… and find it empty. I search the other pocket, both pockets in my coat, the floor, my hair, my pockets again, but they’re all empty.
Closing my eyes, I clench my teeth and silently curse Huck fucking Barnett to high hell. If he hadn’t gotten in my head and planted the seed of doubt about the key being safe, it would be under my mat and waiting for me to find, but instead, it’s lost and I’m locked out.
Before I can even consider what I’m doing, my cell is in my hands and I’m typing out a text.
Me – This is all your fault!!!!
4
Huck
It’s been nearly an hour since Bonnie burst into the house sobbing and launched herself into Beau’s arms. His room hasn’t been sound proofed yet, so even though we’re trying not to listen, we all know that the love birds have definitely made up.
My cell beeps and I’m grateful for the reprieve, pulling it from my pocket and clicking into the text.
Peaches – This is all your fault!!!!
Brow furrowed, I quickly type out a reply.
Me – What’s my fault?
Her reply comes almost instantly.
Peaches – You guilted me into not leaving my key under the mat, now I’ve lost it and I’m locked out!!!!!
Her dramatic over use of the exclamation point makes an unexpected smile spread across my lips, and before I can question what I’m doing, I’m on my feet and grabbing my keys from my hook by the front door.
She has a fiancé, or a boyfriend that’s on the verge of becoming a fiancé. Her being locked out of her house isn’t my problem, but I still put my car in drive and race off down the mountain to make sure she’s okay.
Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling to a stop outside her apartment block and racing to the security door. Pressing the buzzer for the apartment, I wait a moment, but when she doesn’t answer I run my finger over one button after the next, effectively buzzing everyone in the building. The door clicks, the lock unlocking and I push inside, taking the stairs two at a time until I emerge onto her floor and spot her sitting on the floor outside her apartment, her legs crossed at the ankles, her back resting against the door, her cell in her hands.
She looks up, when I stride towards her, her nose crinkling in the most adorable way. “Huck, what are you doing here?”
“You’re locked out, and it’s a good job I’m here because again, no one is looking out for you. Why the fuck are you on the floor?”
“You came all the way down the mountain just to tell me off?”
“Where the fuck is your key?”
“I have no fucking clue. You bullied me into not leaving it in my hider spot and now it’s fucking missing. This is all your fault,” she snaps, jumping up from the floor and pointing her finger at me as she snarls.
“It’s my fault that you lost your key?”
“Yes! It’s completely your fault, just like it’s your fault that I’m stuck out here and not watching reruns of the vampire diaries in my bed.”
“Who has your spare key?”
“My brother and my parents.”
“So again, why the fuck are you on the floor?”
“Because my asshole brother invited my douchebag ex to my parent’s house for dinner tonight. I snuck out and if I call either my parents or my brother, I’ll end up with Mitchell here and I’ve had more than enough of him already tonight.”
“So what? You’re just planning on sleeping in the corridor for the rest of the night?” I ask sarcastically.
“No, I’m waiting for my brother to get back so I can get my key,” she snarks equally as sardonically.
“Your fiancé doesn’t have a key?”
“What fiancé?” she asks confusedly.
Stepping around her, I take a look at the door. “Your brother told me you were practically engaged.”
“My brother’s an asshole. He has a hard on for my ex because he likes cars. But I’d rather turn into a lesbian and never go near another dick for the rest of my life than marry Mitchell Holstead.”
Pulling my wallet from my back pocket, I slide out my credit card, then lean down and wiggle the card between the gap in the door. I have no fucking clue if this actually works in real life, but I’ve seen it enough times in movies and on the tv that there must be at least an element of truth in it.
“What the hell are you doing? Everyone knows that doesn’t actually work,” Cora mocks.
There’s a clicking noise and the lock gives way, making the door swing open. “Peaches,” I drawl, pushing the door wide and motioning for her to go inside.
“What the fuck is with all this Peaches bullshit? You do know my name is Cora, right? And Cam mentioned that you went to see him today. What the hell is that about?”
Closing the door behind me, I grab her arm and haul her towards me, switching our position and pushing her back up against her closed door. “Peaches, shut the fuck up.” Then leaning down, I silence her with my lips, pressing my mouth to hers.
I know I shouldn’t be doing this the moment I taste her addicting flavor on my lips. Pushing my body into hers, her tits mold into my chest, her legs parting instinctually to allow me to step between them. I’d lay money on the fact that if I slid my hand into her jeans, her panties would be damp, I can practically smell her arousal.
