The Edge of Never

by J. A. Redmerski

  I really have no idea what I’m saying. I’m still shocked that this is happening at all.

  Andrew just smiles up at me, unfazed by my observation and then suddenly he lifts up from being crouched on the floor and moves in-between my legs, causing me to slide backward a little on the bed. He sits in front of me and pulls me onto his lap, one leg over each side of him. I’m wide-eyed and practically biting into my bottom lip. He’s being so casual about this that it alone, the mere unexpectedness of it, makes me wetter.

  He wraps his firm arms around my back and leans in, brushing the edge of my chin with his mouth. Chills attack me from head to toe. Then he pulls me closer toward his body and whispers near my mouth, “It’s fair. I want to make you come, and trust me; I’ll definitely be getting something out of it.” I hear the grin in his voice and I look down into his eyes and I can’t resist them. If Andrew told me right now to bend over and get on my hands and knees for him, I would without hesitation.

  He brushes the other side of my jaw with his lips.

  “Then why won’t you just sleep with me?” I ask quietly, but then try to re-word it, “I mean, if you wanted to do…something else to me—”

  He leans back from my jaw and puts his three middle fingers over my lips to hush me.

  “I’m going to say this just once,” he begins and his eyes are so bottomless, churning with intensity, “but I don’t want you to comment when I say it, alright?”

  I nod nervously.

  He pauses, moistening his lips with his tongue and then says, “If you were to let me fuck you, you would have to let me own you.”

  A wave of unrestricted pleasure shudders through my entire body. His words shock me into submission. My heart is telling me to say one thing. My mind is telling me to say another. But I can’t hear what the fuck either one of them are saying because of this feeling between my legs that just keeps getting more and more impossible to ignore.

  I swallow hard, searching desperately for saliva. It feels like every part of me that normally produces its own moisture has stopped working because all of the moisture has localized that to one spot in the center of my body.

  I still can’t breathe.

  Oh my God, he hasn’t even touched me yet and I already feel this way?

  Am I dreaming?

  “But what if I give you a hand-job, or something?”

  I admit it; the idea of this is making me feel guilty.

  He cocks his head to one side, smirking, and it makes me want to kiss him hungrily. “I told you not to comment.”

  “I-I well, I didn’t comment on what you said, exactly, I just—” He slips his fingers underneath the thin fabric of my panties and touches me. I gasp, forgetting about what I had started to say.

  “Be quiet,” he demands gently, though he completely means it. My lips snap shut and I gasp again when he slips two fingers inside of me and just holds them there, his thumb pressing on the outside against my pelvic bone. “Are you going to be quiet, Camryn?”

  I shudder out the word, y-yes, and bite my bottom lip.

  Then his fingers slide out of me. I want to beg him not to move them away, but he told me to be quiet in such a way that makes me utterly mad for him and equally submissive, so I say nothing. My eyes open carefully when he moves his wet fingers across my lips and instinctively I lick them, just a little, until he pulls them toward his own lips and takes in the rest of me on his tongue. I lean toward him, touching his mouth to my own, shutting my eyes softly just wanting to taste him and myself on him. His tongue snakes out to touch mine, but then he pushes me carefully back on the bed, instead of giving in to the ravenous kiss I so desperately want.

  He slips both hands on the fabric around my waist and slides my shorts and panties over my hips and down my legs, dropping them somewhere on the floor.

  Then he crawls up and lies next to me, draping one arm over my body and slipping his hand up the front of my shirt. I never did put a bra on earlier. He gently pinches one nipple, then the other and kisses me along the jaw again. Every tiny hair along the back of my neck rises when his tongue traces the curvature of my ear. “Do you want me to touch it?” His breath is warm against the side of my face.

  “Yes,” I gasp.

  He pins my earlobe between his teeth and his hand starts to slide down my belly, but it stops near my bellybutton.

  “Tell me that you want me to touch it,” he breathes into my ear.

  I can hardly open my eyes.

