by T. Torrest
Ha! At that point, I kind of wanted him to! But fun and games were one thing. Thinking about him actually getting undressed, the two of us naked in such an enclosed space... A small panic gripped me and I blurted out, “No! You promised, remember?”
“Oh, you little tease.”
I laughed wickedly and peeked back out at him. He was unabashedly adjusting himself in his shorts, trying to get his body under control. I put a hand over my mouth and laughed even harder.
“It’s not funny, Layla! Jesus, look what you’ve done to me.”
I only had the nerve to glance down quickly at the bulge in the front of his shorts. It was enough to make me dizzy, thinking about that same piece of machinery driving against me the day before, first outside by the cars and then later half-naked in his bed. I wondered what the night would bring. Where else could this be heading?
I turned off the water and a moment later, his arm thrust beyond the curtain, offering a towel hanging from his hand.
I grabbed the towel, asking, “You sure you don’t want to help dry me off?”
Okay, I admit it. That was just being mean.
His hand jerked back, disappearing to the other side of the curtain. “Jesus! Okay, just hurry up and get out of here. If you’re not gonna let me in there, then you seriously need to get out of this room so I can take care of this.”
I knew the “this” he was referring to was his raging hard-on, threatening to destroy him unless something was done to take the pressure off. I didn’t know where the newfound boldness was coming from, but I decided that that something was going to be me.
I took a deep breath, wrapped the towel around my body and stepped out into the steamy bathroom. Trip looked pained, barely meeting my eyes when he said, “Out. Now.”
I grinned, loving that I was the one responsible for getting him so worked up. But I didn’t leave.
I stepped closer, backing him against the vanity, sliding one hand up his bare chest, the other across the front of his cargo shorts. He didn’t hesitate to grab my wet hair in his hands and open his mouth over mine. The kiss was electric, jolting me down to my core, the feel of his mouth open over mine and his erection under my hands wildly exciting, out-of-control, the steamy room spinning.
My lips didn’t leave his as I slid my hands to the button at his waist, lowering his zipper, letting his shorts and undies fall to the floor. I took him in my hand, the size of him startling me. I threw open my eyes, looking into his in disbelief. He grinned that shit-eating grin before kissing me again, obviously enjoying my moment of shock. Well, now it was my turn.
I gripped him firmly, the soft/hard feel of him straining into my palm, moving against the motion of my fist. When I pushed downward, he thrust forward, driving himself into my hand. I heard him moan into my mouth and the knowledge that I was the one to put him in such a state was empowering, exciting beyond anything I’d ever known.
I returned the favor, moaning back against his lips, which made him break our kiss and brace his hands against the counter in a white-knuckle grip, his head thrown back to face the ceiling, eyes closed. His teeth clenched as he gritted out, “Mother of God.”
I would have laughed, but I was feeling a bit awed at that moment myself. I leaned over him and sucked at his collarbone, dipping the tip of my tongue into the hollow of his throat, running my teeth along the cord of his neck, biting his earlobe lightly, all the while continuing the rhythm of my hand.
I’d never been that uninhibited before, wanting only to please him with what little sexual knowledge I possessed. My brain long since liquefied, I could only follow the lead of my raging nerve endings, not even bothering to think and just doing whatever felt good. Because what I quickly learned was that if it felt good for Trip, it felt almost as good for me. He wasn’t even touching me and yet I was so completely turned on, my heart racing wildly, every molecule within me threatening to implode. Every touch that wrung a moan from his throat, I intensified, every movement of my hand working on pure instinct and the hope that I was doing something right.
“Layla,” he said, and the mere mention of my name coming from his lips at a moment like that almost drove me mad. Desire pooled through me, all my pink parts tingly and alert, the sudden epiphany that I not only could go all the way with this guy, but wanted to. Wanted to be stripped down with him, wanted every part of his skin pressed against mine, feel him lying on top of me, hot and demanding, taking me right there on the bathroom floor... All I’d have to do is drop the towel...
