Lust

by Dukey, Ker

  Slipping my fingers into her hair, I finally tuck it behind her ear, then let the pad of my thumb caress her cheek.

  “It’s okay. Honestly, don’t worry about it.” After a silent pause, we continue walking.

  “I googled you,” she says, flicking her embarrassed gaze to mine, halting our movements.

  “That’s how I know about…” she gulps, fidgeting with an invisible thread on her cardigan, “your brother.”

  The usual constricting pain grips my heart in a vice at the mention of Robbie.

  “I’m so sorry. That must have been…”

  “Death,” I rasp. “Like death,” I add, breathing air into my broken lungs. “It felt like I died with him.”

  “But you didn’t,” she whispers, almost asking me the question instead of making a statement.

  A humorless laugh rattles my chest. “What’s that saying? What doesn’t kill you only makes you wish it did?” I vomit my truth out, surprising us both with my forthcoming emotions.

  “You always seem so full of life, happy…”

  Grief, borrowed from our shared experiences, fills her eyes.

  “That’s just the mask, I’m drowning, but with a smile on my face knowing I can’t be saved,” I confess, letting myself open up to her.

  “That must be exhausting.” She murmurs, lines creasing her forehead.

  It fucking is exhausting.

  My mind is like a carousel going around in circles. Different scenarios bring different outcomes, but it can’t be changed, no matter how much I will it. I’m telling myself these truths as much as I’m telling her.

  “My world’s a mess right now, of regret and sorrow.” I almost choke on the last word, grief filling me up from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair, my world quaking beneath me, threatening to consume all I am.

  Her warm hand slips into mine, squeezing, reassuring, comforting. The ground settles and I can breathe.

  “You’re right here,” she says in almost a whisper. Her other hand comes to rest on my chest where my heart beats slow beneath it’s shelter.

  “You’re not allowed to die with him. You have to live for you both.”

  My posture sags and my head leans forward, too heavy for my shoulders.

  “I promised myself that’s what I’d do for my mom,” she says, vulnerability shaking her voice.

  “She wouldn’t want me to let the cruelty of fate stop me from living my best life, so like a ghost attached to my heart, she’s with me. It beats for us both. We’re both living.”

  Reaching my hand up without thought, I rest it against her own heartbeat. She doesn’t pull away or falter. This isn’t about me copping a feel—it’s two people sharing pain, learning to live through it, and finding a connection to help us keep living, keep breathing, keep standing, one foot in front of the other, until it stops hurting.

  Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.

  “Come on.” She smiles, breaking the contact and recommencing our path to her destination. I haven’t talked to anyone about Robbie, and it helps—it really fucking helps.

  We walk in silence for a few beats, but it’s not uncomfortable, it just is.

  Nudging me toward a treeline, she turns to venture through the thicket.

  “Are you going to lure me in there and then have your way with me?” I drawl.

  Slapping me playfully, she pushes me farther into the trees, the dirt caking our boots.

  “If you mean kicking your ass, then maybe.”

  “I might be into sadism,” I snigger out, walking farther into no man’s land.

  “I think you’ll find that’s a masochist,” she points out, dodging tufts of growth.

  Just when I’m about to ask her what the difference is, the trees open up and an old park emerges in a clearing. The terrain is covered in undergrowth, the framework of the slide and swing rusted by years of being unused. It’s spooky and kind of beautiful all in the same breath.

  “Be careful of snakes,” she tells me, her southern drawl more potent when she talks about the dangers.

  “Why is this here?” I ask, taking her hand to help her manoeuvre over some fallen branches.

  “It was part of the Miller’s property in the late fifties. They died over two decades ago and their land was abandoned. This part was claimed back by nature. The house was vandalised and eventually torn down when a girl claimed she was attacked and taken there.”

  Frowning, I sit on the swing next to her and try to move it. It protests loudly, but eventually begins to move, raining down orange on my head.

  “That got dark,” I state, and she smiles, white teeth on display.

