by Anne Jolin
“We’re all going to see the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie,” he says from behind me, clearly not noticing the extra bitch my tone was laced with.
“Well I’m not,” I snark shortly in reply, locating a pair of yoga pants on floor. It’s not exactly that I’m a messy person. I’m just not really a clean person either. I prefer a sort of organized chaos if you will.
“Is everything okay?” He didn’t miss my tone that time.
“Everything is fucking fabulous,” I hiss rummaging through a clean laundry basket for a shirt. It’s on the floor, so I am bent over and starting to get even more frustrated. I’ve worked myself into a complete frenzy, and now, I can’t find my stupid, motherfucking over-the-shoulder boulder holder. Goddamnit!
“Lennon?” His voice is gruff.
“What?!” I snap, my back still turned towards him as I furiously continue to rip through the clean clothing.
I feel him before he even touches me, and the way my traitorous body reacts to him only pisses me off more. I ignore his presence behind me until his fingers settle on the outside of my bare thighs, just below the edge of my towel. Finally, I close my hand around that sneakily little bastard of a bra when I feel him bend over, folding his body against mine. His hot breath on my ear sends a shiver over my body when he speaks.
“You better not wear this towel outside of your room, Lennon,” he growls. “I don’t want anyone else enjoying the view I just got.” He nips at my ear and I squeeze my thighs together in response. His fingers curl up underneath the towel and he slowly drags his knuckles over my bare skin. “In fact, I think you should only wear this towel for me.” His husky voice is clouding my brain. The anger I was channelling has quickly transformed into lust, and I’m almost panting.
I’m not sure what possessed me to attempt to speak. “I, uhh… I don’t… I just…” I stutter before trailing off as he moves his right hand to settle on the back of my thigh, the pad of his thumb brushing over my ass. I can’t stop the moan that escapes me when he pushes the towel up, spreading his left hand over my hip. His rough hands feel fucking amazing as they move over my soft skin. When he tightens his hold on my hip, my legs start to quiver. I haven’t slept with anyone else since our night together—almost seven months ago—and my body is so receptive to his touch.
He licks the skin just behind my ear before nipping at it. I’m almost certain I could come just from this.
“Mine,” he growls, biting onto my earlobe. “This is all fucking mine.”
I’m about to start begging him to touch me when someone bangs on the door. “We’re going to be late for the movie, you idiots! Let’s go!” Jay shouts through the door.
An awareness comes over me, and the lust-induced haze my brain was in clears up. Nothing has changed. Just because my body wants him doesn’t mean I can handle this. I can’t handle this. I stand up slowly so I don’t smack him in the face with the back of my head and step out of his embrace. I keep my back towards him when I speak.
“I need to get dressed.” My words come out short and cold, but I don’t care. I’m running solely on self-preservation instincts now, and those instincts are telling me to run like fucking hell.
He doesn’t challenge me this time, just sighs before I hear him step out of the room. Leaving me alone, still shaking in my towel, waiting for the flush of arousal to fade from my skin. When another booming laugh comes from the living room, I fly into action.
I remove the towel from my hair as I walk over to the dresser and brush through it quickly before—with no time to blow-dry it—styling it in a wet ballerina bun on top of my head. Then I slide into my yoga pants, forgoing underwear simply to save me the time of looking for a pair, and pull on a white pullover sweater. By the time I walk out of my room, it’s been less than five minutes. My socked feet are shoved into my favorite UGGs and a massive knit scarf is wrapped around my neck. I take out the debit cards I’ll need from my wallet and zip them into my jacket pocket before stepping into the living room.
“I’m ready,” I tell everyone, avoiding looking at Jami on purpose.
“It’s about bloody time.” Beth stands, rolling her eyes at me. “What were you doing in there?”
I start to blush, but it’s Jami who speaks. “I thought you said we were going to be late. So let’s get a move on, why don’t we?” he says, swatting Jay on the back of the head.
