Stolen Tyme

by S. L. Ziegler

  My dick couldn’t get any harder in her hand and I can’t fucking remember the last time I wanted something—someone—this bad.

  I growl, pushing her down on the bed. I’m desperate to be inside her. It’s not a want at this point, it’s a damn need. Rubbing my cock up and down over her clit, she tilts her hips every time the metal hits a new place, and in a snap, I’m entering her. Naomi’s fingers latch onto my back and she gasps as she takes me in. “Hold on, X…go slow.”

  Her pussy’s hold is like a fucking vice. “Naomi, I got you.” I stare into her eyes, and with each slide in, she relaxes more against me. But the farther I dive into her, the harder it is to not pound.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You said go slow.”

  “Not now. That was at the beginning. You’ve got a big dick, but now you can move. No more being gentle. Please.”

  As soon as the word “please” exits her mouth, I lift her legs to my shoulder, picking up the pace, my dick bottoming out inside her. Each time the hoop from the head of my dick hits her just right, Naomi grips onto the sheets with both hands.

  “This what you wanted?” I ask before flipping her over. I clutch the sides of her ass, drawing back, plunging in and out. Not gentle, no caressing. My headboard rattles as the bed shakes, the pictures on my side table crashing to the ground. But I don’t care, we could break everything I own and I would still be doing this very thing.

  She tosses her hair back, her face lighting up. With each stroke from me, she gives it back even harder. My hands leave her side, roaming all over the top of her body before bringing her ass against me with my hand around her throat. “Nothing has ever felt as good as you,” I say into her ear. Naomi’s breathless pants echo in the room unbeknownst to me—between the cacophony of the noises the bed makes and the slaps of our bodies smacking together, that’s the only thing I hear.

  The harder we go, the hotter I become. Every inch of my body feels hers, connects with the demand to go farther into her.

  Naomi pulls up the back of her head on my shoulder, her eyes rolling back. Her hands wrap around my neck where she threads her fingers into my hair, tugging on it before going completely still in my arms. The only movements she makes are her spasms around my cock. “Oh God, oh God,” she screams out, grasping onto me.

  Her cries of pleasure send my own orgasm rushing through me.

  We fall forward, collapsing onto my bed, both our bodies still experiencing the aftereffects of our climaxes. Burying my head in her neck, the only sound I hear is us trying to catch our breaths before rolling over.

  She lifts her head, her face flushed, the biggest fucking grin playing on her lips. “Can we do that again? And soon? Best ever.”

  I let out a chuckle. “You’re going to kill me. Give me a couple. I’m not young like you.”

  “No, you aren’t.” Naomi snuggles into my chest, her fingers drawing circles around my lion tattoo. “And that’s a good thing. I’ve never experienced something that earth shattering.”

  My body tenses. She wasn’t a virgin, I knew that. God, did I know that. But something in my chest hates the fact she’s had another guy inside her.

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad, dude. I’ve only been with two other guys. Way less than your man-whoring days I’m sure.”

  “I haven’t had sex in three years.”

  Naomi’s head pops up. She starts to say something, but then pauses. “Xavier said what? No way. I mean—you’re you. And look at you. I mean…and what you just… No way.” She stutters, shaking her head.

  “I’m dead serious. For the first year, it was kinda looked down on to have a relationship. Then after that, my focus was on being sober and Charlie. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll went hand in hand for me. I didn’t know if I could do one of those things without the other.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Three years. And you lasted that long?”

  “You did jack me off in the club. If that hadn’t happened, it probably would’ve been worse than my first time.”

  “Shit, that makes you…like a born-again virgin. Did I just pop your cherry? Are you okay?”

  “Shut up.”

  “I mean, I can get you some Advil for the pain. That helped me when I lost mine.” She laughs, really laughs. It lights up her face.

  “Keep it going.”

  She slaps my stomach, catching her breath. “Oh Lord, I’ve been having sex the same time you haven’t been. Now that shit is crazy.” She drags out the Z in the last word.

  “You’re funny.”