But Trip was too far gone. “Layla, holy Jesus. I’m gonna… just keep... I... ohhh!” His body lurched forward as his cock went off like a bazooka, which fortunately, was aimed toward my midsection and into the towel I was wearing. His hand wrapped around mine, continuing the movement along his softening member slowly, the aftershocks dribbling out against my belly. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen!
He slumped into me, his face against my neck, breathing hard, unable to complete a full sentence. “Holy sh... I can’t... wow. Wow. Oh my God!”
I held him to me, loving that new side to him; vulnerable, spent... mine.
I didn’t know what the hell we were doing, and, at that moment, probably shouldn’t have cared less. I didn’t know if we were legitimately a couple or what. Were we just screwing around? Was it just a friends with benefits thing? Throughout high school, I’d never even so much as gone to second with a guy who wasn’t formally my boyfriend, and yet there I was, wrapped in the arms of a clothesless Trip Wilmington, the evidence of what we’d just done together glistening right there on my hand.
I mean, that was the first real live penis I’d ever seen, much less touched, much less prompted to explode, and Trip and I weren’t even really going out! I don’t know what it was about him that managed to turn me into such a sex-crazed lunatic, but I didn’t spend too much time beating myself up about it. After four years of catholic school, I figured I ought to have felt guilty for what we’d just done. But the only thing I regretted at that moment was that we missed out on the chance to go even further.
Feeling him slumped against me, out of breath, naked and elated and holding me as tight as his wasted arms would allow, was nothing short of awe-inspiring. How could I ever feel guilty about something that felt so good?
“I’m in love with you,” I whispered, the words leaving my lips before my coagulating brain was able to stop them. Oh dear God, did I just say that out loud?
My body froze instantly, stunned that I had actually let that thought slip out of my head and escape from my mouth. I could have just died right then and there.
Trip just gave a quick chuckle and pecked me on the lips, then bent down to retrieve his shorts.
Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod. What did I just do?!!?
Trip bypassed any commentary on my proclamation, buttoning up and washing his hands at the sink, where I joined him, completely mortified, before I slipped out of the bathroom silently in order to let him take his damned shower.
I holed up in my room, locked the door and ditched the tainted towel in the dirty clothes bag. I got as far as dressing into a bra and panties before sinking onto the bed and completely losing my mind.
What the hell was I thinking? How could I have actually told Trip that I loved him? And oh God! He didn’t even try to say anything about it! He didn’t say, “I love you, too”, which, let’s face it, would have been awesome, but completely ludicrous and way too much to hope for. But he could have at least tossed me that time-honored, unrequited response of, “Thank you”. He could have said something to let me off the hook for being a completely ridiculous freak with a broken brain filter. After just servicing him with a mind-blowing handjob, the least he could have done was that!
I threw the pillow over my face, hoping for an accidental suffocation. Then I wouldn’t have to go downstairs and spend an entire evening in the same room with Trip, who, if he had any doubts about it before, had now been made entirely aware of the fact that I was in love with
him.
Are you there, God? It’s me, Layla. I know I just jerked off some guy who is not even my boyfriend in the bathroom of this crappy, brown house. But if you could find a way to kill me quickly and painlessly within the next ten seconds, I promise never to touch another penis again. Well, I’ll be dead, so, I guess I promise not to whore it up in heaven. Which, of course is where you’ll be sending me, right? I mean, I’d hate to think you’d deny me an eternity behind your pearly gates just because of one impetuous handjob. Thank you. Sincerely, Layla Warren. Amen.
Chapter 31
THE PRINCE OF TIDES
I must have passed out shortly after my unanswered prayer the night before, maybe even as early as ten o’clock, so when I woke up, it was still completely dark outside. I figured it had to be the middle of the night, so I tried to close my eyes and get back to sleep. But the extra shuteye, combined with my humiliation over what I’d said, kept me wide awake, tossing and turning for the next hour. When I saw a hint of grey seeping through the window blinds, I figured morning wasn’t too far off, and decided to get out of bed.
