The Nice Boxset

by Jasinda Wilder

  “That’s…not so bad. You actually kind of taste…good. A little like me. Like…like when I kissed you after you went down on me.”

  “You taste so good. I can’t wait to do that again.” I closed my eyes as she put her lips around me again, taking me in to just past the groove around the head. “I can’t wait to lick your sweet pussy again.” Talking dirty was foreign to me. Talking during sex at all was strange. It had always been silent and quiet, before.

  She moaned, and the sound and the vibration sent a shock of pleasure through me. “I really, really liked that. You are welcome to do that as much as you want.” She stroked my cock with one hand, from the base up to her lips, and back down, and a groan left me. “You like that? Am I doing this okay?”

  “Fuck, Ever. Fuck…” I could barely form words. “So good. So—oh Jesus—so good.”

  She was moving her mouth on me, now, her lips tight around the head of my cock, down to the groove and back up, sliding her fist slowly, so slowly up and down my length. I couldn’t believe she was doing this. This was Ever, my Ever. My beautiful, perfect Ever. I glanced down, watched her hair around her shoulders and tangling against her cheeks. As I watched, she paused to pull an errant strand of hair from her mouth. I pushed my fingers into her damp, thick hair and pulled it away from her face, held it gently, gingerly, at the back of her head. She flicked her eyes up to mine, spat me out of her mouth.

  “Guide me. Show me how you like it. Just…be gentle.” She took me in her mouth, took me in deeper than she had yet, nearly half of my length in her mouth, her fingers around me and moving up and down my length.

  I held her hair out of the way, not applying any pressure, just holding her hair. “You could…you suck, a little, if you wanted. Like it’s a sucker.”

  She sucked, then, gently at first, and then harder, and then she moved her mouth up and bobbed back down, sucking all the while. I groaned, moaned, gasped as she did this faster, taking me deeper, until I knew I had to be near the back of her throat.

  “Don’t—oh shit—don’t gag yourself. God, that feels so good.”

  She took me from her mouth and gazed up at me. “Good. I want you to like it. I want you to love it. I want—I want to make you lose control, like you did me.” She took me in both hands again and stroked me, using her leftover saliva to slide her fists around me. “What else would make you feel good?”

  I didn’t say it, but I was thinking that with Luisa, when she’d done this, she’d made it quick, fisting me into bucking, sucking me until I came. Ever was…she was going slowly, and we were in unfamiliar territory. Everything about Ever, about being with her, making love to her, touching her, it was new for me. For her too, I was pretty sure.

  “I don’t know. It’s never…never felt this good before. Not sure how it could better.” She stared at my cock and watched as she did the hand-over-hand motion again, which made my knees buckle. “That—I really like it when you do that.”

  She did it again, kept doing it, squeezing me in one fist and sliding that hand down, and then replacing it with the other as soon as there was room at the tip of my cock. She put her mouth to me, worked her tongue and lips around me, leaving saliva wet and slick around me, and then did the motion again, and now I couldn’t stand it, couldn’t keep my knees locked. Each erotic slide of her fists around me left me breathless, brought me closer to edge, and with her head out of the way I could see her hands on me, and for some reason seeing her small white hands on my cock was so hot, so insanely hot that it made me even crazier.

  “What if…what if I did this?” she said, and then cupped my balls in one hand and pumped my cock at the base with the other, and then licked me with her tongue, a long, fat swipe of her tongue up my length, and again, and then the tip, and I knew she had to be tasting the pre-come I felt leaking from me. She continued the pumping motion, squeezing my balls gently, massaging them. Her tongue moved up my length, licking me like as if it was ice cream, and then said, “you do taste good. I kind of like this, actually. I like the way you react to everything I do.”

  I couldn’t respond, couldn’t speak. She’d taken me in her mouth again and was matching the rhythm of her fist around me with a bobbing of her head, sucking and moving and sliding her fist around me, and I felt the rising desperation inside me, the coiled tension building.

  “I’m—I’m close,” I said. “I’m gonna come soon.”

  “Good,” she murmured, “come hard. I want to feel that. I want to taste you.”

