by S. M. Shade
Finally, everyone excuses themselves, and we crawl into our tent. The pile of sleeping bags and blankets are warm and comfortable, but I’m thrilled that the top of the tent is transparent. It lets in the moonlight and provides a view of the night sky, heavy with stars.
Layton undresses first, then pulls my shirt over my head. We can see each other clearer than I expected but I don’t feel self-conscious with him. All I see in his eyes as he undresses me completely is love.
He goes so slow, kissing and caressing every inch of my body so many times my skin sings with electricity. I’m desperate for him inside me, but the feel of his cock in my hand also leads me to desire another first experience.
“Kelly,” he breathes, when I tentatively lick around the head. Hmm. Not bad. I always thought it couldn’t taste good, but if anyone could, it’s Layton. Careful to tuck my lips around my teeth—I may have searched out a few tutorials weeks ago—I suck him, and judging by the sharp breaths and uttered curses, I’m not doing a bad job.
“Stop, baby.” He pulls my head back and kisses me hard. “That was fucking amazing, but I don’t want to come yet.”
Oh yeah, we still have a deflowering to get through.
He reaches into a backpack in the corner and pulls out the condoms and a small bottle of lube. “It’ll make it a little easier on you,” he says, when he notices I’m staring at it.
“I doubt I could get any wetter than you make me, but you’re the expert.” I stretch out on my back.
“Fuck, Kelly, you’re killing me.” The strained look on his face confirms it.
I watch as he rolls the condom on, then he moves his body over mine, not putting all his weight on me, but enough that I can tell I absolutely love the sensation. He kisses me again, and I’m so lost in him I barely notice he’s opened the lube until I feel him slide his coated fingers into me. He goes right for my spot and between the rub of those fingertips inside and his thumb outside, I’m shivering through an orgasm in under thirty seconds.
He shifts until his hips are lined up with mine and I can feel him prodding against me. Excitement wars with a little fear of the unknown, but I feel safe with him. I take a deep breath and force my muscles to relax.
His eyes are on mine. “Are you sure?”
I stare into the deep blues. “Yes. Are you sure?” I wasn’t the one who freaked out last time, after all.
“Fuck, yes. Spread your legs a little farther, baby.”
God, I’m surprised by the vulnerability I feel. It’s not like I wasn’t naked and being ate out in the woods just a few hours ago. Somehow, this is different. He moves his hips, working into me a little at a time.
It’s not the experience I’ve read about in romance books or seen portrayed in movies. They always seem to make it either a bloody massacre scene where the woman is speared with pain, or a momentary twinge followed by eight orgasms.
It hurts some, but it’s more of an ache as he moves deeper each time. It feels good and hurts in a strange way I can’t describe. Pausing, he looks into my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, are you…all the way in?”
His grin is wicked. “Not quite. Try to relax a little, okay?” Shit, I was tensed up again. Closing my eyes, I try to relax, breathing in his scent. He smells like wood smoke and sweat. Amazing.
“Good girl,” he murmurs in my ear and buries himself in me.
Okay that did hurt. But it’s already fading.
“Kelly, look at me, sweetheart.” Concern is written in every line of his face as he runs his fingers down my cheek.
“I’m good.”
“You’re perfect,” he whispers. His tongue parts my lips, and he kisses me as he pulls out and pushes back in. Oh, that feels better. My hips rise to meet his on the next stroke, and I feel him smile against my mouth.
It’s such a new, wonderful sensation of fullness and friction, and I don’t even know how else to describe it. His steady, slow strokes draw noises from me I’ve never made before. Our bodies grow sweaty and his damp hot skin against mine, his chest hair on my nipples, the flex of his biceps, all make the experience so much more than I could’ve anticipated.
It doesn’t take long for me to get sore, even with the lube, and he must notice. Leaning down for one more kiss, he speeds up for just a few more strokes, then goes still with a groan. God, his face when he comes. I want to take a picture and use it as the wallpaper on my phone.
After he disposes of the condom, he pulls me into his arms. “Are you okay?”
Snuggling into him, I bury my face in his neck. “Better than okay. That was…it felt amazing, but it was also…the sweetest thing. You made me feel so good when I expected to be scared.”
His hand runs through my hair. “Thank fuck because I was a nervous wreck.”
We both laugh, and I grin up at him. “Don’t tell me that was your first deflowering?”
“My secret is out.” We lie together for a few minutes until I sit up and reach for my clothes.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” Peeing after sex is one thing that I know is a lesson in How not to get a urinary infection 101.
He dresses quickly as well to walk down to the restrooms with me. When we start to climb out of the tent, I glance back at the blanket we were lying on. “Did I get blood everywhere?”
“No, there’s a tiny spot. No worries.” He tosses the blanket aside, and I grab a change of underwear, stuffing them in my pocket.
