Changing Lanes

by Vining, Season

  “You keep looking at me like that and I’m going to take you right here,” he says, slamming his hand against the wall next to my shoulder.

  I unhook my bra and grin at him. “You’ve got to catch me first,” I say, flinging my bra over my shoulder as I take off up the stairs.

  His heavy footsteps are close behind me. Those arms I love wrap me up just as I hit the top step. Lane’s large palms cover each breast as he spins us and pulls me back against his body. Grinding my ass against his crotch I hear him groan. His hands slide down and unbutton my jeans before he slides his fingers inside. Lane’s lips place sucking kisses along my shoulder and neck, up to my ear.

  “You see that last door on the right?” he asks, his voice raspy and low. I nod. “Get in there. Now.”

  I take off down the hall and duck into the room, stopping short when I see an entire wall of windows facing the lake. The sun is setting, painting the sky and water with gold and pink hues. The entire room glows. I see Lane enter the room in the reflection of the window.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say, mesmerized by the picture perfect view.

  He walks around me, facing me now, and runs his fingers along my hairline, brushing my hair behind my shoulder. “You are always beautiful,” he says. “But in this light, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  It’s in this moment that our frantic desperation for each other turns into a slow-burning need to take things slow. Lane sits me down on the bed and unlaces my boots, pulling them off and setting them aside. His hands move over my legs before hooking onto the waist of my jeans. He grabs my panties too and slides everything off at once. There’s a quick flash of panic, of wanting to cover myself, but it disappears when I look into his eyes.

  The way Lane is looking at me is clear and undeniable. I memorize the sunset colors over his skin and how it casts soft shadows across the room. I watch the rise and fall of his chest and soon my own breathing matches his. We are motionless and silent, appreciating each other in every way.

  When I can’t resist anymore, my hands reach for him. They quickly unfasten his jeans as he kicks out of his boots. Lane pushes at his jeans, dropping them and his black boxer briefs in one motion. His large, hard cock springs free and I lick my lips at the sight. To know that I am responsible for that makes me smile. This gorgeous man wants me and I will never deny him again. He is perfection and I don’t want to spend another minute of my sheltered life not touching him.

  Lane climbs over me on the bed, his lips finding mine again. Our kisses are slow and intentional. His lips and hands move over my body until I am a writhing mess of want and desire. When his lips press below my navel, I know where he’s headed. My body shakes with anticipation.

  He slides off the end of the bed, landing on his knees on the floor. Lane grabs my ankles and pulls me toward him, my ass hanging off of the bed. He places my legs on his shoulders and moves in. Flattening his tongue, he licks the length of my center and I let out a little yelp when he slides over my clit. I can feel his mouth grin against my flesh.

  Without warning, Lane’s tongue flicks out again. My thighs twitch uncontrollably as he continues playing with me. My hands fist the soft sheets beneath me as I try to move against his face. He moans when I buck my hips and that is when all his teasing restraint is destroyed. His hands grab onto my hips as his lips and tongue work me over. My body is his, completely. It comes alive at his touch, every nerve channeling the raw energy between us. A swirling kind of tingling sensation starts in my fingers and toes, pulling into my center where Lane’s mouth is connected to me. It builds and builds until I feel dizzy. An orgasm rips through me, causing my entire body to convulse and tremble, but he doesn’t let up.

  Finally, I beg him to stop. “Please,” I whimper. “Please. I can’t take anymore.”

  Lane kisses his way up my body before swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Is it terrible that I love when you plead with me? That I love watching you hold on until you can’t take another minute and then pushing you past that point?”

  My pulse finally starts to slow as I place my hand on his jaw. “Nothing about that is terrible.” He smiles and kisses me, again letting me taste myself on his lips. My hand moves to his cock and I stroke the smooth, warm skin a few times. Lane closes his eyes and sucks in a breath.

  “Fuck,” he whispers. “I can’t wait to be inside you, Stella.”