“Yes, sir.” Jay gives us all a mock salute.
We have to take two cars because our little group has actually become quite big, and I immediately offer to ride in Greyson’s truck. Jami, Jayden, and Beth climb into the Jeep, while Greyson, Hannah, Peyton, and I ride in his black monster of a truck. I’m sitting in the back seat, watching the trees whip by, as I remember the night we spent together. It was after his birthday party in June. The one where he’d been so drunk he’d decked a guy who was flirting with me—in front of his flavour of the week no less. I bumped into him in town less than a month later and we decided to grab dinner together. The events that followed are burned into my memory for eternity.
“Thank you for dinner,” I say, swaying slightly from the few beers I had. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
He reaches over, sliding the strap of my summer dress from my arm back onto my shoulder. He doesn’t take his hand away. Instead, he simply leaves it lightly touching my skin. “You’re welcome.” His gaze lingers on my lips as he steps closer. “I hope you enjoyed it.”
He took me to a beautiful Italian restaurant in town and the food was amazing. I lick my lips at the memory and hear him groan. “Mmmm…” I moan, closing my eyes. “It was delicious.”
The hand on my shoulder slides up to my neck, and I open my eyes to look into his.
“I bet you taste better,” he whispers as my cab pulls up to the curb.
I moan again as his other arm wraps around my waist, pressing the front of my body against his. He drags the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip, pulling it free from my teeth. I didn’t even notice that I was biting it. I shiver despite the hot summer night and lick my lips—this time, on purpose. I’m baiting him, and it works.
He smashes his lips against mine, sliding his hand from my throat into my hair. He sucks my bottom lip between his teeth, and I’m lucky that he’s holding me up or my legs would have likely given way underneath me. I snake my arms around his neck, pulling him in to deepen the kiss.
I’ve completely forgotten that we are standing outside on the street until the cab driver asks, “Excuse me. Did either of you order a cab?”
Jami pulls his lips away from mine but doesn’t lessen his grip on my waist. “Yes,” is all he says, sounding as out of breath as I feel. He leads me over to the cab, opening the door and ushering me in before settling into the seat beside me. “One stop,” he tells the driver before rattling off the address to his new house, the one he doesn’t share with roommates.
I don’t want to go home. I want him. Even if it’s only for the night, I need to feel him. I need to have him. This has been a long time coming between us, and I can handle one night with him. One night with Jami and then we would go back to the way things were before. I can do that. We can do that. Can’t we?
My memory is interrupted by the sound of truck doors slamming. I look outside to see that we’re here. I unbuckle my seatbelt, open the door, and jump down. And I do mean jump considering the already massive truck has another eight-inch lift on it.
The others walk ahead, but Hannah hangs behind, watching me with observant eyes.
“We’ll talk about it later,” she says, bumping her hip against mine.
I bump her back and scrunch my nose up at her. “Only because you’ll drag it out of me eventually,” I tease, but it’s true and I’m thankful for it. If I didn’t have Hannah, who forces me to talk stuff out with her, I’d probably bottle up all my emotions until I explode.
We all get our tickets and I let everyone know that I’ll meet them in there because I have to go to the bathroo
m. When I walk into the dark theatre five minutes later, it doesn’t take me long to find our group. We are a bunch of mid to late twenty-somethings seeing the remake of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. It’s not exactly like the theatre is full of those during a weekday matinee.
I walk up to our row and mentally kick myself for not thinking this would happen. All my friends are seated side by side, no spaces in between. Jami is sitting on the end, the empty seat—sorry, my empty seat—beside him. So much for avoiding being too close to him. That plan is working out great.
I sink down into the chair just as the previews for upcoming movies start. At least I don’t have to talk to him. I thank my lucky stars while I size up the new Matthew McConaughey trailer that’s playing. I’d see that. It’s Matthew McConaughey. Why the heck wouldn’t I see it?
