Revenge 3

by JJ Knight

  His face remains relaxed, his eyes still closed and a smile on his mouth. I want to kiss him, but this quiet moment is too good to end.

  My hands move up to his cheeks, his beard slightly raspy against my palms. I reach back down along the front of his body, my hands moving slowly and steadily. He flexes his abdominal muscles as I pass over them, highlighting his six-pack.

  Feeling brave, I go further and unfasten the button of his jeans.

  He doesn’t move. I blink down at the top of his jeans.

  A girl shouldn’t ask questions if she’s not prepared for the answer. And she shouldn’t unzip a guy’s jeans if she’s not…

  I pull my hands away and float them down, over the thick fabric of his jeans. The folds of fabric conceal, but not for long. Along the vertical line of the zipper, a shape takes form. I press my fingers against the length with hesitation. Dylan’s body responds by straining against the zipper.

  Dylan’s breathing slows, until it seems like he’s holding his breath—holding his breath and waiting for me to do something.

  I guess I’m taking too long, because he reaches down himself and unzips his jeans. He curls forward on his side and wiggles out of the jeans, kicking them off the boot of the bed along with his socks.

  Now the only thing between my hands and him are his black underwear. The fabric is thick and stretchy, leaving very little to my imagination. A hard length waits for my touch. I run my fingertips along the side and all the way up, to where it’s pushing out the top. There’s a gap where the waistband is pulling away from his body.

  Feeling bold for a moment, I reach in with one hand and grip him with my bare fingers.

  Dylan groans and thrusts against my hand

  I’m so shocked that I immediately pull my hand out and squeal, clutching my arms to my chest.

  “You,” he growls.

  “What?”

  “Why’d you squeal like that?” He chuckles. “Are you scared? You make me feel like a monster. Like I’m Godzilla.”

  “You are kinda big.”

  He moves quickly, rolling me onto my back as he climbs on top of me. The blanket and sheets are still between us, but I can feel his hardness against my body. My hips roll in response. I want him.

  “Kinda big?” he growls. “How would you know? You’re a virgin.”

  He dives his face into the side of my neck, rubbing his chin on my shoulder and nibbling my earlobe.

  I squeal and squirm around underneath him. “I’m not a virgin anymore,” I say breathily.

  He grabs my arms and pins them to the mattress, then moves his upper body away from mine to look me in the eyes. I’m finding it difficult to breathe, even though his weight isn’t on my chest. It’s the sensation of him between my legs that’s making me lose my mind.

  His dark brown eyes are gleaming in the morning light spilling in through the window.

  How can it be that he just woke up a minute ago, and looks perfect? Even his dark hair, a bit mussed up from sleeping, looks amazing.

  “You’re not a virgin?” he asks, his eyebrows knitting together in fake concern. “But I dreamed of a virgin.”

  “Something happened last night,” I say. “The guy looked a lot like you.”

  He shifts down in the bed, and now his hardness is right between my legs, pressing against my sensitive area. I’m already trembling from the pressure. He grinds against me, and my whole body loosens and tenses up in a new way. I gasp as pleasure radiates out from my center.

  I need to get him away from there, and to stop grinding against me. If he keeps going, I’m going to climax right here, on the other side of all these blankets.

  Still pressing my arms against the bed, he buries his face in my hair, next to the side of my neck. He keeps moving his body, rolling against me as he licks my neck and sucks my skin at my pulse points.

  I’m so hot underneath the blankets, it’s like I have a fever. I want to get out from under the covers and tear my clothes off, but I can’t move. I’m pinned under him, with no choice but to relax my legs and open them out. I stop trying to push him away and angle my hips up. Underneath my panties, I’m sensitive, but the feeling isn’t small or confined. The nerves seem to extend to every part of my body, making every inch of skin cry out for contact.

  Dylan nips my earlobe, making me moan.

  He chuckles and rubs his cheek against mine, then kisses my neck again.

  His voice is deep and gritty, growling, “Come for me.”

  He lets go of my arms, and both of my hands fly around him by instinct. I clasp his muscular back, digging in my fingertips.

  “Like this?”

  He moves, and I moan. I don’t understand what’s happening. We still have the blankets between us. We’re not even having sex, just kissing. But the pleasure between my legs is growing, about to burst.

  “Come for me,” he moans. “I want to hear your sweet cries and feel your hands on my back. If I could, I’d rip off your panties right now and take you, but I’m betting there’s no protection in your dresser. Is there?”

  He’s right. I don’t have anything. That’s what was in the back of my mind when I was debating over pulling down his zipper.

  “Come for me,” he says.

  “I can’t,” I gasp.

  “Yes, you can.” He shifts his weight to the side, keeping one leg between mine.

  I’m about to ask him what he’s doing when his mouth lands on mine. We’re kissing now, and I’m lost in the sensation of his mouth on mine.

  I’m dimly aware of his right arm diving down between us, reaching under the sheets and blankets.

  His fingers slip under the waistband of my panties, and then he’s sliding against me. The pleasure intensifies. His thick fingertips slide along where I’m hot and wet.

  He swirls around my nub, applying pressure until I’m gasping against his lips. He kisses me and sucks on my lower lip as he slips his fingers inside me.