  I scoot to the middle of his giant bed and get up on my knees while he crawls toward me. “How do you want me, babe?” I ask, my own hands sliding over my body. I can see the fire in his eyes, the predatory gaze levels me.

  Lane practically tackles me, and we fall back together. His mouth is on mine again as I spread my legs and welcome him in. His cock slides between my wet thighs before he grabs it and teases my clit a few times.

  “Are you ready?” he asks. I bite my lip and nod, knowing that I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.

  He moves his lips down to my nipple, licking and sucking before using his teeth. I moan so loudly I’m almost embarrassed. But the press of his hardness against my opening makes that feeling evaporate. Lane switches to my other breast while slowly pushing himself inside me. I gasp at the stretch of my body around him.

  “Oh my god,” I breathe out. “Oh my god,” again when he keeps going, pushing until our bodies are pressed together.

  Lane rests on his elbows hovering above me. He sweeps hair out of my face and traces the curve of my jaw. “Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “I’m so good,” I say. One corner of his mouth lifts. “It’s been so long. And I’ve never...” I can’t find the words. “So, so good.”

  He pulls almost all the way out and pushes back in again. We both exhale stuttering breaths. “Do you need me to be gentle?” Lane says against the shell of my ear.

  “No,” I answer immediately. “I want all of you.”

  “Then you might want to hold on,” he growls. My hands grab onto his shoulders as he places one soft kiss on my cheek before pulling out and pushing back in again. My nails dig into his skin as he increases his pace. Every time our bodies slam together, a tiny whimper escapes my lips. At first I am conscious of it, but after a few more pumps I have lost the ability to censor myself.

  Soon I am full on moaning and calling his name. This only encourages Lane and his pace quickens even more. He pushes up to his knees while continuing to drive into me again and again. His eyes rake over my skin as he grabs both breasts and pinches my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. I cry out, loving the feel of Lane inside me and the bit of biting pain from his teasing.

  His hands slide down my body and grab hold of my waist. The muscles of his arms bend and flex as he pulls me onto his cock at a pace so fast I can’t keep up. I am putty in his hands as he commands my body and my universe. I love watching the way he moves. This man is passionate and somehow graceful as he fills me so completely. His face is beautiful. There’s a line between his lowered eyebrows, a pout on his lips as he concentrates on watching his cock slide in and out of me. I squeeze my inner muscles to tighten around him and his movements freeze.

  “Fuck,” he grunts out. “Stella,” he moans. One hand releases my waist and his fingers find their way to my center. Lane pushes into me at a relentless pace, finding his rhythm again as his thumb presses against my clit. “I’m close, baby. Are you?” he says.

  My eyes roll back and I am breathless as an orgasm washes over me. Every muscle pulls tight and I scream his name as he pushes in a few more times before finding his own release. Lane hums in satisfaction as he falls over me, our sweat-slicked skin sliding against each other. He holds himself up on his forearms to keep his weight off of me. But I reach around his back and pull him down, wanting to feel every damn inch of this beautiful man.

  Lane rolls us over, pulling me on top of him, as his chest pushes against mine with labored breaths. I place a kiss on his neck, then his jaw, and finally his lips.
I want to bathe him in kisses to thank him for another new experience. I want to worship him for showing me just how amazing sex can be, for awakening a part of myself that I never knew existed.

  I sit up with Lane still inside me, sticky and wet where we are joined and not even caring. “That was,” I pause and search my head for a word accurate enough to express how I’m feeling, but I come up with nothing. His eyebrows raise in question when I don’t say anything.

  “Amazing? Incredible? Stupendous? Phenomenal? Heavenly? Magnificent? Mind blowing?” he asks.

  “All of the above.”

  Lane grins and pulls me down to him. The light in the room has faded away and we are cloaked in shadows. He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. I love you, I say in my head. But I don’t dare say them out loud. I love you.

