by Celia Loren
Suddenly, I hear the car sputter and see a bit of smoke trail out of the hood. I glance toward West. He’s frowning, and checks his mirrors before pulling onto the shoulder. He pops up the hood, then shuts off the car. I glance at the clock. It’ll be getting dark soon, and we’re still a good half hour from home. He grabs his shirt from where he tossed it in the backseat and gets out of the car, wrapping it around his hand so he can open the hood without burning himself.
I watch him as he pushes the hood up, shielding his face from the smoke. The metal obscures him as I pull out my cell phone to make sure I get service. A couple bars. I watch the dark green of the hood, the fading light reflecting of off it and back into the car. It shuts, revealing West’s shirtless body. He wipes his hands on his shirt as he makes his way back to the driver’s side door.
“Everything OK?” I ask as he sits back down.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” he replies, though there’s some tension around his mouth. “We’ll be fine to make it home, but I’m going to take it slow.” He starts the car and pulls back onto the highway. “Could you just dial Ratchet on my phone and then hand it to me?”
“Sure,” I say, taking his cell and tapping in Ratchet’s name.
“Hey, West,” his deep voice answers as I hold the phone to my ear.
“Oh, actually, it’s Olive, Stick’s sister. West just asked me to call you. Here he is,” I say, placing the phone on West’s ear, where he holds it with his right hand.
“Hey, could you meet me at Stick’s house in about forty minutes?” West asks, “I’m having a little car trouble.” I hear Ratchet’s voice mumbling on the other end, but can’t hear what he’s saying. “Yup. Yeah. Exactly,” West says, glancing sidelong at me a little, then hangs up the phone and hands it back to me. “Thanks.”
“You sure everything’s OK?” I ask.
“Yeah, I just need his help with the filter,” he says, smiling at me. “Unless you want to do it.”
“No, thank you,” I reply, “I’ll stick to mixing drinks.”
We drive slowly in the right lane the rest of the way back to the house. When we pull into the driveway, Ratchet is already sitting on the low front stoop, his bike parked out front.
“Thanks for meeting me,” West says.
“No problem,” Ratchet says. “Olive, you think you could excuse us?”
“It’s just going to be boring shop talk,” West adds.
“Sure, no problem,” I say, though I’m a little taken aback. “Have you had dinner yet? I’m marinating some chicken if you’d like some.”
“That’d be great,” Ratchet says. “Thanks.”
I walk inside as they walk over to the Tahoe. I peer out from the living room window, and see them bending over the hood together. It seemed like there was something they weren’t telling me.
Dumping my bag by the door, I head into the kitchen. I’m still in just my sports bra and don’t know if I have time to shower, so I head into my room and grab an old work out shirt and throw it on. Then I head out the sliding glass door and turn on the grill to heat it up. Back in the kitchen, I boil some water and take the chicken out of the fridge where it’s been marinating in a soy-based sauce. After I lay the chicken breasts carefully across the grill, I head inside to put the fresh corn in the pot of boiling water.
I feel too dirty to sit inside to eat, so I clean off the outdoor table next to the grill and set out a few candles and some silverware. West and Ratchet come inside just as I’m removing the corn from the pot.
“Smells good in here,” Ratchet comments. West grabs a fresh shirt from his room and they both wash their oily, black hands at the sink.
“Thanks. West, you mind checking the chicken?” I ask as I bring the corn outside.
A few minutes later, we’re chowing down around the table. That hike really made me hungry. “So, everything’s good with the car, then?” I ask again.
“Yup, just needs a new filter,” Ratchet says. “Might have to keep it at the shop for a few days. Stick goes away and you wreck his car, West,” he adds jokingly.
Ratchet’s a lot nicer than I thought, based on his stern appearance. Soon he’s telling me about his two daughters, and asking if I’m available to babysit for his nephews. We each have a couple beers, and two hours later, he hits the road. West cleans the grill as I rinse the plates off and put them in the dishwasher. He walks in just as I’m shutting it.
