Unbelonging

by Sabrina Stark

  Lawton shook his head.

  "Hear us?" I said.

  Again, he shook his head. "Not unless we press the intercom button."

  "Good," I said, reaching down to rub a hand over his thigh, and then higher. Through the fabric of his slacks, I felt his readiness. "Because I don't wanna wait."

  "Yeah?" he said, his eyes half closed as he leaned his head back and spoke in a ragged voice. "Waiting. Yeah, it's hard."

  I gave him a squeeze. "That's for sure."

  He opened his eyes. "You know," he said, his gaze meeting mine. "You're not like anyone I've ever met. One minutes you're this, I dunno, upper-class neighbor girl, then it's like you're something else entirely. It's like you're two people, maybe three." He gave a little laugh. "But swear to God, I love 'em all."

  I felt myself grow still. He'd used the "L" word.

  Chapter 48

  Was I falling for him? Definitely. Did this mean he felt the same?

  It wasn't like he'd said, "I love you," but it was close enough to make me catch my breath. I didn't know what to say, so I pressed my lips against his and spoke the language that required no words.

  Soon, the bodice of my dress was peeled down, and he was running a firm tongue across one nipple, then the other while I straddled him on the leather seat and freed his length from the constraints of his pants and then his briefs.

  Technically, I never did show him my birthday suit. And I didn't get to see his either. But for some reason, that only made everything seem more decadent. There he was, in his designer clothes, shoes and all. And yet, I was touching him in the most private places. Stroking him, and watching his eyes close and his lips part as he said my name, or brought his lips to my skin in ways that had me sighing his name in return.

  The cityscape shifted and changed, but I barely noticed it as his hands slipped underneath my dress. He reached under my panties to cup my ass as I nibbled his neck and ran one hand through his hair and stroked his swollen length with the other.

  Shifting position, he reached between us. I felt his thumb rubbing lightly against that sensitive knob of desire that had been aching for his touch. I moaned into his neck, and felt him shudder just a little as he said, "Chloe, you're just so –"

  He never finished the thought. Probably, it was my fault. I was stroking his length, squeezing and rubbing against him while his thumb continued its dance across my most sensitive spot.

  Tinted windows, I decided, were the best invention ever. He looked amazing, and I had no intention of sharing him with any audience, not tonight, if not ever.

  In my mind's eye, I could envision how we looked together. My little black dress was hiked high over my thighs, and my breasts were unconstrained by the dress or any other covering, except Lawton's mouth, or his fingers, which danced across one nipple, then the other, tugging, kneading, and pinching lightly, before he moved a finger with his mouth, kissing one, then the other, running his tongue around in circles and sucking first gently, then harder.

  My hips were moving in time with his motions now, my head thrown back, soft moans and whimpers escaping my lips as too many sensations competed for my attention. His hands, his lips, his tongue – it was all too much.

  Slowly, and then all at once, a wave of almost unbearable pleasure washed over me. I don’t know what kind of sounds I made, but I knew I wasn't quiet as I shuddered against him, and closed my eyes for only a moment, before I gave in to the nearly unbearable urge to have him inside me.

  I didn't even bother to remove my panties. I moved the lacy fabric aside and positioned myself over him. He was massively hard, but I was slick with desire. As I lowered myself down to him, he gave a low moan of pleasure that matched my own.

  When our hips met, he said my name over and over as our hips rose and fell in time with the movement of the vehicle over the nearly deserted city streets. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced, and probably, I thought with a certain level of wistfulness, something I might not experience again.

  As the pressure in my core grew, our motions grew more frantic. His hands were everywhere. On my back, running through my hair, on my still exposed breasts, across my ass.

  And then, I was riding the waves of pleasure yet again. I closed my eyes and leaned forward, grinding into him as he too began to shudder, his hips thrusting forward, and his grip around me tightening beyond all reason.

  We rode the peak together, sighing into each other mouths as our lips met and moved in time with the slowing motions of our hips. We stayed like that long after our passion was spent. Somewhere, in the recesses of my brain, I realized I should've pulled out a condom. I'd actually brought a couple in my purse, so I had no excuse, unless you counted the fact that I simply hadn't wanted to.