  She didn’t relent, and my knees were weak. I had to brace myself on the doorposts to stay upright as she began to stroke my cock with both hands, sucking on the tip.

  “That…just like that. I’m—so close, now. Fuck…god, yes, Ever. God…oh god, oh shit—”

  She kept the pace, sucking on the head of my cock and moving both hands on the length and I was on the verge, right there, and I opened my eyes to watch.

  “I’m coming, oh fuck, Ever, I’m coming…so hard, right now!”

  I exploded in her mouth, and she plunged her mouth around me, took me deep as I released inside her, keeping one fist around my base and working me hard, swallowing, pumping, sucking, moving, and I could only groan and curse as she drew ecstasy from me in dizzying waves.

  She finally let my cock leave her mouth with a soft pop, and looked up at me. “You came…a lot.” She said it with a smile.

  I was embarrassed by that, feeling almost ashamed that she’d swallowed all of that. “Sorry—” I started to say.

  She interrupted me. “No, I liked feeling you lose control like that. I didn’t mind the taste either. Mostly, I loved feeling you enjoy it so much.”

  I pulled her to her feet and tugged her into an embrace. “It was so amazing. Thank you, so much.”

  “I’m glad I did it.” She tilted her head to meet my eyes. “You can ask me anything, you know. If you want anything, with me, just ask.”

  “You too.”

  I kissed her, then. Kissed her deeply, and tasted myself on her breath. I kissed her to prove something, but I wasn’t sure what. Her hands curled around my shoulders and she kissed me back as if she’d been drowning and my kiss was the air she needed to live. I moved her toward the bed, intending to give her what she’d given me.

  She stopped me, though. “Take a shower.” She put her palms on my chest and pushed me away, as if tearing herself away from me. “I know how much better it made me feel.”

  “Are you saying I stink?” I teased.

  She leaned toward me and sniffed. “A little?” She grinned and pushed me toward the bathroom. “Go. There are towels in there. My shampoo isn’t girly smelling, and there’s normal bar soap, too. So you won’t come out smelling like a girl.”

  I closed the bathroom door, but didn’t latch it or lock it. It was definitely a girl’s bathroom, full of curling irons and hair dryers and little paintings on the wall, cases of makeup and bottles of eyeliner or some other goop. The mats on the floor were lavender in color, and the hand towel matched, but the folded shower towels stacked in the cabinet under the sink were varying in colors. I set a black towel on the toilet seat and adjusted the water to just cooler than scalding. I stepped in and soaked for a moment, then looked for the shampoo. There were no less than eight different bottles of different kinds of shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, exfoliating something or another, all kinds of other things. The one that seemed the least girly was vanilla-scented, so I used that.

  It was as I was rinsing the shampoo and letting my mind wander that it hit me.

  Alex was dead.

  I’d let myself forget. Pushed it away. A flash of memory hit me like tidal wave. Alex, on his back, eyes glazed open, the room smelling of death and vomit.

  I tried to rein in the memory, the panic attack. I couldn’t, though. Image after image hit me: Alex, alive, smoking a bowl, laughing as he exhaled a cloud of smoke; Dad, driving his truck, me in the passenger, seat, letting out a rare laugh at something I said; Mom, at the s
tove, cooking pasta; Alex, dead; Dad, dead; Mom; dead. I saw their last moments, their last breaths. It became a rolling montage, a series of lightning strikes hitting me one after another.

  The water went lukewarm, and I felt my knees give out. I hit the bottom of the tub in a heap, trying to breathe, trying to stop shaking.

  I’d kept it together for so long, kept it all pushed away, put away. Locked deep down. Numb. And now Ever was there, threading her beautiful smile and stunning eyes and tender love throughout me, her passionate hunger for me, and it was unlocking all the secret rooms where I’d hidden those memories, and it was all coming out at once, and it was too much.

  I felt the water turn off. I was sweating, but I was cold. Shivering, aching, gasping.

  “Cade? What’s wrong?” Ever, on her knees outside the tub. Her hand on my wet shoulder, brushing the hair from my eyes.

