Being around Mom is suffocating. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even know if I believe in God anymore. It’s not like the guy ever talks to me. Mom says “He” talks to her all the time. I don’t know if I believe her. But if he is real, I can’t imagine he’d want me to live in the prison of fear Mom built around us after she drove Dad off. It just seems… wrong.
Whir.
No matter how many times I asked Mom if Charity and I could go live with Dad in Illinois during the school year, she said no. She would get so angry when I asked, all red in the face and shaking, I started to worry she was going to explode or have a stroke or whatever. It didn’t help that Charity would always start crying and screaming when Mom said no. So I stopped asking.
Whir.
The good news is, I’m only trapped in this house for two more days. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. For me, anyway. Charity has four more years of this business. I worry about her. I don’t want her turning into Mom. Sometimes, she sounds just like her.
Whir.
I don’t want to think about it.
More importantly, I need to pick out something to wear.
Something Lance will like.
I stand in front of my closet mirror in a clean white bra and my cutoffs, holding up two different shirts on hangers, trying to decide which one looks better on me.
My bedroom door opens quietly.
“Get out of here, Charity,” I grumble, not bothering to look.
When she doesn’t respond, I turn and nearly have a heart attack.
Lance.
I gasp and hold the two shirts protectively against my nearly naked chest. At least I haven’t given him vampire permission to enter my bedroom. So I’m safe.
He steps over the threshold and closes the door behind him.
Oh. My. Gosh.
This can’t be happening. But it is
I’m quivering all over once again. All I can think about is Lance and the lance in his pants. I bite my lower lip. If anything sinful happens in my very own bedroom, I blame Mom. She was the one who let the vampires in.
“Get out of here!” I hiss. “If my mom finds you in here, she’ll cut your bean bags off!”
“Bean bags?” Lance’s slow grin spreads like warm butter.
It makes me desperately want to spread my legs so he can spread himself all over me with his hot butter knife… gulp.
“At this point,” Lance smirks, “I don’t think your Mom remembers her own name.”
“What are you talking about?” I whisper frantically, still cowering behind the shirts. If Mom walks in and sees Lance, she will kill both of us.
“She’s all over my dad in your kitchen. I think they’re gonna fuck.”
“What?! You are lying. My mom would never…” Would she? Not with me and Charity in the house for sure. But… is it possible? I mean, I’m pretty sure Charity and I didn’t get here by immaculate conception. But still. We’re talking about Mom. After Dad, I seriously thought she would never date again. I suppose miracles do happen from time to time. “Seriously?”
“Go see for yourself.”
I’m half tempted. But there’s a ridiculously hot guy blocking my way. And I have no shirt on. I could put one on, but I’d be exposing myself to Lance. I could just hold the shirts in front of me, one in front and one in back, and poke my head in the kitchen. But if I did that, Mom would… Same thing: early grave. R.I.P. Chastity Shields. It doesn’t help matters that Lance is not being a gentleman and offering to turn around so I can dress. I hiss, “What are you doing in here?”
“I told them I had to take a leak. Your mom said the bathroom was down the hall.”
“Does this look like the bathroom?!”
“It looks like my lucky day…”
My jaw drops. My panties are about to follow.
His eyes drill into my soul.
Does he want to kiss me? The look on his face says he wants more than that. Oh gosh. My heart hammers in my chest and my pulse throbs between my legs. I completely forget where I am. Whatever Lance has in mind is fine with me, but he needs to be the one to start this ball rolling. I may regret it for eternity, but I’ll worry about that later.
Lance is so gorgeous it hurts.
I will totally sin for him…
The sound of Mom’s muffled laughter drifts through my bedroom wall. It shocks me back to reality. I haven’t heard her laugh like that in forever. Maybe ever.
This is impossible.
Lance McKnight and his father Rod dropped into our lives and upset the balance of the universe.
I can’t imagine what’s going to happen next.
There’s a squonk! in the kitchen as chairs shift around on the hardwood.
