by S. E. Hall
I want to stay and fight with him about every meaningless, stupid thing we can possibly think up to argue about. I want to make up, earn his forgiving smile and kiss him right on it. I want to try new things with him, things I never thought I’d do. I want his arms to wrap me in their soft, loving haven when I cry. His body to love me when I…well, pretty much anytime he wants.
“Baby,” he nudges me and lightly laughs, reaching up to smooth the worry line between my eyes. “It’s a concert, not an execution. Whatcha stewing on?”
“Nothing,” I shift in my seat and “pep” up, trying to give my lie some merit.
He leans into me, brushing my hair aside to warm my ear and neck with his low, rumbled words. “It’s not nothing, Bellamy. It wasn’t nothing to-”
Damn you, Sam Hunt! All this waiting and you pick now to take the stage? I’m boycotting him from this moment forward.
Of course, the crowd goes wild, the arena thunderously loud with the deep thumps of the bass drum, whistles and screams—whatever Jefferson was about to say lost in the mayhem.
Our group all stands, plenty of room between our seats and the partition to dance, which Presley does immediately. The intensity quickly becomes contagious and my gloomy mood dissolves, so I scoot up to the railing and soon feel my hips start to swivel to the beat.
Jefferson moves in right behind me, caging me in with both arms on either side of me, his chin resting on my head. The frenzy around us can’t compare—my awareness is of him. I feel his large, sturdy frame cocooning me in masculine safety. The alluring hint of his cologne, which I know to be YSL L’Homme, teasing my nostrils and sense of reason. The slight sway of his hips in perfect, melodious rhythm with mine. And like the dirty girl I show brief flashes of being more and more these days, I imagine those hips of his moving smooth and deep, ass muscles flexing as he works inside of me.
Alright, maybe I’ll forgive Sam Hunt.
Who…doesn’t have that many fast songs. The lights go out and the arena’s pitch black lest the flick of lighters and an overhead twinkling stars effect. The ambience, mixed with Sam’s deep voice singing the romantic words of a slow song awakens an urgency inside of me. Jefferson too, if judging by the way he presses himself more firmly against me and wraps his arms tightly around my waist.
“Bellamy,” he murmurs in my ear, and with the more docile atmosphere, I hear him…in every pore.
“Yeah?”
“What’s your favorite song of his?” He moves my hair again and asks hotly against my neck.
“Huh?”
“You heard me,” he slides his lips along my skin.
A jolt of intuition thrums through me and I answer, the anticipation of his reason for asking and plans dizzying. “Speakers.”
“You make sure and tell me when it starts, okay?”
I nod my head, breathing in short pants, pushing my ass back into him. I glance over, something telling me it matters, and confirm—I can’t see Brynn, or anyone for that matter, it’s too dark. Which means…they can’t see us either.
I lay my head back against Jefferson’s shoulder and close my eyes during “Make You Miss Me,” soaking up the feel of our bodies melded together, moving as one in a delicious tempo. And after one other song, the echo of wind fills the arena…my song.
He must feel my body tense because he growls in my ear, “This the one?”
Again, I simply nod.
“Waited, wanted it to be special, so you’ll never forget. Every time you hear this song, you’ll tingle for me, want me near you,” he grunts and I melt, resting all my boneless weight against him. “I meant it, Bellamy, before. I do love you. Because of you, I took the time to get to know my soul. Found out, it’s been waiting and now longs, for you. How I feel about you, it’s out of my control, but I’ve never felt more fulfilled and at peace in my life. I do, I love you, madly.”
He’s right, I will remember this moment for the rest of my life. Every. Single. Word. The exact, pounding rhythm of my heart. The sting of happy tears behind my lids. And what I do next, too overcome with love, lust, happiness and desire to be a bit ashamed…I’ll remember it forever too.
I leave my eyes closed and blindly find his hand, guiding it to the inside of my thigh. His chest vibrates on my back with a heady rumble and I slide my foot over to spread my legs farther apart.
“Baby,” he groans in my ear, his fingertips playing at my thigh. “Just because I told you-”
“Sshh,” I solidify my interruption by inching his hand higher up the inside of my skirt. “Touch me, Jefferson.”
“Here? Now?” His manners are losing fast to his manliness. The gallant growl as he presses his erection into my ass tells me as much.
