Touch Me

by Kayla C. Oliver

  I sit beside him and pull my phone from my pocket.

  “What’s the worry?” he asks me quietly and I choose my words carefully.

  “Jackson attacked her. She’s been drinking and is… was intent on losing her virginity.” I know he’s turning his head to look at me out of the corner of his eyes, but I don’t meet his stare. “I’m not a piece of shit,” I say, hating that I even have to explain myself. “With everything that’s happened, I’m not sure she’s still feeling like getting laid.”

  But Cliff says nothing and I wonder if I’m just projecting my worry onto him. Since when do I second guess myself and what people think about me like this?

  She’s fucking messing with my head.

  Chapter Eleven

  Camille

  All the stress is weighing on me. I feel it crushing my soul and I want to relax. But with Dakin gone – even with the door locked – I feel like I’m in danger. What if Jackson comes back to finish what he started? Will I ever feel safe again?

  Putting my head in my hands, I take a few deep breaths.

  I’m okay. The cops would have arrested Jackson. With all the girls stepping up to tell their stories of him, there’s no way he’s not sitting behind bars right now. Right?

  As I calm myself down, I realize how tired I am. My brain is struggling against my body. My body wants to sleep, but my brain is running a million miles a minute.

  But I know that tomorrow, in the light of day, all of this will look a hell of a lot less terrifying and a lot less ugly.

  The thought of Dakin’s face as we talked in the bathroom swims back to the edge of my mind. There’d been something so broken in him, something so raw and frightening. But he’d also told me he’d never hurt me.

  And I trust him.

  Maybe I’m crazy. Scratch that, I am absolutely crazy. But something about him just digs at me. The way he studies me, the way he seems to look right through me into my very soul… it just makes me sure there’s so much more to him than I thought in the beginning.

  And he’s every inch the bad boy I thought he was… to a point.

  Then again, what kind of bad boy has a girl practically fawning all over him and begging him to fuck her and just says no because she’s been drinking? That sounds oddly like someone who’s a good person.

  Throwing myself back on his bed, I stare up at the ceiling. Overhead, I see stars beyond the skylight and wonder what it would be like to have him right here beside me.

  The confines of the dress are feeling like a bit too much. But I’m reminded how very sexy I feel as I look down and see the flesh of my tits struggling to escape the plunging neckline. In this foreign place, I’m suddenly excited like I’ve never been before.

  This is Dakin’s bedroom. A place where he’s undoubtedly fucked plenty of girls. But instead of being grossed out, my body hums to life. What if I was one of them?

  Better yet, what if I was the last one?

  Fuck it, it’s my fantasy, I’m going all out on it.

  Studying the stars overhead, I run a hand down my flat belly and let my fingertips trace the gentle jut of my hip bone.

  What would it feel like if they were his hands? How would Dakin touch me? Would he be gentle as if worried he might break me? Would he be rough and demanding? My hips tilt as my fingers find the bare skin of my thigh and inch up, tickling, teasing, and leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.

  Tracing over the top of my thigh toward the delicate flesh if my inner leg, I run them up as if to touch my pussy, but fall short. There’s no coming back from this. If I get off to him right here in his bed, right now while he could walk in, I’m never going to live it down if he walks in.

  Then again, if he walks in, maybe he’ll put me out of my misery.

  I can live through a little humiliation. I’ve lived through worse, right?

  My fingers slide sexily on the moisture between the folds of my pussy. It’s delicious, and I hear the sound of how wet I am as I touch and explore. All the while, I see Dakin in my mind’s eye. I can imagine him over me, teasing me with his fingers to prepare me for more, for him.

  A moan breaks from my lips as my body hums to life. Sensations crash from everywhere in contrary waves. My belly tightens and my hips buck into my hand as if I’m just going too slowly.

  Pressing my eyes closed, I whimper and bite down on my lower lip. I don’t want anyone to hear me. That would be worse than him walking in on me.

  Not that him walking in on me would be a bad thing, judging by how my body responds to the thought with more moisture and a burst of pleasure in my belly.

