Chlorine and Chaos

by Jessalyn Jameson

  He just wanted to hear her, see her, stare into those eyes. He wanted a chance to fix things, wanted her to help him figure out how. Two of them got into this mess, and it would take both of them to get out of it—

  The door closed with a soft swoosh, but it was the click of the deadbolt that echoed through his mind.

  How fitting.

  He didn’t know how long he watched the front door of her apartment, but at some point, he left.

  Reluctantly, and with no sense of direction.

  Sage sat on the couch in the dark, just one candle lit in the far corner of the room. Her legs were tucked and folded beneath her, shoulders wrapped up in her favorite chenille throw. Jimmy’s loud snoring down the hall was the only soundtrack to her evening; she couldn’t even find the strength to get up and walk to the stereo. She swirled the wine around in her glass, the last of the bottle of Zin she’d opened when Tig left.

  Her head would hate her in the morning. Or she’d hate her head. Something like that.

  It didn’t matter. Heart broken into a million pieces, again, Sage would drink three more bottles if it meant forgetting what a pile of shit she’d made of her life in just two short months since returning to Lorimar High.

  Brand’s face wouldn’t leave her mind, drowning her in the memory of his gorgeous smile, and those green eyes she’d called home for so many years. Even after she left town, and throughout the past nine years, she’d never felt safe with anyone but him.

  And she hadn’t even realized it until she’d been in his arms again, then lost him.

  She played with the small piece of metal in her hand, turning it over and over in her fingers, expertly avoiding an injury. She wouldn’t use it, didn’t really want to, but she honestly couldn’t remember digging the small blade out of the secret zipper pocket in her wallet—

  A soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced at the clock—eleven thirty-five. Who would knock this late?

  Brand wouldn’t dare wake Jimmy up, she knew that much. He’d text her if he wanted to reach her at this time of night, out of respect for her brother, though she wished he’d just leave her alone. She picked up her phone and scanned the missed text messages. He had texted her. Repeatedly. The last one coming through an hour ago, a simple goodnight.

  Sage sighed, relieved that he’d continued to text her even though she ignored each message. If he actually stopped texting her, that’s when she’d probably lose her mind.

  The knocking resumed on the door, light and quick. She stood, glass in hand, and shoulders still covered by her blanket, then strolled to the door, slipping the blade into the back pocket of her jeans.

  “I can’t,” Brand had whispered when she told him to let her go, his words—unbeknownst to him—echoing Artie Langford’s earlier response. Both of them unwilling to honor her request. Both of them selfishly claiming her, disregarding her feelings, her wants.

  Both of them wanting her, but only one of them she wanted to run to now.

  She peeked through the peephole. But not this one.

  She pulled open the door, narrowing her gaze. “How do you know where I live?”

  Artie Langford stood on her doorstep, coffee-hued eyes watching her from beneath hair that was just overgrown enough to be sexy.

  “It’s a small town.”

  “Not that small.”

  “I Googled you.”

  “You what? You Googled me?” She should have been creeped out, but instead…a touch of curiosity pushed through her sadness. She felt…flattered. She raised one manicured blonde eyebrow. “My address comes up on Google?”

  He shrugged, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. “It wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever looked for.”

  Sage narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t it a bit late for you to be out stalking people?”

  He shrugged, his brown hair hanging over his eyes, and his hands tucked into the pockets of his parka. “I’m not a little kid.”

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “It’s late. No one knows I’m here.” Artie licked his lips, his gaze unwavering.

  Sage swallowed.

  “Can I come in? It’s freezing out here.” As if in cahoots with this uninvited visitor, the wind picked up, blowing an icy breeze through Sage’s front door. She scrunched up her nose at the intrusion.

  “I live with my brother.”

  Artie smiled. “I can hear that.”

  “He snores.” Thank you, Captain Obvious.