  And really, that was no excuse at all.

  In spite of my lack of a social life, I'd been on the pill forever, so I wasn't worried about pregnancy. But the whole thing had been decidedly unsafe. I should've let it go. But feeling his strong arms around me, and watching through bleary eyes as the cityscape changed around us, I heard myself say, "I guess that wasn't exactly safe, was it?"

  "What wasn't?" he said.

  "You know what," I said, pulling back to put a little distance between us as I met his gaze. "I am on the pill though, so you don't need to worry about that. But the other thing –" I let the sentence trail off unfinished.

  How to ask about the girls who he'd been with before? I felt a little shudder go through me, and this one wasn't from desire. Brittney. Ugh. She didn't strike me as the safe-sex type, and she'd been with him before me. "Never mind," I said, suddenly eager to forget the whole thing.

  What's done was done, I told myself.

  "Oh baby," he said, his eyes dark pools of intensity. "Don't worry about it. I'd never do anything to hurt you. Ever. I'm always safe."

  I gave him a dubious look and summoned up a smile. "You sure about that?" I said, trying to keep my tone light. "We weren't exactly tonight."

  "You're the first," he said. "You and only you."

  "Really?" I said, feeling the tug of a genuine smile.

  "Really. Like I said, there's been no one like you. Ever."

  From the look in his eyes, I could almost believe it.

  I'd like to say I slept in his arms that night, but it would be a lie. Somewhere between pulling ourselves together and arriving back at the Parkers', he mentioned that Bishop was back in town and staying at his place.

  "But stay with me anyway," he said. "C'mon. Bring Chucky. We'll have a sleepover."

  I laughed. "No way."

  Lawton still hadn't confessed that he and Bishop were brothers, and the dynamic when Bishop was around was just too strange. I didn't want to stay in any house where some guy hated me, even if the owner of the house might feel exactly the opposite.

  "Alright," Lawton said. "Then I'll stay at your place."

  "Sorry," I said. "No guests, remember?"

  He looked at me a long time, his face falling in and out of shadows in time with the passing street lights. I met his gaze, my own jaw set in a stubborn line I was all too familiar with. Probably, we were both hoping the same thing. That the other person would give in.

  We didn't.

  Later, I'd wonder if we were both thinking something else too. Just what, exactly, is the other person hiding?

  In my case, it was simple. What I was hiding had very little to do with me. I wasn't some wealthy couple's daughter, a surgeon's love child, or even somebody's mistress. I was merely the house-sitter, but that changed nothing about who I was.

  In Lawton's case, I wasn't quite sure.

  But as the limo pulled into the Parkers' driveway, I pushed all of those thoughts aside. As promised, Lawton had given me a birthday to remember, and no matter what happened tomorrow, I'd have a memory to last a lifetime.

  When he walked me to the door and kissed me goodnight, I couldn't help but regret, at least a little, that I hadn't taken him up on his offer. Sleeping in his arms was a million t
imes better than sleeping alone.

  Chapter 49

  At seven o'clock Saturday night, Erika showed up with enough bags and bundles to require three trips out to her car. I offered to help, but she flatly refused, telling me it was bad luck to help with my own party, even if it was just the two of us.

  A few minutes later, we were settled in the kitchen, surrounded by takeout from my favorite Chinese place, a decorated chocolate cake, and a colorful pile of presents.

  "You went way overboard," I told her, looking at everything she brought. Maybe she could afford it, but I couldn't help but wonder how I'd ever pay her back.

  "Don't worry," she said, knowing me all too well. "I didn't spend a lot of money." She flashed me a grin. "Some of it's homemade."

  I bit my lip as I eyed the cake.

  She burst out laughing. "Not that, thank God. I want to treat you, not poison you, unless you want to spend your birthday in the emergency room."

  "You're not that bad a cook," I laughed.

  "Yeah, right." She reached near her chair and picked up a flat poster-sized package wrapped in colorful paper. "I made this though. And you know what? It's totally delicious."

