Tempting

by Crystal Kaswell

  Brendon rolls my skirt up my thighs. Over my ass.

  He traces the outline of my thong. "You wear this to torture me too?"

  "Yes."

  "Bad girl."

  I nod.

  He rubs me over my panties.

  "You want to hurt, angel?"

  "Yes."

  He brings his hand into the air.

  I squeeze my eyes closed.

  Sink my teeth into my lower lip.

  I've never.

  I mean, I've thought about it. Fuck, how I've thought about it.

  But I've never...

  What if I can't...

  His hand comes down hard on my ass. It stings. I feel the slap in my sex. In my nipples. In my fingers and toes.

  Fuck, that hurts so good.

  He does it again.

  Again.

  I cry out. It's not a word. It's a yes and a no. A please and please make this stop. And then just a please.

  He spanks me again.

  "Brendon," I breathe. "Please."

  "Tell me you need this, angel."

  "I do. Please."

  "Tell me why."

  "I ruined everything. Us. Em. Just... everything."

  "No."

  "No?" Anything but no.

  He traces the line of my thong over my ass, my sex, my clit, my pelvis, then back again. "Tell me exactly."

  "You told me no. That this couldn't happen. But I begged you."

  He brings his hand into the air then brings it down hard on my ass. "No, Kay. Tell me how it really happened."

  "But it did. You did, and I did, and—"

  He spanks me again. Harder this time. Hard enough it hurts as much as it feels good.

  "I..." I'm not sure what I'm asking for. Only that he'll give it to me.

  "I wanted you. I was desperate for you. I still am. This is on me too."

  "Oh. But I... I lied to Em."

  He brings his hand down hard on my ass. "What else?"

  "I... I don't know. I kept so many things from everyone. All this time, and I... I'm here and not in New Jersey, and—"

  He spanks me again. Hard.

  Fuck, that hurts.

  "I ruined everything. Everything." That dam breaks and guilt floods my body. It's in every pore. In every molecule.

  "You need to hurt."

  "Yes."

  He brings his hand into the air then brings it down against my ass. "I'll tell you when it's enough."

  "Yes."

  He spanks me again.

  Again.

  Again.

  I get lost in the smack of his palm against my flesh.

  In the rush of pain and the pleasure that follows.

  My sex is aching.

  My skin is screaming for more and for less.

  For everything.

  He spanks me again.

  Again.

  Again.

  "Please. I... I need you." It's the only thing I know.

  "Tell me you deserve it."

  "What?"

  "That you deserve my fingers in your cunt."

  "I..."

  "That you deserve to come on my cock." His hand comes down hard on my ass.

  "I don't know."

  Again.

  "I... please."

  He holds his hand in the air. "Tell me, Kay. Tell me you deserve to feel good."

  I don't know. I want to believe that. But my head is still a mess. "Again."

  He presses my body against his with his other hand. It's like he's reminding me he's in control. That he's got me. That I'm safe.

  Not just my body. But all of me.

  "Tell me, Kay." His voice is equal parts stern and caring. "Tell me what you deserve."

  "To hurt."

  He spanks me again. "And then?"

  "I don't know. I want to believe it. I do. Please... just please."

  His palm comes down hard on my ass. "Tell me."

  "I deserve..." This. I deserve hurting. But then I...

  Smack! "Tell me."

  "I..."

  "Repeat after me."

  "Okay."

  "I deserve to come."

  All my breath leaves my body as his palm smacks against my flesh. "I deserve to come."

  "I deserve you."

  "I deserve you."

  "Good girl." He brings his palm into the air. "Last one."

  "Please." There it is again. I still don't know what I'm asking for, only that I need it desperately.

  Smack! His palm comes down hard on my ass.

  Then he's pushing my panties aside.

  Teasing my sex with one finger.

  Two.

  Three.

  "Please."

  "Beg me."

  "Please."

  He teases again.

  Again.

  Again.

  "Please what?" His voice is low, demanding.

  He teases again.

  God, my sex is aching.

  I feel so empty.

  So incredibly desperate to be full.

  "Please, I want to come on your hand. Please."

  He pushes a little deeper.

  "Please. More."

  Deeper.

  "Please."

  There. He drives his fingers into me.

  Then he's pulling them out.

  Another thrust.

  Another.

  My body relaxes. He's giving me what I need. Exactly what I need.

  He fucks me with his fingers.

  It's rough. Hard. Fast.

  And it feels so fucking good.

  "Brendon," I breathe. "Please."

  "Say it again, angel."

  "Brendon."

  He drives his fingers into me. Again. Again. Again.

  All that tension in my sex knots.

  Almost.

  Almost.

  There.

  I groan his name again and again as all that tension unwinds. An orgasm rocks through me. It pushes every last inhibition from my brain.

  He throws me onto the bed on my stomach.

  Peels my panties to my knees.

  I hear his zipper undo.

  Then his hand is around my throat.

  And his body is on top of mine, his chest against my back, his cock nudging my thigh.

  Nudging my sex.

  There.

  With one swift movement, he drives inside me.

  I get the full force of him.