  “I want you to touch it….”

  He slides his hand down further and my heart starts pounding fiercely in my chest, but when I think he’s going to touch me, his hand moves to my inner thigh instead. “Spread them for me.” I let my legs fall gently apart, but he moves them apart further with his hand, the edges of his fingers pushing against my flesh until I’m completely exposed.

  He lifts up from my side and leans over my body, pushing my shirt up to expose my breasts and then pins my nipples between his teeth, one after the other. Then he flicks the tip of his wet tongue over them and places his mouth around them, kissing each one of them hungrily. I wind my fingers through the top of his hair, wanting to grip it and pull it, but I don’t. Andrew makes his way down my chest and to my ribs, tracing each one with his tongue before my bellybutton.

  He looks up at me with dominant, hooded eyes and says with his lips gently pressed against my stomach, “You have to tell me what you want, Camryn.” He licks my belly once so slowly that my skin ripples with shivers. “You won’t get it unless you tell me and make me believe you.”

  I breathe in an unsteady breath that literally rattles my chest. “Please, please touch it….”

  “I don’t believe you,” he says tauntingly and licks my clit once. Just once. He stops and looks at me across the landscape of my body, waiting for me.

  Because I’m afraid to say the word, I whisper so softly, “Please…I want you to lick my pussy,” that he pretends he didn’t hear me.

  “What was that?” he says and licks my clit again, this time taking a little longer and a wave of shivers runs through me below. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

  I say it again, raising my voice just a little, still too embarrassed to say that forbidden word, the one I’ve always found dirty and wrong and belonging only in a porno movie.

  Andrew slides his hand between my legs and parts my lips with two fingers. He licks me once. Only once. My thighs are starting to tremble heavier.

  I don’t know how much longer I can wait.

  “A woman who knows what she wants sexually,” he licks me again, his hooded eyes always watching me, “and isn’t afraid to express it is so fucking hot, Camryn—Tell. Me. What. You. Want. Or, I won’t give it to you.” He licks me again and I can’t take it anymore.

  I reach my hands down and grab fistfuls of his hair, pushing his face further between my legs, as much as he’ll allow me, and I say looking right into his eyes, “Lick my pussy, Andrew; goddammit, lick my fucking pussy!”

  I catch the darkest grin I’ve ever seen on his face just before my eyelids slam shut and my head arches back when he starts to lick me and this time doesn’t stop. He sucks hard on my clit and works his fingers in and out of me at the same time and I think I want to faint. I can’t open my eyes; they feel drunk with pleasure. I buck my hips toward him and pull the shit out of his hair, but he never misses a beat. He licks me hard and fast and every now and then he’ll slow down to suck on me and roll the pad of his thumb over my swollen clit, before diving right back in. And when I start to feel like I can’t take it anymore and try to slide myself away from his face, he grasps my thighs and forces me to stay put until I come hard, my legs trembling uncontrollably, my hands gripping his head with all my strength. A moan shudders from my lips and both of my hands come up behind my head, clutching the headboard with my fingertips, trying to use it as leverage to pull away from Andrew’s lashing tongue. But he grips me harder, his hands curled under my thighs and over my hips; he puts so much
pressure on me that it hurts, digging his fingertips into my skin, but I like it.

  And as my shuddering body begins to calm and my labored breathing starts to slow, although unevenly, Andrew also starts to lick me more gently. When my body stops moving, he kisses the inside of both of my thighs and then right below my bellybutton before crawling upward towards my mouth, bracing his tight, muscled arms against the mattress on each side of me. His soft, wet lips fall on my neck and both sides of my jawline first and then my forehead. Lastly, he looks down into my eyes for a long moment and then leans in and pecks my lips softly.

  And then he gets up from the bed.

  I can’t move.

  I want to reach out and grab him and pull him down on top of me, but I can’t move. Not only am I still reeling from the orgasm he just gave me, but my mind is still reeling from the entire experience.