  I eyed the package with mock horror.

  "Go on," she urged. "Open it. I'm dying to see what you think."

  While she watched, I tore off the wrapping paper and felt my jaw drop when I saw what the wrapping paper had hidden. It was a movie poster, starring Lawton Rastor and – what the heck?

  In the poster, Lawton was shirtless with beads of what I guessed were supposed to be sweat glistening on his bare chest, accenting his muscular torso and perfectly defined abs.

  A woman's arms encircled him from behind, one arm clutched possessively around his taut waist and the hand of the other one working at the top button of his low-slung jeans.

  Peeking out from behind him, I saw the face of a young woman who looked obscenely happy to be there.

  That face was my own.

  "Oh my God," I said, feeling the blood rush to my face. "How did you – ?" I stopped, speechless.

  Erika burst out laughing. "You should see the look on your face," she said, almost choking on the words as she struggled to speak.

  I couldn't help it. I started to laugh too. The thing was too ridiculous for words. "You know," I told her, "you are seriously twisted."

  She put a dainty hand to her chest and assumed her best innocent face. "Me?"

  "Yes, you," I said, pointing to the title of this so-called movie. "Riding the Rastor? What, like he's some kind of roller coaster?"

  "Hey," she said, "if he is, buy me a ticket, seriously."

  Instantly, a version of our nights together flooded my brain – Lawton kissing me in all those secret places, me tasting him in all his masculine glory, him carrying me up to his bedroom like I weighed almost nothing, him entering me as he cupped his hands – .

  "Oh hey," Erika said, plucking a napkin from the table. "You've got a little drool on your chin. Here, let me get that for you."

  Instantly, my hand flew to my chin.

  This sent Erika into another fit of laughter. "Did you actually believe me?" she said. "Girl, you must have it bad."

  I did have it bad, but for some reason, I didn't feel like sharing the whole truth. Erika had always been more adventurous than I was, sexually speaking.

  While I'd been focused on survival, she'd been focused on fun. But I couldn't resent her for it. She had a way of bringing something into my life that I sorely lacked, an escape from reality.

  In a way, Lawton was doing the same thing, even if the respite was temporary. Erika, I hoped, would be around forever. Lawton, well, I knew he wouldn't.

  But until the moment where we actually parted ways, I guess I wanted him all to myself. In an odd way, that included all the distinctly ungory details of our intimate time spent together.

  "Wow, you're so serious all of a sudden," Erika said.

  I looked up and gave her a smile. "Well, it certainly is thought-provoking," I said, raising my eyebrows suggestively. "What'd you get these pictures?"

  She shrugged. "The one of him was easy. It's from some poster from a few years back. The one of you was a lot harder. It made me realize I don't have hardly shots of you."

  There was a reason for this. I totally hated having my picture taken.

  Erika pointed to the poster. "The arms aren't yours, but the face, that's from Erin's bachelorette party."

  Oh yeah. Her sister's bachelorette party. I barely remembered it, thanks to cherry vodka shooters and non-stop goading by Erika. It served Erika right, though. From what I vaguely recalled, she was the one holding my hair, long after the male stripper had danced off into the sunset.

  "Notice the text?" Erika asked, pointing to the so-called movie's promotional blurb. "Go on," she urged. "Read it out loud. I so want to see your face when you do."

  "You are so bad," I told her as I held up the poster in front of me. I cleared my throat and started to read.

  I'd gotten only a couple words in when she stopped me. "Oh c'mon," she said. "You can do better than that. Say it like you mean it."

  Grinning in spite of myself, I started over. "What happens when a good girl goes bad? Very, very bad." I stopped, my face absolutely scorched from embarrassment. If Erika only knew. If this were a movie, I was living it for real.

  "Don't stop now," Erika said. "You haven't even reached the best part."

  I looked down, scanning the text, laughing in spite of myself. "I can't read this," I said. "Seriously."

