by Jay McLean
I can't take my eyes off his mouth.
His hand lifts the towel as he wipes his chest. And now my eyes are there, watching him—waiting for his next move. He moves it lower, down to his perfect stomach.
I lick my lips.
He lets out a moan. "Fuck," he says, covering himself with the towel, but it's too late. I've already seen it.
"Lucy," he whispers, and I slowly peel my eyes away from his covered hard-on and look at him.
His eyes are dark—darker than I've ever seen them. He steps forward, the hunger in his gaze so evident. He licks his lips again as he grips the edge of his door.
"Where's Mom?" he asks.
"Date night," I whimper.
He nods once, his eyes never leaving mine. He drops his towel and places his hand on my waist as he slowly pushes the door closed with the other. The motion of our bodies causes me to back up against it. He rests his hands on the door on either side of my head and leans in. His lips barely touch mine when he whispers, "So we're alone?"
I suppress my moan and shake my head slowly.
His tongue darts out to lick my lips. Slowly. From one side to the other. "I bet you taste as good as you look."
And that's when I lose it.
My head flings back, hitting the door behind me. My eyes drift closed, waiting for more.
And he gives it.
He gives me more.
His mouth covers mine; soft, wet, just like his tongue when he swipes it against mine. "Babe," he moans into my mouth.
My hands reach up, gripping his shoulders and pulling him down. His hands move to my waist, his fingers curling and his thumb slowly rubbing my bare stomach. And then they move. Lower. Down my skirt—his fingers bunching the material. For a split second, I wish he were wearing a shirt, one I could grip and then rip off him.
Fuck.
My legs rub together, trying to ease an ache building in the pit of my stomach. He releases my skirt and runs his hands down to my bare thighs. One hand lifts my leg, and places it around him. He pushes into my center. Just once. But it's all I need.
His other hand moves higher on my thigh, the touch so light it makes me shiver. He doesn't notice. His movements don't falter. Not for a second. Not until his hand is covering my ass. "Fuck," he spits, right before he grips it tight. So tight it hurts. And turns me on. He lifts me off the ground, my legs automatically going around him. I can feel him between my legs, his hardness pressing into me. He pulls back from my mouth, his eyes burning with lust. Both his hands grip my ass now, as he stares down at my breasts. "Take your shirt off." It's not a question. It's a demand—one that I don't argue with.
He swallows loudly. His eyes are everywhere, all at once. He pushes into me again, his hands squeezing me tighter. I can feel the wetness building. I should be ashamed, but I'm not. I want him to know how badly I need him—how much he turns me on.
He grunts, lifting me higher against the door and placing his mouth on my breasts, just above my bra. His gaze lifts, but his mouth stays. "Are you okay?" His words comes out rough, fueled by his desire. His voice vibrates my skin, and now it's my turn to push into him. That's all the answer he needs. His teeth clamp around my bra, pulling it down and freeing a breast.
And then he does something he's never done before.
My back arches when I feel the warmth of his mouth on my nipple. First one, then the other. He moves one hand off my ass and snakes it around my back. And then we're moving. He walks me with my legs still around him to his bed. He lays me down slowly and stands to full height. My eyes shut tight. I can feel his gaze on me, taking me in from head to toe. He lifts my legs, and removes my boots. Slowly. Taking his time. "Fuck, Luce, you're beautiful."
I open my eyes, no longer self-conscious. No longer afraid.
He shakes his head from side to side before placing a knee on the bed, between my legs. He uses it to push them further apart. I know what he wants. I nod slowly, so he knows that I want it too. He leans down, his hands slowly moving up the inside of my thighs. The material of my skirt lifts with the movement of his hands.
And then I panic.
I try squeezing me legs together but his strong hands stop me. His palms flatten on the top of my thighs—making it impossible. "If you want me to stop, say it." He licks his lips again, waiting for me to respond. But I can't speak. I can't lie. I don't want him to stop. So I answer him the only way I can, I let my muscles relax and spread my legs wider for him. He doesn't go slowly this time. His fingers curl around my panties and he pulls them down my legs. The cold air hitting my wetness makes me gasp.
