by Virna DePaul
She mewled when I pulled away from her and seemed confused, her brows furrowing up tightly. “Was that not good?”
“Of course it was, baby. It was great, but let’s not give everyone in NYC a show.”
“Oh!” she said, seeming to remember her surroundings. “I just…”
“Me, too,” I said, kissing her again when she stood. “But I think we can sneak in beside the building,” I added, pointing to an alley. This time of night, the streets were empty. The space between the buildings was dark, secluded.
“No one will see,” I murmured.
“Promise?”
As an answer, I grabbed her hand and guided her ahead of me into the alleyway. Fuck, I wanted her right now. I couldn’t wait another minute.
Sara just did it for me, and the way her hips swayed back and forth in her short black skirt was driving me nuts.
Once in the dark, she settled in the alley with her back against the brick and a huge, knowing smile plastered on her face. She pulled me close until I stood right in front of her. To my shock, she raised a leg, pointed a toe, and gracefully placed one of her long legs over my shoulder.
“Holy shit!” I said, kissing her and pulling her into my hips. “I mean, I’m sorry—”
“No, say it. Say fuck and shit and holy. You’re doing nothing wrong. And I took eight years of ballet,” she purred. “Let’s just say I’m full of secrets.”
“I can’t wait to find out what those are.”
I kissed my way down her leg, from her ankle to her shin. They were slow, deliberate pecks, designed to tease her, just as the damn minx was doing to me. When I got to her knee, I angled down behind it and flicked my tongue against the back of the joint. She laughed and bucked against my body, even as I laved harder.
“Wes…I want you so bad. Fuck, I want you,” she said, moving her leg back and standing on two feet again.
“You sure?” After all, just a short time ago she didn’t even want to hold my hand in public, or get a ride from me.
She nodded at the faint light coming from the street. “No one’s here. No one will see us. But just being out here, with the tiniest risk of getting caught, is making me want you even more. I’m sure.”
I pulled a condom from my pocket, unzipped my jeans, and pushed them down to my knees. I never wore underwear. I was all about balls-out commando. It was both comfortable and best for easy access like now. Easy enough to slide the condom over my dick, and I was ready again.
Jesus, I was more than ready.
With anyone else, we would’ve fucked a hundred times by now, but with Sara, it had taken almost a month for us to get here. And I fucking loved that about her. “You absolutely sure, Little Red? I mean, the surroundings aren’t exactly romantic.”
She hiked up her skirt to her waist, and I saw she wasn’t wearing panties. No bra, no panties. She had planned to make tonight special, and Vickie had almost ruined it.
“This is perfect for the new me,” she cooed. “Sex in an alleyway.”
“Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”
“Maybe we’re rubbing off on each other,” she countered.
Reaching down, I stroked my hand over the smooth skin of her hip, so pale and ready. “Maybe there are even better things to rub. Put your legs around me, Little Red. Let’s do this.”
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” she asked.
“You know me well. I want to slide my cock into your hot, tight pussy. I’ve missed it, baby.”
Sara nodded and put one hand on each of my shoulders. The way she looked down to get a quick glance at my cock did not escape me. Hopping up and wrapping her legs around my waist, she bit her lip as her eyes glazed with lust.
I was ready for her, and we were in the perfect position for me to enter her. I angled her body against the brick wall. Then I lined my cock up with her folds, stroking her at first, enjoying the way she shuddered in my grasp.
“I’ve been dreaming about this.” She leaned down and nibbled at my earlobe, which sent an electric jolt through my body and all the way to my legs.
“Dream no longer, Little Red.”
We needed this, not just because our bodies screamed for it. We needed to see how we fit together, to make certain that our attraction wasn’t in vain, that there was something more there between us. We needed to consummate this feeling.
A covenant, made with our sweat and skin and panting breaths.