Parting her lips, she allows me to push my tongue into her mouth, her own battling with mine, matching me move for move. She isn’t passively letting me kiss her, she’s engaged, kissing me back, tiny moans of pleasure egging me on.
Her fingers entwine with the fabric of m
y shirt, holding me to her as I grip her ponytail in one fist, tilting her head so I can deepen the kiss. Lifting my knee, I push it against her jean clad pussy, swallowing the almost desperate cry she makes when I grind my thigh against her core.
I try to remind myself that she’s off limits, that she’s too young, too unavailable, too complicated, but right now in this minute, when all I can taste and feel and hear is her, none of those things matter.
My free hand slides up her shirt, finding her nipple through her bra and plucking it, pinching lightly before rolling it between my finger and thumb. The peak pebbles and she arches into me, pushing her cunt down harder onto my leg, riding the sensations I’m creating unashamedly.
All sense of self-preservation gone, I grind my leg against her pussy, tightening my grip on her hair as I devour her mouth and tease her nipple. She becomes the center of my universe, everything else becoming obsolete as her pleasure becomes my only goal. Gasping into my mouth, her body tenses and she comes on my thigh, shudders trembling through her skin while she whimpers into my mouth.
Slowly, I roll my thigh against her, waiting until the last after shock has echoed through her, then I slowly move, giving her barely an inch of space as I reluctantly pull my lips from hers.
“You should go,” she says shakily.
Opening my eyes, I look down at her kiss swollen lips, her hair mussed from my hand in it, her nipples pebbled beneath her silky shirt. She looks like sin… and I’ve never been a saint.
“You should go,” she says again, her voice a little stronger this time.
Pinching her chin between my fingers, I lean down and press a hard, claiming kiss against her lips. “I’ll see you soon, Peaches.”
Then I twist the lock, waiting as she steps to the side before I pull open the door and leave.
5
Cora
What the fuck! I just came on Huck Barnett’s leg. It takes me twenty minutes to make myself come with a vibrator, and he just made me orgasm in less than five minutes through jeans and panties without his fingers or his tongue going anywhere near my clit.
I’m torn between never wanting to see him again and begging him to come back to see what he can do if he actually put some effort into it. Stumbling away from the door, I stagger to my bedroom and strip out of my jeans, staring down at my panties and the very visible wet spot on the front of them.
My vagina is pulsing, the way it does when I watch really hot porn, or the fucked up sex scenes on a dodgy made for tv film that shouldn’t be sexy but really make you horny. My clit is tingling, my nipples are so hard I could cut glass and my lips feel actually swollen.
I honestly don’t remember the last time I was this turned on, but one thing I know for sure is that Huck Barnett made me feel more sexually aroused in a few minutes fully dressed, than Mitchell did in all the months we were together. If I wasn’t one hundred percent sure than dumping Mitch was the right thing to do before, I have zero doubts now.
Telling Huck to go was the right thing to do too. I can’t have a one-night stand with my bestie’s future brother-in-law, but god, I want to call him and tell him to come back. I wouldn’t exactly call him a player, he doesn’t have a line of women or broken hearts following him around, but I’m sure he’s got his fair share of notches on his bedpost, and I’ll bet he’s an absolute beast between the sheets.
Just the way he touched me tonight gave me a glimpse on what he’d be like to fuck. His grip on me was firm, almost controlling. He moved me how he wanted me, used me, even as he gave me pleasure, but dominated me without all the cheesy ‘yes sir’ bullshit.
I’m a sexual person, I crave touch, affection, sex. In fact, I’m firmly in the ‘an orgasm a day keeps the doctor away’ school of thought. My past boyfriends have all thought it was hilarious that my sex drive was higher than theirs, but despite enjoying sex in the past, I’ve never met someone who made me feel satisfied.
Somehow, even barely touching me, Huck made me feel more sexually fulfilled in five minutes with him than ever before. I just wish he wasn’t completely off limits. Men might think that they have the monopoly on the bro code, but women have a code too, and fucking a member of my bestie’s new family is definitely a no go.
Exhaling slowly, I peel off the rest of my clothes and climb into bed naked. I could find my pj’s, take a shower and wash away the lust that’s left over from his visit, but I don’t want to. So instead, I open my bedside drawer, pull out my vibrator and drag it beneath the covers.