  “You think so?”

  “I do. Should probably ditch the theater and go for stand-up comedy. Make a killing.”

  Tilting her head to the side, her voice rings out. “Now, why would I do that? I wouldn’t be able to offer any handouts.”

  “I like the handout.”

  “Me too.” Naomi’s voice dips low as her hands sweep over her body. “I liked your hands all over my corset.” The tips of her fingers glide over her clit.

  Jesus, this girl plays with fucking fire, building me up again.

  “Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll model it for you next time.” Her damn face is a mirror of purity now that she’s lost all the makeup that covered her, but Naomi can’t fool me. She’s the furthest thing from innocent as she strokes my cock to rock hard again.

  I haul her over my body and my hands instantly go for the curves of her ass, my dick searching for its place again. “We should do it right now, then.” Fuck. Her, the red corset, fishnets, and visions of me fucking her, coming all over her, fill my mind.

  She grinds her hips on me, watching my face. “I had another idea.”

  “Did you, now?”

  “Always wanted to know…” She pauses, then whispers in my ear, “What it would be like to give a blow job to a guy with a piercing. And since you have two, I’m thinking you’d be perfect. You know…to see if I like it.”

  “It’s always a pleasure being a guinea pig.” I take a piece of her hair, wrap it around my hand, and pull her close to my mouth. “And for you, I’ll always be ready.” My husky voice, filled with promise, betrays my desperation.

  Naomi places a kiss on my lips before she licks all the way down my body and finds out just what a damn blow job is like with me.

  Chapter 5

  The light from my front door highlights my way to the kitchen where I shuffle my feet toward the smell of bacon. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me. Never Charlie’s mom, and not any of the girls I had after her.

  “You making those eggs I promised but never gave you?”

  “I am. Since you were such a slacker last night and your ass slept so late today, I figured I’d fix you breakfast,” she declares with her back to me, loading my dishwasher.

  I hesitate for a split second. We’re having fun, but I have no idea about the protocol for the morning after. I wonder silently if she should have made herself at home. No fucking clue how things work now. Go with the flow. Go with the fucking flow. But in the light of morning, she’s a fucking kid, my oldest friend’s daughter. Anger with myself comes crashing down on me.

  This is wrong on the highest—deepest—level.

  She turns around and her eyes widen when she spots me. “Lord help the world, Xavier. It should be a crime to look that good in the morning. Please, from now on, never wear a shirt.” She lets out a giggle before turning around, but I can’t get the sight of her out of my mind. She must think this is what she should do. Come in my house like she lives here.

  I run my hands through my hair, a smile forced on my face. “May be a problem when I go to stores. They frown on not having a shirt on, but I’ll make sure I have some shoes.”

  “That could work. Have a seat. Want coffee?”

  Have a seat, offering me coffee—in my house. The anxiety building in me is like a damn bomb about to detonate.

  I grip the side of the island as I sit down, my eyes following every move she makes around my
kitchen.

  Found the plates on the first try. Tick.

  Coffee cups, first try also. Tick.

  My damn fork. Tock.

  My teeth ache from grinding them as the coffee and homemade breakfast are placed in front of me. Just make it through and let her leave. Everything will be better once she’s gone. Each bite I eat becomes harder to swallow, listing to Naomi rambling on about my groceries and God knows what else.

  But all I hear is buzzing. Zapping me.

  The walls start closing in, surrounding me everywhere I turn.

  “Am I boring you?”

  “What?”

  “I’ve asked what you’re doing today.”

  Today. Oh, shit. I glance at the clock. “I have Charlie. Her mom should be dropping her off in about two hours.”

  “What are you doing with her?”

  Tick, tick, tick. Faster. Faster.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Mmm,” Naomi murmurs. Her brows pinch together as she slides off the chair, getting her phone from the counter before doing something on it.

  I stare at her, probably too long, and the longer I look, something else builds inside me. “Are you mad because we can’t hang out? We didn’t have plans.” I know, because every Friday this summer is my day with Charlie. I would never break that, not even for good sex. Great sex.