  Fuck.

  It's intense.

  But it feels so fucking good.

  He goes deeper.

  Harder.

  Again.

  Again.

  His grip around my neck tightens.

  He has me pinned.

  I can barely move my legs—my panties are around my knees. And he's between then.

  I'm completely at his mercy.

  But there isn't a single part of me that's scared.

  He drives into me again and again.

  It's overwhelming, that sense of being full.

  Or being held down.

  Of being under his control.

  He nips at my neck, holding my body against his as he drives into me again and again.

  Fuck, he feels so good.

  And the way he groans against my neck—

  I do believe I deserve this.

  That I have done penance.

  That everything is going to be okay.

  He keeps me pinned to the bed as he fucks me.

  That last bit of guilt fades away. Until my body is nothing but pleasure. But the ache of desperately needing to come.

  I clutch at the sheets.

  I buck my hips against his.

  He pins me harder.

  Tightens his grip around my throat.

  Almost.

  He drives harder.

  Deeper.

  My eyelids press together. "Don't stop." It's all I can get out.

  He drives into me with those same steady thrusts.

  Again.

  Again.

&n
bsp; There.

  The tension in my sex unfurls. I'm pulsing so hard I can feel it in my fingertips. I'm sure I'm going to push him from my body.

  But he keeps that same steady thrust.

  Keeps me pinned to the bed.

  His lips find my neck. He groans my name against my skin as he thrusts through his orgasm.

  His cock pulses as he spills inside me.

  He's giving me everything he has.

  I feel so full, so whole, I can't stand it.

  Once he's spilled every drop, he collapses next to me.

  He wraps his arms around me and pulls my body into his.

  His lips find mine.

  And he kisses me like he's never going to let me go.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Kaylee

  Sleep eludes me. I lie in bed—in my bed, just in case Em comes home and decides finding me in Brendon's bed is adding insult to injury—staring at the white-blue glow of those little plastic stars. Their light is soft. Ghostly almost.

  I turn over. Press my eyelids together. Try to chase the image of Emma's face from my mind.

  It won't go. All I see is the hurt in her dark eyes. All I can hear is the betrayal in her voice.

  Kaylee, what the fuck?

  No, I know he's a liar.

  You're both liars.

  Like I slapped her in the face.

  No, I did. I didn't just lie to Emma about this. I stomped the ground and dug my heels into it. I dug a fucking grave with my heels.

  Now it's time to lie in it.

  Light peeks through the dark curtains. First a deep shade of blue. Then lighter. Some mix of red, pink, and orange. Then enough to keep the stars from shining.

  I give up on sleep and crawl out of bed.

  All the downstairs lights are on. Brendon is on the couch in his jeans and t-shirt, his head on a pillow, his eyes closed. A bright, colorful infomercial flashes on the TV. Some sponge. It's a happy face that makes it easier to clean. So you can drag happiness over dirt until it's as grimy as everything else.

  I let him sleep. Brush my teeth. Wash my face. Shower. The water is hot, but I don't feel it. The release of last night is gone. It keeps replaying through my head.

  Emma is never going to forgive you.

  I press my eyelids together, tilt my head back to rinse my hair. Water streams down my face, off my chin. Still it screams in my head.

  Emma isn't going to forgive you. And whatever's happening with Grandma—you're going to have to get through that alone.

  I know I have my parents.

  But I still can't get over them keeping this from me. And I know how awful it feels—someone keeping a secret to protect you. Only I don't know the reality. I don't know how much of their words are sugar coating and how much are straight up lies.

  I guess it runs in the Hart family.

  After I towel dry, I finish packing. There. That's everything. Meds. Clothes. Kindle. Laptop. Toiletries. It's still hot here. But what about in New Jersey? I check the weather report, pack a few sweaters just in case.

  I find my phone and text Emma for the hundredth time.

  Kaylee: I'm sorry. Can we talk? Please.

  Nothing.

  I stare until my eyes are dry.

  Nothing.

  It's still early. She's probably not even up. Brendon's here. That must mean she's still at Walkers. That she's still okay.

  It means more. I don't know. My head is fuzzy. Full. My thoughts are going in circles. They're fast but they're slow. I need sleep. And tea. In that order.

  It's not an option.

  I lug my stuff downstairs and put the kettle on.

  Brendon stirs. I can't see him from here but I can hear him.

  "Fuck. What time is it?" he asks.

  "Early." I grab a mug from the cabinet. The one I made at that paint it yourself pottery place. With Emma. A million years ago. It has a mermaid on it. Well, it's supposed to be a mermaid. It looks more like a blur of beige, green, purple, and red on a blue background. "You can go back to sleep."

  "No. We should go soon. There's always traffic."

  That's true enough. I stare at the shiny silver kettle, willing it to work faster. I need comfort. Tea. And his arms around me. But when I open my lips to request it, I can't force any words out.

  "I better get ready."

  "Okay. You want coffee?"

  "Thanks." His footsteps move closer. Closer. He steps into the kitchen, wraps his arms around me, pulls my body against his. "I'm sorry, Kay. This is my fault."