  “Are you not scared to come here?” I ask, searching the woods as the sun sets. Everything drops in temperature, making the place twice as creepy as before.

  “Why would I be? What are the odds of us both being serial killers?” she asks, narrowing her eyes on me.

  It takes a few seconds, but we both burst into a fit of laughter.

  I like her more and fucking more.

  “Seriously, though, don’t come here on your own,” I warn, my protectiveness spiking, surprising us both.

  “I won’t, I promise. This can be our place.”

  Our place. I like that.

  We talk for hours, about nothing, about everything, in the blue light from the full moon above. Soon, I know our night will come to an end, but I don’t want it to.

  It’s so peaceful here away from the expectation and stress of school. Away from the reputation and rumors.

  “Why are nice girls always attracted to bad boys?” she asks on the walk back to my car.

  “Am I a bad boy?” I raise a challenging brow.

  “The question you should be asking is, am I a good girl?” she counters as we slow to a stop by my car.

  “Are you?”

  The air between us is palpable. My skin hums with electricity as she closes the space between us. Looking up into my eyes, she murmurs, “I don’t want to be, when I’m around you.”

  Her lips hover so fucking close, but so far. Cupping her face, I push my lips to hers, chaste and sweet, before backing away. “Then let me be the good one for both of us,” I tell her, ignoring the straining of my cock and the pulsing of my blood screaming at me like a bloodthirsty night crawler wanting to devour her whole.

  She touches a finger to her lips, her eyes heavy and cheeks flushed.

  “Goodnight, Rhett Masters.”

  “Goodnight, Chastity Griffin.”

  I watch her walk to her house and disappear from view before I release the breath I’d been holding and brace my arms against the roof of my car to steady my heartbeat.

  I’ve honestly never felt this kind of need before, and of all people, it had to be with her.

  I’m fucked.

  The days pass in a haze of all things Chastity. She’s become my addiction, occupying my every thought. At school, she offers me coy smiles, followed by texts referencing Romeo and Juliet quotes or trivia.

  Usually, this kind of shit would have me running for the hills, but not with her.

  I’ve held off doing anything with her but a peck on her lips here and there, but there’s tension so thick between us, I’m sure the atmosphere around us shimmers with big signs stating how bad we want to fuck each other.

  “Rhett, please put your phone away for a few seconds,” my dad says, nervousness catching in his voice.

  He’s scared of me—no, not of me, of what I’m capable of. He knows I’m part of The Elite, or will be, because God isn’t subtle when talking about it when he’s here, which is less and less as of late. It’s my fault. I’ve been too preoccupied with Chastity.

  “Sure.” I place my cell on the counter and sip the energy drink I opened an hour ago. It’s flat, but still quenches my thirst.

  “Your mother will be coming into town at the weekend. She has some business. It might be nice for us all to have dinner…”

  Acid floods my muscles and liquefies my heart. “Does sh
e want that?” I hear the need in my voice. It’s not the tone of a grown man; it’s the voice of a little boy who still needs his mother and misses her.

  “Yes. It was her idea.”

  Her idea. She wants to go to dinner.

  “Okay. Just let me know where and when.”

  “Great.”

  There’s a spring in my step and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Pride, who meets me at the coffee hut on campus.

  “You got laid?” He slaps my back and offers a fist for me to bump.

  “No, not yet.” I shake my head, laughing, but it’s strained. Was there a time limit on bedding Chastity?

  “So, what’s with the afterglow?” he snorts, sipping his coffee and wincing.

  “Nothing, but while we’re on the subject.”

  “The subject of nothing?” He smirks.

  “You know what I mean. Is there a time limit?”

  “Before we graduate would be good,” he mocks me.

  “So…no?”

  “No, what?” Wrath asks, taking a seat with us. He’s seemed off the last few days, worry clouding his eyes.

  “Everything okay?” Pride asks, seeing the same strain.

  “Yeah. I need to get to class.” With that, he stands and saunters off.

