by Ashley Hall
“Are you all right, April?”
I jumped and glanced over. Yvonne had just entered the living room.
“I’m fine.” My cheeks had to be bright red. They felt like they were burning.
She stared at me strangely. I never used to have a problem with her before, but Wes sure brought out the bitch in her.
I winced. I shouldn’t think things like that.
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure.” Man, could it be any hotter in here? It felt like I was suffocating, and it really didn’t help that she was breathing down my neck.
I moved to dust the mantel and hoped she would leave.
No such luck.
“You seem a little…moody lately,” Yvonne said.
I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.” It almost came out as a question.
“Yes. You’ve been different lately.”
“Ah…” She was acting really strange, and it was making me uncomfortable. “I…school’s been rough with finals, and cramps and my period…”
She stared at me for a moment then nodded, but I could tell she wasn’t convinced. At least she left.
I dusted a lot quicker after that and finished in no time. Up next was cleaning my room, which didn’t take long at all since I wasn’t much of a slob. When I was finished, I spied Wes’s leather jacket. I lay down on my bed beside it and closed my eyes. I could still smell him on it. I wondered how his first day at his new job was going. Good, I hoped. He seemed to really like cars. It was a much better job for him than painting houses. Dad would realize that too if he would stop being so pigheaded.
Next on the to-do list was to type up a report for school so I went on down to the computer. Jacqueline was just logging off.
She glanced over at me. “Do you need this?”
“Yep. For school.” Why did I feel the need to explain that to her?
Wes’s mother stood. “Here you go.” She turned to leave.
“Do you have a minute?” I blurted.
“Yes.” She faced me, waiting patiently.
I hesitated. I didn’t know Jacqueline all that well yet. Dad had married her most recently out of all of his wives. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her, I just hadn’t made a lot of time for her yet. She seemed a little uptight all the time, nothing at all like the relaxed Wes. Well, Wes was only relaxed and laid back when Dad wasn’t around. Then he could get just as tense.
“What do you think Wes will do after he graduates?” I finally asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know what that boy thinks sometimes. He doesn’t obey Walter. He does whatever he wants. He ignores your father’s rule for him to come straight home after school. He won’t bring his friends here, so I have a feeling they might not be a good crowd…”
Geez, she really didn’t think favorably about her son at all.
“Maybe he just needs a little push,” I said slowly.
“More like a kick in the rump. I hope this youth mission trip will help him, but I have my doubts that he’ll apply himself and get anything out of it. Like his father,” she mumbled.
“He’s smart,” I gushed, then winced.
“Smart?”
Her snide tone churned my stomach. “Yes. With cars and—”
“Yes, yes, but how will that help him enrich his life? I know he has delusions of owning his own business, but he would be better served to turn his life around, to stick his nose in a book, to study hard and go to college. Lord knows he won’t be getting scholarships, so he’ll have to go to a state school, but that’s on him.”
This conversation was awful. Time to end it.
“Well, I better get to work.” I held up my folder.
Jacqueline nodded. “You’re a good girl, April, with a strong head on your shoulders. You do your father and the rest of us proud.”
“Thanks.”
I watched her walk away. I did them proud, but Wes didn’t. Wes never would. I had a feeling that nothing he could do would change their opinion on him. And that wasn’t fair. We all deserved second chances. We were all humans, and we all made mistakes.
My fingers traced my lips. Was kissing Wes a mistake?
Yes, but it was a mistake I found myself not regretting.
And a mistake I wanted to repeat.
***
Dinner was awkward. Beyond awkward. Jacqueline blew up at Wes, and he hadn’t even said anything bad. Okay, yeah, it was clear he had been about to try to weasel out of going on the youth mission trip, but he’d only said about two words before his mom jumped down his throat. No wonder he didn’t talk much at the dinner table or at breakfast. He talked more to us kids than he did the adults, and I didn’t blame them. They treated him like he was a baby, like they expected him to fail. How could anyone thrive under those conditions? It would be enough to make any teenager want to rebel against them.
I couldn’t help feeling guilty. Maybe my talk with Jacqueline, which hadn’t gone well at all, had contributed to her bad mood and why she’d been so quick to jump on Wes. I squirmed in my seat, wishing there was something I could do or say to help him, but with Yvonne eyeing me the entire time Jacqueline spoke, and then Dad going off on Wes, I knew better than to open my mouth. Did she suspect something was brewing between me and Wes?
Was something brewing between us?