  Fucking mind-blowing sex.

  She doesn’t even glance up while she shakes her head, but instead, keeps her focus on her phone. This is her age—this won’t last. No one gets pissed over a parent spending time with their daughter.

  I slam my fork on the table, gaining her attention. I’m done. “Listen, Charlie comes first. I don’t get enough time with her, and she’s my focus.” Fuse burning.

  “Seriously? Did you just snap at me?” Naomi puts her hands on her hips; everything about her screams temper tantrum. “Because I’ll have you know…” She begins to shake her head, but I’ve had enough.

  Fucking tock.

  “Last night was fun, but you’ve got to understand, don’t come in here thinking you own me. This is my house; you just came in here like you own it. Didn’t ask about breakfast, telling me God knows what you said about my food. Then get pissed off when I’m spending time with my daughter. This is my fucking life.” My voice is laced with more anger than I anticipated. “This is why I didn’t have sex for so long—they always want something. I think last night should be it. Fun and all, but I can’t handle the mother hen thing.”

  Naomi stands silent. Her eyes never blink as they become wet from tears while she clutches her phone to her chest. And for a second, a wave of regret hits me, but I ignore it. This can’t go further than today. Better to learn now rather than later. Maybe Lock won’t kill me.

  Her chin starts to tremble as she utters, “I’ll go and grab my stuff. I apologize for making you breakfast, but I wasn’t asking for a ring. I only wanted to eat. By the way, check your phone. I sent tickets for you and Charlie to go see Little Rex.” She closes her eyes tightly.

  “What?”

  “I saw what I thought were her drawings, looked like Little Rex…” Her voice trails off and the next words come out in a whisper. “Bye, Xavier.”

  As soon as she’s out of my space, I inhale. My heart races wickedly in my chest. I have no clue what the fuck just happened. My hands start to shake as her words finally replay in my ear. She wasn’t mad, quite the opposite in fact. She was thinking of my daughter.

  Fuck.

  What was building inside me, wasn’t fucking anger.

  But guilt.

  My feet feel like lead as I walk into my bedroom. All her clothes are gone from where we threw them last night and the door to my bathroom is shut tightly. I sit on my bed, my knees bouncing the longer she locks herself away from me.

  I must say something to her. I blew up for a reason and I know why. She has to understand this is my mask, the way I cope with feelings that haven’t surfaced in so long.

  The door cracks open and everything in me turns to stone as she walks out. Her face is flushed, her eyes bloodshot. I did that. “Naomi,” I choke out.

  She looks haunted. “I’m leaving. See you around.” She sounds like a fucking mouse. Even worse than the time she told me about her fight with her dad.

  “Wait.”

  “You said what you wanted. I got it. No need for anything else.” Naomi picks up her purse off the ground, anxious to get away from me.

  “No, babe, I didn’t.” Her shoulders tense at the sentiment. But I don’t stop. She doesn’t want to face me, I understand that, but she still deserves to know. “With you down there in my kitchen and…I don’t know what happened. I saw you, then thought about your dad, then your age. It was like I was hit by a damn train, a bomb, and a wall all at once. I’m not used to dealing with that anymore. Self-loathing, guilt—any of that shit. It’s one of the things I dealt with a lot the first year in rehab and I vowed never to feel that way again if I could help it. But since you slammed into my life, it’s been there, right in the back of my mind. I’ve been replaying things over and over. Before last night, it was there because—fuck! I couldn’t keep my damn eyes off you. Since that first night, I must’ve jacked off three times a day to what I imagined your body looked like under your clothes, and each time, I’d say it was the last. But one image of you and I’m a horny teenager all over again.” The bed shifts as Naomi sits beside me, her purse in her lap. It offers me a slice of hope because at least she didn’t walk away. Like she should’ve.