  “That was weird,” I state.

  “You’re all weird,” Pride grunts, tossing his full cup in the bin and swiping up his backpack.

  “So…no?” I shout after him.

  He ignores me. Asshole.

  Lessons blend into one as the day ticks by slow as fuck.

  Chastity: Carnival is in town.

  Me: Carnival is always in town around you. You smell like cotton candy and apples.

  Chastity: Is that a good thing?

  Me: A very good thing. *Groans*

  Chastity: If you take me, I’ll let you kiss me in the tunnel of love.

  Me: Deal.

  Anticipation tightens my muscles. My hands clench and unclench. Ever since she told me she would let me kiss her in the tunnel of love, I’ve had a one-track mind.

  The outfit she opted to wear is driving me crazy. I’m about to bust a nut in my pants. The way she makes me feel is so unlike me, yet I don’t want to pull away from it—I want to run toward it full force.

  She holds back the pain, the sorrow and fear of not being good enough of surviving and my mother hating me for it. She makes the raging storm calm so I can breathe through it.

  “You’re staring again.” She bites her lip, turning to face me.

  “I’m not even going to deny it, you look incredible.” I tell her, raking my eyes down the summer dress that hugs her tits and waist, then flares out to flirt with the tops of her creamy thighs. She’s sexy and innocence all wrapped up in a forbidden, delicious package.

  “Let’s get cotton candy.” She beams, taking my hand and tugging me toward a stall.

  “Two please,” I say, but Chastity holds her finger up. “Just one. We’ll share.”

  The girl manning the machine looks to me for confirmation.

  “One.”

  Warm bodies move around us like movie extras. Tonight is just about the two of us. No one else exists in our reality.

  Curling cotton candy around her finger, she makes a show of swiping her tongue out to gobble it up.

  “You want a taste?” She smirks, pushing the pink cloud toward my face.

  Yes I do.

  Tugging her wrist, I catapult her toward me, then steal her squeal with my lips. I suck her fat bottom lip into my mouth and release it with a pop.

  “Delicious.” I wink. She just stares at me, breathing heavy and unrestrained.

  “Kiss me, Rhett Masters,” she demands, dropping the sticky sugar to the floor and throwing her arms around my neck.

  Her supple body pushes hard against mine. “Kiss me like no one is watching,” she breathes, her eyes shimmering with need.

  Crashing my lips to hers, I drain the air from her lungs and make my own seize.

  My arms wrap around her torso, pinning her body to mine and I devour her, unrelenting. I roam her mouth with my tongue, exploring, caressing. Her body is so responsive to mine, she shudders in my arms, giving back everything I’m giving her.

  Nerves and excitement spark in my gut like it’s my first time. I can’t explain it. All I know is this is new, this is real, this means something—like the world stopped and all there is is me and her.

  Catcalls break through the heady haze of lust, and the world floods back in. I reluctantly slip her down my body and steady her when she sways.

  “Get a room,” someone snorts as they walk past, giving us stink eye.

  Ignoring the audience, she pats her hand over her chest above her heart and smiles.

  “I’m definitely living the best life. Wow.” She giggles.

  Grasping her behind her neck, I pull her head against my chest and kiss the top of her head, taking a moment to inhale the apple of her shampoo.

  Her hands tighten in my shirt, and my cock strains and pulses against the zipper of my jeans, desperate to plunge into her heat.

  Now that we’ve crossed the threshold of making out, she can’t keep her lips from mine, and I can’t keep my hands from roaming every curve of her taut body. Placing my palm against her lower back, I assist her very capable body into the seat of the love boat.

  Who dreams this shit up? Love boat? And since when would I ever go on something like this?

  Her smile brightens, and my heart stammers. Since her, that’s when.

  We’ve been on every ride there is, all but the house of mirrors. Bugs have bitten our flesh, and we’re drunk on junk food and sugar candy. Chastity has been carrying around a giant pink bear I won on ring toss, refusing to let me dump him on a park bench.