“You look like you could use a shower,” he says, with mock disapproval. Suddenly he jumps toward me and scoops me up, slinging me over his shoulder. He slaps my ass and I shriek in protest as he carries me down the hallway. He kicks the bathroom door open and leans over to turn the water on.
“West, don’t you dare!” I squeal, but he deposits me in the tub as the still-cool water rains down on me, and my clothes.
“You’re a dirty girl,” he shrugs, barring my way out of the tub. I try to dodge around him, but he blocks the whole space easily with his long arms.
“Fine,” I say, relenting and standing back in the shower. I start to peel my wet clothes off as he watches, smiling. When I’m standing in front of him completely naked, he pulls his own shirt off, undoes his belt, and takes off his pants and boxers, stepping out of them and into the shower. As he pulls the shower curtain closed behind him, I step into him, rubbing my hands over his hard abs. I watch as the droplets cascade down his face, clearing away the last of the dust from the trail.
“I always used to wonder about this, you know,” I confide.
“About what?” he says, closing his eyes.
“This,” I say running my hands along his bare torso. “You were always my older brother’s hot friend. I always just felt like some dumb kid around you.”
“I remember when we wouldn’t let you play with us,” he says with a grin. “We had that boys-only clubhouse.”
“You still have a boys-only clubhouse. The Widowmakers,” I point out.
“Oh, yeah,” he realizes, and throws his head back with a laugh. I run my fingers along the muscles of his neck.
“And do you remember when you kissed me?” I ask, suddenly nervous.
“Before you left, you mean?” he asks. So he does remember. “I think it went something like this...” He opens his eyes and leans down to kiss me. I get the exact same feeling of butterflies in my stomach that I did all those years ago as he tenderly touches his lips to mine.
Standing on my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, running my hands through his wet hair as the water pours down on us. I feel his dick harden between us and I move my hands down to his back and pull myself against him, rubbing my hips against his cock. He lightly bites my lip and runs his hands over my ass. I’ve got a surprise for him later tonight, but right now all I want is to have him in my mouth.
I kiss down his neck, slowly making my way down his chest, his hair slicked down in the water. I kneel, and continue down the defined line between his abs, following the trail of curly hair. When I reach his cock, I brush my lips against its tip, teasing him. I flick my tongue softly against his head, and he groans in response, his cock stiffening even further. I take him all the way inside my mouth, until I can feel him at the back of my throat. I watch him grit his teeth, leaning his arm against the cool shower tile for support. His head dips back as he slips his fingers through my wet hair.
Working my mouth up and down his cock, I cups his balls, ticking them with my fingertips. I circle his head firmly with my tongue, flicking it back and forth across his sensitive underside. I move up and down his shaft a little faster, massaging his balls more firmly. His head dips forward and his eyes open. He watches me, lips parted.
“Now touch yourself, too,” he commands, his voice low and hoarse. I pause, and pull my head back slightly. “Do it,” he urges me. “I want to watch you.”
Slowly, I move my hand down between my legs, spreading my knees a little bit wider. I tentatively rub my fingers over my clit. His eyes widen excitedly, and I’m encouraged. I be
gin to move my hand faster, trying to recall what I do when no one’s watching. I feel pleasure at my own touch, and pleasure at the awareness that what I’m doing is turning him on. I feel his cock pulse in my mouth as he groans. I look up at him and his eyes are shut again, his jaw is tight. I suck hard on his dick, and he shouts, releasing himself in my mouth. I lick up the last of his seed, and gently kiss him before standing up.
“Damn, Olive,” he murmurs, leaning against his arm as he catches his breath. “Allow me to return the favor,” he says, grabbing my hips.
“Well, actually, I was thinking maybe we could try...you know,” I say blushing.
He frowns for a moment, confused, and then his eyes light up. “You sure? I don’t want to push you.”
“Yeah. I mean, I liked the beads,” I say bashfully.
