Finding Fate

by Charisse Spiers

  “Vaguely,” I answer, feeling guilty. “That happened somewhere around the time I met Gabby. You know there’s something there. He doesn’t give girls a second glance. If he fucks them twice it’s because they came to him. If there wasn’t, he wouldn’t get so damn mad.”

  Riggan smiles behind the rim of his beer bottle. “He’ll figure it out. We always do.”

  Yep. The girl that makes you fall fucks you if you do and fucks you if you don’t. Either way is miserable until you give in. Konnor walks up and sits in the middle, the smell of weed lingering. He went to smoke away from everyone. He has his little weed spot since their girls are pregnant. “Why is Landon all pissy? He’s been in a decent mood today. He was conversing with me. Do you know how rare that is?”

  A laugh slips. Minutes after and she had the boy talking. I look at Riggan, who’s slightly shaking his head. Yeah, probably not best to tell him our band mate is screwing his seventeen-year-old virgin sister-in-law. “A girl back home sent him a Snap of her snatch. Not much he can do about it all the way in Miami. He’ll whack it one good time and be fine.”

  “Damn. That sucks,” Konnor says, completely serious, making the shit even funnier. The only thing he’s going to whack it with is the young piece in the jacuzzi over there that’s barely covered. I don’t know what it is about that teenage pussy—it hooks you for life.

  Thirty-One

  Landon

  I open my eyes again to the dark room, getting more pissed with every sleepless minute that passes. I’ve laid here staring at the ceiling. I’ve closed my eyes and gone over music in my head, trying to clean up Riggan’s sheet music for the new song he’s been working on, which usually tires me out when I’m wired. Didn’t work this time.

  I even scrolled through the black hole that is Instagram, only to end up on Paxtyn’s fucking account, which did nothing but piss me off more seeing some of the shit she posts on a public profile. Her follower number is insane. She can’t possibly know that many people. Half of them are probably following her to see her fine ass posting slutty photos. Where the hell are her parents? If my niece ever gets brave enough to post shit like that when she gets older, I’m going to wear her ass out with a belt.

  I made the mistake of reading the never-ending comments—well into the hundreds—on the one she took in front of a long mirror wearing a white tee shirt and panties with her nipples showing through the fabric. After about the thirtieth sexual male comment describing, in great detail, what he’d do to her, I couldn’t stomach any more. If my hand had clamped shut a second later my phone would have hit the wall. How the hell she was still a virgin is beyond me.

  Still, I can’t sleep. There is a hot girl in my bed. I don’t sleep with girls except on the rare occasion when my sister needs a night out when she’s off and my mom the night off, meaning my niece and nephew come stay overnight with me. My dad is gone working too much for her to worry him with it. They have their own room in my trailer, but it never fails. They migrate from their room to my bed in the middle of the night.

  Not only is a hot girl in my bed, but she’s in the center of my bed, like she doesn’t know what ‘your side of the bed’ means. Two grown-ass people don’t split a half. If I haven’t felt her ass against me once I’ve felt it a hundred times. To top it off, I’m sexually frustrated. I’ve watched her drink and dance to music on a Bluetooth party speaker all night with Gabby in a swimsuit that shows more tit than it covers, which led me to drinking more to drown out my thoughts, and when we came down here around three a.m. she grabbed a change of clothes and went straight to the shower.

  After the conversation with Riggan and Maddox earlier, I pretended I was passed out when she came back. I have nothing but sexual feelings for her. The second she leaves I’ll forget about her. She’ll be that high school chick I banged one time. I just met her for fuck’s sake. I don’t like people assuming shit about me. Yeah, okay, I’ll admit there’s a certain turn-on factor in knowing that you’re plowing through clean, untouched pussy, but most guys experience it once in a lifetime. It’s not as big of a deal as they make it out to be. It’s no different than buying a new truck. It’s only new until you drive it off the lot, but just because you’re the only owner doesn’t mean you like it any more than every other used truck.