I slid into her, feeling her spread around me inch by sweet inch. Then I rocked my hips, overjoyed when she met my own rhythm, and thrust into her. As I moved, I stared up into her wide, green eyes. She raked her nails over my back softly and under my T-shirt, that little bite of pain that fit so well with the pleasure building through me.
It didn’t take long for us to reach the boiling point. She came first, and the spasms of her legs and then her pussy sent that build-up through my groin, higher and higher. I needed more and sank all the way in, deeply aware of every wave of her climax. I thrust again and again, fully aware I wasn’t going to leave my seed inside of her but still driven by instinct to rut into her, to let her know she was mine.
Finally, this woman was mine. Finally, Sara Crawford had let me in. I wanted to take care of her, love her, and fuck her all at the same time. I wanted it to last forever, but I also knew we could do this again and again, never getting enough and always wanting more. I was sorry to have seen her cry tonight, yet elated that she’d chosen me.
I don’t know what I’d done to make her want me, but I wasn’t going to let her down.
I moaned into her throat, tugged at her hair, and bit her neck softly. My climax was hard and fast, and behind it all was Sara, giving me words of encouragement.
“Do it, baby. Come for me. I love this…”
They may have just been words, but they were what I needed to hear—Sara over the edge.
When I was done, I lowered her gently until she was standing. I kissed her throat and then her lips. “Wow. I mean, just…wow.” I pressed my forehead into hers and kissed her through my breathless gasps before pulling up my pants and tidying myself up. “We belong together, Little Red, no matter what anybody tells you,” I promised. “Not your father, not my dumbass friends, nobody. Don’t forget that again.”
“I won’t, Wes. I promise.”
Chapter 12
Sara
On Monday morning, I jogged up the steps to my dorm, unable to stop smiling. The party two nights ago had been hard, and I’d hated hearing what Vickie had said, but it led to having awesome sex with Wes in that alley. It had also led to me spending time with his friends—by the time we got back to the party, Vickie had left—and I’d truly liked them. Wes’s bandmates were hot, charming, and obviously adored him, and they welcomed me into their fold openly, as did their girlfriends. We’d laughed and talked, and afterward, Wes had taken me to his place, and we’d talked some more, just the two of us. About what he believed—he was definitely spiritual even if our beliefs didn’t exactly align—and what he wanted in life. He’d enjoyed the rock star lifestyle, for sure, and planned to enjoy it as long as he could, but there was a depth and creativity and sensitivity to him that I felt honored to be allowed to see.
He wasn’t ashamed of having a former evangelical poster child for a girlfriend. Plus, both of us were really working to be different. I wanted to experience everything the world had to offer, and he wanted a more stable life. Now I understood why he’d taken film classes and was talking about directing.
We complimented each other. I could swear by that.
I’d spent the weekend with Wes and hadn’t wanted to leave him, but he had to work and I had school to attend to. I was still smiling as I walked toward my dorm room and saw my neighbor Margie. To my surprise, she scowled and shook her head at me as I approached.
“Hi!” I said, hoping a burst of politeness would shake that glare off her face.
It didn’t.
She just shook her head harder. “Seriously,
Sara. You’re the floor RA, and need to set a good example. If you’re going to have guests, you need to make sure they’re quiet, not yelling loud enough to disturb everyone on the floor.”
I blinked, completely confused. Guests? I guess it was possible my roommate had someone over, but Kass was usually at her girlfriend’s apartment. She hadn’t been around much. “Maybe the noise is coming from someone else’s room? I’ve been out the whole weekend. I don’t have any guests.”
Margie snorted. “Trust me, the woman looks just like you only dressed in a sack, and the guy she’s with? Ugh. Just…just make them stop shouting. Some of us have exams to study for.”
I nodded, my heart thudding in my chest. Margie had to be describing Rebekah and her husband. My sister had left for Texas the morning before Wes had returned from L.A., but maybe she and Bill had returned for some reason? But Rebekah was polite. There was no way she’d just drop in on my roommate and yell at her, or would have a shouting match with her husband—those two got along like two boring peas in a boring pod. I suppose that meant my nephews and nieces had been screaming? I moved quickly to my door, but before I could fiddle with the lock, someone on the inside threw open the door.