“I promise we’ll take it really slow,” he says, kissing my mouth softly. “Come on.” He pulls the shower curtain aside.
“Wait!” I laugh. “I haven’t even shampooed my hair!”
“Oh, right,” he replies smiling wide.
We lather each other up as nerves and excitement build in my stomach. I’ve never had anal sex before, but I’ve also never been with anyone that I feel as comfortable with as West. Or someone with whom I’ve had such amazing sex, for that matter. It’s a weird combination—or a natural one, I don’t know.
We towel off in silence, then West takes me by the hand and leads me into his bedroom. It still feels a bit odd for me to be in here because it used to be Stick’s bedroom, but West has everything set up differently, and we’ve spent the night in here a few times in the last couple weeks. He shuts the door, even though we’re the only ones home, and walks toward me. He smiles at me, slowly unwrapping my towel and tossing it on his desk chair. He pulls me to him and kisses me. The scents of soap and his signature musk fill my nostrils, turning me on and easing my nerves.
He circles his arms around me, still with his own towel wrapped low around his hips, and backs me up toward the bed. Then he steps away and unwraps his towel, tossing it on top of mine. Despite our recent shower action, I see that he’s already hard again, and I bite my lip in anticipation. We lie back on the bed together, my heart racing.
“Relax,” he whispers. “Close your eyes.”
I obey, and feel his lips on my neck, his tongue flicking against the tender skin along my collarbone. I gasp as he moves down to my breasts, sucking hard at my nipples. He slides down next to me, spreading my legs with his arms as he kneels between them. He kisses the inside of my leg just above my knee, and I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to concentrate on what he’s doing right now. Trying not to think ahead. His mix of tenderness and aggression in bed turns me on so much. He trails kisses up my leg.
All at once, he lowers his face toward my throbbing slit. I cry out softly as his breath caresses me. As I sense his mouth moving closer to my clit, he palms my breasts, brushing his thumbs over my hard nipples. I arch my back into his touch and I feel his mouth finally touch that raw, tender button. I cry out as he kisses me there, working his tongue back and forth across me.
I writhe as my pleasure increases, and he presses me down, pinning me into place. Now I can’t displace the intense sensations with movement, and I whimper as he circles his tongue quickly around my clit. He sucks hard on me, and I almost come, but he backs off, circling his tongue a little more slowly now. I feel him pull away and begin to move slowly back up toward my chest. Damn, I was so close, why did he stop? My eyes flutter open and I frown down at him as he gently kisses my sternum.
“I want you to come while I’m inside you...here,” he says, sliding his hand below me and pressing a finger into my ass. “It’s going to feel so fucking good—for both of us,” he promises. I shiver a little at the desire in his voice.
He kisses me, his tongue working my mouth open. I feel his right hand glide over my stomach and down to my crotch, running over my clit and pressing inside me with two fingers. His touch brings me almost back to climax at once.
“Turn over,” he commands. I open my eyes and look into his, dark and excited. I trust him, I know. I do as he says, turning onto my stomach with my hands at my sides, turning my head toward him on the pillow. He presses his fingers back inside me, then slides them up to my ass, trailing some of my wetness with him. I feel him press a finger into my ass, massaging and stretching me.
I close my eyes and lose myself to the sensation. It’s so new, so illicit. So good. I feel him pull my hips back and push a pillow under me, angling my ass more into the air. He spreads something slick between my butt cheeks, and I know it’s lube.
“I won’t start there right away, OK?” he says. I nod, my eyes still shut. He thrusts his cock slowly into me, hitting my g-spot straight on. I groan as he pushes all the way in. One hand slides under me and massages my clit, while the other makes its way back toward my ass, fingers slipping easily inside. He thrusts faster and faster, working me right up to the brink. All it will take is a few more strokes...
But then he pulls out of me. I’m aching, all I want is to feel him inside me again. His fingers are still circling my clit, but they’re not enough anymore. I feel his dick against my ass, slick with the lube and my own wetness.