  I sit up and throw my legs off the edge of the bed, agitated. I could just go sleep on the air mattress, which was the original plan. Just because I choose not to respect most girls, doesn’t mean I don’t know how. I was taught better than to let a girl sleep on the floor while I take the bed. Respect is earned for me. It’s not a gender-given right. I walk around to the foot of the bed and stop.

  Go get on the damn mattress.

  She rolls over and kicks the cover off, making a noise, her body now in the direct line of moonlight coming from the narrow high window that serves as the emergency exit for the basement. Panties and a tight tank top showing the full shape of her rack. The girl couldn’t have a more perfect pair of big tits without them being fake.

  I grab my quickly growing dick through my boxer briefs, trying to make it stop, but it’s too far gone. A breath of frustration blows through my nostrils. I wonder what she tastes like. I haven’t done that in a long damn time. At least a few years. I think I was twenty-one, give or take. I used to like it, but I’m not shoving my tongue between the legs of every girl I sleep with. With a stock in condoms I don’t ask enough questions to know where she’s been before me or how recent. It’s gross if you stop and think about it, and when I do is usually the time I find a steady fuck for a little while until I can’t stand her anymore. They always grate my nerves within three months, and I work off two weeks of every one. They always want more than sex. The question of ‘when can I meet your family’ is always asked. I always dump them when they do.

  She’s clean. Hell, she’s cleaner than any of them. If I want to go down on a girl now is my chance. You know what? Fuck it. I’ll be going back to work soon where the only attention my dick will get is my hand if I want it that bad. I grab her ankle and jerk her to the middle of the bed. She gasps for air as she jerks upright, waking up. I shove my boxer briefs down my legs and step out as she rubs at her eyes. “Landon? What are you doing? You scared the hell out of me.”

  A tingle runs down my spine at the sound of my name rolling off her tongue. It sounds different somehow. I don’t know why I like it. Maybe because it sounds much more innocent when she’s half asleep than the girl on that Instagram account should sound or the smart-ass bitchy version when she’s fully awake. I hop on the bed, grabbing the back of her thighs and coming between them, standing on my knees. I look down at her as I pull off her tank top, her long hair slipping through and spilling over her shoulders and back. “Couldn’t sleep. You’re hogging the bed. If I can’t sleep, you’re not sleeping.”

  One side of her mouth pulls up. “Sorry. I’m not used to sharing a bed.”

  I lean forward, pushing her back until her head hits the mattress. “No you’re not.”

  “You’re right. I was being nice. I was sleeping good.” She blinks at me from behind long, dark lashes, and the way the moonlight cascades across her face, it dawns on me that she’s not wearing makeup, and I can’t help but stare. I’ll be damned. I didn’t think I’d ever meet a girl that looked equally as hot without makeup as she is with it. I guess when you get used to seeing so many cake that shit on you learn to like it. “What? Do I have something on my face?” She feels around it with her hands. “Oh . . . I don’t sleep in makeup. Breakouts are gross. Consider yourself lucky. No one sees me like this outside of who I live with.”

  “Why do you even wear it? You don’t need it.”

  She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Because I like it. Not everyone needs deodorant but that doesn’t mean they should go without it. Wait, did you just compliment me?”

  I sit up, already pulling her panties down her legs, ignoring the question. I let the string of fabric dangle from my finger. “Do you onl
y own whoring panties?”

  She snatches them and tosses them aside. “I thought we established this. Whores are people who have sex with lots of other people, especially in a short amount of time. I have had sex with you . . . once. If anyone is the whore here, it’s you.”

  “I don’t deny those accusations. Why do you need to sleep in see-through underwear if no one is going to see them? Do you not believe in white? Or cotton?”

  “White is for brides or Jesus. After so long it gets hideously dingy. I save it for rare wear. Cotton is for comfort, reserved for lazy days or period week. What the hell is your deal with my waxed vagina and sexy underwear? Do you give all your booty calls the third degree, or is this just a hick thing? You’re giving off not sexy controlling vibes. Where I come from girls that take care of themselves are appreciated.”

  “My booty calls have long shed their v-cards. There is no confusion as to what we’re going to be doing. Sexy underwear and a clean-shaven or trimmed to the skin pussy are expected when I’m going to be in it and around it. Girls have an underlying motive for everything.”