"Come here," I manage to get out.
He doesn't hesitate; he gets on the bed next to me and kisses me. First my mouth, then my jaw, and then down my neck. He kisses my chest, moving lower with each kiss. His tongue leaves a trail of wetness to my breasts. He takes one in his mouth again, using his tongue, his lips, his teeth, all of it driving me insane, beyond the point of anything I've ever felt before. "Cameron," I whisper.
His gaze lifts.
I remove his hand from my breast and push it lower, where we both want him to be.
"Are you sure?"
I don't reply with words, I just push his hand further down.
The first touch has my head lifting off the pillow.
He sucks my nipple harder.
"Holy fuck," he moans, running a finger slowly up, and back down again. He moves his mouth to my other breast, right before I feel him inside me. He lifts his mouth. "Baby," he pants.
My back arches.
My eyes shut.
My breath catches.
My world stops.
A door opens.
"Cameron?"
"Mom!"
Screams.
That's all I can hear.
Screaming and yelling.
I'm screaming.
Cam's yelling. "Get out!"
I reposition my bra and try to hide. But we're both on top of the blankets and I can't pull enough off to cover myself.
I'm crying.
I'm crying tears of embarrassment and shame.
Cam covers himself with one hand and tries to cover me with the other.
"Get out!" he yells again.
But his mom's frozen in the doorway, her eyes fixed on something on the floor. My panties. "Oh my God," I cry, jumping off the bed and picking up my clothes.
I run to the bathroom and lock the door, trying hard to stay silent.
It doesn't work.
"Get out!" he says again, "Can't you hear her crying? We'll talk about this later. Not now."
"Cameron," I hear her say, and then heated whispers.
I quickly dress and grip the door handle. I want to hide out, but it's not fair to him. He shouldn't be dealing with this on his own.
I silently open the door.
"Just tell me," she whispers loudly. "Are you guys having sex?"
"No," I answer for him, wiping the tears off my cheeks. "But I think I want to."
"What?" Cam clips. "Right now?"
I shake my head. "No. Not now, but soon, I think."
His eyes widen, but he doesn't speak.
"What's going on?" Mark says, now standing behind Heather. His gaze moves from Cam, to me, and then to the bed. "Oh..." He nods in understanding.
"Mom," Cam pleads. "I can't talk about this—"
"Actually," I cut in. "Cameron, do you mind leaving? I'd like to talk to your mom for a moment."
He turns to me quickly. "What? No, babe. If you want to do this now, we do it together."
"No." I shake my head. "That's not it. Can you just go please?" I beg, letting out another sob.
His shoulders drop. "Babe..."
"Please?"
"Come on," Mark says. "Let the girls talk."
***
"We haven't had sex," I tell her.
She sits on the edge of the bed next to me looking down at the floor.
"Actually, this is the first time anything like this has happe
ned, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry if you think that it was a breach of your trust because we did it under your roof, but it wasn't planned. I don't want you to stop trusting me. Or Cam." My words end in a sob. "I don't want you to hate me."
She sighs loudly and takes my hand. "I don't, honey. It's just a lot to take in. I could never hate you."
I mirror her position and look down at the floor.
Moments of uncomfortable silence pass.
The ache in my chest gets tighter. "Mom told me once that I'd know... when it was time, I mean. She said that I'd feel it in my heart." I face her now, my eyes filled with tears. "And I do. I feel it for Cameron. I'm so in love with him," I cry. "And I'm scared."
She grips my hand tighter. "What are you scared of?"
"Sharing something like that with someone. It's not just physical. Not for us. That's why we waited so long. But it's not just that. I mean... I have so many questions and I don't know—"
"You have questions?" she interrupts, her voice laced with sympathy.
I nod.
"You can ask me," she says. "Ask me anything."
I look up at her and let the tears fall. "Does it hurt?"