“Yes,” I turn my head an inch and place an open-mouth kiss on his neck. “Here. Now. In the dark, our secret, just us. Touch me.”
I remove my hand, trusting him to find his way and grab the rail in front of me with both hands. My skin sizzles beneath his fingertips, slinking up to tease the edge of my panties. A bolt of unfamiliar exhilaration wracks my body.
“I’ve got you, baby girl. Relax,” he murmurs, voice as deep and torturously strained as I’ve ever heard it. “Relax with it Bellamy, no tensing, don’t fight it.”
I take a deep breath and he waits, so attuned to me, even amongst the fanfare around us, and times his invasion with my exhale. As I slowly breathe out, his fingers slide inside my panties, now tenderly touching my bare flesh.
“Fuck,” he drawls in rich desire, sexiest sound ever, his free hand finding skin just under my shirt and pulling me back to him once again. No space allowed, not an inch. “Tell me no one’s been here. No one but me.” Oh, territorial growl is sexy too, a definite contender.
“You already know,” I roll my hips, encouraging him to end the maddening prelude.
“Want to hear it again, Bellamy?”
“No one. Only you, Jefferson.”
“Goddamn right. That’s what I want to hear, mine.” His primitive grumble bolsters my lustful frenzy and I whimper. “Sshh,” he soothes, two fingers spreading me apart and gradually rubbing up and down through my wetness. “My baby, so hot and slick for me. Tell me what you need.”
Why is he demanding the novice do so much talking? I was counting on him running the show.
“Oh, you bet your fine ass I’m running the show,” his faint laugh tickles my neck, and my cheeks go up in flames—thank God it’s dark in here—when I realize I must’ve spoken my thoughts aloud. “And I like hearing you talk dirty for me. That’s part of my show, your sweet little mouth begging, only for me. A whole other, naughty side of you that only I will ever know about. Now, tell me what you want.”
“I, I don’t know. Just, more, Jefferson. Please.”
“Hold on, angel. If it’s more you want, more I can gladly do.” His thumb covers my clit, enhancing the throb there, and our breathing collides—my mewl to his sharp hiss of air sucked in past clenched teeth—as he eases a finger inside me. It’s a foreign, forbidden sensation that probably isn’t a big deal to most, but to me, it’s an instant, eternal connection I will only ever share with him.
“Okay?” he asks, his tongue laving up my neck.
“Yeah,” I answer huskily, more mentally stimulated than physically.
Again, he amazes me by how in tune with me he always is, syncing us to a dulcet harmony. “We can do better than that. Deep breath, take one.”
I do and shudder from the small nip of pain of an added finger, followed by euphoric fuzziness and his endearing, in the most beautifully vulgar of ways, words licked, sucked and grumbled in my ear and up and down my neck. “Bellamy, love, open your eyes. Watch the stars above us, feel the beat and listen to my voice. Trust me to take you soaring.”
I stare up at all the tiny twinkles above me, and turn fluid, surrendering to him, hearing him growl in approval. His fingers begin to move in and out of me, slowly at first, then gaining speed. And his thumb, oh his thumb, rubs circles and flicks m
y engorged clit ‘til everything blurs into one unbelievable movement, coordinated for my pleasure.
“That’s it,” he praises in my ear, “ride my hand, baby. Rock those sexy hips and show me just how you like it. You want rough?” He scrapes his thumbnail over my clit then presses down hard, while driving his fingers in and out of me. “Or soft?” He slowly massages with his thumb now, keeping his fingers inside me to softly rub my inner walls…and some mystical spot, that if he happens upon it again, I may just fly right over this rail. “Trying to read you, baby, but it’s kinda loud and dark in here and you’ve been wet and squirming since I started. Since you let me feel inside you. So, I need the words. What’s my Bellamy really like? Hmm?”
He’s such a sexy, white liar. He knows exactly what I want, playing my body like his favorite instrument. Giving me the rough until I’m about to fall over an edge of unknown, then slowing and giving me the gentle while murmuring pure decadence in my ear.
He’s just trying to get what he wants—my voice. Words. Crazed dirty mouth.
I’m gonna give it to him, but only because I can’t stand it anymore. There’s an ache deep inside me that promises pleasure beyond anything imaginable if only set free.
