Holding

by Jillian Quinn

  With tinted windows and parked in the back corner of the lot, we have plenty of privacy. But not enough that I want to take this dress off and sit on his lap naked in public, even though a small part wants to say the hell with it. I want to go with the flow and stop overthinking everything. But that would require me to turn my brain off for the night and completely succumb to my desires.

  Shawn drags his hands along my skin and rubs my back, giving me the time to back out. No way in hell is that happening. He keeps going and slides his hand beneath my bra to pinch my nipples between his fingers. The tiny buds get harder with each touch. My core clenches from the sensation spreading throughout my body. With each kiss, I come undone. With each touch, I feel alive.

  “Shawn,” I breath against his lips and tug on his arm. “I want you to touch me.”

  “I am,” he says, continuing to massage my breasts, as he leaves a trail of kisses along my jaw.

  “Not there,” I whisper, moving his hand from under my dress and over my panties. “Here.”

  He stops kissing my neck long enough for our eyes to meet. I nod, telling him to keep going. Shawn moves the fabric to the side, his hand lingering far too long. The anticipation is killing me on the inside, and so is the wave of anxiety that floods through my veins, causing my heart to speed up. Tonight is another first of many with Shawn.

  When he pushes his fingers slowly inside me, my eyes roll back from the pure pleasure that shoots through my body. Biting down on my bottom lip, I have nothing to say, only moans and incoherent ramblings that resemble words. Speechless, I take it all in, bury my face against his neck, and drown myself in his manly scent.

  “Mmm…” Shawn mutters under his breath. “So fucking tight.”

  Moving faster, he rolls his thumb over my clit while he fills me with another finger. He takes me to the point of ecstasy that causes my mind to go blank. All I can think of is Shawn, how good this feels, and how I never want it to stop. I tighten my grip on his fingers and impatiently kiss my way to his mouth, as an orgasm rips through me, owning my body. Shawn is the first man to finger me and make me come. Now that I know what it feels like to experience this part of life, I don’t want it to end.

  Shawn slides his fingers out of me and brings them to his lips. He sucks my juices from his fingers, all while pinning me down with those steel blue eyes that weaken me with one look. “Lie down and spread your legs for me,” he says, moving me off his lap and onto the bench next to him. “I’m not done with you, and I want another taste.”

  “Umm…” I have no idea what to say in response, but I want him to continue. Both anxious and excited, I scoot along the leather until my back hits the door. He’s so big and muscular that when Shawn moves me where he wants, leaving little room for himself, the air grows warmer from the heat burning between us. With the windows fogged and no one in sight, he pushes my legs wider, with a hungry look in his eyes, and lowers himself between them.

  “Don’t be nervous,” he says, peeking up at me. “I’m going to make you feel good, Ella. Just relax and don’t think about anything.”

  He knows me too well. My first thought was how this puts me in a vulnerable position, revealing more of myself than I ever have to another man. I’m having so many firsts in one night that my brain is on overload, too full to process.

  I nod in agreement and tilt my head back against the window, taking his hair in my hands, as Shawn kisses his way up my inner thigh and to my aching core. I need more and practically begging to come again once his tongue slips between my folds.

  “Oh. My—” I can’t even finish my train of thought. Closing my eyes, I choke each word out, my mind and body slowly detaching from the other with each flick of his tongue.

  On his way to giving me another orgasm, Shawn grabs my thighs and holds them tight, sucking on my clit while he looks up at me. Seeing the carnal look in his eyes, as he devours me, causes my body respond as if it were made for him.

  It’s hot in here, so fucking hot that I can hardly breathe. I had no idea what an orgasm would feel like before tonight, and I’m still unsure of what’s happening with my body, but I do as Shawn says and just let it happen. My body tenses once more, just as my gums go numb and my entire body tingles. There are no words to describe this feeling, only the silly grin I wear, as I lock eyes with Shawn and take in the sight of him between my legs.

  After I come, he licks my juices from his lips and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Damn, babe.”

  That’s all he says before he sits up and pulls me toward him. He hooks his arm around me, and without hesitation, he takes my bottom lip in his mouth and sucks on it, before he slips his tongue inside.

  Is this going to be the moment where I have to choose if we keep going?

  As much as I don’t want to lose my virginity in Shawn’s backseat, I want it bad enough to go with the flow. He can have me. All of me.

  Instead of wondering where we go from here, Shawn answers for me. Our lips separate only for a few seconds, his tongue once again tangling with mine. But then he stops, and his kiss has a finality to it as if he’s not planning to take this any further.

  “I should take you home,” he says against my lips.

  “You choose now to say that?”

  He shrugs with a stupid expression on his face. “Yeah, I don’t want you to press your luck too much. Clarissa might notice if you stroll in ten minutes before the sun comes up.”

  “But I’m not ready to go,” I whine and sink back into the plush leather.

  “I know, babe, but I don’t want you to get in even more trouble than you are already in with Clarissa. We still have an entire weekend together for Spring Formal.”

  “That’s weeks away. I want to live in the here and now for once.”