She lets out a small laugh, but not in the mocking sense. More like understanding. "Yes," she states. "I'm not going to lie to you. It does. And to be honest, it probably will the first few times. Don't expect it to feel amazing like they make it out to be. It takes time. Because you're right, it's not just a physical connection you're making. It's emotional. Extremely emotional." She stops to take a breath, and then squeezes my hand again. "Lucy."
I look up at her.
"I know that your mom's not around. I know that she would have been a lot more prepared for these types of conversations than I am, but I want you to be comfortable coming to me. Cameron's not the only one in this family that loves you."
-CAMERON-
"So..." Mark says, taking a sip of his beer.
"So..." I answer, kicking my feet onto the coffee table and doing the same.
We've never had beers together, but he says that this occasion calls for it.
"So..." he says again.
"So..."
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I have to ask."
I look up at him.
He raises an eyebrow. "Clitorusaurus-rex?"
I laugh and throw a cushion at his head.
"Ready to go?" Lucy says from the bottom of the stairs.
Mom's eyes narrow at the beer in my hand. "Mark made me," I tell her.
I quickly grab Lucy and haul ass out of there.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
-CAMERON-
"I'm not drinking anymore tonight so I can drive home." I pick up a pink colored drink from the cooler that's set on the kitchen counter. I have no idea whose house we're at. "We call these bitch drinks." I uncap it and hand it to her. "They taste like punch, but they're still alcoholic so just—"
She cuts me off by handing me back the empty bottle. "Or you could just chug it. Either way works."
She smiles. "That was nice. Give me another one."
I uncap another one but hold it behind my back.
She pouts.
"Lucy, listen to me. You keep going like that, you're gonna puke or pass out, and none of those are good times, especially for me."
She steps forward and wraps her arms around my waist, tilting her head all the way back to look up at me.
"So just chill, otherwise you're going to miss the fun of the actual buzz."
"I understand," she coos.
Ten minutes later she's buzzed.
"I told you to cool it," I laugh.
We're out in the yard, taking up a seat on the recently abandoned patio furniture. She's sitting sideways on my lap with one arm around my neck. "Quiet, Cam."
"I said that you—"
"Shh!" She covers my mouth with her hand. "Quiet! I don't want to hear it."
Logan comes and takes a seat opposite us. "How's that liquid courage going, Luce?"
"Fuck you and your liquid courage," she tells him.
His eyes widen.
"You and your liquid courage can suck it."
Logan laughs now. We all do.
Then a random girl approaches him. "I found us a room, you coming?" He doesn't even look surprised; he just stands up and follows behind her.
Lucy's jaw drops to the floor. "Is he? And she? Are they?"
I shrug. "Probably."
She gets off my lap and stands between my legs, resting her forearms on my shoulders. "We should do that," she muses.
"What?" I chuckle. "Have meaningless sex?"
"No." She leans in closer. My hands settle on the back of her thighs, under her skirt, just beneath her ass. Truthfully, I haven't stopped thinking about finishing what we started.
She kisses my cheek, then my neck, and then lightly bites my earlobe. "I want to finish what we started," she whispers.
Instantly, I'm up.
Not just standing, but up.
For a split second, I fight a war against myself. "I don't want to take advantage of you in your state."
"Pssh," she scoffs. "If anyone's going to be taking advantage, it's me... of you..." She reaches up and pulls me down to her; her mouth's already open, waiting for me.
I hold her hand tightly while we walk through the party. The house is filled, and the music's loud. I take her upstairs, where I know it'll be quieter. "Are you sure?" I ask, stepping foot on the landing.
She rolls her eyes and starts knocking on the doors on either side of the hallway. After the fifth one, there's no cussing, no bang of something being thrown against the door. Grinning from ear to ear, she slowly opens it, making sure we're not disturbing anyone. She switches on the light, but it's not a bedroom, it's a bathroom.
I gently rub her shoulders. "We can keep—"
"This will do." She pulls me by my shirt and closes the door behind me.
