Everything But

by Jade C. Jamison

  Then he leaned over and grabbed one of her legs, draping it over his thigh, and he followed with her other leg. Afterward, he laced his hands around her lower back and pulled her up on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and met his lips with hers. His tongue danced with hers and she laced her fingers through his soft mussy hair. She wanted to pull it, grab it, tell him to hurry up and fuck her, but she didn’t know how well that would go over. She was pressed right up against him and she could feel how hard he was. He was just as ready as she was. She tilted her pelvis forward so she could feel him right up against her and a small groan formed in her throat. She felt his firm hands on the small of her back, and the fabric in the bustier was so thin it was like he was touching her bare skin.

  He kissed her deeply once, then moved his lips to her neck. His hands, the fingers splayed apart, moved up her back, and they felt like fire. One of his hands moved up to her neck and cupped her head while she leaned back into it. His lips moved from her neck down to her breasts. She let go of his hair, dragging her hands down his back, and she sat up again, her lips slamming into his. Again, she just wanted to demand that he fuck her right there but she didn’t want to break the spell, so instead she moved her hands around and down to his fly where she started playing with the button.

  Riley stood, holding her under the ass, and pressed her up against the refrigerator. Her dress was bunched at her waist. He had her positioned higher than she would be if she were standing, so that his hard on was digging into her right where it mattered. She let out a long, heavy sigh, because it couldn’t really be considered dry humping when she was that wet, could it? “Oh, God,” she said, digging her nails into his back through the t-shirt. He nipped her earlobe and kissed her neck again and took her hint.

  “You like that, huh?”

  “Yeah…” she said, barely able to talk, her breathing was so erratic.

  So he kept grinding into her, his hips swaying in a circular motion. She heard the way she was panting and she was partly upset with herself that she’d just caved into him so easily. Her emotions were in such conflict—she wanted him but she didn’t; she wanted to hold off but not. She was fucked in the head was what she was, and she found him so intoxicating that she could no longer think, could no longer concentrate, could no longer be without him.

  Seriously?

  Yes…those were the weird thoughts swirling in her head as the tightness in her body increased and she knew she was getting closer. Riley stopped moving and pressed his forehead onto hers, his eyes burning into the ones in her head. He didn’t say anything, and part of her was glad, because she could tell he had a lot to say. He looked full of…pain.

  His hands had never left the underside of her thighs where he’d been holding her up, and he stepped back from the refrigerator, still holding her up, and walked a few steps back to the table. Ah, yes…he’d joked about the table yesterday. But there was shit all over it. Their dinner plates, the candles. If he wanted to use it as a makeshift bed, he’d have to clean it off. But she hadn’t realized what he had in mind.

  After he set her down, he placed his hands on her shoulders and, after another rough kiss, eased her around so she was facing the table. Then his lips were down on her neck again as his hands slid across her ribcage, under her breasts, and he fingered the nipples through the fragile fabric. Now she knew what he was going to do and discovered that there was, in fact, plenty of room to do it. He planned to take her from behind this time, and she was merely going to use the table top for support. There were no plates on the end of the table where they stood.

  He grabbed her bunched-up dress on both sides and yanked it down past her hips. There, gravity took over and it dropped to the floor. His lips grazed her earlobe as one of his hands slid down her belly and under the front of the panties. She sucked in a quick deep breath and leaned her head back against him as his other hand cupped a breast and massaged it. Her eyes fluttered closed as his index finger found her clitoris and started swirling, a slow, circular motion that created an electric vibration deep inside her. She let out a loud moan as he started kissing her neck, his tongue tracing a pattern on the skin.

  She was getting close already, and he nipped her shoulder but he stopped moving his finger and pulled his hand out of her panties. He brought both hands around to her back and gently pressed against the small of it, moving up toward her shoulder blades. He pressed against her and she bent at the waist, sensing that he was ready to enter her. She just wanted him to hurry. She was so close and didn’t want to beg him.

  He yanked down on her panties, almost too hard. The elastic dug into her hips and she thought he was maybe trying to tear them. They were well-made, though, unlike the last ones he tore, and could stand up to a little bit of aggression. He got them down to her knees and Erin propped her head up on one elbow and looked behind her. Riley had his wallet in hand and he pulled out a condom package. Finally. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to will herself to be patient.

  She looked at him again. What was that look in his eyes? He ran his empty hand up her spine, pushing her down, and then he entered her. Finally. She breathed out, anticipating her orgasm. He wrapped his hands around her hair and tugged until she faced forward. She was uncomfortable but his steady in-and-out distracted her from it. She rested her arms at her sides, bent at the elbows, to steady herself.

  That is, until he got close and the tug became pain. He was pulling too hard, and it reminded her of her ex, Frank. Frank often got too rough in bed, and after she mentioned it one time, he got worse. In fact, it seemed like the more she asked him to be gentle or mindful, the worse he’d get. So she debated if she wanted to say anything at all right now or ever. She felt Riley’s hand move to her hip and it found its way back to her clit. The pressure he exerted there took her mind off any pain she was feeling and her brain focused on that small, tight spot. She gasped as she got close and then felt the release build until she combusted, crying aloud as her body let go.