  She holds up our tickets for the mirror house and squeezes the fluffy bear through the guardrail.

  Once inside, she teases me by attempting to hide. It’s comical when she’s carrying a bear bigger than her.

  “I see you,” I warn, jolting forward and reaching out. To my utter surprise, I hit glass and I stumble forward, knocking the mirror. It opens up like a secret door.

  Shit.

  “I totally got you,” Chastity says from behind me.

  “I think I broke the house.”

  Her mouth drops open, then closes. Intrigue glistens in her curious eyes. Stepping around me, she pokes her head through and slips inside.

  “Where are you going?” I whisper-yell, following her ass inside, then pushing the mirror closed so no one sees what we’ve done.

  It leads to a backstage type area where staff move around and set up. It’s dark, and no one is here except us.

  Her bear forgotten, she climbs me like I’m a tree, and I chuckle at her desperation. She’s nothing like I thought she was going to be.

  The heat of her pussy rests against my waist when she tightens her arms around my neck and legs around my torso.

  Her lips attack me, kissing my mouth, my cheek, my neck. Gripping her ass, I growl and demand her mouth, conquering her quivering lips with my own. I find the back wall and push her against it so I can grind my cock against her heat. “Touch me, Rhett. Make the ache go away,” she pleads between kisses.

  Her hips wiggle, needy and persistent. There’s no way I’m going to fuck her in the back hole of a carnival ride, but I can ease her tension. “Put your legs down,” I command between nipping her lips and nibbling her neck.

  Excruciatingly slow, she slides down my body, her pussy grazing the tip of my dick.

  Cupping her cheeks, I pepper kisses over her face and lips, down her neck, across her chest. I skate my palms down the same path, unbuttoning the first couple of clasps on her dress, exposing the heaving mounds of her tits.

  Allowing myself my small pleasures, I sink my teeth into her flesh, then lick away the sting when she moans out. “I’m going to take care of you,” I comfort.

  Her body is trembling so bad, she’s almost lifting from the floor.


  Skimming my hands down farther, I trace their path with my kisses over the fabric of her dress until I’m on my knees before her, the palms of my hand resting just below the hem of her dress.

  “You sure you want this?” I ask, but she’s answering, “Yes, yes,” before I even finish the sentence.

  Slipping my hands up her dress, I caress and tease her thighs, brushing the pad of my thumb over the cotton of her panties, when I reach my destination.

  Moving to her hips, I tug down her panties, making her gasp.

  When I get them to her ankles, she readily steps out, her chest heaving. She’s already so fucking close to the edge.

  Pulling her panties up to my face, I inhale her delicious, sweet essence. Pre-cum seeps from the tip of my dick, dampening my jeans.

  Fuck. I’ve never been this horny from pleasuring a woman before, and I haven’t even eaten her pussy yet.

  Grasping her ankle, I lift it and place her foot on my shoulder.

  She’s mumbling curse words, which, from her mouth, is adorable. She knows what’s coming.

  Her in about one minute.

  “Hold your dress up so I can look at your pretty pussy, Chastity.”

  “You are a bad boy,” she whispers, and I bite down on my lip to stifle the chuckle her words bring. “Only when you need me to be,” I inform her, leaning forward and licking her inner thigh.

  Gathering up her dress, slow and deliberate, she exposes creamy flesh one inch at a time, until I’m looking at a small cluster of blonde curls sitting tidy on her mound, decorating the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Her lips are smooth and thick like the lips of her mouth. Damn, she’s perfection.

  “I’m going to taste you now,” I warn her.

  Grasping her hip with one hand to steady her and wrapping the other arm around her ass, I crush her pussy to my face.

  She jolts when my tongue parts her folds, tasting all that nectar hidden inside.

  I fucking feast on her like a starving man getting to eat for the first time.

  Her clit throbs against my tongue as I swirl and suck, adding pressure where she needs it, taking my cues from her moans and grip she has on my hair.