My hair was an absolute rat’s nest because I’d never gotten around to blow-drying it the night before, so I gathered the whole mass into a ponytail. I threw on a pair of black biker shorts and a chartreuse green tank top before tip-toeing out of my room.
I had to pass by Trip’s door, so I did so as quietly as possible. But at the first creak on the top step, I heard him whisper, “Layla?”
I stopped dead in my tracks, hoping that he’d go back to sleep and leave me to go on my merry, mortified way, but of course I was having no such luck.
“Layla. What are you doing?”
I spat out a silent dammit, and took the two steps back to stand in his doorway. He was lying in his bed, the sheet tangled around his hips, his bare chest exposed, an arm propped behind his head. God. Even at five-something in the morning, the boy managed to look irresistible.
I could barely look him in the eye. “I can’t sleep. I thought I’d go for a run on the beach.”
There. Good enough. I managed to speak to Trip without blurting out any further avowals of my undying love.
I started to turn when he whipped the sheet off and said, “Hey, give me a minute. I’ll go with you.”
Shit. “Oh, okay. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Since I didn’t have to worry about waking him up anymore, I allowed myself to pee and brush my teeth before heading down into the kitchen. I grabbed a glass of water and was just finishing it when Trip showed up, dressed in grey nylon basketball shorts and a white T-shirt. I didn’t allow myself to speak and just headed out the back door, Trip following on my heels. We walked across the street and up to the boardwalk, the hum from the streetlamps offering the only sound between us. But once we started down the walkway to the beach, I looked toward the ocean and couldn’t help the, “Oh!” that escaped from my lips.
The sun was just starting to rise, offering a hazy orange glow along the horizon, shooting off purple and pink streaks into the rest of the ashy sky. In the minutes it took us to reach the water’s edge, the sky had lightened considerably, the first edge of sun making its way out of the sea.
It was happening so quickly, this dawning of a new day, and my only instinct was to plant myself down to watch every second of it.
Trip sat down with me, and I wished things were different between us at that moment. All I could think was that I had possibly ruined everything that could have happened between us because I just couldn’t keep my big mouth shut.
I tried to push those thoughts aside and just enjoy the view. But having Trip sitting right there with me was proving to stress me out, in spite of the peaceful sight in front of my eyes. Finally, I knew I wouldn’t be able to pretend there wasn’t an elephant between us.
“So, what, is everything gonna be all weird between us now?”
Trip gave me a confused look and asked, “Why? Because we...”
“No. Because I... Because of what I said after.”
His head dropped down and his shoulders started shaking.
Glad to see he finds this so funny. Not.
“Jesus, Layla. You think too much. You were in a moment. You think I never blurted out something stupid in the middle of having sex?”
I didn’t know whether to be grateful that Trip thought my confession was no big deal, curious because he’d mentioned having sex like it was an everyday thing, or angry because he thought what I’d said was “something stupid”. I decided to just run with the out he had given me.
I started laughing, even though I was sort of dying a little inside. “Really? Like what? Tell me something you’ve said.”
“Uh-uh. No way.”
The majestic sunrise was only a blip in my peripheral vision, my main focus trained on Trip’s reddening face. Holy crap, was he blushing? That made me start laughing for real. “Trip, tell me!”
“A gentleman never kisses and tells.”
“Oh, shut up. You’re no gentleman.”
“True, but few people know that.”
“Tell me, Chester!”
I nudged into him and he nudged back harder, knocking me off balance and forcing my elbow into the sand to stop my fall. He promptly pounced on top of me, laying me out flat on my back anyway, despite the efforts to save myself. He grabbed my wrists, pinning them into the sand next to my head and straddled my chest, his face hovering over mine. “Drop it, Warren.”
“Warren? What are you, Rymer now?”
“That may be the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me ever.”
I started laughing, in spite of the weight of him practically sitting on my chest. “Ow. I can’t breathe. Trip, you gotta get off.”