  With my free hand, I tug the neckline of the dress and let my tits free of the confines they’ve been imprisoned behind. Their pale complexion is broken by a few scattered freckles and the dusky rose coloring of my nipples.

  My hard nipples.

  Damn, I guess this fantasy is better than I imagined. With my free hand, I squeeze one of my nipples and choke back a yelp of pain and pleasure at the sensation. My fingers find my clit and I work quick circles around the delicate button.

  The dress covers nothing that should be covered now. It’s just hiding my belly and ribs while my tits and pussy are on display. And it’s fucking sexy.

  Rubbing my clit with one hand, I continue teasing my nipples to tight little points while struggling to keep my noise to a minimum. Every tweak of my nipple sends sparks of pleasure bolting straight to my core.

  And my fingers move faster as the pleasure begins to increase and increase. Fuck, would he lick me? Taste me? Tease me to orgasm before finally deciding to take the disgraceful stigma of virginity from me?

  Sucking in a shuddering breath, I feel my belly coiling up tight and my hips begin to jolt as I reach the edge of orgasm and teeter cruelly. It’s incredible torture, the best and worst thing I’ve ever experienced, and all I want is to just come.

  Suddenly it all crashes over me as Dakin’s name leaves my lips. My teeth slice through my lower lip and I taste the sharp metallic bite of blood as everything in me hits overdrive. I feel faint, on the edge of something great, and my core is a coiled spring ready to release.

  And shockwaves explode out from my core in an intense circus of pleasure. Moans and Dakin’s name leave my lips over and over, quietly, but so loud to my ears I’m both afraid and exhilarated that he’ll hear me and know I’m in his bed, thinking about him fucking me.

  And that I’m coming while thinking of him.

  As the twitching of my core wrenches every last bit of breath from my lungs, I suddenly see the stars overhead again. It’s as if the world had faded out slowly without my notice and suddenly blinked back in.

  The clenching of my pussy begins to slow and my whole body relaxes as I just stare out the skylight. I feel wicked and delicious, sexy and spent, exhausted and ready to be gathered up in Dakin’s arms.

  But he’s not here. My fantasy dissolves, but my resolve to find out if the man measures up to the fantasy solidifies in my mind.

  Slowly, my breaths begin to return to normal and I feel my eyelids growing heavy as the world begins to drift off into darkness.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dakin

  Whatever’s got me so worked up over her has got to be in my head. Or maybe it has something to do with her plot to get me to fuck her. Whatever it is, I need to get her out of my system. I’ll wait until tomorrow when I won’t have to worry about my conscious screaming that I’ve taken advantage of her.

  But for now, I’m going to check on her. I need to know she’s okay. I need to know it with every ounce of my being because I know I’ll never forgive myself if something bad happens to her while I promised she’d be safe. She’s in my house, under my care, I need to know she’s alright.

  At my bedroom door, I try the handle. It’s locked. Instead of knocking like a normal person might do, I’m compelled to force it. It’s like something deep within me is taking over and the part of my brain in charge of rational thought is simply away
on vacation.

  The door releases with an almost inaudible sound. The handle turns easily in my hand and I peek in on her.

  And the scene I see is enough to instantly have my cock at attention and my whole body intent on joining her. She’s sprawled back on my bed, legs spread, fingers on her pussy, tits pointing to the ceiling and her eyes closed.

  She’s fucking sexy and I want to destroy her.

  “Dakin,” she moans and my cock strains against my pants as I back out of the room and close the door, certain she didn’t hear or see me.

  Standing there, feeling my heart pump in my chest and feeling the thump of my pulse in my cock, I’m struggling against the urge to burst back in and fuck her.

  I’m not controlled by my cock.

  But she’s in there, thinking about me while she fingers her sweet pussy.

  She’s also been drinking.

  But said she wasn’t drunk. She’s not drunk!

  It’s worth the risk.

  I’d never forgive myself.

  Pulling my arm off the wall, I resist the urge to strike out and smash my knuckles through the drywall. Before I can do something I’ll regret, I turn and walk down the hall.