  Lane wakes me two more times in the night. The first time is fast and frenzied. He pulls me to my knees and takes me from behind while reaching around to finger my clit and make sure I come first. The second time I wake curled on my side facing the window. The sun is coming up over the hills, the slightest hint of orange fading up from the horizon. Lane presses his body in behind mine, his cock already hard against my back. One hand glides over my hip and between my legs while the other slides under my head and laces our fingers together. He teases me until I am a mess, slick and ready for him. Pushing inside me slowly, we rock our bodies together at a torturous pace. I come from his fingers and again from the position before he pulls me tight against his chest and whispers my name as he orgasms. I want to tell him that I’ve never done that before, that he’s given me so much in just one night. But exhaustion takes over and I am asleep again within seconds.

  I wake to the smell of Lane’s soap or shampoo. It wafts in from the adjoining bathroom. Pulling myself from the bed, I hope to find him in the shower, but the bathroom is empty. The air is still warm and humid, so I know he was here not long ago.

  Before searching him out, I treat myself to a shower in his fancy bathroom. I let the steam and hot water wash away all evidence of our night together, but nothing can erase the memory of it. I have never felt so wanted, so desired, so ultimately satisfied in my life. A grin takes over my face when I feel the soreness in my thighs and between them, knowing that feeling will stay with me for a couple of days.

  After towel-drying my hair, I grab one of Lane’s t-shirts and throw it on over my naked body. I hear Chap bark and suddenly smell bacon. Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I see a new woman. I see someone who has been brought back to life, who gambled on a second chance life and won the fucking lottery. I see someone I am finally proud to be.

  When I step into the hall, I hear Chap bark again and realize it’s coming from upstairs somewhere. I go from room to room, opening and closing doors as I search for him. I find two nicely decorated guest rooms, though one holds a treadmill and a few free weights besides the bed and nightstand. The bathroom brings back memories of the Halloween party and our first kiss. I can’t keep the smile off my face as I close the door. Finally, I move across the hall and try the door that was locked during the party. The knob turns freely and I push the door open.

  What I expect to find in Lane’s office are books on accounting, filing cabinets and a few charts. What I do find sends my heart into my throat and makes my head spin.

  18

  CHAP RUNS PAST me, escaping from the room. There’s an entire wall of windows like Lane’s bedroom and I figure the entire back of the second floor must be glass. I squint against the rising sunlight and try to focus on one thing, but it’s useless. My feet mindlessly carry me to the middle of the room. I don’t register the movement until I step onto a soft rug that gives way beneath my bare feet. My eyes frantically skip from one shelf to the next, each holding many copies of Alaina Taylor novels. There are posters framed of each cover on the walls, along with awards and a giant #1 NYT Bestselling Author decal pinned to a corkboard. My mind works to piece together what I’m seeing, but I just can’t.

  A huge dry erase board with tons of sticky notes fills an entire wall. My gaze skims the handwritten notes, catching words like Las Vegas, green eyes, develop backstory. My fingers skim the notes in wonder. I round the desk and press a key on the desktop computer. It whirs to life and I see a document open, titled Las Vegas 3 (working title).

  “What?” I say, my voice strained from the tightness in my throat. My vision blurs as my watery eyes stare at the screen. I blink those tears away and they escape, carving silvery paths down my cheeks.

  “Shit,” I hear from the doorway.

  My head snaps up to find Lane standing there, Chap at his feet, holding a tray with breakfast and a white flower in a vase. For some reason, I focus on that flower—the tiny ivory petals curling out from the center. I can’t make myself meet Lane’s gaze.

  “What is this?” I ask, pressing my trembling hands into my ribs as I cross my arms.

  “I can explain,” Lane says. His words feel like the biggest betrayal, a knife in my back severing my spine and bringing me to my knees. There is no rug here, so the hardwood floors send a shooting pain throughout my legs. It is nothing compared to the pain in my chest. “I was going to tell you.”

