by Tia Lewis
We fell asleep that way, facing each other, arms and legs sort of wrapped up in the others.
11
Nicole
I had a dream I was running through a field, the tall flowers brushing against my legs. I felt them touching me, along with the hem of my dress against my thighs. I wasn’t running out of fear or because I had to get somewhere. I was running because I was happy.
I could feel the sun on my skin, too, its warmth soaking into me. The grass felt so sweet and cool beneath my feet. I could have stayed there all day.
I held on to the last wisps of that dream, like smoke disappearing around me, as I returned to consciousness. I realized the feeling of the flowers brushing against my legs was really the stroking of Drake’s fingertips. He was awake, nudging me awake with pleasure. I sighed, stretching, sinking into it.
“Good morning,” he whispered. A single flex of his hips told me what he was in the mood for. I groaned as his cock pressed against my belly, remembering the way it felt when he was inside me. Like Heaven.
“Good morning. Wait. Is it morning yet?” I opened my eyes, yawning, finding the room almost lit up. The light was still a little weak, which told me it was only dawn.
“Practically,” he said, his hand creeping up my outer thigh until he caressed the curve of my butt. I gasped, closing my eyes again as he sent shockwaves through me. How was his touch so invigorating? How did my body leap to respond the way it did? I didn’t think it was possible for me to feel that way. The few boyfriends I’d had in the past hadn’t come close to what Drake did for me.
Because he’s been with so many women. Because you’re one of a million. I closed off that train of thought, wanting nothing to disturb the almost agonizing pleasure he put me through. I didn’t want anything to ruin it. I could think about repercussions later. After he made me come again and again.
He slid his hand between my warm thighs, finding the wetness he’d already created. I sighed, holding onto him as he rubbed me so gently. He built up my passion the way he had before—slowly, achingly slowly, watching me the whole time like he'd look at a science experiment come to life. I breathed deeply, forcing myself to enjoy it, to not try to rush it. Not when the payoff was as good as what he gave me.
He focused on my clit, and my body seemed to take on a life of its own as I arched my back, spreading my legs wider to give him access to more of me. He took my cue, sliding his first two fingers inside me as he rubbed his thumb in circles over my clit. I rode his hand, my mouth open as I gasped for air. It was all so good, so sweet.
His mouth found me next, skimming my throat. I tipped my head back, and he ran his lips up and down, his tongue darting out to flick over my skin. I gasped, panting, holding his head closer. I wanted him to devour me. “Please,” I breathed, straining against him. Needing more and more. I wanted it to be like before when I lost control of my senses. Like an uncaged animal.
He taught me patience, taking his time with kissing me as he did with fingering me. He worked up a steady rhythm, grunting a little as he pumped in and out. I lost myself to it, crying out again and again as he drove me crazy. I draped my leg over him, pulling him close, needing as much contact as I could get. I was so hungry for him. I’d never felt that sort of hunger, that all-consuming need. It was blissful and scary.
The heat between my legs intensified until I almost couldn’t stand it. I felt the muscles deep inside me start to flutter as my first orgasm built and began to crest. I called Drake’s name—softly, as soft as I could—before my body dissolved into shudders and shivers when I came. It was all so good, like flying and floating and screaming all at once. Release.
“Yes,” he whispered, his hand still moving between my thighs. He wouldn’t stop. I didn’t want him to. He trusted that I could handle it even if I didn’t. I let him rock me to more pleasure until my body clenched up again. And again. It didn’t seem to stop—just one long, ceaseless orgasm that didn’t end. It went on and on, and I thought I might lose my mind if he didn’t take pity on me and stop making me whisper his name so desperately. My head turned helplessly from side to side, my legs are clenched around his hand, but still he kept going. Watching me as he continued throbbing against my hip, begging for his own pleasure but giving me mine, first.
“Please, please, Drake … oh, God!” One last, almost brutal climax and I was finished, collapsing into his powerful arms. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I hardly noticed him getting up for a condom. I was in a thick haze of pleasure, my entire body quivering the way my pink folds did. He spread my legs again, sliding between them, dragging the head of his erect cock through my pussy. I gasped when he took me, hard, driving himself forward without giving me a chance to prepare.
I dragged my nails across his broad muscular shoulders, and he hissed through his teeth. But I thought he liked it since he thrust harder after that. I looked up at him, into his eyes. He looked down at me. I didn’t know what to think, what to feel. I wished I knew what he was thinking, even as my body ached for him. Was I just another conquest? Just another woman for him to possess? I hoped I wasn’t. I hoped I was something more.
I closed my eyes when new ecstasy built and grew, wrapping my arms around his neck to hold him close. He kissed my throat, my ear, my mouth. We brushed our lips together gently, almost solemnly, never losing our rhythm. I’d jerked my hips up in time with his thrusts, meeting his pace, and the veins popped out on the side of his neck as he reacted. He groaned, clenching his jaw with an animalistic and determined look on his face. He wanted me to come again. Something about that touched something inside me, opening part of me that didn’t involve my body.