The movie is actually way better than I thought it would be and the turtles are flippin’ hilarious. But I jump when an unexpected fight scene occurs and feel his hand wrap around my knee. The movement the sensation brings sends my earlier memory rushing in again.
The back seat of the cab feels small with his large frame next to me. Our legs are almost touching and my chest is heaving. I look out the window to distract myself when I feel his rough hand settle around my knee. It’s as if the skin he touches literally bursts into flames. I’m aware of every movement he makes, because I can feel my body reacting to it.
His hand slowly slides down the inside of my thigh and my breath hitches in response to his touch. A rational part of my brain takes over for a moment, my eyes flying forward to the front of the cab to see if the driver notices anything. He doesn’t, he’s busy dancing to whatever top-forty music he has on, not paying attention to us at all. Jami stops when he reaches the hem of my dress. The anticipation of what’s to come has my heart beating so hard that I can hear it in my head.
He leans down and whispers into my ear, “Be quiet for me, Lennon.”
His brown eyes capture me. Hooded and darkened with lust, they demand I don’t look away, even though it’s so hard to stay focused as he slips his callused hand underneath the light material. When he fingers the seam of my white lace panties, I have to bite down on my lip to keep a moan from escaping me. He teases the edge for a moment longer before he slips a finger underneath, running it between my pussy lips.
“You are fucking dripping wet,” he growls quietly into my ear.
I push my hips into his hand and I see a sexy grin spread across his face out of the corner of my eye.
“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, Lennon, but I can’t wait any longer,” he says before he sinks a finger inside me.
I close my eyes, dropping my head back onto the seat, and use everything I have not to cry out. He teases me for a minute before adding a second finger.
“I’m going to lick every part of this sweet pussy. I’m going to taste all of you,” he groans. “But right now, I’m going to make you come for me.”
If I could find a way to beg him without shouting, I would say something, but I can’t. I am completely possessed with desire, and having to be so quiet is overwhelming me. Everything feels so fucking good, but I can’t tell him. I can’t cry out. And it is only heightening the sensation of having him touch me like this in such a public place.
I thrust my hips into his hand again, and this time, he rewards me. He begins to pump his fingers harder and faster, slamming them into my pussy over and over again. He’s only wearing a T-shirt above the belt, so I can see the muscles in his arm tightening as he pleasures me. But other than that, it would be impossible to tell what he’s doing. He stays incredibly relaxed otherwise.
I’m hovering on the edge of satisfaction and praying that I get there before we reach his house. Stopping when I’m this close would be downright cruel. No sooner has the though crossed my mind than he presses down on my clit.
I close my eyes in anticipation of what’s coming when I hear him growl into my ear, “Open your eyes, Lennon. I want you to watch me make you come.”
Opening my eyes at his demanding tone sends me over the edge. My orgasm barrels out of me and wet heat soaks my panties around his hand.
I shudder as he slips his fingers out of me and removes his hand from underneath my dress. If I weren’t still riding out the aftershocks of the orgasm I just had, I’d probably have come again watching him suck my pussy juices off his fingers.
“I was right,” he says, leaning over and nipping at my earlobe. “You do taste better.”
“We’re here,” the cab driver states, startling us as he pulls over to the curb.
Thank fucking Christ because it is hot as hell in here and the July weather has nothing to do with it. Jami pays the driver before helping me out of the car.
As the taxi pulls away, he places a hand on the back of my neck, forcing me to look into his chocolate eyes again. “I don’t want there to be any mistake, Lennon. You’re mine. Everything about what we will do tonight is going to make you mine.”
I nod. I don’t think I could argue even if I wanted to. I need this as badly as he does, and I’d agree to sell my soul to the devil himself to have Jami for one night.
Just tonight. Just for this one night. I’d allow myself to have what I want. What I need.