Even more so than Jacqueline being a terrible mom to Wes was Dad. I couldn’t believe how he was treating Wes. Yeah, he had gotten mad at me over the years and punished me, but he never talked down to me quite as harshly as he did with Wes. Why? Because Wes wasn’t his? That was not reason to treat him like he was dirt. No wonder Wes wanted to lash out and rebel. Dad wasn’t treating him like family, so how could Wes ever think of us as his family?
But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want Dad’s ire to be focused on me, especially because if I was seriously considering Oregon State, he would then have a reason to be upset with me, if Mom was right, which I had a strong suspicion she would be.
Dad banished Wes to do dishes by himself even though it wasn’t his turn to, and dishes were normally a two or three person job. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. But I wasn’t strong enough to stand up to Dad. For a long while now, I had been on his good side, and I didn’t want that to change.
Because I accepted his rule, or because I didn’t want to get punished?
Definitely leaning more toward the latter.
As Wes cleared the table and got ready to clean the dishes, I went upstairs to my room to get ready for bed. I was exhausted. Between finals and not sleeping well due to constantly waking up in the middle of the night because of unfulfilling sex dreams, I so needed more hours in bed to try to counter my sleep deprivation.
Showered, teeth brushed, hair combed, pajamas on, and I climbed into bed. Wes’s jacket still lay at the foot of my bed. I hugged it to my chest again and smelled it once more. Memories of his kisses came flooding back, and I reclined onto my bed, keeling the leather to my face. My hands went underneath my top, and my fingers found my nipples. They pebbled beneath my touch—hardening all the more as I pretended Wes was the one to be touching me.
Then I slid my hands down my stomach and spread my legs. I left on my short pajama shorts, putting my hand down them. My underwear was so wet already. I didn’t bother to remove it either, just pushed it to the side, feeling up and down my slick folds. I slipped one finger in and then another, figuring Wes would be the kind of guy to go all in, to really pleasure a girl. I added a third finger and closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of giving myself pleasure. Wondered if it would feel really different if Wes was the one fingering me instead of myself.
I was close, but nothing I did could make me go over the edge. For the next minute, I continue to work myself, but I wasn’t getting any closer to orgasming.
Not how I wanted the night to end. I sat up, removed my shirt, and put on the jacket. The feeling of the leather against my nipples was almost too much, and when I resumed fingering myself ag
ain, I was over the edge almost immediately. My orgasm was intense and left me gasping.
For a few minutes, I just lay there, eyes closed, relaxed and so loose. It was almost freeing, being able to pleasure myself, to give into my feelings and desires. And, boy, did I have feelings and desires when it came to Wes.
I inhaled his scent one last time and sat up so I could get clean. Time to remove the leather jacket. I definitely had to get it back to Wes now. It would be worse if I kept it here longer. He had to be a ticking time bomb after what Dad, and his mom, put him through, and I didn’t want to be the one he let out all of his frustrations on. Come to think of it, I was really impressed he held back. He knew better than to pick a fight with them, but it had to be rough on him to stay silent and accept their punishment. Made me wonder if he had learned to internalize bad things from growing up in homes. I didn’t doubt his childhood had been awful. Maybe it wasn’t fair for me to judge him for the drinking and the drugs. Yes, it was a bad choice, but there was so much about him that I didn’t know yet, and a few times, I thought I caught glimpses of unexplainable sadness in his eyes. Not that having a rough past was a good excuse for bad choices, of course.
For the first time, I realized I didn’t just want Wes. I wanted to learn more about him and his past. I wanted him to open up to me. I wanted to be there for him.
I wanted him as a friend and as something more.
And, besides, giving back his leather jacket also meant I could check up on him and make sure he was doing all right.
Still feeling a little high from coming, I smiled as I tugged on zipper.
It was stuck.
I yanked and pulled and tried my hardest.
The zipper wouldn’t budge. At all!
There weren’t any scissors in my room, so I cracked open my door, made sure no one was in the hallway, and darted to the bathroom. The clippers there were too weak. No way could I risk going downstairs. The chances of someone seeing me were way too high. How would that look? My pajama bottoms were so short it probably looked like I was wearing the leather jacket and nothing else, and everyone in the house knew how much Wes loved his jacket.
I pulled on my hair. What could I do? The darn zipper refused to cooperate. I needed…help.
In a panic, I realized I would have to wait for Wes to come upstairs after he finished washing and hand drying the dishes.
It wouldn’t be that bad. He’d laugh, maybe tease me a little, but he’d figure out a way to get this darn jacket off.
And then I could crawl back into my room and curl into a ball, wanting to die.
Why had I put the stupid thing on in the first place? Yes, it had felt incredible against my skin, especially my nipples…and it still did.
Gah. I was so nervous and frustrated that I was bouncing on my toes. How long was it going to take him?