  Artie’s smile grew. “I’d still like to come in, even with all the racket,” he whispered, the softness of his words teasing Sage’s ears. “I promise I won’t wake him.”

  Sage hesitated. She paused long enough for Artie to catch her watching his mouth. He reached for her chin, lightly cupping it between his thumb and forefinger, then lifted her face until her gaze met his. “You’ve been crying.”

  Sage blinked, too exposed beneath his scrutiny. He was too intense for his own good, and suddenly seemed older than his years.

  He dropped his gaze once more to her mouth, then back to her eyes. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  Sage licked her lips, searching her brain for something to say. No! Say no!

  Nothing came to mind but her failed reunion with Brand.

  She couldn’t be with him again, so—

  “No one has to know.” He reached for her wine glass, sliding it from her grasp, then took a step forward. She swallowed the massive lump in her throat, her mouth suddenly bone dry.

  His lips were on hers before they’d even made it inside. She shouldn’t have opened the door. Shouldn’t have let him inside. I shouldn’t be kissing him.

  Artie Langford shouldn’t have had his hands up beneath her shirt, wrestling with her bra.

  Where’s the wine glass?

  Sage shouldn’t have moaned into his mouth when his hand closed over her bare breast.

  I hope the wine isn’t all over the carpet….

  She shouldn’t have pulled him closer, pressing him against the door, reveling in the demanding hardness between his legs.

  “Holy hell, Miss Shepard,” he groaned into her mouth. “You taste so good.”

  He shouldn’t have said that.

  She shouldn’t have liked it.

  Sage pulled away from him just long enough to reach for his hand and lead him to her room. They passed Jimmy’s room, and a pang of guilt fluttered through Sage’s stomach. But when Artie moved closer behind her, pressing himself along the length of her body, and his hand caressed her breast again, and his lips found her neck, and his erection pressed into her ass…she pushed the guilt aside.

  I’m a grown woman, she reminded herself. And Brand hates me.

  A tear dripped from one eye, but she swiped it away.

  “Mmm,” Sage murmured as Artie’s tongue flicked over her earlobe. He pulled it into his mouth, then she pulled him into her bedroom. Once the door was closed behind them, Sage began tugging at his clothes. Too many clothes. She remembered how his body looked, both that first night in the car, then dripping wet and almost completely exposed at the swim meet. Brand’s face floated across her mind. She pushed the image aside, forcing herself to focus on Artie’s body instead. She’d lose herself in him tonight; it was the only way.

  Would she be doing this if Brand had been the one at her door instead?

  Brand isn’t an option.

  Neither was the teenager in front of her.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” he murmured. His hands were just as needy and frantic as hers, and within moments the two of them were nearly naked, and splayed out on the bed.

  She knew she was wrong, knew this was wrong, but couldn’t stop herself. With her despair had come apathy so heavy she was drowning in it.

  Sage was a woman with nothing left to lose.

  And meaningless sexual encounters had always been her drug of choice.

  Besides the razor in the back pocket of her jeans.

  Artie’s mouth
travelled down her throat, tasting her as he went, occasionally nipping at her skin with his teeth and drawing soft moans from her lips. He’d lost some of the awkwardness, the shyness since she’d last been with him. Maybe turning the tables had fed his self-assurance. Coming to her, instead of being surprised by her. Maybe it was the fact that his teammates probably thought he was the man. Maybe he’d slept with the entire senior class since their chance encounter.

  She didn’t know what it was, but she sure wasn’t suffering from his budding confidence.

  And, she figured, she would still surprise him by night’s end—even if it had been him that came to her this time. He didn’t have the upper hand.

  Sage slowly pushed up to a kneeling position, watching his eyes widen as she guided him onto his back. She trailed her finger down his chest, smiling as his skin twitched beneath her touch. She was grateful that the candle on her nightstand still burned; the soft amber light danced off his swimmer’s body, amplifying his already sculpted physique. She continued trailing her fingers over his firm chest, leaving kisses and licks as she went along, rebelling against the aching—growing—hole in her chest.