  “They’re all…they all died. Mom died. Dad died. Alex died. They all left me. Mom left me. Dad left me. Alex left me.” I heard the words but couldn’t stop them or control them. “I watched them all die. I found Alex. Hours before I came to you. I found him. I knew he was in bad shape, but I didn’t think he’d—I didn’t know. I didn’t know. And Dad just gave up. At least Mom fought. She tried to stay but couldn’t, at the end. It took her. The cancer took her. Dad…he just couldn’t take it without her. Couldn’t live without her, and so he just gave up, just fucking stopped living.”

  “Cade, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  “Everyone left me.”

  “I’m here.” She pressed a kiss to my cheekbone. “I’m here. I’m with you, Caden. I’m here with you.”

  I gasped for breath, fought to get air into my lungs, fought to slow my heart. “Ever?” I knew it was her, but it came out as a question. “You can’t die. You can’t give up. I think I get now why Dad gave up.”

  She put a hand underneath my shoulder and pulled at me. I sat up, worked to get out of the tub. As the panic attack left me, I felt wetness on my eyes, tears. Shame hit me. After what Ever had just done for me, I went had a panic attack, and I was crying now. I tried to hide, but there was nowhere to go. I was naked, still, wet. She unfolded the towel and rubbed my chest with it, my stomach, my shoulders, my back.

  I tried to take it from her, but she wouldn’t let me. “Ever. I’m—I’m okay.”

  She gave me the most tender, most gentle, most loving smile I’d ever seen, glowing bright on her lovely face. “Let me.”

  I dropped my hand and kept my eyes on her, feeling the shame at her seeing me cry twist into something else. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m—I’m more of a mess than I’d thought, I guess. It just, it hit me. Alex, the Mom and Dad, and it all just—I don’t normally cry—”

  She brushed the towel over my face, dabbing at my forehead, my cheeks, then over my head, going up on her tiptoes to reach my hair. “Don’t apologize, and don’t be ashamed. Please?”

  It felt so, so strange to have her there in the tiny bathroom with me, dressed in nothing but a tiny, slinky red thong, so gently drying me with a towel, her eyes gazing at me in a way that seemed as much a tender caress as the touch of her hands upon my skin.

  “It’s just…you’re seeing me at my worst, and we just…had such an amazing experience together, and I feel like I’m ruining it with that stupid—stupid panic attack. I’ve never had that happen before, and I couldn’t stop it, it just hit me. And I don’t want you to think—”

  She wrapped the towel around my waist, and I tucked it in place. Her palms rested on my chest and she pressed her body up against mine. “Cade, you’re allowed to be upset about things. You didn’t ruin anything. And what kind of love would this be between us if I couldn’t see you at your worst and comfort you?”

  I touched my forehead to hers. “Thanks.”

  She lifted up, kissed me. “Thank you for…not pushing me away, I guess. I think a lot of guys would have freaked out. You let me in, told me what you’re feeling. That’s how it should be.”

  I vowed that’s how it always would be.

  Ever

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Cade and I were sitting in the same side of a booth at National Coney Island, sharing disgustingly good cheese fries. It was two a.m., and we’d just spent the last two hours exhausting each other in the best possible way. I was sated, pleasantly sore, and ready to jump him again as soon as we went back to my dorm. Which could be tricky, since Steph had broken up with her boyfriend and was home more, which meant we had to stay in my room afterward or put on clothes, as well as having to be quiet when Steph was around. I especially wasn’t very good at being quiet. I’d never had that problem before, but Cade seemed to have a talent for making me scream.

  He’d continued to flat-out refuse to let me come to his apartment, which wasn’t really his. He was staying month-to-month at the apartment he’d shared with Alex, but he’d expressed several times how much he hated it. It reminded him of Alex, of finding him. He was spending as much time at my dorm as he could, but with his own classes and Steph’s presence, it wasn’t as much as either of us wanted, and it was rarely as uninhibited as we would have liked.

  “Maybe this is crazy,” Cade said, dipping a liquid-cheese-product-coated fry in ranch, “but…what if we got our own place?”

  I tried not to choke on my Coke. “Um…what?” I turned to look at him. “You mean move in together?”

  He shrugged, and I could tell he was trying to sound casual when he felt anything but. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s only been two weeks, but…is it really that big of stretch?”