I paced around my room for almost a half hour then sat on my bed. Another ten minutes passed and found me lying on my bed. Finally, I heard footsteps on the stairs and then his door opening and closing.
Geez, he sure took his time.
Taking a deep breath, I screwed up my resolve and went to his room. It wasn’t easy to admit it, the words wouldn’t come at first, but I finally managed to spit it all out.
Well, not about the jacket helping me to orgasm.
Wes was kind enough not to laugh, but the look in his eyes…I saw that look one other time. It was how he looked at me at the party. Like I was beautiful, like I mattered. I could feel my pulse race, and my underwear dampened even more.
He walked over to me, and I held perfectly still as he tried to mess with the zipper.
“It never caught on anything for me,” he muttered. He jammed it up and down, but the zipper didn’t move in either direction. Hand to his chin, he took a step back then nodded. “Let’s try pulling it off of you.”
I nodded. I’d do anything to get it off.
Get him off.
Wow, I was tired. And horny yet.
I lifted my arms above my head, and Wes tried to pull it up and over me, but that didn’t work either. I was going to be trapped in this leather jacket forever, and all because I wanted to smell Wes, to pretend he was with me.
He sighed. “I don’t want to use scissors.”
“I’m sorry,” I blurted. I bit my lower lip. The last thing I wanted was for his jacket to be ruined because of my selfishness, because of giving into my darkest sexual desire.
“I’ll just tear it open.”
What? No!
But what other option was there?
Inside, I was freaking out, but on the outside, I was trying desperately to act casual. But he knew.
He smiled down at me. “I’ll close my eyes,” he offered.
No teasing. No judgment. No mockery.
“I don’t care if you look,” I whispered.
Wes stepped closer to me.
I stared at his broad chest. He was strong and muscular, but would he really be able to rip it open?
He gripped it in tight fists and on his second try tore it open successfully. Wes didn’t close his eyes, and he wasn’t looking way. The look in his eyes was back, and he was staring at me, at my half naked body. Wouldn’t quite call it gawking. More like he was appreciating me.
Then he shook his head and threw me his jacket to cover up with.
Whatever spell had been weaving around us was broken. I took a few steps backward then whirled around and rushed to my room. I didn’t realize he followed me until he said, “You really are so pretty,” in a low, soft tone.
My cheeks had to be burning. I tossed him the jacket. It landed on his face. “Thank you. I’m sorry. Good night.” I was rambling.
He didn’t seem to mind. “Good night, April.”
Wes left my room, and I went to bed, feeling good again, almost as good as I’d felt right after my orgasm.
Chapter Fifteen
Wes
April’s expression as I closed her bedroom door behind me made me even harder. There wasn’t anything sexual about it. She’d looked so…happy. And it made her look even more beautiful. And just because I’d told her the truth about how pretty she was.
And sexy and funny and smart.
She wasn’t perfect, but she was damn close.
I returned to my room and shut and locked the door. I lay on my bed and tried to calm myself down, but whenever I closed my eyes, all I could see was how amazing and hot April looked in my leather jacket.
My nose wrinkled, and I sneezed. What was that smell? It didn’t take me long to realize I was smelling my jacket, and it took me even less time to realize I was smelling April. But then again, I wasn’t smelling April. I was smelling her sex.
She must have masturbated with my leather jacket or while wearing it. Just the thought made me instantly rock hard again. All of my lust came to a peak as the realization of just how badly I wanted her overwhelmed me. I could just go to her room, and she’d be wet already, wet for me.
Should I, though? Risk it? Risk everything? If Walter found out, he’d kick me out or maybe try to get me arrested, calling it rape. What if her mom found out? April seemed close with her mom. I wouldn’t want to come between them. I had no idea what it was like to be close to a parent.
And April…well, while she might want me, I wasn’t sure if she’d have me. So, yeah, it would probably be in my best interest to not return to her room tonight.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t think about her…daydream about her…pretend to be fucking her.
I smelled the jacket. Yes, definitely her juices. It was heady enough to get my own juices flowing.
Within seconds, I stripped bare ass naked. My hands gripped my cock, and I stroked myself slowly. I could just picture her on her bed, squirming around, wearing my jacket, touching her breasts, fingering herself, bringing herself close to the edge, and closer and closer. I didn’t hear her at all so this time she’d hadn’t shouted my name. Maybe she mumbled it instead. With surprising clarity, I
could just imagine how it would feel to kiss April, to push my tongue against her lips to part them, to invade her mouth.
The thought of it—of having April, of us going all the way—was too much for me, and I came. It was good, very good, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. I wanted her. I wanted more of her. No good. Not good at all.