  Like I’m wasted myself, I stumble down the stairs, not even caring if I make a noise now. Downstairs, the party is back in full force. Music thumps and lights flash, creating still snapshots of pretty girls moving in time to the beats.

  As I step off the last step, two pretty blonds instantly flank me, each leaning into me like I’m the one person they’ve been waiting for all night.

  But I want them gone.

  I want Camille.

  Still, some caveman throwback part of my brain promises that if I fuck these girls, I’ll be calm for Camille. Hell, it’ll allow me to be more gentle when I fuck her. When I take her god damned virginity. Fuck, it sounds nuts, like some stupid fluffy chick flick. Some annoying rom-com I wouldn’t watch unless I needed some noise to sleep through.

  But I know I won’t fuck these blonds. Because if Camille finds out, it might hurt her. She might misunderstand. She might think that if I sleep with these girls, that I don’t want her. It’s best to wait until I can talk to her, be open with her, because, for the first time in my life, I actually care what she thinks or how she feels.

  Fuck. Maybe I am going nuts.

  I step away from the girls and see the shock in their faces as I wave them away. But I’m not interested. I’m worried about the girl upstairs and the guy who threatened her. Even with Cliff on the job and all the guys promising to let me know if anything happens, I’m still nervous.

  I find Shane in the room and bump into him. “Have you seen Zac?” I ask, and Shane shakes his head.

  “The girls are down at the station,” he says, almost yelling to be heard over the music. “You really had them coming out of the woodwork. Fucking heroic, bro.”

  I shake my head. “You’d have done it if it were your house.” He would have, too. I know that there’s a level of respect when you’re at another man’s house, but Shane, of all the guys, would have called it if I hadn’t. “Where’s Eek?” I ask, wondering where his on again, off again girlfriend, Ericka, is tonight.

  “Off tonight,” he says simply, and I wonder what the hell is going on between them. I know that they’ve got a weird relationship. It seems almost like a convenience thing, someone to take home to their parents, or maybe just a total fabrication of an entire relationship. But getting Shane to cop to anything is like trying to get a dog to speak English.

  “I’m here if you need to talk,” I tell him and he nods.

  Jake comes up on my right and grabs my arm like he’s about to pull me into a hug, but he stops short to whisper-shout into my ear. “He’s out.”

  There’s only one he that Jake could be talking about. Jackson.

  I jerk my head toward the back door and we head toward it. Once we’re outside, I see Cliff studying something and know we’re safe to talk.

  “What do you mean out?” I ask Jake, who’s looking a bit green.

  “The cops are looking for him. There’s a warrant for his arrest, but he slipped the noose.” Jake’s shaken, and I wonder what the fuck happened.

  Cliff turns to look at us as I demand answers. “Weren’t you watching him?”

  “He had to pee, man. Next thing I knew, he was out the window and gone.” Jake’s pissed, I can see it in how he clenches and unclenches his fists.

  Without a word, Cliff leaves the yard and I know he’s going hunting. Part of me wants to say a prayer for Jackson, the rest of me hopes Cliff kills him.

  “Watch his back.” I tell Jake, who nods and chases Cliff.

  I turn and look up, over my shoulder, toward my bedroom window. If Jackson shows up here to hurt Camille, I’ll fucking kill him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Camille

  I blink, looking into the billions of motes of dust that glitter like gold flakes on the rays of the morning sun. Beyond the light, the windows are open, letting in the chilly morning air as I sit up and try to remember where the hell I am and how I got here.

  It comes back in bits as I sit up.

  The little red dress…

  I look down.

  I’m naked. No red dress. Not a single speck of clothing. Looking over my shoulder, I see I’m alone. There’s no imprint on the other side of the bed that might leave the impression that I wasn’t alone last night. No, it looks like I slept in the middle of the bed all by myself.

  But I don’t remember taking off the dress.

  What do I remember?

  Jackson dumping me.

  Attacking me.

  Dakin protecting me; pummeling Jackson to a pulp.