  She lightly slaps my cheek, making my dick twitch. “Quit it, you little country psycho. You don’t have pubes. I don’t have pubes. Based on the fact that you don’t wear unflattering boxers or man-panties, you wear what the general female population prefers. I wear panties that I like and make me feel sexy, while also serving a double purpose. Should I choose to let someone graze in my field, I’ll also be prepared. Get the fuck over it.”

  I come over her, capturing her lips with mine. She moans into my mouth, just before her tongue pushes inside, and then her hands become mobile. That mouth of hers makes my dick ache with need and throb for heat. I don’t fucking understand it. Normally I’m the asshole with a sensitive female. It’s boring to be around someone that can’t take a little heat.

  I grab the base of my dick and rub the head up and down over her opening, wetting the tip. My eyes roll back in my head behind my closed eyes. It’s so fucking warm. Before I can stop myself, I press the head inside, trying to hold in the groans and unable to. I pull back, my chest heaving. My hips are slowly but steadily pushing it in, inching it inside her like driving in a car without your foot on the gas or the break. “Are you on birth control?”

  “I’ve been on birth control since I started my period. Apparently, I’m the troubled child.” She rolls her eyes. “Why?”

  “Because I put the tip in. It’s hot and wet and I don’t think I can take it out. Can I go bare? I probably won’t ever get to do this again.”

  “You sound like you’re begging for dessert.”

  My mouth tilts. “This is so much fucking better than dessert. I don’t have to worry about catching shit. I gave you your first piece of dick. Give me bare sex. I’ve never had it.”

  “What are you, five?”

  “Would that make you say yes? I’m being nice. I could just ram it in.”

  “That would be a lot hotter than you asking me like a man child.”

  My hips surge forward, my dick pushing through a hot, wet, muscle-like channel. I pull back and thrust, having to stop again. “Oh my god. That feels so damn good.” She wraps her legs around my waist, letting me keep the slower pace until I can get my let-down under control. Light catches her belly button ring every once and a while, making it sparkle. I grab a breast, bringing the heavy handful to my mouth to suck a nipple, before rubbing my thumb over the hard, wet center.

  She lifts her head, clearly wanting to kiss. Her breathing gets heavier with every thrust. “It feels better this way.”

  “No shit. This was so fucking stupid.”

  “Life’s about living on the edge, boy—one foot in the fire, the other in the ice.”

  I stand on my knees, grabbing a thigh in each hand, spreading her legs wide as I watch her body take it and give it back, pulling out completely when I have the urge to come. This is shameful. I’ve always had good stamina. I shove her body up the bed, leaning down at the apex of her thighs to play. I swipe my tongue along the outer side of her lips, tug a lip between my lips, and then nibble the upper fatty spot with my teeth. Folding back a lip with each thumb, revealing that juicy little clit that is so fun to suck, I bring her ass off the bed with one flick of my tongue. Guys that like eating pussy are the ones that are good at it.

  She pushes up on her elbows to watch. “That’s hot.”

  Maybe to her. Not to me. I grab her hips and flip over, forcing her to straddle my face. The view is so much better this way. I can see face, tits, pussy and all without even straining my eyes. “Remember how you liked grinding on my lap?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do it to my tongue.” I pull her down low enough and spread her apart, letting the tip of my tongue do all the work while I hold her waist in place so she can’t push up. Reflexively, she tries. She’s tasty. Smells good too.

  “Shit,” she whines, and I know I’ve got her, because seconds later, she’s rubbing so rough my chin is wet. “I’m about to come.” I grab her thighs and hold her down when she tries to push up. A girl will come harder when you force her through the sensitive part. She arches her back and slows down, not fighting me anymore.

  I shove her down my body and sit up when she relaxes. She slides down my dick when I stand it up, and then she pumps in leisurely strokes. “You’re good at that.” She smiles. “Do you do that a lot?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Shut up and make me come.”

  She grabs the front of my neck in her hand, digging her nail tips in the sides. “Shut me up.”