“Lance?” Rod’s voice booms. “Where’d you go, son?”
Now my heart really stops. I can hear Mom and Rod walking out of the kitchen and heading toward my bedroom, which is like two seconds from the kitchen.
I hiss, “Ship!!”
Lance smirks, “Did you just say ship?”
“Shut up!!” I whisper.
I’m practically topless in my bra.
Lance is staring at me like he’s hungry.
Mom is going to crucify me and drive a wooden stake through Lance’s heart if she sees us like this!
Unholy crap!
Chapter 3
LANCE
“What are you two up to in here?” Dad asks, all smiles.
Mrs. Shields stands beside him in the open doorway, eyeing me and Chastity suspiciously.
Chastity threw on a white T-shirt before the door opened, but she looks like a squirrel frozen in the middle of the road right before you run it over.
“This is not the bathroom,” Panty Shields says to me.
I grin, enjoying all this juicy family drama. “I got lost on the way.”
She narrows her eyes. “In a three bedroom house?”
I shrug. “Tried the first door I found.”
Panty Shields’ eyelids flutter at me like she’s trying to make me disappear just by thinking about it. “The bathroom is that way.”
“Show me the way?” I wink like I’m asking Panty Shields for a bathroom blowjob. Just to piss her off.
All the skin on her face peels back in horror.
I almost laugh because I’m picturing fire shooting out her mouth like a flame thrower.
She says: “The. Bath. Room. Is. Right. Be. Hind. Me.”
I’d like to be right behind her because she sure is a feisty bitch. When was the last time this woman got laid? Poor thing. “Pardon me,” I say all polite as I shoulder between her and Dad where they’re blocking the door. It’s such a tight squeeze it almost seems reasonable when I turn to the side and brush my cock through my jeans across her thigh at the last second. Yeah, I’m still hard from staring at Chastity with her perfect tits nearly popping out of her bra.
Mrs. Shields makes this strained “uhnck” sound when my dick touches her mom jeans. She hates me.
I love it.
Dad’s too drunk to notice.
With any luck, he’ll be passed out by this afternoon and I can raid this place.
I find the bathroom and close the door behind me. As expected, it’s a frilly pink girlie paradise. And the toilet seat is down. You know no men come through this joint. I toe the seat up with my grimy boot and start pissing in the bowl.
I can’t get over all the pent up pussy under one roof. The question is, do I need to pick between Chastity and her mom? It’s pretty obvious there’s no way I’ll get a three way with those two. They hate each other. I could bag them separately, but what’s the fun in that? Truth is, I have too much on my plate already. Getting in Panty Shields’ pants would be a shit ton of work. No matter how hot she is, she’s not worth the effort. Right now. I need an easy lay, not a full-time occupation. The decision is simple. Chastity obviously wants me.
I’ll fuck her first.
Who knows what the future’ll hold.
For now, since Panty Shields is drooling over Dad and he has a boner for her, he can run interference for me. That’ll be a fucking mess. I can’t wait to watch the fireworks. In the mean time, I’ll be busy popping Chastity’s cherry. Nobody will be the wiser and I’ll come out on top. And inside Chastity. Preferably bareback. I just need to get her on the pill first. Virgins like her are never on the pill.
No worries.
I’ll convince her.
I smile to myself as I shake my snake and flush the toilet, not bothering to lower the seat. I hope Panty Shields notices I left it up and gets all worked up about it. If she does, it’ll only be one tenth of how worked up she’s going to be when she finds out I’m fucking her daughter under her own roof.
Because I can’t not let her in on it.
What would be the fun in that?
++++8++++
CHASTITY
“Who are these people?” Charity asks, leaning her head into my bedroom after Lance is gone.
“Sorry, sweetie,” Mom says. “Charity, this is Mr. McKnight. Our new neighbor. His son Lance is in the bathroom.” She says it like he’s a criminal. Somehow, that thrills me. I mean, he obviously wants to steal my virginity, so it’s somewhat accurate. But is it a crime if you give it away?