He presses his cock into my ass slowly and carefully. At first all I feel is intense pressure, but then there’s a twinge of pain. I inhale quickly at the sensation, and he pauses. He waits for me to get used to this new feeling. As he’s working deeper into my ass, I feel his fingers press into my slit, sliding up against my g-spot. The combination of sensations against my clit, g-spot and ass are completely overwhelming. I have to force myself to keep breathing.
As he pushes his cock into my ass, the pressure becomes almost unbearable. I’m almost about to tell him to stop when I feel his body flush against me, and I know he’s all the way in. I breathe out slowly, relaxing into the moment. Pressure and pain give way to pleasure. I press back against him, drawing him deeper.
“I’m there, babe...” he moans, his finger thrusting against my g-spot. He drives his cock into me with a little more force now. The pressure is still there, but the intense fullness feels insanely good. I bite my lip, reveling in all the competing sensations.
“Fuck, oh fuck!” he cries, so close to the edge.
I lose myself, and my mind goes blank. All I feel is him—his cock, his fingers, working me over everywhere. I tilt my hips up, feeling his dick plunge deep into me. Waves of pleasure break over me. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience, but also completely in touch with every sensation in my body at the same time. It’s exhilarating. Unlike anything I’ve ever known. I don’t know how much time passes before I become aware of my surroundings again.
As my eyes slowly open, I realize West is still behind me, kneeling on the bed. He gently pulls out of me and I release a low sigh. He drops like a heap onto the mattress beside me. He curls against me, resting his head on my back, his legs splayed across mine. I smile in the silence, amazed by this man beside me. I know that I’d follow his lead, wherever it might take me. There’s power in that, and fear as well.
But mostly, there’s just freedom.
Chapter Thirteen
Olive
Last night was the first night since Stick left that West and I didn’t have sex. We were sitting on the couch, talking until we got sleepy. I have a hazy memory of him picking me up, and now here I am lying next to him in bed.
The curtain is only pulled halfway across the window, and the light from it woke me up. It’s shining across the bed, splitting it in half. I’m overheating in the sun, but West is still sleeping in the dark half. He’s lying on his stomach with his face turned toward me, his lips slightly parted. I’m resisting the urge to reach out and touch his face. He looks so innocent when he’s sleeping.
I turn quietly onto my side. Stick is supposed to be home later today. I’m glad to know he’s safe, but his homecoming is bittersweet, since it means West and I will also have to
stop...whatever it is we’re doing. A little pang of sadness twists in my stomach.
These couple weeks have been wonderful, but part of the reason was because I put an expiration date on this in the first place. So he wasn’t nervous about it getting too serious for him. Who knows how he would have been otherwise? I have to show him that I’m fine with it ending, otherwise it’s always going to be super awkward between us and we’ll never be friends. We both just have to move on and see other people.
I slide slowly out of the side of the bed, trying not to wake him. I want to fix up the house a little before Stick gets home, make sure West and I haven’t left any evidence of our relationship, such as it was, lying around. I pick up my jeans from the floor. I guess West must have taken them off for me, though he left on everything else. I pull them on, and pause, looking down at him. A cloud moves in front of the sun, dimming the light shining in from the window.
West shifts, and his arm extends out, toward the side of the bed where I’d been sleeping. He’s searching for me, his hand grasping the sheet. I take a step back. A small frown crosses his brow, and he turns over, his back toward me and the door. Tears well up in my eyes as I see how quickly he adjusts to me not being in his bed. I tiptoe out of the room, swallowing my pain down as I close the door quietly behind me, and head into my own bedroom.
I take a look at the mussed sheets on my bed and decide to pull them off and do a load of laundry. I toss the sheets in with the rest of my clothes in the hamper and take them down to the basement, putting a load of whites in the washing machine. I walk back upstairs. West seems to still be sleeping, so I decide to go to the grocery store. I want to make sure Stick has plenty of the foods he likes in the house when he gets back, since I assume he’ll probably be exhausted.