The sound of gunfire drags me out of the memory as I try to piece together what I’ve missed of the movie. The hand on my leg squeezes, and before I can think better of it, I look over at Jami. He’s still focused on the movie, and it makes it easier for me to admire him in the dark. Well, gee, that doesn’t sound creepy at all.
He is so handsome. I’ve never met a man like him before. Everything about him scares the ever-loving shit out of me. He doesn’t know about my dad—no one does, really. Not besides Hannah, Beth, and their parents. It happened so long ago, before we really became friends with any of the guys, and it isn’t exactly a pleasant dinner conversation. Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway. Jami isn’t a one-woman type of guy, and the last thing I am going to do is tell him in the hopes of guilt-tripping him into becoming one. That wouldn’t end well for anyone.
I would never try to change him. You can’t make people into who you want them to be. I decided a long time ago to only allow men into my bed—and into my life—if I was certain I could never love them. I know it sounds terrible, but it’s a built-in failsafe of mine. If I don’t love them, if I don’t let them see the scars on my heart, then they can’t do any more damage to it. To me.
This isn’t to say that I sleep around or anything. I still have steady relationships and they usually make me happy for a time, but they aren’t a future. I don’t have one of those happily-ever-after fairytale endings in store for me. Fairytales are like wishes. You have to believe in wishes for them to come true, and I definitely don’t believe in fairytales. I had one of those. I lived in one before, but that didn’t stop the walls from caving in. It didn’t stop my heart from breaking.
No, fairytales are best suited for books and other people’s lives—not mine.
THE MOVIE IS actually pretty good, and I leave the theatre rapping in my head like I am the next Slim Shady or something. That theme song is catchy as shit. “Knock, knock, you about to get shell shocked,” is on repeat in my head as we walk back to our vehicles. Rap isn’t really my cup of tea, but hey, who doesn’t like walking out of a movie feeling like a total badass?
I am distracted by the internal rap throwdown going on my head and don’t notice that Jami has fallen into step beside me. I don’t have to look at him to know that he is watching me. I feel like he is always watching me. It can be rather unnerving sometimes and it does crazy things to my insides. I avoid looking back at him and move to quicken my pace, but he catches me by the elbow. By now, we’ve fallen back from the rest of the group. I’ve never been a good multitasker and must have slowed down during my daydreaming of ninja turtles.
“Come over tonight.” He’s speaking loud enough that only I can hear.
“I can’t,” I reply shortly, keeping
my gaze firmly affixed forward.
“Why not?”
“I have dinner plans,” I lie.
He doesn’t answer me right away, removing his hand from my elbow. It’s about time he took a hint. I’ve been swinging nothing but bitch swords at him all day and he hasn’t backed off.
I’m about to holler at Hannah to ask if they can drop me at my mom’s house on the way home when I’m hauled by the waist in between two parked vehicles. What the fuck? barely has time to flash through my brain before my back is pressed up against what I assume is the outside of a truck bed. Jami’s arms grip the edge of the truck on either side of my head, caging me in with his muscular frame.
“Who the fuck do you have dinner plans with?” he growls.
I must be a little slow on the draw today, because when I lift my head to meet his chocolate gaze, I’m caught off guard by the rage dancing between them. Instead of thinking it, I let it come rushing out of my mouth.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I hiss, placing my palms on his chest to push him away. He doesn’t budge, not even an inch.
“Answer the question, Lennon,” he snarls as he brings his face closer to mine.
I would answer it, but I honestly don’t even remember what the question is. Everything is happening too fast and my brain always seems to settle into this fog when he’s this close to me. It can’t be normal for a guy to literally make it hard for you to use your brain around him. At this point, he’s glaring at me, and it’s starting to bring my pissy mood from earlier back.
“I don’t even know what in god’s name you are talking about,” I huff, attempting to push him again. Well, that’s about as helpful as pissing into the wind.
“Who. The. Fuck. Do. You. Have. Dinner. Plans. With?” he snaps inches away from my face.