  My eyes roll up and my head tilts back.

  I’m gasping even before I explode, waves of pleasure flooding me as I climax.

  He kisses my exposed throat.

  “Good girl,” he murmurs as I fall apart under his touch. “You’re so beautiful when you come for me.”

  Chapter 7

  I turn my face to the side, embarrassed. The waves of pleasure are still throbbing through my body.

  Dylan kisses my cheek.

  Glancing down, he pulls at the blankets between us and straightens them so they’re straight along my neck.

  “What are you doing now?” I ask.

  “Tucking you in so you can get some more sleep.”

  I turn my face and gaze up into his eyes. He has the most tender expression right now. I curl up so I can reach his lips.

  We kiss, and then he pulls the blankets taut, pushing me back.

  “Dylan,” I say, laughing.

  “Go to sleep.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t sleep now. You’ve got me all riled up.”

  “I have to get going and find my car, among other things.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Remind me. Did I tell you last night about what a fraud I am?”

  “You said you were having trouble writing a song.”

  “I was, but I think my head’s wrapped around it now. I’ve got ideas.”

  I stare up at him, trying to think of a way to make him stay. He’s been here for hours, but we were sleeping, so that doesn’t count. I don’t want him to go, but I’m not going to beg.

  “You can write at my desk,” I offer.

  He grins. “Nice try. And have you distracting me with your beautiful body, and your hair that smells like cinnamon? I wouldn’t be able to concentrate for a full five minutes. I’d be thinking about burying myself in you.” He raises his eyebrows. “Buried in you? What do you think about that for lyrics? No, too obvious.”

  “You could come back. Later.”

  He kisses the tip of my nose. “I don’t kno
w how long this will take. Yes, it’s Sunday, and we should go walk around outside, holding hands like normal people. But I have to work. This is really important to me.”

  “I’m sorry. Dylan, I support your dreams, I do. I just… like spending time with you.”

  He rolls off me, onto his side, and whips down the covers. I reach for the blankets like a crazy person, trying to get them back over myself. I don’t know why, since he’s already seen me naked, and I’m wearing a camisole and panties right now. I guess it’s a reflex.

  He tosses the blankets back and laughs at me as he shifts his body down toward the foot of the bed.

  “I’m trapped on this bed,” he grumbles playfully.

  “Sorry,” I say, apologizing for the second time in less than ten seconds. “My bedroom isn’t very big, as you can see. With the desk in here, I have to keep the bed against the wall. But I could probably shift some things around… if this arrangement is a problem.”

  He gets to the floor at bottom of the bed and starts pulling on clothing.

  “Don’t sweat it,” he says. “I like your single-girl bedroom. The teddy bear is a nice touch.”

  I sit up and grab the teddy bear to toss into my dresser drawer. When I look back over at Dylan, he’s already dressed and threading his belt back through the belt loops on his jeans.

  He lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think I hear your roommates. Should I leave through the window?”

  “Yes.”

  He goes to the window and chuckles. “There’s no ladder. Pull the sheets off the bed and we’ll make a rope.”

  “Okay.” I start pulling off the top blanket.

  He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me, his long fingers around my wrists.

  “I was joking,” he murmurs in my ear. “I could jump down. It’s not far.”

  He folds his arms over mine and hugs me tighter. I could stand here like this forever, with his body wrapping around mine and his voice at my ear.

  “I’ll walk you out the front door,” I tell him. “My roommates probably know you’re here, anyway. Don’t worry about my reputation. The rules for this house are, um, relaxed.”

  He kisses the side of my cheek and agrees to go out the front door. He laces up his boots while I pull on a pair of sweatpants.

  I lead him out through the hallway.

  Amanda whips open her bedroom door. “Ah-hah!” she yells. Her bleached blonde hair is messy, but I’m relieved to see she’s wearing a robe. She points at Dylan, “You’re that singer.” She bobs her head. “Cool. I guess you and Miss Rivera here are hooking up?”

  “Miss Rivera and I are just friends,” he says coolly.

  Amanda frowns at me. She’s definitely going to have questions after Dylan leaves. Questions I don’t have the answers to. Questions such as, are you and Dylan really just friends?

  I keep walking, leading him through to the front door.

  Amanda chases after us. “Hey, singer guy,” she calls out. “Do you have any plans for dinner? Around eight o’clock? Why don’t you come have dinner with us?”

  I open the front door and try to push him out, but he won’t budge.

  He gives me a smirk, then says to Amanda, “My schedule should be clear by eight. Should I bring anything?”

  “Just your sexy self,” Amanda says.

  He gives me a quick hug, then steps outside quickly.

  “See you at eight,” he calls back over his shoulder.

  I watch as he disappears down the street. Then I turn around and give Amanda a dirty look.

  “You’re welcome,” she says.

  I open my mouth to give her shit, but then stop. On one hand, I want to murder her for interfering, but on the other hand, she asked Dylan to come back tonight. That was something I didn’t have the guts to ask for myself.

  “Who’s making dinner?” I ask.

  She snorts. “Not me.” She nods over her shoulder. “You and Riley are making dinner tonight. We talked about it last night, after you stomped off to your bedroom like an anti-social psycho.”