  "God, you are such a lightweight." She snatched the poster out of my grasp. In an overdramatic, breathy voice, she finished where I'd left off. "Watch in all its naked glory as the innocent neighbor girl is spectacularly corrupted by the resident bad boy, Lawton 'Horse-Hung' Rastor, every girl's wet dream, every parent's worst nightmare."

  When she finished, she looked up, awaiting my reaction.

  "Wow." I didn't know what else to say.

  Erika burst out laughing. "Oh. My. God. You should see yourself. Don't tell me you're actually speechless?"

  "I'm definitely something," I said, wondering what she'd say when I told her that my date had been with Lawton. No doubt, she'd think it was hilarious.

  "You know what you need?" Erika said. "To get laid." She slapped the table and gestured toward the poster. "And I know just the guy for the job."

  I glanced at the poster. He looked good. No, better than good. Great. Spectacular. And I knew firsthand, he felt even better than he looked.

  Memories from the other night flashed in my brain, snapshots that kept coming even as I tried to tuck them away for later. I saw his hands on my breasts, his lips on my neck, his pelvis grinding into mine as his sinewy muscles shifted and rippled in time with our movements.

  "Wow," Erika said. "You must really like that poster." She grinned. "Just between you and me, I'm pretty sure I caught Debbie masturbating to it last Saturday."

  "Oh stop it," I laughed. "She was not."

  Debbie was Erika's roommate at college. I'd met her a couple of times, and honestly, she didn't strike me as the poster-masturbating type.

  "Wanna bet?" Erika said. "I finished it up Saturday at the lab, and set it by the door so I wouldn’t forget it when I packed everything up. But then when I get home Saturday night, the thing is propped up by her bed, and she's all funny about it, like she doesn't know how it got in there. But I can tell the way she says it that she's gotten way too attached to it, if you know what I mean."

  I knew exactly how Debbie felt. Somewhere in my phone, I still had that naked picture of Lawton. I meant to delete it. And yet, somehow, I hadn't. At first, it had been because I didn't know how. And then, every time I pulled it up, I just couldn't that delete button. But I needed to. Tomorrow, I told myself.

  I slid the poster a sideways glance. It's not like I'd been planning to cuddle up with it or anything, but suddenly, I wasn't so sure if touching would be the best idea.

  Erika put a han
d over her mouth. "Oh crap. I guess I shouldn't have told you that. Don't worry, it's totally clean. I wiped it down just in case."

  "Well, that's good."

  She grimaced. "I'm making it worse, aren't I?"

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. "Totally."

  Soon, she was laughing too. She studied the poster with a critical eye. "Honestly, I can't blame her. Can you imagine getting a piece of that?"

  "Oh, I can imagine, alright," I mumbled. Or, I could just replay the scenes from the other night.

  "Speaking of which," she said, "I've got something else for you to see." She gave me a wicked grin. "I'm calling it tonight's entertainment, since I figured you'd nix my first idea."

  "Which was?"

  "Male strippers." She reached into her purse and pulled out a disk in a clear plastic case. Across the case, I saw the words, Rastor Sex Tape handwritten in big black letters.

  My mouth fell open. "That isn't – ?"

  "Oh, yes it is." She tossed the case into the table and said, "Go on. Get your computer. I'll get the popcorn."

  "Popcorn?" I glanced at the cupboards. "I don’t think I have any."

  "You do now," she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a bag of microwave popcorn. "Go ahead, pop it up. Oh, but first, get your computer, will ya?"

  I glanced at the disk. Sure, I'd heard about the infamous sex tape, and I knew it wouldn't be that hard to get, but did I really want to see this?

  "What's wrong?" Erika asked.

  "I don't know if I can watch that," I admitted.

  "Oh c'mon. Why not?"

  There were so many reasons I could've given. Sex tapes in general weren't exactly my thing, but that wasn't what made me hesitate. Lawton was a friend. More than friend, actually. It seemed like a gross violation of his privacy.

  And then, there was the other thing. Seeing him with another girl, especially that intimately, I couldn’t help it. It made me want to claw someone's eyes out – maybe my own if I were forced to watch this thing from start to finish.