Mom flashes her eyes at me. Her look says, I will burn you at the stake if I find out you did anything inappropriate with Lance in your bedroom before I showed up.
“Nice to meet you, Charity,” Rod says to my sister.
“Hi,” she replies.
“You look just like your mother.” He glances at me. “In fact, I’d say the three of you were sisters,” he winks at Mom, “if I didn’t know better.”
Mom blushes and flicks her fingers through her hair. “Oh now stop, Rod.”
Eye roll. She’s loving this.
“I mean it,” he says earnestly.
“Thank you, Rod,” Mom giggles. “Charity, please put some shoes on. We’re going to help the McKnights move into their house.”
I frown. Between Charity and Mom, I won’t get a moment alone with Lance. Mom is a total chaperone.
The five of us head outside. Nobody can unload the U-Haul until the trailer with the motorcycles is moved.
“Who’s motorcycles are these?” I ask as Lance rolls the racing one off the back of the trailer.
“This is mine. The other is Dad’s.”
Mr. McKnight is busy untying the blue nylon wheel straps from around the chrome and black Sons Of Anarchy motorcycle. Up close, it’s obvious the bike needs some TLC. The paint is chipped, the chrome faded and dingy, the leather seat cracked.
By contrast, Lance’s motorcycle is clean as a whistle.
“Do we have time for a ride?” I ask Lance.
“Sure,” he grins.
“You’re not riding on that,” Mom chuckles. “It isn’t safe.”
Maybe not today. But tomorrow when I’m eighteen you can bet your bottom dollar I will. Then I can run away with Lance and let fate decide our destination. Mom would totally kill me. But she can’t kill me if she can’t find me.
“It’s safe,” Mr. McKnight says to Mom. “Lance is a great rider.”
I lift my eyebrows. “See, Mom?”
She shakes her head. “No. You’re not riding on that… thing.” She’s milking the fact I’m still seventeen until the very last second.
Lance pushes the motorcycle into the garage. I follow. He mutters, “Don’t worry, I’ll take you for a ride later.” What kind of ride is he talking about? Sounds like both kinds.
“Really?” I whisper, glancing back to make sure mom isn’t listening.
“Yeah,” Lance grins. “What’re you doing tonight?”
“I’m busy.”
“No you’re not.”
I huff, “Who do you think you are, my dad?”
“Is that how you wanna play it?”
“Huh?”
“You have a daddy thing?” He winks at me.
“No!” I scowl. “Are you some kind of pervert?” Wow, I sound like a total grandma.
“Yup.” The look burning in his eyes suggests that his form of perversion is well worth the consequences.
I really need to change the subject to something else, otherwise he’s going to out me as the prude that I am. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Twenty-six. How old are you?”
Holy cow. He is way older than me. The idea gives me sinful shivers, which I hide. Now I really don’t want to tell him I’m seventeen. It sounds so teenagery. “Eighteen,” I lie. Even though I’m only adding a day to my age, something tells me I’m going to burn in eternity for fibbing. Something else tells me it’ll be worth it.
Lance’s devil’s grin eases onto his face. “My favorite age.”
Why do his lips have to be so lickable? I’m about to stand up on my tiptoes and start licking when Mom and Mr. McKnight wheel the other motorcycle into the empty garage. Well, Mr. McKnight does all the work but Mom prances around him like a lovesick pony.
“You guys ready to start moving boxes?” Mr. McKnight asks, toeing the kickstand with his boot and leaning the motorcycle on it.
Lance pins me with his eyes. “I’m all over the boxes. How about you, Chastity?” He licks his lips like he’s thinking about kissing me. “I think there’s a box in that truck with your name on it…”
You mean the box with your prize inside, I almost blurt.
Picture this: me in the back of the hot sweaty truck sitting on top of moving boxes with my legs wrapped around Lance’s face. He devours me while I melt in his mouth and moan.
Goodness!
“Something on your mind?” Lance drawls.
Mom is staring at me.