  My cheeks sting red as I feel my thighs slide together and remember touching myself. Looking into the blinding sunshine again, I realize that I should be in class right now. I bet I’m way late, I might miss it again.

  But I’m not doing that anymore. I’m not fucking perfect. I’m not a prude ice queen. Last night, I’d drank. I danced on a table. Dakin fuckin’ Dark carried me up to his bed like a damned cave man.

  Sure, he didn’t fuck me, but he’d stepped up to bat and protected me when I needed him to. He also helped a host of other women who’d been preyed on by Jackson. He’d been a damned hero. And he hadn’t even fucked me when I’d pretty much begged him to.

  I think I need to admit he’s not the monster I thought he was. Maybe he is in other ways, but the rumors I’d heard – and believed – were clearly exaggerated.

  But it doesn’t distract from his charm, oh no, it only adds to it. Where he’d seemed like a good person to sleep with last night, now he seems like the perfect guy. He won’t be sappy or romantic. He won’t be clingy and weird. He’ll just love me and leave me.

  He’s perfectly imperfect.

  And I’d be lying if I said I’m glad I woke up alone. I want nothing more than to be beside him right now, sharing a few kisses and sneaking off to enjoy my walk of shame all the way home. Let people judge me. I’m not ashamed to be so wholly womanly and sexual.

  I’m a damned goddess. Let people come at me, judge me, and pretend they know me. They’ve got no fucking clue and I don’t give a damn what idiots think about me.

  Glancing back at the bed, I find myself wishing again that he was there.

  As if answering my thoughts, the door opens and Dakin walks in, a tray in his hands. He flashes me a devilish grin and I feel suddenly shy.

  “Where are my clothes?” I ask, my voice sounding much more playful than I feel. And when Dakin hits me with a stare that’s all heat and need, I’m speechless.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, the preface making me a bit nervous, “I worried about how tight it was.”

  “You undressed me?” I ask, my heart thumping as my mouth suddenly feels dry as a desert stone. He places the tray of food across my lap and I’m stunned by the beautiful simplicity of it.

  There’s a plate with fluffy scrambled eggs, toa
st with what looks like honey, and several strips of crispy bacon – a total win for him since limp bacon is the only thing that makes me iffy on bacon – a side bowl has hash browns, another holds strawberries and blueberries, and there’s a glass of milk and one of ice water with lemon in it. And to complete the whole thing, a simple white vase holds a single yellow rose.

  “Wow,” I breathe, needing to thank him even as I want to demand answers about his undressing me. Did he touch me? Did he stare at me and think about how much he wanted me? “Thank you,” I say as he sits down on the edge of the bed beside me.

  “I was a gentleman,” he says, his blue eyes arresting me in a way I’ve never experienced before. It’s like I can’t even breathe. All I can do is focus on him and the words leaving his lips. “But it took every ounce of self-control I have. Don’t expect it again.”

  His words send a shiver through me as his mesmerizing eyes pull me right into whatever he wishes of me. I’d do anything he wanted. Everything he wanted. All he’d have to do is suggest it right now and I’d be sunk.

  “Now eat,” he says, taking a bottle from his pocket. “For the headache.” He places two of them on the tray and I take them, hating the nagging pain thumping under my temples. It’s just a tiny pinprick of pain, but I don’t want it becoming a full-fledged migraine, so it’s better to nip it in the bud.

  “You’re not slipping me E, are you?” I joke.

  “I’m not supplying you any more than I already have,” he says, but there’s another side to his words. “But if you do something like that, please stay with someone you trust.”

  The words slip from my lips before I can stop them. “Like you?”

  Again, he fixes that stare on my face that sends my heart into double time. “Don’t trust me,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “That’s a mistake.”

  But I know better. He talks a tough game, but he’s a good guy under it all. There’s no coming back from what he’s done already.

  “Help me eat all of this,” I say, picking up a piece of toast. I take a bite, hoping it’ll help calm the ache in my belly. The crystalline honey is delicious on the otherwise dry toast, and I close my eyes and savor it. “This is perfect,” I say on a sigh.