  “She’s the psycho.”

  I start to walk past Amanda, but she grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me.

  She locks her blue eyes on mine and gives me a serious scowl.

  “Riley has pulled herself up from the gutter. I don’t know what went down between the two of you, but it can’t be that bad. You two are blood. You need to find the love in your heart. You’ll never get some guy to care about you if he thinks you’re mean.”

  I try to shake my shoulders free of her hands, but she’s got a death grip on me.

  “I’m not mean.”

  “Then prove it by letting your sister apologize to you. She wants to, Jess. I swear. And when she does, you’d better accept it, or I will kick your ass, because that girl is my friend. And she was my friend long before you came into the picture.”

  I pull away from her. “Fine. She won’t apologize, so I’m not worried.”

  Amanda narrows her eyes at me. “Good. Then let’s go back to bed and start all over at a reasonable time, like noon.”

  I agree, and we both walk back toward our bedrooms.

  As we reach Amanda’s door, she says, “I need more sleep than normal people.”

  Her voice is soft, and makes me stop.

  “Why’s that?”

  She points to her nose and shakes her finger. “Sleep apnea, or something like that. The doctor said I should sleep with a monitor on, but I don’t know what that’s going to tell me that I don’t already know.”

  A chill goes through me as I remember the other day when she scared me. I went in one morning last and found her face red. She wasn’t breathing. It scared the hell out of me, and she just laughed it off.

  “Amanda, I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything we can do?”

  “Nah.” She tilts her head to the side and looks down. She looks so much younger when she’s not wearing any makeup. “I try to get a little extra sleep, to make up for it. But sometimes I worry. I worry that I’ll stop breathing, and then my heart will just decide to stop beating, and then what?”

  “Is it that bad?”

  She looks up. “Yeah, Jess. It’s bad when your heart stops beating. Duh.” She grins and starts laughing at me. “Go to bed. Don’t wake me until noon. I was up late.”

  I nod, agreeing, and leave her to her room.

  I slip into mine and close the door gently.

  My room feels different now, like there’s an echo of Dylan’s presence still here. He left nothing behind, but he’s still here.

  I kick off my sweatpants and climb into bed. I open the drawer and pull out the teddy bear, then hold it tight against my chest.

  Waking up with Dylan beside me was terrible. Terrible because now every time I wake up alone, I’ll feel alone.

  Last night, I had sex for the first time, and I slept with a guy for the first time. I’m different now, and I wonder if I’ll be able to see it on my face. I wonder if other people will.

  When I was in college, I used to stare at couples, trying to imagine how they felt, being part of a couple. Some of them acted like best friends—like how I acted with my best friend. We’d have snowball fights and study in the common areas together. I’d even stretch out and drape my legs over his on the long benches, the way couples did.

  I miss my best friend, but I’m glad he’s not here.

  We were never like those couples who stared into each other’s eyes like they were getting high off each other. We weren’t in love, or in lust. I never understood what that could be like, until now.

  When Dylan’s looking at me, the rest of the world disappears. The building could be falling down around us, and I’d be staring at his lips. Thinking about kissing him. Thinking about his hand between my legs. Like this morning.

  My cheeks flush hot as I think about what happened, right here in this bed. Every time Dylan touches me, it’s a revelation. My body does things I didn’t dream possible.

 
I squeeze the stuffed bear against my chest and look around the room again. He’s gone, but I can’t shake the feeling he’s still here.

  I think of the words Dylan said last night: “I’m going to burn myself into you like a brand. No matter what happens, part of you will always belong to me.”

  Maybe that’s what I’m feeling.

  He’s burned himself into me.

  And now he’s always here, with me.

  Chapter 8

  My half-sister, Riley, is six years older than me.

  I didn’t know her at all until my mother died. After my mother passed away, I went to live with my father. He put my half-sister in charge of me, even though she was only nine herself.

  Neighbors would find me wandering around outside at all hours, usually hungry and dirty. I can’t think about those times without getting upset. I have very few memories of those years, but the ones I have aren’t good.

  I eventually went to live with Nan when I was five.

  Nan kept me at home with her for the summer, before taking me to school for the first time in my life.

  My new school wasn’t sure about putting me into grade one, because I was socially awkward to the point of hiding in dark corners. I didn’t want to be shy, but the change of moving was hard on me.

  Luckily for me, I had a compassionate teacher who understood me. She knew I just needed some coaxing out of my shell.

  Within a few months, I was doing well in the first grade, with other kids my age. Reading and math came to me easily, more easily than making friends.

  At home with Nan, I didn’t like all the new rules. I’d never had a bedtime, and I’d fight her to stay up. I was too young to understand my life was better with Nan.

  It took me a long time to accept that when she told me she loved me, she really meant it. I used to think love was just a word, like tree, or chair, until I saw it in her eyes.

  I’d forget sometimes, and go back to my reclusive ways. I’d get mad about all the farm chores and hide in my room. She’d give me space, but eventually push for me to come out and “join the living.” I’d threaten to call my father to come get me. She’d lose her patience and tell me to go ahead and call.