“Both, babe,” I grab his chin and thrust my tongue past his lips and teeth, kissing him with a ferocity that probably surprises him too. I can’t stop, stroking his tongue, moaning into his mouth as I grind down on his hand. I break away, gulping in air, and find his eyes in the dark, zeroed in on mine. “Both, now, and don’t stop. Take me there this time, Jefferson. Make your woman come for you.”
That did it…his animalistic roar is muffled by my mouth, him melding his to mine again, and it takes only seconds of his mastery before I feel what I can only guess is the crescendo of a life-changing tsunami of ecstasy building.
He never stops kissing me as his fingers and thumb move in perfect tandem to spark a thrilling prickle of desire that starts at my toes and shoots up my legs. And, oh my God, everything between those legs explodes in a burst of violent peace—calm and chaotic, relaxing and invigorating—wonderful and…fucking wonderful.
And now I see what the world turns for, and why people let so much of their lives revolve around sex.
When I have enough breath recollected, I glance at him, feeling my eyelids droop, but still try to smile. “That was-”
“The sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen or felt in my life. You’re amazing, Bellamy.” He kisses me and pushes my hair out of my face. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous when you come. I can’t wait to make you do it again. And again.”
“I am more than on board with that plan,” I agree, not so much sexily as half-asleep.
I barely register him laughing as he takes care of me, somehow moving the heap of sated and sleepy that is my body onto his lap as he retakes his chair. I cuddle up against him, arms around his waist and face in his neck.
Don’t know what the hell Sam Hunt’s doing, but—Bellamy out! Drop mic.
Thirty-Four
JT
“HOW DOES ONE fall asleep at a concert?” Ryder asks once the show is over, the house lights are on and Bellamy’s still fast asleep in my arms.
“I know,” Presley flashes me an informed grin. “I’ve got cat eyes. I see everything, even in the dark. I told you,” she whispers in Dolby to Sutton. “Remember?”
“Damn, bro,” Sutton laughs. “Knocked her smooth out? From that? Kudos, my friend.”
“Knocked her out with what? She didn’t take anything did she? No, of course she didn’t. Hmm,” now Brynny’s stumped. “So, what’s wrong with her? What’d I miss?”
“Well…”
“Presley, no,” I snap. “She’s just tired, Brynny. I’ve got her. You all go ahead, traffic will be a bitch.”
“I’m not getting on my bike. Need a lift, man,” Sutton says.
“No offense Ryder, but if I ride in your low ass car where I feel like my ass is gonna scrape the pavement, I’ll puke,” Presley adds.
“What the hell’s the matter with you two?” I ask.
“You were a lil’ busy to notice, but penis wrinkle did indeed send over the two rounds. We drank ‘em.” Presley shrugs.
“Who’s we?” I glower at Ryder—if he drank, he’s not driving my sister anywhere.
“Only me and Sutton; put away the grumpy face, Captain Orgasmic. And wake up your girl, I’m ready to go!” Damn Presley outs our secret and claps in Bellamy’s face, startling her awake, in the span of five seconds.
“I don’t even want to know,” Brynn throws her arms in the air. “J, you got them? Ryder and I are leaving.”
“I got ‘em,” I grimace. “Be safe. Love you, Brynny.”
“Bye, Brynn. Thank you,” Bellamy says all sweet and sleepy.
“Love you too. Call you tomorrow, Sleeping Beauty. About anything other than what I missed tonight!” My sister laughs, traipsing off arm in arm with Ryder.
Which leaves me and Bellamy to get “Tweedle Big Mouth” and “Tweedle Just A Big Mother Fucker” home. Great.
“Want me to carry her?” Sutton offers.
“Want me to break both your fucking arms?” I snarl right back.
“Jesus Christ, it was an orgasm, not childbirth. She can walk, dipshits! Can’t you Bellamy?”
“Presley.” Bellamy sits up straight in my hold, rubbing her eyes and smoothing down her hair. “Your cousin is in love with me, and I him, so I’m a permanent fixture. I think you’re absolutely fascinating, delightfully clever, and unique, but, publicly discussing my orgasms stops now. All right?”