I held him close, running my hands over his chiseled body, through his hair, exploring every bit of him. In the daylight, I could see better, and I watched his muscles move as he moved. He was so beautiful, so perfect, and powerful. And he used that power wisely, taking me slowly, not hurting me though he easily could have. He took me masterfully, and I found myself coming again before I knew what was happening.
“Drake, I’m coming again … oh, God …” I closed my eyes tight, gripping him, and then shivering as my body seemed to melt into nothing but euphoria. It was incredible. He was incredible.
His thrusts sped up, deepened, and I watched in fascination as he came. His face screwed up a little, turning red, he looked relieved as he pumped once, twice more, and shuddered. He bent his head toward mine, kissing me once with lips salty from sweat, and slid out of me with a sigh.
“Shit,” I whispered, trying to catch my breath. Drake had a way with me, for sure. I didn’t know how he knew me so well—I refused to believe it was all experience since every woman’s body was different. We just seemed so in sync with each other, it was almost scary.
So was the fact that I had slept with him at all. What was I trying to prove? It was a dangerous tightrope I walked, and I had to be sure to keep my balance. The last thing I needed to do was fall for him, or have him find out I was a liar and do God only knows what to me.
But would he? Would he really? The man who had just given me so much pleasure, so passionately? I didn’t know. I didn’t know who he was, I realized. Was he the man who acted so tough in front of his club, or the one who kissed me after we finished having sex? I refused to think we’d made love. We’d only had sex. It was just sex.
“I have to tell you a secret,” he whispered. Oh, I wish you wouldn’t.
“What?” I asked, apprehensive. I didn’t want to know more about him than I already did. Would he tell me about almost beating his stepfather to death? The two years he spent in juvenile detention? That’s right, keep reminding yourself of those things. This is not an admirable man.
“You’re the first woman who ever spent the whole night in my bed with me.”
That was unexpected. I looked at Drake, my eyes wide. “What?”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I mean it.” He grinned. �
�That’s one of my big secrets. I’m a pretty simple guy.”
You’re also a liar. “So, what, you just kick them out when you’re finished with them? Like they’re used trash?”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah, I want to know.”
“You won’t think I’m a total asshole, right?”
“Forget it,” I smirked. “You don’t have to finish answering. What you just said is enough, and I can figure out the rest.”
He chuckled, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “What can I say? It’s always been a thing for me. I never wanted to share my bed for that long. I don’t know … But this didn’t feel—awkward for me.”
“It wasn’t for me, either,” I admitted. “Did a woman hurt you in the past? Is that why?”
“Ouch,” he muttered.
“Sorry. That was personal. I get it.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t believe it was personal?”
“No,” he grinned. “I don’t think that’s the reason why. Or maybe, I don’t know … maybe it was because I saw so much shit with my mom, and her boyfriends. And, eventually, even her husband.” He shuddered a little. “I decided I didn’t wanna have anything to do with that, you know?” He looked at me with those baby blues of his, and I almost melted. What was it about a man with dark hair and piercing eyes that reduced me to a puddle of weakness?
He’s not just a pair of eyes or a head of hair. You know who he is. A murderer, a criminal. I steeled myself inwardly, even as I tried to avoid showing him on the outside.
“I know how you feel,” I lied. “It’s hard when you see so much when you’re just a kid. It sort of, I don’t know, shapes the way you see things.”
“Yeah—” he agreed.
“I used to wonder what it would be like to live in one of those homes with a mom and a dad who loved each other, who both loved me.” That much was the truth. While Dad had done an amazing job with me, there were times when I was little that I wanted nothing more than a mother to listen to my troubles and kiss my boo-boos and understand what I went through as I grew up. Dads don’t know the things their girls go through, even though mine made a valiant attempt. I would never forget the shade of red his face turned when he tried to explain the birds and the bees. Poor guy.
“Why are you smiling?” Drake asked. He was smiling, too.
“Just remembering a few good things about my childhood.” I wouldn’t tell him about it, though. He didn’t deserve to know. Besides, I was supposed to come from a broken and dysfunctional home.
I brushed my long hair over one shoulder and yawned. It was still early in the morning. I rested my head on Drake’s broad shoulder and wondered why it was that he didn’t want me to leave his bed. What was so special about me? And what would he do when he found out how I’d lied to him all along?
12
Drake
One of the best things about actually going to sleep with a woman was having sex when I woke up. After the noise outside my bedroom door woke us—the sounds of the morning after—we had a quickie. It had to be a quickie since the sickening sounds of somebody vomiting inside the bathroom was enough to make us decide to stop.
“Oh, gross,” she giggled, putting her hands over her ears. “That’s disgusting! He sounds like he’s chucking up a mouthful.”
“And these are the times I’m glad to have a private bathroom.” I groaned, getting out of bed as much as I didn’t want to. We’d gone to bed early compared to a lot of the partiers, so I didn’t feel nearly as bad as they did. I didn’t feel bad at all—maybe I had sweated all the alcohol out with her. She was like a miracle.
“I’m almost afraid to go out there.” Bree pulled on her blue jeans, her t-shirt. “What will everybody think?”