  “What do I keep telling you?” I frown, and he takes my refusal to respond as my answer. “Just listen to me, okay? No more thinking. We will make up for every bad decision you didn’t get to make by graduation. I promise.”

  We both laugh, breaking the tension between us.

  “Nothing I do with you would ever be a bad decision,” I breathe.

  He slides his hand behind my back to bring me close enough to kiss my forehead. “Ella, I…I…”

  I clutch his arm and stare into his eyes. “I know.”

  Finch doesn’t need to finish his sentence for me to know what he was about to say, because I love him, too.

  For anyone who hasn’t tried to slip their curvy ass through a tiny hole in hedges or jimmy open a door at five o’clock in the morning without a single bit of moonlight to see, they would not understand my current situation. Hell, I have never even done something this ridiculous until now. Of course, I don’t have the key to the back door because there is no way that Clarissa would ever give me access to sneak out.

  Everyone walks through the front door—including her daughters. Clarissa has to be in control of everyone and everything at all times. The bottom of Mrs. F’s dress ripped when a branch caught on the fabric. Just another complication to my already complicated plan. In hindsight, I probably should have come up with a better solution, like living with Mrs. F when she had offered. But I didn’t make it this far to give up when I’m so close to the finish line.

  As I shut the door behind me, I do my best not to make a sound. The house is still, not a single creak. With old houses like this one, they sometimes take on a life of their own late at night. When I was younger, I thought this place was haunted from all the noises I would hear on the roof or when the wind would rustle the shutters. Or the times when the floorboards would sound as though someone was walking on them when everyone was sleeping.

  Carrying my heels in my hand, I grab the railing with the other and walk on my tippy toes up to the third floor. If you include the creepy basement and the attic my parents had turned into an additional guest room no one ever used, the house has five floors. The best rooms are on the fourth floor where my stepmother and sisters live, of course. They have en
ough space to throw a party up there, while I have a cramped room with a space heater that hardly works and zero luxuries.

  Getting out of bed in the morning to serve Clarissa is always harder in the winter months. I have to sleep in three layers of clothes, several pairs of socks, and a mountain of quilts and comforters. Anything I can find to keep warm. Too bad I had to come back to squeeze Bitch Mother's juice and fold her crepes. Yes, we have crepes on Saturday’s because dear old Clarissa turns into an old French woman on the weekend, and treats me as though I am her gourmet chef.

  Sometimes, I add random shit to them to see if she will notice, blending in hunks of uncooked eggs and whatever I have handy for fun. She never does. You cannot kill someone that evil. Her sole purpose in life is to live forever to fulfill her never-ending cycle of torture.

  The hallway is dark and unnervingly quiet when I hit the top landing to my floor. I let out a sigh of relief. But that feeling doesn’t last long. As I reach for the knob to my bedroom door, I hear a loud groan and turn to find Clarissa standing in the darkness with her face twisted in disgust.

  Busted. I should have known I would never get away with this. Clarissa never skips a beat.

  “Where have you been all night?” Her shrill voice sends chills down my spine. She throws her hands onto her narrow hips over a black robe that makes her look even more menacing. “You have been gone for hours. Don’t you think for one second, Ella, that I am not aware of everything that goes on inside my house.”

  My house, bitch, I want to scream but hold my tongue. This is my house!

  I stand up straight and say, “I went out with a friend.”

  She shakes her head with an evil smirk on her lips. “No, you did not, you lying whore. You were out with that boy I caught you with before. Have you not learned your lesson? I grounded you for the same reason, and you make the same mistake. This time, you will pay more than before. I hope he was worth it.”

  “Oh, what now, Clarissa? There is nothing more that you can do to me. You have already taken everything from me. Everything!” I scream, shocked by my reaction.

  Not once have I raised my voice with Clarissa, because she always speaks in a low, condescending tone, but I have had enough. After the best night of my life, she has to go and ruin everything. Well, I will not allow her to take away my happiness.

  Startled, she takes a step back and glowers at me. At first, I think she’s going to walk away. But she surprises me by grabbing hold of my arm. Her grip is so tight I cannot wiggle free.

  “Get off me!” I snap, as she drags me down the dark hall as if I weigh nothing and without much effort. For someone so lean, she sure has a lot of upper body strength. Her nails dig into my skin, causing me to wince in pain. “Let me go, Clarissa!”

  I attempt to peel her cold fingers from my arm without any luck, finally giving up when I realize I am on the losing end of this fight, same as always. Clarissa forces me to follow her up two flights of steps and stop in front of the attic door. Unlike most attics, it’s not your typical hole in the ceiling with the drop ladder setup. When my parents renovated the space, they had insisted it has the appearance of another floor. While the staircase seems a bit off at this end of the hall, it blends well enough that it doesn’t seem as odd to someone who doesn’t know any better.

  Clarissa retrieves a ring of keys from her pocket and shoves one into the lock. The door swings open a few seconds later, and that’s when she lets go of me long enough to throw me into the room. I trip over my foot in the process, tumbling onto the cold hardwood floor. The heels in my hand fall and hit the wall with a loud clang and drop onto the other side of the bed.