“Nope!” It takes everything in my power to push the sinful images out of my mind. I swear, I wasn’t this dirty when I woke up this morning.
Maybe it is good that Mom is right here, because otherwise I don’t know what I’d do. Lance is literally making me stupid. Not that I mind. I suddenly realize that guys aren’t the only ones who think with their private parts. I need a cold shower. Or an exorcism. Which begs the question: can you be possessed by a hot guy? Duh.
“You guys,” Charity demands, cradling a moving box in her arms, “are we going to stand here all day or what?”
“No, sweetheart,” Mom says. “Chastity, help your sister.”
Why is everyone ruining my moments with Lance today?
++++8++++
CHASTITY
The McKnights barely have any furniture and everything they own looks like it came from a thrift store or a swap meet. Rod and Lance move the big stuff including a threadbare couch and a ratty recliner while me, Mom, and Charity move the small stuff like the black plastic garbage bags full of clothes and the chairs, all of which are folding or junky.
Back at the truck, Mr. McKnight hands me a dusty guitar case.
“Is this yours?”
“It was. Now it’s Lance’s. You can put it in his room.”
“Cool.” I pass Mom on my way through the garage.
A hopeful smile flashes across her face. “Who’s guitar is that?”
“Lance’s.”
“Oh.” She looks disappointed. For the past two hours, she’s been laughing and giggling at everything Mr. McKnight says like he’s the funniest man alive, which he’s not. He’s not not funny, but he’s no Dane Cook. I’m sure Mom was hoping Mr. McKnight would serenade her later with this guitar. Too bad. Looks like Lance will be the one serenading me. Mom has also managed to somehow never let me be alone with Lance for more than thirty seconds. Talk about buzz kill. When Mom can’t interfere herself, she sends Charity to do her bidding.
Charity comes walking out the door to the kitchen and goes right past Mom and me, heading for our house.
“Where are you going, Chair?” Mom asks.
“To the bathroom,” she grumbles without looking back.
Mr. McKnight leans his head out of the U-Haul. “Faith? Can you help me with
this?”
Mom’s eyes light up like a giddy teenager.
Much like myself whenever Lance calls my name.
Gross. I’m nothing like Mom.
“Coming,” Mom coos at Mr. McKnight.
Gag.
The good news is, while she’s busy with him and Charity is back home…
I make a beeline inside the McKnight house. It’s a mirror image of ours. I already know where Lance’s bedroom is. I love that I know where Lance’s bedroom is. Even better, his bedroom is the same as mine, only it’s flipped. It’s so romantic. Every night when I go to bed, I will be thinking about how he’s sleeping in a mirror image of my room. He even has mirrored closet doors like I do. Somehow, they connect our rooms. I can’t explain it. When I step over his threshold, I feel the familiar thrill that I’ve felt every time I’ve walked in here. It’s like I’m allowed to come and go from his bedroom whenever I please. I know the feeling won’t last after today, but I want it to last forever. I wonder when I’ll be in here again? Tonight? Tomorrow?
Hopefully.
Will I sit on the edge of this bed—his bed—our knees touching as we kiss for the first time? I hope so. Will I lose my virginity on this mattress, lying on a blanket of rose petals? A girl can dream.
The thought makes the butterflies in my stomach go crazy.
“You’re trapped,” Lance says behind me.
Startled, I gasp.
Lance is so tall he fills the doorway. There’s no doubt about it, Lance is not a high school boy like the guys at North Valley. He is a man. All man. A lock of hair dangles over one dreamy eye as he curls his grin and shakes his head. It’s the sexiest head shake ever and it promises naughtiness. “You’re not going anywhere,” he murmurs.
“I’m not?” I set his guitar case down.
“No escape.”
“None?” I swallow loudly. Not that I want to escape from him. I hereby do willingly imprison myself in Lance’s bedroom. They can throw away the key so I can never come out. All I need is food, water, and Lance. He can be my jailer and I’ll live out my remaining days doing whatever he tells me. No matter how dirty.
The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity Page 3