“They’ll be too busy wishing they were dead dealing with hangovers. Trust me.” I hated seeing her cover her body, especially when she winced as she zipped her boots, but she still looked good. Damned good. I would have her again before the day was over, I decided.
“You ready?” I asked. She shook her head. I laughed, opening the door anyway. “Don’t be scared.”
The first thing that hit me was the smell of vomit, sweat, and booze. I covered my mouth with my hand, hurrying Bree past me before shutting the bathroom door. I didn’t know who was in there, but I wished I could dunk their head for making me gag like that.
Bree had stopped when she reached the lounge, unable to go any further. When I stood next to her, I understood why. Bodies. Everywhere. On the floor, on the leather couches, on the pool tables. Even on the bar—how they’d managed not to roll right off was beyond me.
“This is impressive,” she murmured. I laughed—at least she was good-humored about it. I was afraid she would run screaming from the building.
“Yeah, this is one of the better mornings I’ve seen.” I looked around for something to bang on and decided to use my voice, instead. I cupped my hands around my mouth and took a deep breath.
“Oh, no. Come on. Don’t be cruel. Let them sleep,” Bree whispered.
“They deserve it. It’ll teach them not to drink so fucking much—remember, I live here. This is like my house.” I took another deep breath and shouted, “Wake up everybody! Good morning!” Bree covered her ears, but she giggled, too.
“Oh, go to fucking Hell.” That sounded like Creed. Sure enough, his head popped up from behind one of the sofas.
“Good morning! How is everybody? Come on, rise and shine. Up and at ‘em. This is my fucking house, you lazy pieces of shits. Get off the floor, come on. Get up! All of you. I need to be able to walk through.” I helped Bree get through the bodies, stepping over the ones that just wouldn’t move. Ace hadn’t flinched once. Bree nudged him with the toe of her boot, and he finally snorted and opened his eyes.
“Whew. I was afraid you were dead,” she smiled.
“I think I am,” he groaned. She clucked her tongue in sympathy. I didn’t have any sympathy.
“Come on,” she said, going to the cooler behind the bar. “Let’s give them all some water.”
“Water, hell. They need more liquor to help them feel better.” I heard a lot of groaning behind me, and I grinned at Bree. She only shook her head, pulling her long hair into a ponytail before she bent over the cooler. I could watch her do that all day, no problem. She came up with fists full of cold bottled water and passed them to me.
“Hand them out. The water should help flush out all the alcohol,” Bree ordered, shooing me away. I did what she asked, even though I thought it was a waste of time. Half of them were probably too hung over to hold down water and would probably vomit at the thought of drinking any kind of liquid right now.
Darcy came stumbling out of the kitchen. “Jesus. I slept on the dining room table last night.”
Bree laughed. “You didn’t have a bed upstairs you could use?”
“Sure, but I didn’t think I could make it all the way up the stairs.” She climbed onto a bar stool, groaning. “I think I died.”
“You’re not the only one,” I said, kicking Phil as gently as I could. He was between two girls, all three of them passed out. I fought the urge to pour cold water over all of them. I didn’t think Bree would be a big fan of that.
“How come you guys are in such good moods? Didn’t you drink?” Darcy looked at me, then at Bree, pushing tangled black hair out of her eyes. Then, she got it. “Ohh! Okay. Well, well, well.”
“Cut it,” I said, shooting her a look.
She held up one hand. “Hey, I understand. You had more important things to do than drink and party with us. More power to you.” She held up a bottle of water, burped quietly and took a long drink. Bree could only chuckle, shaking her head. Our eyes met, and her cheeks turned crimson red.
We spent an hour clearing the place out. Most of the guys and girls that were in terrible shape went upstairs to finish sleeping it off. Others went home if they felt okay enough to ride. I was glad we had so many beds. At least it
helped keep the lounge clear.
Finally, the asshole that puked in the bathroom came stumbling out. “Richie. I should have known, man. You fucking idiot. Why did you drink so much? You’re a lightweight.”
“Hey,” Bree said defensive. She only treated him that way because she didn’t know him. Like she was his guardian angel or something, just because he had a thing for her. She took him a bottle of water as he leaned against a pinball machine.
“Thanks,” he mumbled. Bree patted him on the shoulder, and then helped him up the stairs to a spare room. When she came back down, she was shaking her head at me.
“You are so mean to him. Give the kid a break,” she said, with her hands on her hips.
“He’s a fuck-up,” I replied. “Throwing up with the door open, making all that obnoxious noise. Ruining my morning.” I gave her a meaningful look, remembering how much fun we were having when he interrupted.
“Yeah, well I’m sure you’ve been in bad shape before, too.”
“No comment.” She grinned, shaking her head again, and put her arms around my neck.
“He just wants to be like you. You know that, right? He looks up to you.”
“I know. But he can’t, because I’m me. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch alive.” The funny part was, when I looked into her big, nearly green eyes, that was how I felt. She made me feel lucky for the first time in my life.
Then she frowned, breaking the moment. “Well, I need to go home and get some things. If I have to wear these damned boots for another minute, I swear I’m going to cry. I’m gonna need to get a cab. I can’t walk like this.”