  I just look at him, barely raising my head from the pillow as he goes toward the door. He looks at me once just after he places his hand on the door lever.

  But I’m the one who speaks first:

  “Where are you going?”

  I know where he’s going, but it was the only thing I could think to say to delay him from leaving my room.

  He smiles gently. “To my room,” he says as if I should already know.

  The door opens and light from the hallway floods into the space around him, illuminating his features over there in the shadow. I want to say something, but I’m not sure what. I raise my back from the bed and sit up straight; my fingers restlessly fidget with the sheet near my lap.

  “Well, I’ll see you in the morning,” he says and he gives me one last meaningful grin just before he closes the door behind him and the light from the hall snaps out. But it’s still fairly bright in my room; I had left the lamp on by the bed. I look over, thinking about the lamp. It was on the whole time. I had always been kind of shy in bed and even with Ian the most light I ever had sex with him in was from a television, but never bright light. I didn’t even think about it this time.

  And the words that came out of my mouth…I have never said something like that before. Not the P-word. I can’t even say it right now. Sure, I often told Ian to ‘please fuck me’ or ‘fuck me harder’, but that was the extent of my pornographic vocabulary.

  What is Andrew Parrish doing to me?

  Whatever it is…I don’t think I want it to stop.

  I get up from the bed and dive back into my panties and shorts and go to the door, intent on marching right back over there and…I don’t know what.

  I stop at the door before opening it and just look down at my bare feet against the green carpet. I don’t know what I’d say if I went over there because I don’t even know what I want or what I don’t want. Then I let my arms fall loosely at my sides and a deep sigh bursts through my lips.

  “Like it never happened at all,” I mock him dryly. “Yeah, you’re not good enough to pull that one off.”

  ANDREW

  20

  I’VE BEEN AWAKE SINCE 8:00a.m. I got a call from my brother, Asher, and was afraid to answer because I thought it would be the ‘news’ of my father. He was just calling to let me know that Aidan is pissed off about me taking his guitar. I don’t give a shit; what’s he gonna do, drive down to Birmingham and fight me for it? I know it really has nothing to do with the guitar; Aidan is just pissed that I left Wyoming while our dad is still alive.

  And Asher wanted to check up on me.

  “Are you doin’ alright, bro?” he said.

  “Yeah, I’m perfect, actually.”

  “Is that sarcasm?”

  “No,” I said into the phone, “I’m being straight with you, Ash, I’m having the time of my life right now.”

  “It’s that girl, isn’t it? Camryn? Was that her name?”

  “Yeah, that’s her name and yeah, it’s the girl.”

  I grinned inwardly, distracted by the very vivid image in my mind of what happened last night, but then I just smiled, thinking about Camryn in general.

  “Well, you know where I’m at if you need me,” Asher said and I heard the quiet message in his voice that he wanted to convey but knows better than to speak of it more openly. I told him before never to bring it up again, or I’d have to beat the shit out of him.

  “Yeah, I know, thanks, bro—hey, how’s Dad doin’?”

  “He’s the same as he was before you left.”

  “That’s better than worse, I guess.”

  “Yeah.”

  We hung up and I called my mom to let her know I was alright. A day longer and she would’ve had the police looking for me.

  I get up and shove my stuff into my duffle bag. As I walk past the television, I pound on the wall with the bottom of my palm next to where Camryn’s head is probably lying against her pillow on the other side. If she wasn’t already awake, that might’ve done the trick. Well, OK maybe not, since she is such a deep sleeper—except when it comes to music, apparently. I take a quick shower and brush my teeth and I think about her being in my mouth last night and it’s kind of a shame I have to brush my teeth at all. Oh well, maybe I’ll do it again later. If she wants me to, of course. Shit, I have absolutely no issues with it whatsoever, except that afterwards I have to take care of myself, but that’s alright, too. I’d rather do it than risk letting her touch me. I know that when she does, it’ll all be over. For me anyway. I fucking want her, but I’ll only take her if the street goes both ways. And right now, I can tell she doesn’t know what she wants.