The night air dries the sweat on my body, and I shiver, grinning as I look up at the stars. Maybe I’m not fundamentally different. Losing my virginity didn’t change who I am or make me any more adult, but it did introduce me to a world I want to spend a lot more time in.
“So, when can we do it again?” I ask, when we’re on our way back to the tent. “Not tonight, though.” That after sex pee was no fun.
Layton laughs and hooks his arm around my neck. “Sweetheart, I’m at your disposal.”
A few minutes later, we’re snuggled together in the tent, and I’m just starting to doze off when a screech makes my eyes pop open. My arms tighten around Layton. “What was that? An animal?”
His snort of laughter makes me relax a little just as another cry splits the night, followed by an exclamation of, “Oh yes, harder!”
“Is that…?”
“It’s coming from Dalton’s SUV.”
“Oh my god.” Giggling, I sit up. “She has to know we can hear her, right?” A horrible thought occurs to me, and I whip around to look at him. “Was I loud? Could they hear me?”
His chest rattles with laughter, and he pulls me back down beside him. “No, we made normal human sounds.”
It’s funny he’d mention human, because at the next high pitched scream, we hear an accompanying howl. “Midnight,” I exclaim, covering my mouth. The kids had begged for Midnight to sleep in their tent tonight and he seemed happy to climb in between them.
“Travis is going to kill Dawson.”
Layton and I hold each other, shaking with laughter as more screams and howls ring out.
“Mommy!” Seth calls.
“Uh-oh,” Layton says. He sits up and unzips the tent just enough for us to peek out. Diane and Travis tumble out of their tent, still trying to dress. I guess everyone was getting some tonight. Travis takes a step toward the SUV, but Diane beats him to it.
She smacks her palm against the windshield three times fast. Bam bam bam! “Hey! When the dog is howling and the kids are crying, that should be a clue to shut the fuck up! This isn’t a porn set!”
I fall back, holding my stomach that aches from laughing so hard. Travis has veered over to the kid’s tent to calm them down.
Layton zips the tent back up and crawls over to me. Wrapped in each other’s arms, our laughter finally fades. Staring up at the stars through the top of the tent, I drift off to sleep.
Dalton and Amber are gone when we wake the next morning. I wouldn’t have wanted to stick around after last night if I were them either
. Diane and Travis are tired and grouchy for obvious reasons. Who knows how long the kids were up? We help them get their tent broken down, then pack up our stuff and head out.
On our drive back to Layton’s, my phone vibrates with a text from Serena.
Serena: Did you survive the wilderness?
Me: Yeah, didn’t even get mauled by a bear.
Serena: Did you get mauled by an accountant?
Chuckling, I shake my head. They knew what I had planned, of course, and I know they’re eager to know if it went better than last time.
Me: He’s an economist.
Serena: I don’t care if he’s the green Teletubby. Did he break your lawn chair?
What the hell kind of way to describe it is that? I have to keep torturing her.
Me: What does that even mean?
Serena: Did he fuck you or do I need to buy ice cream?
Me: No ice cream needed.
I follow it up with a heart, and she sends me a string of hearts back. I get the same from Zara and then Remee. They’re clearly at home and being relayed the news.
I get another text from Serena a few hours later, when Layton and I are finishing lunch. She asks if I can come back to the apartment and bring Layton with me.
“I’m not sure what this is about or what we’re getting ourselves into,” I warn him as he grabs some clothes to spend the night with me.
“It’ll be fine.”
It’s clear he doesn’t know my friends that well yet.
Just a few minutes later, we park in front of the apartment. Oh god, that’s a dick balloon tied to the front doorknob.
Two tenants from the other end of the circle, where the older residents live, walk by and barely give it a second glance. You have to love Violent Circle. Nothing to see here. Just an inflatable penis bobbing around in the wind. Another normal day.
“I take it your friends know about last night?” Layton says, smirking down at me.
Climbing out of the truck, I join him. “Not in detail or anything.”
Serena bursts through the door just as I’m about to open it and clicks a pair of toy handcuffs on Layton’s wrists, then pulls him inside.
“What are you doing?” We’re led into the kitchen where Zara and Remee wait.
“He’s under arrest.”
Layton glances at me, an eyebrow raised as he plays along. “And what are the charges?”
All three answer together. “Breaking and entering!”
My giggles make my words a little less credible when I turn to Layton. “I’m so sorry.”
These girls are the best kind of crazy and Layton is a good sport throughout the entire thing. He doesn’t blink an eye at the cake decorated with an official V-card that’s been stamped with a bright red VOID. He snacks on the rum soaked cherries along with us. Even the round of For He’s a Good Cherry Picker sang to the tune of Jolly Good Fellow doesn’t faze him. It’s good to know he can handle the crazy.