  No. It's not. He said no. He said this couldn't happen. And I begged him.

  Maybe it's not all my fault.

  But we share the blame.

  He didn't tell me to dig into my lies.

  That was all me.

  I shake my head.

  He runs his fingers through my wet hair.

  Tears well up in my eyes. It feels too good being in his arms. It reminds me of how bad everything else is. But I don't want to say any of it. I just want to soak in this comfort while I have it.

  The kettle whistles.

  I pour hot water over my bag of vanilla black.

  "Go." I press my lips to his neck. "Get ready. I can leave as soon as I finish my tea."

  "Eat something."

  "I'm not hungry."

  "Kay, eat something."

  "It's my body. Not yours."

  He steps back. Hurt flashes in his eyes. But it can't be over that comment. At least, I don't think so.

  He turns and moves toward the living room.

  "At least make a sandwich for the plane." He climbs up the stairs and disappears into his bedroom.

  It's not the worst advice.

  I fill the coffee maker with fresh grounds and filtered water and turn it on.

  Slowly, the smell of java wafts over the room.

  I find the bread in the fridge and focus all my energy on spreading almond butter over one side and raspberry jelly over the other.

  By the time Brendon rushes downstairs all showered and fresh I have my sandwich wrapped in plastic. But my tea is still too fucking hot.

  He steps into the kitchen. His eyes catch the sandwich then they meet mine. "Good?"

  "Yeah." I bring my lips and take a sip. It's too hot, but it's tolerable. "Have you heard from Emma?"

  "No, but Walker said he'd text as soon as she was up. She has work today. She won't skip that."

  "You sure?"

  "Yeah. She's a responsible kid. And she loves her discount."

  I try to muster up a laugh. I'm not sure if he's joking. Emma does love her employee discount. And she's also responsible. But she also ran off last night. She's never done that before. We've fought a lot—who hasn't—but she's never run off without telling me where she was going.

  Brendon brings his hand to my jaw. He tilts my head so I'm looking up at him. "It will be okay, Kay."

  "How do you know?"

  "I know."

  I want to believe him, but I'm not sure I do.

  Traffic is a crawl. It's Friday morning. Traffic is always a crawl at this time.

  The sun bounces off the pavement, flowing into Brendon's sedan, making it hard to read my cell screen.

  Not that there's anything to read.

  Emma still hasn't texted back.

  My parents' have a safe flight, can't wait to see you, let me know when you've boarded texts are the same.

  The only thing changing is the time in the top bar of my cell screen.

  I stare at it until the screen goes dark then I wake my cell and do it all over again.

  Brendon reaches over and wraps his fingers around my wrist. "Kay, put your phone away. You're driving yourself crazy."

  "I know. But—"

  "Emma's not gonna text back today. You have to give her time."

  I know that. I do. But my heart isn't getting the message. And when I let my thoughts float away from Emma, they go straight to Grandma. To the question mark and all the possible answers. They'
re too scary. I can't take that.

  He rubs my wrist with his thumb. It pulls my thoughts back to the moment.

  Brendon is such a loving person, but he doesn't see himself that way. No one else sees him that way.

  But it's there. It's just hidden, like the stars on the ceiling.

  He rubs my wrist through the last stretch of the 405. As we take the LAX exit. Even through the crawl to Departures then to my terminal.

  God, this airport is a mess.

  It's constantly in construction.

  It will be better one day. But right now the improvement is only making things worse.

  There. He pulls into the short-term parking lot and finds a space on the second level. Even though it's a bright day, it's dark in here. The sun can't get through the walls of concrete.

  His hand goes back to his side. All the warmth in my body goes with it. Something changes in his posture as he turns off the car. Something that makes him harder. Further away.

  Or maybe that's my imagination.

  It's possible sleep deprivation is getting to me.

  God, I'm actually looking forward to being on that plane. That's six hours to close my eyes and block out the world. Or six hours for the world to invade my thoughts. One of the two.

  "I'll get your bag." Brendon steps out of the car. He grabs my rolling duffel from the backseat then slams the door shut.

  I pull my cardigan tighter as I step into the parking lot. The air here is cool. I hug my purse to my shoulder and adjust my jeans. This is weird. I'm flying to New Jersey. That's how things are supposed to go today.

  But they're supposed to be different too.

  Brendon takes my hand and leads me through the parking lot. It's bright on the sidewalk. The sky is a brilliant blue. The sun is a luminous yellow. There isn't a cloud in sight.

  And his hand is on mine.

  His touch still feels so fucking good.

  Even though something—everything—else is wrong.

  The red hand at the cross walk disappears as the walk sign flashes on.

  I follow Brendon across the street. Then over the loading zone. We take the escalator to departures, step into the air-conditioned terminal, and go straight to the machines against the wall.

  Shit, that security line stretches on for ages. This is going to take forever. And we're no longer early.

  I slide my credit card into the machine and follow the instructions. It spits out my boarding pass and a message to proceed to security.

  Brendon rubs my shoulders. "You have everything you need for your flight?"

  I nod. I think so.

  "Load up your playlist with Linkin Park?"