  And as her breathing slowed, Riley was still grinding into her, but she could tell he was close too. He let go of her hair and grabbed her hips on either side as though to steady her. As he finished, he started pounding her harder than before, her upper thighs slamming into the side of the table. The candles, flowers, and drinking glasses were swaying with each impact, threatening to fall. She didn’t say anything, because she was sure he was almost done.

  He felt like a different person to Erin…like he was possessed. When he was done, he pulled out, not saying anything but instead just walking over to the trashcan next to the refrigerator, lifting the lid and dropping in the condom. Erin just watched him, not moving, still catching her breath. He tucked himself back in and adjusted, then zipped his pants back up. He was still completely dressed.

  She, on the other hand, was just wearing the bustier, and she doubted it had withstood the pressure of Riley’s lovemaking techniques. She finally stood and grabbed her panties, bunched up at her ankles, and pulled them up over her bottom. She wasn’t very happy in spite of the orgasm, because it was like Riley had become Frank. He was still acting weird, cold and distant, and even though she had only known him a few days, she knew this behavior wasn’t like him.

  Or was it? Was the sweet, sensitive Riley she’d been enjoying the last few days just an act and this version the real deal? Was this behavior maybe why Riley was still very much single? He’d told her having access to hundreds of eager, easy women wasn’t—what was the phrase he’d used?—all it was cracked up to be. But maybe he was the problem.

  He walked back over to her and she couldn’t read his expression. Not at all. His right hand cupped her cheek while he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close, his hand resting on the small of her back. He was hot as hell and yet his expression was ice cold and not only did it remind Erin of Frank, she found it almost…intimidating. But he kissed her and when she closed her eyes, she could only sense Riley.

  But when the kiss ended, he sai
d, “I gotta go. See you later.” He let go of her and walked out of the kitchen.

  At first, Erin thought it had to be a bad joke. She walked to the living room and saw his hand on the doorknob. “Are you serious?”

  She couldn’t read his expression through the clouds over his eyes. “Yeah…I really gotta go. Thanks for dinner.”

  She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until the door closed behind him. What the hell?

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  RILEY JOGGED DOWN the steps of Erin’s apartment building, feeling like shit but also glad he’d done it. Erin wanted just a boy toy for the few days he was here? Well, she got it. There. She wouldn’t have to deal with any of the romantic entrapments, and—true to Riley form—he’d even let her believe it was all his fault. He was good at that shit. No sense making a girl feel bad about what she wanted…or didn’t.

  But goddamn if he didn’t want a drink. He knew the cravings eased off with time and, for the most part, he hardly ever even thought about drinking anymore, but it had been weighing heavily on his mind the past week. Getting out of her apartment helped with that too, though, because he’d left the wine there.

  He gritted his teeth and started walking across the courtyard to his car. He got in and slid the key in the ignition, and that’s when he noticed a piece of paper tucked under the windshield wiper on the driver’s side. He got back out and removed the paper, then turned on the dome light inside so he could read what was written: “Hey, bad boy rock star. Are you ready for a girl who will REALLY show you a good time? You don’t want some stuffy English teacher, do you? I’m still available. –Josie.” Her phone number was scrawled underneath and—what a cliché—she’d signed her named in red lipstick.

  Josie. Josie. Oh, yeah…that slutty girl who’d called herself Jo. The apartment A-3 girl. Yeah…well, that wasn’t gonna happen. Sure, she was a little more tempting now that he knew Erin didn’t give a shit, but still…

  As he started backing his car out of the parking spot, he heard his cell phone ring. It was Erin. He shook his head, moving the gear shift to Drive. Maybe he’d call her later, but not now. He couldn’t. He’d finally made up his mind how to handle it and he couldn’t have her weakening his resolve. And she could do that, just with her voice. He knew that much. Bad enough that she’d told him she’d heard his new band’s first single on the radio, and not only had she said she loved it, she’d raved about it, pumping up his ego.

  And then her whole dessert seduction thing. Fuck. He’d almost forgotten he’d promised himself to keep his emotions out of it. In fact, he even quit being a dick for a while, and he’d been doing so well at first.

  By the time he parked in his parents’ driveway, though, he couldn’t get his mind off her. He picked up his phone and stared at it. Did he want to hear what she had to say?

  He would…but he was gonna have to mellow out first. That would probably be a little difficult, though, because his mom and dad were still up. He took a deep breath and walked in the front door, clenching his jaw.

  His parents were watching some movie in the living room, so he figured he’d just pop his head in, say the obligatory hello, then run up to his room and find some way to get outside so he could numb the pain. “Hey…I’m home,” he said, waving his hand and getting ready to duck back out.

  But his dad pressed the pause button on the remote. “Have a seat, son. I’ve hardly seen you since you’ve been back.”