  She knew he wouldn’t last long with the way his penis twitched between his legs and, regardless, her escapades never included foreplay. She wanted to taste him, wanted to trace the line of each muscle in his torso, but first she wanted to shock Artie Langford, because shame on him for thinking he’d surprise her and have the upper hand.

  She straddled him, rubbing her wetness over his shaft, reveling in the pleasure of sending his eyes rolling back in his head. She kissed him, long, hard and unrelenting as she slid up and down against his length, wet and slippery as a Slip’N Slide. She held his arms stretched out on the bed, then switched between leaning into him so her large breasts would press against him, to sitting back a bit so her hard nipples would tickle against his chest through the thin cotton fabric of her long-sleeved shirt.

  Artie would learn that he wasn’t in charge.

  He began to groan into her mouth, writhing beneath her as his legs twitched, so she knew she’d brought him to the point of almost no return. Sage slid off of him quickly, then reached down to cup his balls, gripping them tightly and throwing her other hand over his mouth, sliding her fingers inside when he cried out.

  “Shh,” she whispered. She pressed her thumb against the base of his balls, then shushed him again. “It will pass. Just hold tight, and don’t release. I promise you’ll thank me later.”

  He sucked on her fingers, then his body twitched a few more times, but like a good boy, Artie did what he was told and didn’t finish without her.

  Sage smiled, then released his full balls and reached for the condoms in her dresser drawer.

  She turned back to him, catching him watching her hungrily. “Like what you see?”

  He nodded, eyes wide.

  Sage leaned over him, sliding the condom down over his erection, careful not to set him off too early, then she turned around and straddled him, reverse cowgirl. His hands slapped onto her thighs, thumbs on the round tops of each cheek and fingers right in the bended crease where her legs met her stomach, then gripped her tightly as she slid herself down onto his penis. She knew he’d like this….

  She began to slide up and down, thinking it would be a quick trip—a guy this young and inexperienced would be done in no time—when he reached forward and placed his hand over her swollen center, his fingers spread so two of them rested on each side of his cock. Sage’s eyes widened, but before she could look down or look back to question him, he sat up, gripping her tightly. One hand cupped her, and Artie pressed his palm against her as he squeezed his fingers against his dick, while the other held her hip, gripping her to him. Sage’s eyes slammed shut as he rammed into her, fumbling fingers no longer an issue. Had that first night been a fluke? Maybe she’d caught him off guard.

  “Oh, God!” Sage cried out, forgetting her own rule of silence.

  Artie wrapped one arm around her waist as his other hand massaged her, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm. She leaned her head back, and his hand travelled beneath her shirt to her breast, gripping tightly and kneading it in rhythm with his palm’s friction below, and the motion of his dick inside her. She continued bobbing up and down on him until her legs could no longer hold her from the throbbing that consumed her from head to toe. Her thighs went weak, shaking and trembling as she came. Her body tried to collapse forward, twitching and pulsing with each wave of pleasure, but Artie held onto her, shooting into the condom and filling her to the brim. He carried her even further then, as they fed off each other’s orgasms, coming and shaking and shuddering together…a tangled mess of limbs and sweat and sex.

  Just the thing Sage needed to numb her mind.

  Minutes later, maybe longer, she slowly slid off of him, her body shuddering as she un-impaled herself. She almost climbed back on when her body screamed from the loss of him, but with her orgasm came some clarity. He needed to leave.

  Artie slid his arm around her once more, able to catch her because she had been unable to move very far from him very quickly, her leg muscles still weak—she ended up splayed face first atop her bed, eyes fluttering closed.

  He moved to lie on top of her, then gently pulled her to the side, spooning her. His dick twitched against her back and she smiled, surprised he could even move after what she’d just done to him.

  “That was the best fuck of my life.”

  Sage smiled wider, eyes still closed. She couldn’t say the same, but it hadn’t been bad.