Closing my eyes, I turn it on, smiling when I feel the vibrations against my core. Teasing myself, I picture him touching me, sliding closer to my clit, but never quite touching it. My breath turns shallow as I allow the tip to glide over my sensitive sex, fleetingly stroking my clit, before sliding down and dipping into the entrance of the pussy.
As I push my heels into the mattress, I bend my knees and spread my legs, pushing the toy inside of me before pulling it out and finding my clit again, letting the vibration bring my body back to life. Dipping the toy back to my entrance, I coat the plastic in my arousal before I push it back into my pussy, hitting the button and making the vibration increase as the length slowly fills me.
I don’t try to stop my imagination as I pretend the plastic cock filling me is Huck, I slowly slide it out till only the tip is still inside of me, then push it back in, whimpering when the brilliantly shaped head glides over my g-spot.
My fingers find my clit, and I rub at the sensitive bundle of nerves as I fuck myself with the toy and pretend it’s him. Skin tingling, I lift my butt off the bed, sighing and moaning as an orgasm builds in my toes, relentlessly moving upwards until, like a wave crashing against the beach… it shatters, splintering off into each of my muscles.
Shaking and panting, I ride out the orgasm, filling my sex with the toy in short shallow thrusts, while my hips move instinctively, pushing myself onto him, wanting more, begging for more. Eventually the sensations fade, and my body relaxes down to the mattress. Pulling the toy free of my pussy, I turn it off and drop it back into my drawer, reminding myself to clean it tomorrow as sleep pulls me under.
My dreams are hampered with erotic thoughts of Huck. He fucks me in a hundred different positions, using me like his own personal sex toy while I come again and again, lost, mindless to the pleasure he gives me. When I open my eyes, my skin is slick with sweat, and I’m wet between my legs, my arousal coating my thighs.
I feel depraved in the very best way after a night full of wet dreams, but with the morning comes clarity. Huck is off limits, even a one-night stand could cause awkwardness. With how close Bonnie already is with Beau and the other Barnett boys, I can’t risk creating an atmosphere that would ultimately mean I’d end up being pushed out of my best friend’s life.
No, Huck will have to stay my dirty little fantasy, and I’ll have to make sure no more kissing or leg riding occurs. Throwing off the comforter, I resist the urge to make myself come, and instead pad into the bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping into the water the moment it’s warm enough.
Clean, dry and dressed for work, I pour myself a coffee, once again glad that I invested in the machine that did both a full jug and a one cup option. Digging through the junk drawer, I manage to find my ring of spare keys and slide one off. After finishing my coffee, I grab a banana, slide my feet into my work pumps and head for the door.
Standing in the hallway outside my apartment, I debate what to do with the key. I could take it with me and risk losing it again, or put it back where it’s lived since the first month I moved in. Shrugging, I bend down and push the key under the mat. If Huck knew, he’d lose his mind, but he isn’t my problem and I’m not his.
It’s only a ten-minute walk from my apartment to the store I work in. Once I arrive, I unlock the front door and step inside, turning on the lights and flipping the sign to open. Moving further into the room, I head for the storage area and turn the lights on back there too. Following my familiar routine, I slide my b
ag into the little lockers we have set up, then grab the cash register drawer from the safe in the back room and carry it through to the front, unlocking the till and sliding it inside, before shutting the till and locking it again.
Rockhead Point is a pretty safe town, but still, it makes sense to keep the till locked while I’m getting set up in the morning. Going through my usual set-up routine, I move around the racks, straightening the clothes hangers and making a note of the sizes that are missing so I can stock them back up, or order more if needed.
An hour later the store’s perfect, the mannequins in the windows are redressed, the ones in the store moved around, and the accessories displays are perfect and neat. To some people working in a shop might feel like a shitty job, but I love it. I love helping people look their best, I love the hustle and bustle of a busy day, and I especially love sourcing the designs to sell and dressing the mannequins to inspire our customers. I love my job and even more, I love that my mom has started to trust me with more and more responsibility.
By the time the sidewalk is busy with tourists, I’ve managed to push all thoughts of Huck to the back of my mind and let myself be consumed with the customers that have flowed through the doors.
“Cora, darling,” Mom coos as she appears at the counter, looking effortlessly chic in black fitting pants and a cashmere sweater that hangs off one shoulder in an effortlessly sexy but modest way.
“Hi Mom, I didn’t think you were coming in today?”
“I wanted to check you were okay after last night. I’m going to throttle your brother the next time I see him.”