And my heart leaped out of my chest.
In front of me stood the familiar, commanding man I’d known my whole life. The slight graying of his hair over the last few months had only added to his air of authority, which was a good thing for the ministry. If Peter Crawford seemed weak, then his ministry would seem weak, and that was unacceptable.
“Father!” I forced a smile as I eased into the room, noticing Rebekah was sitting on the tiny love seat my roommate and I had managed to fit in our room. Wait—she’d been crying. Was this about Mom? “Bekah? What’s going on? What’s happened to Mom?” Panic had my voice weak and fluttery, and I felt my knees start to give way. I grasped the doorframe to steady myself.
“Your mother is fine,” my father stated.
“Then…what…I mean…” Why were they here? Why was my father glaring at me and why wouldn’t my sister look me in the eyes? “But if it’s not about Mom, then…”
“I was worried about you, Sara,” Rebekah blurted out. “I didn’t think I could ignore the signs any longer.”
“Signs?” I asked, confused. “What signs?” I stepped into my room and sank down on my bed.
My father shut the door behind him and locked it with an ominous click. “I called Professor DeWitt after Rebekah came to me the other day.”
“I…um…” I tried desperately to remember who Professor DeWitt was. The name seemed familiar, but I’d had a lot of teachers over the four years, and right now, my father was making me nervous.
“She’s the head of the youth group here on campus. You might remember it if you’d been going to it.” His voice was low and menacing, demanding to be obeyed the way it always had been when I was a kid. It was intimidating enough to make me sit next to my sister and look down at my shoes. “Doesn’t ring a bell, Sara? Let me help you. They were the group you promised you’d be a part of so you could keep your Christian service up. And yet Professor DeWitt has never so much as heard of you. Yet, every week you’ve called and promised me you’re working on outreach and doing everything you can to spread God’s word. And now we know the truth, don’t we?”
I shook my head. “I’m devoted to my classes, Daddy. I have to work as hard as I can to understand all of it. My classes are very difficult.”
Suddenly, I realized he was eyeing my outfit with scrutiny. I had my short black skirt on from two nights ago and one of Wes’s T-shirts that boldly proclaimed, “Fuck the Power.”
“Why are you dressed like a whore?”
My heart squeezed painfully at that awful word. “I can explain,” I said.
“It’s that boy,” Rebekah broke in. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I wanted to hurl insults at her. How dare she out me this way? “I told Father, Sara. I got worried you were going to ruin your virtue. I didn’t think a boy from New York City would be good for you, would understand your commitment to Christ—”
“Stop,” I snapped out.
She looked back at me, her chin held up defiantly. “I was worried about you, Sara. I didn’t want you to waste your most precious gift, to become as used as chewing gum or a dirty sneaker, or worse. Why would you want to be a jezebel?”
I shook my head, my heart cracking in two. “But you understood where I was coming from when we talked last week. You even admitted how hard it had been to have to court the way Father demands,” I objected, my voice rising in volume. If my shouts bothered my neighbor, then Margie was just going to have to fucking deal with it. Right now, my life was falling apart in giant chunks, and I had no idea what to do.
“I can still be worried,” Rebekah said as our father paced the room. “After I got home, I knew I had to tell Father everything.”
I eyed my father and the triumphant smirk on his face. He’d encouraged Rebekah to come out here, paid for the flight for her kids too as some fun trip for all of them with the excuse that Mom’s relatives wanted to see the little ones, but I could see it clearly now. It had been far from a tourist vacation. It’d been a spy mission. He’d pitted my sister against me.
“Poor, obedient Bekah, always follows Father’s every wish.” I stood and rounded on him. “You have no right to spy on me,” I said, my insides beginning to quiver with my rage. And about time, too. “And you had no right to drag my sister into this.”