  I flip us over and pound into her, keeping her bottom off the mattress. With no rubber between us it doesn’t take long. I pull out and stroke the top of my cock. The first spurt hits the top of her lips, and each after hits lower, until the last of it hits her pussy, coating it in white. I thrust forward to push it inside her, stalling when she starts pressing my cum between her lips and circles her own clit with it, using it as lubrication to get herself off. Fuck. Where do girls like this hide?

  I pull out of her when she stops clenching around me and come over her. “You like my cum on you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You like it in you too, don’t you?”

  “Maybe next time you’ll find out. I thought you’d get the hint the first time. I like surprises.”

  I smile, grabbing her jaw. “Little bitch.”

  She grabs her tank top and wipes herself off, handing it to me to do the same while she moves to the edge of ‘her side’ of the bed and gets under the covers. “I’ll try to stay on the side. Put a pillow in the middle. That may help.”

  I throw the shirt on the floor and get under the comforter too, but grab her waist and pull her back to the middle against my front. “I’m breaking all kinds of rules tonight. What’s one more. When you’re gone I’ll have to do a hard reset.”

  “Me fucking too,” she adds, already sounding like she’s halfway to sleep. “Got a rep to protect.”

  My curiosity just piqued.

  Gabby

  I walk by Presley’s office and stop just outside of the door when I hear talking. “I thought we could go shopping today and hang out before I have to leave for the airport tomorrow; maybe have lunch too,” Paxtyn says. “I don’t see you much anymore.”

  “Uh, crap. Me and Sayler had a salon and spa day scheduled today. I’m trying to stay stress free for the baby so that I don’t . . .” She pauses. My guess is that for whatever reason she was about to talk about her abortion and decided against it. I know she’s told me a few times that she’s overly cautious hoping to avoid a possible miscarriage after what they’ve been through over her terminating their last pregnancy. I can’t even imagine being pregnant again after losing my son. I’d be a nervous wreck. “We scheduled it before you told me you were coming. Her hair girl books out months in advance. It was luck Gabby got in last minute from a cancellation, but Sayler is sort of a VIP client of hers, I think. I thought you’
d sleep ‘til lunch and then we could maybe get dinner and see a movie or whatever you want to do.”

  I feel terrible for eavesdropping. “Oh, okay. No biggie,” Paxtyn responds, the disappointment obvious. I’ve watched her try to spend time with Presley off and on since she got here on Friday, and somehow, she always gets ditched for something else that doesn’t seem as important to me. I think Paxtyn told me she’s even missing a day of school to be here for the entire weekend since she traveled on her day off from school.

  I’m not sure if Presley is even aware she’s putting shit she can do later before her sister that came all the way from California to spend time with her, but it’s sad. Friday, she forgot to pick her up from the airport because she was meeting with an architect about designing the add on for the baby’s room. Yesterday she was nauseous and tired and just wanted to hang around here since the boys were practicing in the basement, but the second Sayler had the idea to run to the store she magically felt better. Now, today, she’s got appointments that she could have rescheduled the second she found out her sister was coming. Tomorrow she flies back home.

  Presley is such a nice person, and she’s been nothing but kind and hospitable to me, but she’s being a shitty sister, which is crazy considering how much she dotes on the boys—all of them. She hasn’t even noticed that Paxtyn and Landon seem to always mysteriously disappear and resurface at the same times. Maybe I just pick up on it because Maddox and me used to sneak around, but it’s pretty obvious they’re sleeping together to me, which is fine. I mean, they’re both single and the girl is more than capable of making decisions for herself at seventeen. They’re both somewhat flushed every time they come back from missing status.

  Friends will come and go, but family is forever. There have been many times I’ve wished I had siblings, because one day my dad is going to die and I’ll have no one left of blood relation that matters to me. I may not like him right now, but I love him. “Do you want to come with us?” Presley asks, making me shake my head. She should be at least offering to cancel. She’s going to regret it one day—sooner than later—when she’s a mother and family closeness matters to her and she wonders why her sister wants nothing to do with her.