  Folding my hands together, I place them over my heart hoping to stop the ache. “Are you Alaina Taylor?” I ask.

  Lane sets the tray on the floor just inside the door and makes his way to me. He drops to his knees and reaches for me, but I sit back onto my heels out of his reach. “No. Answer my question.”

  He rests his hands on his lap and blows out a long, slow breath. “Yes.”

  That one word—three little letters—guts me. More tears fall as I try to latch on to a single emotion. It’s impossible with the chaos in my head. “How? I mean, the photo. I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a retouched photo of Granny when she was younger. The name is hers too, but no one knows it, because it’s her maiden name.”

  Suddenly, like a rubber band snapping against my skin, I find the emotion I’ve been searching for. Anger. Blinding rage and betrayal consume me and my vision blurs again. Stumbling to my feet, I back away from him and press myself to the glass window.

  “You’re a liar,” I say from between clenched teeth. “Every time you said you worked in finance, every time you complained of working overseas, every damn thing was a lie.” Both hands fly to my still wet hair, gripping tight and pulling at the roots. “Oh god. Becca knows,” I said, finally meeting his gaze. Lane nods. A sob escapes my lips and I hate the sound of it in this empty room.

  Lane gets to his feet and approaches me, his palms up like he’s approaching a wild animal. “Stella, please.” He’s begging, but I don’t know what for. I was betrayed and afraid once before and apparently did not learn my lesson.

  “Please what?” I say through tears. “Believe you? Trust you?” I push past him, making my way out of the office and back to his bedroom. In a panic, I search the floor for my jeans.

  “Stella,” he says from behind me.

  “Just stop!” I yell. I scoot the jeans up my legs and pull my house key from my pocket. “I don’t want to hear anything else from you. Everything you said,” I gush, stopping to catch my breath and push down the blinding pain in my chest. “Everything was a lie.” The agony rises in my throat and tries to choke me.

  I make my way past him into the hall and start for the stairs. He calls my name, but I ignore his pleading voice. Chap runs to me when I hit the bottom floor and that pulls even more tears from me. Swinging open Lane’s front door, I throw myself onto the porch and cover my face with my hands. Don’t break down here, Stella. Keep it together for another 50 feet.

  “I love you.”

  I spin to face him standing in the doorway in some flannel pajama pants and no shirt. His strong arms are raised as his hands grip the doorframe. His muscles flex and strain as he holds himself there. My eyes are fire as I level him with a glare. Those words in this moment are what feels like the las
t blow in a fight I’ve painfully lost.

  Turning away from him and his pleading eyes, I run to my house and throw myself inside. With the door closed behind me, I slide down to the floor and fall apart like the fool that I am.

  _______________

  A pounding sound vibrates through my temple. I blink my eyes open and see the dust on my hardwood floors. I feel glued to the spot, unable and unwilling to move. The pounding starts again, but this time it’s accompanied by Marley’s voice.

  “Stella!” she shouts through the door. “Open up, love,” she says more gently. “We’re here.”

  It takes every bit of energy I can muster to push myself from the floor and scoot over to the door. I twist the deadbolt open and lean against the wall. “It’s open,” I say, though it’s not loud enough for them to hear.

  The door swings open, bright daylight spills into the space and I squeeze my eyes shut. I pull up my knees and rest my forehead on them, a sufficient hiding space.

  I hear my three friends come in. They move around me silently, their footsteps echoing on the floor. Still I hide. The door shuts and I finally look up. Marley, Kennedy, and Reagan all sit on my living room furniture, staring at me. They wait patiently for me to make the first move. Only, I can’t. I am a frozen mess of hurt and embarrassment.

  I meet each of their eyes, seeing nothing but sympathy and understanding there. “How did you know?” I ask, my raspy voice barely a sound in the open room.

  “Lane,” Marley says. The name jabs at me. Another wound in my already wrecked body. “He called me and told me everything. Asked me to come check on you.”

  I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying again.