  I turn toward her, placing both my hands on her face. “Then last night happened. Fucking more than I could have dreamed of. I was fine. I thought I was. But this morning, seeing you in my home, in my kitchen…it hit something. It made it fucking genuine. Too physical. I betrayed the guy who stuck up for me when no one else would in the worst fucking way. What I did wasn’t right. I should’ve walked away after we finished your demo. But I couldn’t. I can’t.” That’s what this is all about—me not being able to walk away. Me not being a good enough man to admit this isn’t right.

  Naomi’s hands cover mine, and she offers a little squeeze. “It was on me, too. I’m a big girl, and I shouldn’t have done what I did yesterday. I knew you were attracted to me and I knew you were fighting it. I knew if I didn’t do anything, you wouldn’t either. I knew a lot—I know a lot. I know I like you. I do. A lot. I know we have insane chemistry, we have fun, kickass sex. But that’s the only thing I want. This has an end date. I’m going to leave in two months, and my time for fun will be no more. I’m going to be working my ass off to get out there, and I want this for right now.” She closes her eyes and exhales. “My dad—I love him. I do. He gave up a lot for me, but I also gave up a lot for him. I just don’t want this to be one of those things. Please don’t let it. We’ll keep it safe.”

  I let out a small laugh. “I think it’s safe to say, there’s nothing safe about us.”

  “For two months we can pretend to be, I promise.” She leans into me, raising her brows to silently question if I’m on this crazy train with her.

  “And if it blows up in our faces?”

  “Then we cross that bridge when we get there.”

  She refuses to consider the option of getting caught. The boulder is still stuck in my throat, and my chest still feels like it has a two-ton weight sitting on it. But staring at Naomi and the hope she has in life, her little grin on her face, and her hands clasped like she’s praying to the Virgin Mary, I can’t say no. The bridge is going to come—the question becomes can we make it over in two months without falling off…or blowing it up.

  I clutch her face. “Okay. I’m in.”

  “Now that that’s settled—no more PMS from you…and we need make-up sex.”

  “Make-up sex is always good.”

  Our lips meet, my hands ready to rip her shirt off when the doorbell rings.

  “Shit, what time is it?” she questions, half out of breath.

  “No clue. Fuck. Will you
look outside and see what color car it is?” I ask in a rush as I shuffle through my drawers to get my jeans.

  “Dark blue SUV thing.”

  “Fuck me, it’s Zoey, and she’s almost an hour early.”

  “Umm. Xavier, a little girl is getting out. She’s fucking skipping to the door.”

  “That would be Charlie,” I say, throwing a T-shirt over my head. “She’s going to make me take a drug test for sure,” I mumble out.

  “Okay. And on that note, what do you want me to do?”

  “You can’t stay up here; Zoey is a fucking spy. She’ll notice your Jeep and ask about it. She smells lies. We were working on music, go with that. Not a lie.”

  “Smart one. We just won’t say what day.”

  I glance in the mirror, trying and failing to fix my hair. Between Naomi pulling on it last night and sleeping, it’s fucking hopeless.

  “Here, let me help.” She pulls a beanie out of nowhere before placing it on my head. “There, now you look total rock-god like.”

  I make it to the front door just before Zoey gets annoyed and starts her incessant knocking. I glance back over my shoulder and Naomi gives me a thumbs-up.

  I shake my head but can’t help the grin that forms.

  “Hey, Zoey. You’re a little early. I was just working on some music.” Yesterday.

  “Sorry. Joshua wanted to get some shopping done for Charlie’s birthday. Figured I wouldn’t…”

  Fuck me, Zoey’s eyes ping pong between me and Naomi.

  “…worry about being early. Excuse me, it seems like Xavier forgot his manners. I’m Zoey Miller. And you are?” She pushes past me, her hand extended and the huge diamond that was probably bought by my child support shines. Charlie strides into the house, coming straight to my side and wrapping her tiny hand around mine. I glance down and the shining smile on her face squeezes my heart.

  Naomi shifts and tugs on the strap of her purse before offering a small wave to both. “I’m Naomi.”

  “Naomi what?”

  I roll my eyes; picture-perfect southern manners with a touch of passive aggressiveness.