The only confusion I see on his face comes as I burst into laughter when Zara presents me with Capri Sun and insists Layton put in the straw.
THE END
Where to find S.M. Shade
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Acknowledgments
Before I mention anything else, I want to thank everyone who helped me make this book possible during such a turbulent time in everyone’s lives. Writing comedy during a pandemic was a challenge, and I sincerely hope I brought you some laughs to make your days better the way you brighten mine.
It was so great to return to Violent Circle, and I want to thank the readers for coming along with me to this new series. I hope you grow to love these characters as much as I do and as much as you did the original Violent Circle neighbors.
I want to especially thank the alpha and beta readers for making time to read and help me clean up this story when I know everyone was already juggling so much. Despite working from home, homeschooling your kids, and everything else this past month has brought, you came through for me, and I can’t describe how grateful I am.
Chantal Baxendale, Aimee Degagne, Paige Shorey, Colette Trainor, Amanda Munson, Theresa O’Reilly, Veronica Ashley, Christina Santos, Sarah Piechuta, Kelly Tucker, Elizabeth Clinton, and Sara Vermillion. You ladies are the best.
To my amazing and infinitely patient PA, Melissa Teo, thanks for everything you do to make me look like I know what I’m doing. I think we fooled them.
Abigail Davies, thank you for the beautiful formatting. I would promise that next time it won’t be submitted to you at the last minute, but we both know I’d be a dirty liar. You’re amazing.
To my Shady Ladies, who have been waiting eagerly (based on the number of messages and gentle threats I’ve received) to return to Violent Circle, thank you for embracing my crazy along with this insane neighborhood of characters. You guys always make me smile and I’m happy to have such a wonderful, accepting group.
Thank you, Danielle Sanchez of Wildfire Marketing, for helping me get my books in front of so many new readers. I appreciate it so much.
The cover was created by Ally Hastings of Starcrossed Covers, and I really can’t recommend her enough if you’re looking for an artist. Thank you so much, Ally.
Finally, thank you to all the people who help me by sharing, reviewing, and recommending my books. There are just too many to list without leaving someone out, but whether you’re an author, blogger, page owner, or reader, I’m thankful for all the support.
More by S.M. Shade
The Violent Circle Series (ROMANTIC COMEDY)
Scarlet Toys
http://mybook.to/scarlettoys
Living on Violet Circle, a place that’s less of a neighborhood and more of an insane asylum poured into the street, I thought I was prepared for anything. After you’ve seen a woman strip down at the laundry room to wash the clothes she’s wearing, then saunter across the street naked, you’ve seen it all, right?
How naïve I was.
After the factory closed, leaving me and a good portion of the town unemployed, I took a job managing Scarlet Toys. I knew it wouldn’t be a typical work environment, selling adult toys in a town more uptight than a constipated nun, but some things you just never see coming.
Like the protesters covered in poison ivy, screaming about smut peddlers.
Or a dancing dinosaur named Fappy.
Or the allure of the man standing in the center of all the chaos.
Wyatt Lawson, a six foot, four inch heap of muscle with a quick smile, ignited my interest in more than the available manager position. Like the missionary one. Or the rodeo. Maybe the side rider. What can I say? I’m an overachiever.
Let’s just hope he doesn’t scare easily.
Frat Hell
http://mybook.to/frathell
Frat Hell.
That’s how the whole neighborhood refers to the apartment where I live with three other college students. It’s a bit judgmental, considering the neighborhood we live in is more like a zoo than an apartment complex, but not inaccurate. If y
ou put that many young guys together, things are bound to be interesting. I still maintain that the giant water guns filled with poison ivy water were not my idea.
January Dixon.
She’s the girl I’ve lusted after for years. A smart mouth and sharp tongue surrounded by soft beauty and a body I’d give up an organ just to touch. An important organ, like a kidney, not one of those lame ones like a gallbladder.
It’s a tricky situation since she lives right down the street, and dating a neighbor generally isn’t a good idea. But this is Violent Circle, where normal may as well be a dirty word. Thanks to an impromptu fashion show where I tossed all self-respect aside and strutted my stuff in full bondage gear in front of our small town, she now owes me a date.
And I plan to collect.
Clean Start
http://mybook.to/cleanstart
Everyone knows the rumors about Violet Circle and the crazy inhabitants, but becoming a resident was my best option. These are the kind of decisions you’re faced with when you have a baby at eighteen, and your knight in shining armor turns out to be a deadbeat dad in saggy boxers.
Don’t get me wrong, my five-year-old son, Aiden, is the love of my life, even when he’s telling random strangers I’m constipated, or lecturing his preschool friends on the differences in their anatomy. I wouldn’t trade him for anything, but raising him as a single parent while cleaning motel rooms for a living is like walking a balance beam made of sand. One wrong slip, and we’re homeless.