  Clarissa stares me down, and when she speaks, it’s with venom in her words, the sound of them so painful on the tip of her tongue. “Since you are too stupid to listen and know your place in this house, you will stay up here for the foreseeable future.”

  She turns on her heel, and I crawl across the floor to stop her from leaving. I’m too tired and deflated to stand, as if my body is weighed down by sand, anchoring me to the floor. Without another word or glance in my direction, Clarissa slams the door behind her. I reach for the doorknob, as she turns the key, locking me inside the attic.

  How much worse can my life possibly get?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shawn

  Ella hasn’t been to school in three days. I’m worried sick about her and in need of answers. If Ella had a cell phone or any form of modern technology at her disposal, my concern might have lessened by now. My anxiety escalates with each day I don’t hear from her. When I spoke to Natasha and Anastasia on Monday, they had assured me that Ella was home sick and would not make it to school.

  Tuesday they gave me the same story about how Ella was home puking her guts out. Maybe what they say is true, but even so, I am worried about her. If something were wrong, she might have called a friend, or so I had hoped. For all I know, Ella never made it into her house after our date. Or maybe something else is going on at that house of horrors.

  Strolling into the cafeteria with a purpose, I make a beeline for Natasha and Anastasia, who are sitting at the end of my usual dinner table with their sorority sisters. None of my teammates, except a handful that uses them for sex, even want them here. I sure as hell have no desire to look at their smug, entitled faces while I eat a meal.

  Angry, I press my palms on the wood, shaking the table in the process. I draw my friend’s attention at the other end. They wave or nod hello. But my focus is on dealing with these girls.

  “Tell me what is going on with Ella right the fuck now,” I growl, keeping my voice low. “No more games. Something is wrong, and I want to know.”

  Natasha flicks her dark hair over her shoulder and sneers at me. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Finch. Ella who?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me.” Annoyed with Anastasia, I turn to her twin and say, “Stop fucking with me, and just tell me what is wrong with Ella.”

  Anastasia shoots daggers at me and drops the fork clutched between her bony fingers onto the plate in front of her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone named Ella. Are you sure you have the right name?”

  “Yes, you fucking do,” I shout, unable to control the rage brewing inside me. “You live with Ella. Quit acting like I’m crazy and tell me where she is and what is going on with her.”

  Bash walks over to me and grips the collar of my shirt. He tugs on the fabric just enough to get my attention. “Calm down, man. You are causing a scene.”

  “They know where Ella is and won’t tell me. I need answers. Someone had better start talking.”

  “Do you hear yourself?” Bash shakes his head. “Ella is home sick. I’m sure she will turn up soon.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if Tori hadn’t shown up to school all week,” I counter.

  “If you’re that worried, then go to her house.”

  “Easier said than done.” I walk away from the table to speak with him alone. “A gate surrounds her entire property. Ella’s stepmother won’t let anyone in without an invitation, and I am not getting one.”

  “There has to be another way of finding out this information without harassing girls. No way are they going to tell you a thing. You will only look like more of an ass if you keep this up. If you want answers, then you go find them.”

  Mulling over his words, I realize Bash is right. Anastasia and Natasha are never going to tell me any more than they did on Monday, especially not when they are around Harper and the rest of the Mean Girl Squad.

  The back roads to Ella’s house are hard to navigate without any light. I pass by her house once, before I turn around and park between her gate and Mrs. F’s. Not a single light is on at Ella’s house. As per the usual, Mrs. F has her gate open and welcoming, while Ella’s is scary and uninviting. Choosing the path of least resistance, I turn the wheel and pull up the long drive to Mrs. F’s house.

  She answers the door after the first ring of the bell with a dog in
her hands and a smile on her face.

  “Have you seen Ella?” I choke out, desperate for answers. “She hasn’t been to school all week. Her stepsisters won’t tell me where she is or if she’s okay. They keep telling me she’s—”

  “Darling, slow down,” she interjects. “I’m an old woman. I can’t keep up with your ramblings. You must be Shawn.” I nod, and she continues, holding her arm out, as she opens the door wider for me to enter. “Why don’t you come inside and have some tea with me, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  I walk alongside her, through the dining room, past the living room, and into the kitchen. She orders me to sit at the round table by the window, and I do as she instructs, waiting for her to fix us our tea. She slides a cup across the table to me and takes a sip. The silence between us is maddening.

  After waiting all week, I have to find out what is going on with Ella. I keep asking myself if I went too far with her on Friday night.

  Does she not want to see me? Did I do something to upset her?

  I dismiss the thoughts almost as fast as they enter my head. I have too much free time on my hands now that football season is over and my girl has gone missing. I had no one to study with all week, and no bus rides to the suburbs to get my peace away from my fraternity house. But I do those things because of Ella.

  “Have you heard from her?” My tone is impatient, upset, even.

  Not having Ella around this week has affected my mood. One day at a time, I fall more in love with her. I need to see Ella, hear her voice, and know that she is okay.

  “No, I’m sorry, dear. I haven’t seen Ella since the night she borrowed the dress, and I helped her sneak out.” She sets her cup on the saucer with a concerned look on her withered face. “You dropped her off here after your date I presume.”