  I didn’t answer right away. I’d had the same thought, but hadn’t voiced it. It seemed a little crazy to be considering moving in with the boy I’d been dating for barely two weeks. “Our relationship isn’t exactly normal, though. It’s not like we met two weeks ago. Not really.”

  “Is it crazy to you?” he asked.

  I mimicked his attempt at nonchalance, succeeding about as well. Meaning, my heart was hammering. “Yeah. But everything about us is crazy. Right? I mean, is it normal for two people to fall in love as quickly and intensely as you and I have?”

  “No, I’m not sure it is exactly normal.” He glanced at me. “Does it seem like it would be rushing things?”

  “That’s my worry. What if this is…I don’t know, a honeymoon period or something?” I rushed the next words out. “I’m not saying I don’t want to. I do. I really do. I’m just…this whole thing between us scares me sometimes.”

  Cade threaded his fingers through mine. “Me too.”

  “You really want to live with me?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Absolutely.” His amber gaze was serious and intense. “I want everything with you. I want you all to myself. I want to have our place and be able to lock the door and keep you in bed with me until we can’t move anymore. I want to be able to watch you walk around naked all day. I don’t want to have to leave you to get more clean clothes. I want to spend every moment of my life with you.”

  I melted, sank against him. “Don’t you ever get tired of me? Don’t you ever want your own space?”

  He shook his head. “No. I miss you every single second I’m away. I have trouble focusing in class because I want to be home with you. I want to do homework together. I want to cook dinner together. I don’t want space. I’ve been alone for so long, essentially on my own, even if there were people in my life who did care.” He eyed me with curiosity. “Do you need space?”

  I squeezed his arm. “No! That’s not my point. I just…I feel the same way. I just didn’t want to seem clingy, or too…too needy, I guess. Like I can’t be away from you for an hour without getting all mushy. But I can’t. I am clingy. I am needy. I was just…I wanted you to know that you can have your space, if you need room to breathe.”

  He leaned his head against mine. “I don’t have any need to breathe. You are my breath.”

  I heard a coughed laugh of disbelief from behind us. I turned in place to see a middle-aged man
sitting alone, wearing a faded Van Halen T-shirt and a tattered trucker’s hat. “Sorry, I’m not trying to eavesdrop. You two are just so fucking sweet it’s making my teeth hurt. You should just get married and get it over with. Seriously.” He shook his head, jamming a huge bite of gyro in his mouth and continuing to talk around it. “I can honestly say I’ve never felt that way about anyone. I didn’t think it was real. You two are like…fucking Hollywood romance characters or some shit.”

  Cade and I laughed as we slid out of the booth and paid our bill, but I saw a thoughtful look on Cade’s face as we drove back to my dorm. We let ourselves in, only to stop in awkward shock. Steph was on the couch, on top of a guy I’d never met before, riding him. They were both completely naked, his hairy legs bent, feet braced against the arm of the couch, Steph leaning back, face tipped up to the ceiling, hands in her now-burnt orange hair, massive tits bouncing as she rocked on her new boyfriend/latest fling, moaning loudly.

  She heard us come in, gasped in shock, leaned down over the guy, with her hands covering her boobs. “Oh my god!” she shrieked. “I’m so sorry! I thought you’d be gone longer.”

  I had no idea what to say, what do. Cade pulled me into a stumbling walk, into my room and closed the door behind me. As soon as the door latched, I heard Steph moan, heard the slap of flesh and the grunts of her guy. I hurried to plug my phone into my dock, cranking up the volume until I couldn’t hear my roommate’s sex noises. “Bulletproof Weeks” by Matt Nathanson isn’t really blast-it-until-you’re-deaf music, but it served the purpose.

  I collapsed onto my bed, laughing. “Oh…my…god. I could’ve gone the rest of my life without seeing that.”

  “Yeah, it was kind of a shock.”

  I grabbed his arm, shaking him. “I knew Steph was pretty stacked, but…Jesus, did you see the size of her boobs? They were huge!”

  Cade colored. “Couldn’t help but notice them,” he mumbled, then grinned. “I prefer yours.”