“I pay for your education,” he said, gesturing around. “I have every right. Besides, look at you. You’re betraying our faith—skipping service, lying to your father. Dear Lord, Sara, you smell like smoke and alcohol. What haven’t you done in this Sodom and Gomorrah?”
I flinched then, not wanting to reveal any hint about me and Wes. We were special, private. I didn’t owe my father that, and I wouldn’t taint the special oasis Wes was for me by talking about him.
“It’s called a party, Father. And I don’t have to indulge in other people’s vices to smell like it. You don’t know anything about my friends, so don’t judge them.”
“This city has defiled you.”
I raised my chin. “This city has given me an understanding of people I’ve never had before. I love New York.”
“Is that right?” His eyebrows rose, the first time I’d ever seen this expression, because it was the first time I’d ever spoken to him that way. “Well, you have until you graduate, Sara Crawford. Then you will come home. Until then, I’ll be checking in on you any time I see fit, and I’ll be sending volunteers from our ministry back home to check on you at random times.”
“You can’t do that!” I yelled. “I won’t let you!”
“Do you want to see your mother again?” Father’s voice came out booming, making me quake.
“Father, no!” Rebekah called out, tears in her eyes.
I looked at him with dead eyes. “You wouldn’t. There’s no way you’d keep me from my mother. Or keep Mother from one of her daughters.”
Father pulled himself up tall, filling his chest with air. In a low, dark voice, he said, “I will. If you continue to live this immoral life, I will cut you off from your mother. No visits, no phone calls. No texts. No emails. Nothing—do you hear me? Nothing. And you will not test me.”
“What kind of a man does that to two women he proclaims he loves?” I whispered.
“A father who cares deeply about his daughter’s immortal soul. Now, I don’t know who this boy is you’re acting like a fool for, and I don’t care. I guarantee you won’t be seeing him again. Not if I have anything to say about it. And not if you want to see your mother again.”
Looking at both my sister and my father, I wanted to scream. The people who should’ve most supported me were the ones ruining my life. How dare they tell me how to live my life? How dare my father threaten keep me from my dying mother?
How dare I defy him, knowing what I had to lose? How dare I not?
I left,
slamming the door behind me.
There was nothing left to say.
Chapter 13
Wes
“Okay, guys. Let’s start getting on the stage for close-up shots,” I said, trying to get Liam, Corbin, and Tucker reined in. It wasn’t as hard with Liam. The guy was a natural leader, and Corbin seemed to have settled down now that he was with Aimee.
Tucker, though…
He’d always been as wild as I was. Some of that wildness had calmed because Nikki was in his life, but not his tendency to joke the fuck around. Now that they knew I was directing a song for the video and some behind-the-scenes interviews, Tucker couldn’t stop laughing his ass off.
He smirked back at me. “Are you going to get those pants?”
“Huh?” I blinked at him in confusion. “What pants?”
“You know, the puffy director’s pants?”
“As if he were in a 1940s movie musical? Tucker, grow the fuck up,” Liam groaned. “The shoot costs money. Let’s make this work, or we’ll start taking it out of your bank account.”
Tucker sat down at his drums and pulled out his sticks. “It might be an investment worth making. I mean, since when is Wes Steven Spielberg?”
Corbin offered me a shrug. “He’s in a fucking BFA program. That’s a good thing. Just deal with it, Tucker. Stop being a jackass.”
Yeah, stop being a jackass, I wanted to echo. Instead, I sighed and tried to channel patience and calm.
“Fine,” Tucker said, “but if we end up looking terrible in this scene, I’ll know exactly who to blame.” He knocked a few cymbals then cocked a brow. “So what do we need to do?”
I needed to get close-ups of the guys performing. Henri would get my cover shots later. Then we’d add some shots of Sara dancing in her outfit, and everything would be fine. We could get this in the six-hour window we had, no problem. I’d storyboarded the shit out of this shoot. I knew every angle I wanted. The cameras and lights were in position and the crew was about to come in.