And all of a sudden I'm nervous. Because I let my dick think for me, and I have absolutely no idea how far she plans on pleasing it.
"I don't want to have sex," she says casually.
The tension leaves my shoulders.
I'm about to ask her what she wants but some asshole decides to bang on the door. She huffs out a frustrated breath, opens the door slightly and peeks out. Then a roar of laughter escapes her. I open the door wider so I can see what the hell's so funny. Matt and Tess are holding hands on the other side.
"What's funny, bitch?" Tess clips.
Lucy just laughs harder.
Tess steps forward, but Matt holds her back.
"The whore and the pindick," Lucy snorts. "Isn't that like throwing a hotdog down a hallway?"
I stifle my laugh.
"Yeah?" Tess says, her eyes narrowing and her neck snapping when she adds, "I blew your boyfriend's hotdog two weeks ago."
Okay. So, this one time Logan made me watch a video of these two hot chicks rolling on the ground throwing punches. He asked if I thought it was hot. I told him yes, but I lied. I didn't see the appeal in it at all.
I guess I just needed one of those chicks to be Lucy.
Picking her up from her sitting position on Tess's stomach, I throw her over my shoulder and go back in the bathroom. Slowly, I set her on her feet and wait for her heaving breaths to settle. When they finally do she looks up at me, her eyes already narrowed. "It's true isn't it?"
"What?" I can't help but laugh. It's just as absurd as that time Mom thought I got Lucy pregnant.
"She blew you!"
I laugh harder.
And you know why?
Because.
WOMEN. ARE. DUMB.
A snarl forms on her lips, and her eyes fill with rage. I sense it before I see it. Her palm raised, ready for an attack. I grip her wrist roughly.
Her eyes thin to slits.
She tries it again with her other hand.
I do the same thing.
"I hate you," she says. She bites her lip. The rage in her eye
s are long gone and replaced with something else completely. Lust.
I use my body to pin her to the wall, my hands still holding her firmly in place .
Bending my knees, I place an open mouth kiss on her neck. "You love me."
-LUCY-
He's pinning me against the wall with his body, one of his legs between mine, pushing into my center while his hard-on presses against my stomach. I want to touch him. Everywhere. But his grip on my hands tightens every time I try to move.
"I hate you," I say again.
He smiles, that same cocky smile he gets when he knows he's turning me on.
He raises my arms above my head and holds them in place with one hand, the other moving to my chin, lifting it so he can look into my eyes. Whatever he sees makes his eyes widen slightly. He blinks once, long and hard—like he's trying to refocus. He leans down, licking his lips as he does, then runs his tongue lightly between my lips. "You don't hate me," he whispers.
But my mind is a fog and I have no clue what the hell we're even talking about anymore. "Yes I do," I say anyway.
He pulls back, that same cocky smile still in place. He moves his hand from my chin, down my neck and onto my chest. The backs of his fingers brush down my strained nipples. My hips jerk forward, grinding into his leg. His hand flattens on my stomach, moving higher and lifting my shirt. I feel the cold air hit my breasts before I realize what’s happening. He pulls his leg back; the same time I feel the warmth of his breath between my breasts. I arch my back, inviting him for more.
Dammit, I need more. I reach for him, but his grip on my hands tightens, again. "I want to touch you."
"I thought you hated me."
I'm too far gone. Not from the buzz of the alcohol, but from letting him have me like this. "I do hate you," I breathe out.
He moves his hand to my back, his fingers deftly unzipping my skirt. It falls silently and bunches at my feet.
"I bet you don't," he murmurs, his teeth brushing against my nipple. He runs a finger between my legs, over my panties. "Yup," he says, popping the 'p'. "You definitely don't hate me."
His hand moves under my panties and onto my ass. Moaning, he starts to move in again.
I turn my head to the side, avoiding his kiss. "I want to touch you. Please, Cameron." I feel his fingers relax on my wrists, and I try to move. This time he lets me.