He took mercy and rolled off of me, landing his butt on the beach. I got up on my knees, pretending to catch my breath and dust myself off before yelling, “Sucker!” and dive-bombing into him, throwing him backwards into the sand. He used the momentum of my tackle and rolled us both over, pinning me flat on my back again. Without the use of my arms, I was sputtering my hair out of my face and trying to spit the sand out of my mouth.
“Bleh! You jerk! No fair, you’re bigger than I am.”
“Yep. Stronger, too. Don’t ever forget it.”
“Trip! I think I have sand in my eye. Let me up.”
“Oh, right, you big faker. Think I’m falling for that again?”
“No, Trip, seriously. I think I have sand in my eye.”
He got up and I stood, brushing out my hair and clothes, making a big, phony show of trying to blink some non-existent particles out of my eyes. While he was busy dusting himself off, I went for a surprise tackle, diving right for him... just as he rolled out of the way, landing me face-down on the beach.
I cracked up, fully breaded now from head to toe, as Trip stood over me laughing. “You are the worst actress ever. Like I was really going to-”
His words were cut off as I grabbed his ankle and tugged, sending him ass-over-teakettle next to me. He looked stunned for a second, before he bared his teeth in a snarl, and I knew I was in deep shit. I got on my feet and made a run for it, Trip following right behind. I only got a few yards from him before he caught up, hip-checking me down to the ground once more. I tried to grab his ankle again, but he jumped back, then flopped down on his side next to me anyway.
“You just don’t give up, do you, Warren?”
“Never, Rymer.”
We were both cracking up, the beautiful sunrise barely registering on my radar. Nothing on God’s green Earth was more beautiful than making Trip Wilmington laugh like that. How could any stupid sunrise possibly compare? After we’d caught our breath, dusted ourselves off and salvaged the last remnants of the brilliant dawn before us, I realized Trip and me were going to be just fine.
All I had to do was keep my trap shut from then on.
* * *
By the time we got back to the house, everyone else had gotten out of bed and was busy packing up to go. We
had to check out by eleven and not only were we tasked with gathering all our personal belongings, but the place was an absolute mess to boot.
Lisa and I were cleaning out the fridge when Rymer staggered in, some random trollop at his side. He walked her to the back door, told her he’d call and kissed her goodbye. I shot Lisa a “whatsgoingon” look, but she was too busy trying to contain the giggle that threatened to escape her throat. I must have missed quite a show the night before.
Rymer closed the door and gave an exaggerated stretch. “Ahh. Good morning, ladies!”
Lisa raised her eyebrows at him. “Um, good morning, Rymer.”
He saw the look on her face and asked, “What? You’re the only one allowed to get laid around here?”
Lisa gave a huff. “Date rape isn’t ‘getting laid’. In fact, it’s a crime.”
We started laughing while Rymer floundered for a comeback. We were both surprised when he came up with, “Hey, fuck you, DeSanto.”
“Whoa! Hey, hang on there, pal,” she started back. “I was only busting your chops. Since when do you get so pissy about it?”
“You’ve been riding me all weekend, Lisa. Enough is enough already, okay?”
He stormed out of the room, leaving Lisa and me completely wordless and flummoxed.
“What was that?” I asked.
Lisa bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know. You think I actually hurt his feelings?”
“I didn’t know he had any.”
That made us both laugh, but I knew she had a case of the guilts going on. “I have been kind of rough on him lately. Maybe I’d better go talk to him.” She got up humbly to leave, but not before offering, “Jeez. Next time Rymer picks up some random skank from the boardwalk, remind me not to comment on it.”
I just shook my head.
I don’t know what Lisa said to Rymer during their conversation, but by the time we were loading up our cars, those two must have found a way to make nice. He actually helped us carry our bags out to my Mustang and loaded everything into the trunk for us. Wow. Maybe Rymer needed to get laid more often. Having sex seemed to turn him into an almost normal person.