  Shit. Riley loved his father but could barely tolerate the man. Still, he respected him enough to obey his wishes. So he walked over to the couch and sat down. His mother sat in a chair working a crochet needle, while his father was just lying back in his recliner. But when Riley sat down, his father put down the footrest on his chair so he sat up straighter. Why did Riley feel like he was sitting before a parole board? He wanted to keep it light if he could, so he asked, “What’re you guys watchin’?”

  His mother said, “We just started watching an action movie. It stars Ryan—”

  “Son, what’s this I hear about you dating one of the high school English teachers?”

  God, his dad was being his typical asshole self. He couldn’t understand how his mother had put up with him all these years. He’d just interrupted her and she let him, and that was typical. But he could already see what was going on. They’d already had a conversation about fucked-up Riley, once more doing something that could potentially ruin the Schultz name in Winchester. Jesus. He sighed. It would be better for him to just take the lumps and get it over with.

  He’d smoke extra later.

  But the last thing he wanted to do was talk about Erin right now. He was too busy processing his emotions and trying to separate the tough guy outside from the pussy one that was trying to take over. The last thing he needed was a classic ass chewing from his dad.

  But…it was what it was. Had to happen at least once a visit. His dad wasn’t able to rag him about his behavior with his new band, so he had to fixate on something else. Riley smoothed his hands over his jeans, making sure his voice would be calm and even. “Yeah. I’ve been seeing Erin Lancaster.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  Riley sucked in a deep breath but maintained eye contact. “What’s so bad about it?”

  “Your reputation, Riley.”

  His blood pressure spiked but he managed to keep his exterior cool and relaxed. “My reputation? What the hell does that have to do with dating her?”

  His father was calm as well, but that was nothing new. “Do I really need to explain this to you, son?”

  Riley clenched his jaw, his only defense. “Yeah…I think you should.”

  His father shook his head. Riley peeked over at his mother. The look on her face told him everything he needed to know. She agreed with his father. So he kept his mouth shut and readied himself for whatever it was his dad was going to say. His father leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing the tips of his fingers together, as though he were a politician delivering a speech. Riley knew the look well. This was his dad’s trust me posture. That was the last fucking thing Riley planned to do. But he was going to be a respectful son. He’d shut the fuck up and listen.

  “Son…surely I don’t have to describe to you what most people in town think about you.”

  Well, this was something he’d never heard before. He knew what his parents thought, but he’d never sensed anything negative from the townsfolk themselves. In fact, what he’d sensed over the years was nothing but positive. Hell, he should show his dad the note that was sitting on the passenger seat of the Mustang…see what he thought about that. “Yeah, I think you should.”

  His father drew in a deep breath and said, “People believe you’re a negative influence. You incite kids to engage in underage drinking, drugs, and sex. You do those things yourself. So you’re their—”

  “Whoa, whoa…wait a fucking minute.” He stood, challenging his dad to call him on swearing too. Yeah, so he incited kids to say the F word too. “I stopped the drugs and drinking, dad, and I don’t sing about them anymore. How can you say I encourage that? And any kid who’s a real fan knows I’m clean.” He wasn’t touching the sex comment. Erin had reminded him the other day about how sexually potent some of his lyrics could be. He wouldn’t argue that one. He also knew a couple of his past videos pushed it too. Fine, he’d give his dad that.

  “Marjorie?”

  His mother looked pained, but she unpursed her lips to say, “I found your drugs, Riley.”

  “My drugs?”

  His dad pulled a sandwich bag out of his trousers. Oh, yeah…the pot. Fuck. Well, just because Riley didn’t consider weed a drug, the conservative folks in the good ol’ U.S. of A. considered pot to be one of the most dangerous drugs around. He fought to keep from rolling his eyes and let the air out of his lungs through clenched teeth. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “So? It’s just pot. It’s not addictive.”

  “It’s illegal, son, and you
had it in our house.”

  Jesus…that had been in his luggage. At least, he thought it had. What else had she found in there? Well, he’d own it. “Sorry. You might not believe it, but it helps me. It stops me from getting anxious, and so I don’t turn to the bottle or worse drugs.” No way was he going to tell them he’d been wanting a drink really badly…so much for taking off the edge.

  “It’s still illegal. Why don’t you get a prescription for Xanax, son? That’s what your mother uses for her nerves.”

  Riley felt his lips move up into a smirk, because he knew he was about to say the kind of shit that used to get his ass beaten by his dad back in the day. But he couldn’t help it. “I could get a prescription for pot, dad. In fact, I could probably find a doctor in Colorado Springs tomorrow that would give me one. Want me to do that?”

  His father’s gaze moved into dangerous territory. Riley recognized the look. His old man lowered his voice. “Goddammit, Riley, don’t you understand that everything you do affects this family? Everything you do reflects on us, good or bad. Can’t you think of us for once?”

  Riley let his father’s words sink in. Of course, he knew that, and he also knew how sensitive his family was about their reputation. He lowered his voice too, not to be scary, but to show his father some respect. “Yeah, I know that, dad. And no one around here knew about the pot.” Except for Erin, he remembered, because he’d admitted to her tonight that he was high. Fuck…had she told his mother and that gave his mother the idea to search through his stuff?