  He still needs to leave.

  Artie ran his hand down her arm, grazing his fingertips against hers when he reached her hand, then back up, teasing her nipple through her shirt. Her body responded clear down in her toes.

  This was what Sage knew. Sex was familiar, easy. Relationships were foreign, complicated, painful.

  Sex never failed her.

  She wiggled against Artie, all the invitation he needed. The kid was more experienced than she’d pegged him for, and as his fingers trailed down her stomach, then slid inside her in one fast plunge, she gasped, and wondered what else she’d misjudged about him.

  He curled his fingers up and around, pressing into the spot it took most men years to find—if they ever found it at all.

  Sage moaned as her body responded to his touch, coating his fingers with warmth. She reached down to cover his hand with her own, rubbing his skin as he rubbed the inner wall inside her. His other hand moved from hugging her to gripping her throat, holding her against him. The slight pressure of his hand, the pulsing movement of his fingers….

  Sage came again almost immediately.

  And then, minutes later, she came again. His goddamn finger puppet.

  Sage groaned as she began to wake, the sun warming her skin through the blinds and shining against her eyelids, pulling her to consciousness. Her head throbbed. Stupid, cheap wine.

  She rubbed her forehead, massaging her temples with her thumb on one side and fingertips on the other, then stretched until her hand connected with skin. She whipped her arm back and froze, trying to piece together last night. An arm slid around her, pulling her up against a warm, naked body. Her memories were foggy, at best, but she smiled as she recalled Brand coming by—

  “Good morning, Miss Shepard.”

  Not Brand. Sage’s eyelids flew open, and she cringed as the sun assaulted her vision, sending her head to pounding even harder. But her head was the least of her worries.

  Hesitantly, she rolled over. Artie Langford was in her bed.

  Shit.

  Smiling at her like a lovesick puppy.

  Double shit.

  Holy hell, how much had she had to drink last night? He slid closer, nuzzling up against her. His erection pressed into Sage, perfectly positioned in such a way that her body began reacting to him even as her foggy mind struggled to find a way to politely kick his ass out of the apartment.

  Forever.

  “Artie, you�
�”

  His hand roamed over her hip, then down to her ass, squeezing her cheek and pulling her more firmly against him. Warmth rushed south, cutting off her thoughts and pushing her right back into memories of last night. Against her better judgment, she moved with him, their bodies molding together easily, as though they’d done this a million times.

  Brand’s face flashed into her mind, complete with the disgust and resentment she’d seen in his eyes when he first found out about Artie…so she pushed it aside and focused on not feeling. She’d made this mistake twice. What was once more?

  Brand was done with her, and she couldn’t blame him. Might as well enjoy the one guy who she hadn’t yet disappointed.

  Artie flipped her onto her stomach, then stretched her arms out above her head, sliding his fingers slowly back down, grazing the sides of her breasts as he kissed his way down her spine. “I want to take this off,” he murmured, tugging at her shirt.

  Sage shook her head, then arched her back a bit to draw his focus lower.

  “Your ass is perfect.” His tongue dipped into the groove between her cheeks.

  Sage closed her eyes, arching up to give him better access.

  She’d learn to live in the moment. Yeah. Brand was in the past, and her future was just as bleak as her almost-nine years without him had been.

  The present was all she had.

  And Artie was here, the promise of forgetting just within her reach. If only she’d grab it.

  Tig tossed and turned all night, a mix of emotions drawing him nearer and nearer to exhaustion, then ripping him back to consciousness with visions of Sage and Artie Langford together.

  He still couldn’t believe she’d slept with him. Couldn’t believe she’d fucked a kid. A student.

  Hell, one of his students. Sage wouldn’t have looked once at that kid if Tig hadn’t given him the confidence he now radiated. That was Tig’s fault as well.

  But, aside from his subconscious trying to convince him otherwise, he had forgiven her.