  I get dressed and slip my bare feet down into my black running shoes, glad they’re dry now after being soaked by the rain. I shoulder both of my bags and take Aidan’s guitar by the neck and head out into the hallway and next door to Camryn’s room.

  I hear the TV on inside, so I know she must be up.

  I wonder how long it’ll take her to crack.

  CAMRYN

  I HEAR ANDREW KNOCK on the door. I suck in a sharp breath, hold it there for a long, tense minute and then let it out in a spat of air, blowing a tassel of hair outward that hangs freely from my braid—preparation to keep me from cracking.

  Like it never happened, my ass.

  Finally, I open the door and when I see him standing there so casually—and so edible—I crack. Well, it’s more like a really red blush, so hot that my face literally feels like it’s on fire. I look down at the floor because if I look at his smiling eyes a second longer my head might melt.

  I manage to look back up at him seconds later.

  His close-lipped smile is bigger now and much more telling.

  Hey! I think an expression like that is the same as talking about it!

  He looks me up and down, seeing that I’m already dressed and ready to go and then jerks his head back a little and says with a huge grin, “Come on.”

  I grab my purse and my bag and head out with him.

  We hop inside the car and I do what I can to distract myself from the best oral sex I’ve ever had in my life by finding something random to talk about. He smells extra good today: natural skin with a hint of soap and some kind of shampoo. That’s not helping me, either.

  “So, are we just going to drive to random motels and not stop anywhere except Waffle Houses?”

  Not that that bothers me one bit, but I’m struggling to find ‘random’ here.

  He clicks his seatbelt on and starts the engine.

  “No, I actually have something in mind.” He glances over.

  “Oh?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. “You’re breaking from the spontaneous rule of our trip and actually have a plan?”

  “Hey, technically it wasn’t ever a rule,” he says, underlining the fact.

  We back out of the parking lot and the vintage Chevelle purrs onto the road.

  He’s wearing the same black cargo shorts he wore yesterday and I get a quick glimpse of his rock-hard calves, one foot pressing gently on the gas pedal. A dark navy t-shirt fits his chest and arms just right, the fabric tighter around his biceps. />
  “Well, what’s the plan, then?”

  “New Orleans,” he says, smiling over at me. “It’s only about five and a half hours from here.”

  My face lights up. “I’ve actually never been to New Orleans before.”

  He smiles inwardly, as if excited about being the one who gets to take me there my first time. I’m as excited about it as he is. But really, I don’t care where we go, even if it’s the mosquito swarms of Mississippi, as long as Andrew is with me.

  Two hours later, after we’ve exhausted the random topics which have only been a distraction from talking about what happened last night, I decide to be the one to break it. I reach out and push the down button on the volume. Andrew looks over at me curiously.

  “Stuff like that has never come out of my mouth before, just so you know,” I get it off my chest.

  Andrew grins and moves his hand down on the steering wheel, letting his fingers casually steer instead. He appears more relaxed, his left arm lying across the door on the other side of him, left knee bent upward while the right foot stays on the gas pedal.

  “But you liked it,” he says, “saying it, I mean.”

  Ummm, there wasn’t anything about last night that I didn’t like.

  My face is only a little red.

  “Yeah, I did, actually,” I admit.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about saying something like that during sex before,” he says.

  I hesitate. “Actually, I have.” I look over sharply. “Not that I sit around and dream about it though, I’ve just thought about it.”

  “Why didn’t you ever do it before then, if you had the urge?” He’s asking me these questions, but I’m pretty sure he already knows the answers.

  I shrug. “I guess I was just chicken shit.”

  He laughs lightly and moves his fingers back up the steering wheel, holding it more securely as we go around a curvy section of highway.

  “I guess I’ve just always thought of it as something Dominique Starla or Cinnamon Dreams would say in Legally Boned or Friday Night Dikes.”