Holy Mother of No One Will Believe Me…my sated lil’ kitten just clawed the Princess’ tongue out! If I didn’t head over ass love her before, I damn sure do now. But I did—so it’s just funny as hell.
“All right,” Pres smiles, genuinely. “My bad. I’m drunk, sorry. Can I least say congratulations?”
“Nope,” Bellamy shakes her head. “No, you may not. Let’s go,” she stands, takes my hand and leads the way.
After a long trek across the parking lot, the four of us finally pile in my car. “You hungry?” I ask Bellamy.
“Hell yes, starving!” Sutton.
“I-Hop! Please!” Presley.
“Okay, this time let’s let Bellamy, and only Bellamy, answer,” I shake my head at the two tag-a-longs.
Bellamy giggles. “Yes, I could eat, and I-Hop sounds good.”
Guess we’re all going to get something.
I want to be alone with Bellamy, see if I can get her to talk about what happened between us, when we can do it again and most of all…elaborate on her earlier ‘and I him’ announcement. Want her “I love you” said to me, in no uncertain terms.
But I’m stuck with two chuckleheads in my backseat, that between them, have had twelve beers. Speak of the “Miss Chucklehead” devil herself—my Bluetooth rings.
“It’s your dad,” I tell Presley.
“Okay? Answer it.” Swear—the girl fears nothing—even that which she should. I worry it’s gonna get her in real trouble one day.
I press the button, but only get out, “Hey Unc-”
“Where’s my only, amazing, irreplaceable child?” he yells loud enough to rattle my windows.
“Damn, Daddy, you’re louder than the concert. I’m right here, with J. We’re all going to get something to eat.”
“Who’s ‘we?’” he continues to rupture eardrums.
“Me, Bellamy, JT and his roommate Sutton,” P uses her “daddy’s girl” voice, as if Uncle Sawyer will be satisfied with that…and the two guy, two girl count. She’s definitely drunk if that’s what she’s thinking.
“Where’s Brynny? Who drank? Where are you eating? And who the fuck is Sutton?” Told ya. He bellows and Bellamy actually covers her ears, cowering down in her seat with widely-rounded, worried eyes. I rub her leg and wink before attempting to reel in the situation.
“Uncle Sawyer, chill, everything’s fine. Ryder took Brynn home. Only Pres and Sutton d
rank, both of age I remind you, but I’m giving them a ride home. After we eat, ‘cause…that’s what people do when they’re hungry. They eat. She already told you, Sutton’s my roommate, he’s the one who got us all tickets tonight. Now stop screaming, you’re scaring Bellamy.”
“You didn’t drink?” he presses.
“One sip, almost four hours ago. We’re fine.”
“Presley, where you sleeping, young lady?”
“My apartment, Daddy. Duh.”
“All right then, you kids be safe. Love you.”
“Love you too. And hey, mind saving me some time and calling my dad with the intel?”
“I’m conferenced in, son,” my dad says and I just have to laugh…what else ya gonna do?
“In that case, love you too. Brynn should be there any minute.” I disconnect the call and pat Bellamy’s leg. “It’s fine.”
“So, you have to spend the night at my place,” Presley coos from the backseat. “Can’t lie to my dad, now can I?”
“I didn’t hear that,” I grouch.
IT’S ALMOST THREE a.m. by the time we’ve eaten, dropped off the now only semi-drunk duo and pulled up to Bellamy’s complex. She’s asleep, again, face turned toward me so I can watch her little lips pucker and blow out the “baby humidifier” noises she makes. Cute as hell.
Now that I’ve broken the seal, realized and told her I love her—it’s all I can think about—just how much I really do. To imagine going one day without her in it; her smiles, kisses, beauty, innocence, inner tigress, funny things she says, stubbornness and drive…I’d be miserable. Nope, wouldn’t make it. Have to have my daily dose.
“Baby,” I lean over and whisper, slowly kissing her awake. “Baby girl, we’re home. Want me to carry you up?”
“Mhmm,” she mumbles, reaching for me.
“Hang on,” I chuckle. “Let me come around.”
I do just that, gathering her in my arms and somehow managing to lock the door, climb stairs and unlock her door without jostling her too much. She’s a sweet, sleeping, little bundle that I could hold forever, but my thoughts turn from sappy to salacious in a flash.
