“Do you trust me?”
He gulps, runs his eyes over my face. He doesn’t take in my breasts that are so close, just my face. “Course.”
I check out his roomie and I bet I know his thoughts. He wants to leave, but leaving acknowledges how awkward he is and that’s worse. Then I see how he’s slouched back, how his hand disappears in front of his waist and is moving back and forth.
I moan into Nate, my eyes rolling back from erotic pleasure. God, I’m sick. I don’t think other girls get off like this. But I’m getting off on Nate making me hot and bothered and that our passion is contagious to someone else, too.
With Nate’s arms holding up his weight, I wiggle down his chest and waist and position myself at the top of his jeans. Looking at how beautiful he is from here I can’t help but breathe heavily. His muscles are tensed and hard, holding him above me, looking at me with adoration.
He reaches down by my side and in one tug, he draws his comforter, which had been bunched behind my ass, over us like a tent.
I grin and look back to my gift. He really is a gift like this. I wet my lips and place a kiss to his bulge, hold my kiss there. Within seconds his radiating heat pours into me from my lips holding there, and he begins to buck.
He starts as he is, jeans done up, rocking into my lips with his jeans rough against my skin. His hands come to his buckle and zip, and they rub into my lips in motion, me licking his fingers, hands, jeans—whatever I can get to. Soon, his jeans are loose around his hips, and we’re both as shocked by the release as each other. He glances down from crouched above me, darkness shadowed at his chin and light from the room streaming in from the crack between his head and the cover, lighting his pale eyes. He rolls his eyes back and dips his hips to my face.
I lie there gladly. It’s a glorious feeling, kissing him, licking him, sucking him, rocking against him and having him bow to me, giving me this power while he practically begs, forcing his desperation at me for help.
I push him back a distance to take in his length. It’s still too big as the tip of his boxers presses on my lips, not giving me the full view I want. I grab onto the head with my lips and circle my tongue. Forgetting all else, including taking the boxers off I work deeper until my mouth is taking half his length in my mouth and the material is soaked. It outlines the helmet top and hugs the veins and strains. Practically a second skin.
With my fingertip, I push him up, which gets him looking down, his eyes struggling to stop rolling back with desire.
But he can’t contain himself, and he moans out a rasping plea, concurrent with a staggered intake of breath from his body, in so much pleasure it’s more like pain.
“That’s it!”
The words come from the corner of the room. Nate yanks up his jeans, leaving them undone as he hurdles over me and stands back to the wall, buttoning up. His erection is a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost, straining inside.
“Fuck, man.”
The guy is running a hand through his short hair, leaving it plastered across his forehead, cheeks bright red.
I lie on my side, my bra strap fallen, head cocked, staring at the guys. Nate has his fingers linked behind his head, rocking back and forward on his toes, unable to keep still or look at his friend.
His friend’s jaw is agape, unable to comprehend anything sensible. Judging by the flush in his cheeks, he isn’t about to admit what he was up to. He says, “Flying fuck, you’re crazy, Kalli. Next time, please, like, give me a warning?”
Yep, too embarrassed to admit how much he loved it, too.
He grabs his wallet from the table and darts out.
The playful mood chills and shatters in an instant. My body knows Nate and I are alone. It knows this through my gut clenching and the light-headed sensation making my vision blur. I jump into a standing position and my blood pressure struggles to keep up, washing blackness over me for a moment.
Stumbling back, Nate catches me before I start to fall aimlessly. I feel my heart pounding hard against my chest, and I can’t understand why it’s thumping my body, as if an engine inside is pushing me toward that door, out in the open.
Handcuffs. Ripped apart. Blood.
I blink, pushing it away, but hear Nate say, “Hello? Kall?”
He has his hands at my shoulders and I buck him away.
His face drops, cut deep in a way I may never be able to repair. Regardless of clothes, we’re stripped bare at that moment, and my rejection hit him at his core.
“Just stay,” he pleads.
“I … I …”
Panicked, my eyes darting around the room, I bend, grab my bag and say what I should have before.
Before I led him on.
Before I abused my position of clear-headedness.
Before I watched and let this relationship turn from The Mess to The End.
“I don’t want to be with you, Nate. I scare the crap out of myself thinking about us.”
I bolt to the door but know I didn’t say what I actually meant to. That it sounded like I placed the blame on him.
Hand to the doorframe, I add, “I meant you can do better. You really deserve it.”
For seconds, he just stands there watching me leave. When I bolt out, I’m gone.
In mind, spirit and body.
I don’t know what comes next.
• • •
What a fuck up!
I sit on a stool at the bar for tonight’s party. It’s still early on in the night, and my only partner in crime is Nate’s roommate who won’t talk to me, either. The bar is high so I cross my arms and lean on the carpet runner since no drunks have messed it up yet. Head on my crossed hands, I can still smell the washing detergent, lemon.
The place is dark and flashing, coloured lights turn behind me, which makes me feel lonelier, since I’m at a bar by myself and have three shots of tequila under my belt, with the three used lemon slices lined by my side.
“Another, barman,” I call. He knows how many he’s served me, and sadly knows I’m nineteen, of legal age to drink. He knows me well.
“Make that two.” I hear someone’s voice behind me.
My head is spinning, I can’t place the voice, until I turn. And sigh. It’s Donovan. He props himself on his own bar stool, and matches my curled up position over the bar which looks girly and hilarious. I burst into laughter, still on my side.
Shimmying closer, I’m just sober enough to smell the fresh minty scent of his breath and I stare at those lips with more interest than I did the first time we kissed.
I can’t blame Scout, but it’s hard not wondering what interest I’d have in him if she didn’t get the idea in my head. Because now, I’m interested, and I need to find out.
Donovan’s eyes drop to my lips and part slightly, but the barman slaps our tequila shots on the runner, ruining the clean spot where I’d rested my arms. The runner is finally getting messy.
As I push a note to him, Donovan stills my hand and hands over a note of his own before I can squirm my way free.
He looks at me holding the salt to pour on my hand. I hand it to him afterward, not breaking eye contact. We know we’ve made a silent deal. He pays for our drinks, I go with him tonight.
Looks like the interest goes both ways here.
I’ll show him a good time tonight if he keeps up this way, but the moment I think of Nate, the more I think, Escape, run, go! and suddenly I want to give Donovan his payment right here. I didn’t get off, back in Nate’s room, and I need a release or else Nate will combust my thoughts. I don’t want him, yet I keep wanting to go back.
I can’t, though, because Nate would turn a fuck into a moment-of-deep-connection. Something romantic like that, something I should run from. It makes my heart pound and my stomach clench, yet I still want Nate, even though it’s turning messy.
I hate messy but do I want Nate, regardless of the cost?
I shake my head back, and see Donovan finish pouring salt on his hand. We pick up our shots, and l
ook again.
Yep, I’ll owe Donovan after this. Guys buy girls drinks to hook up. Not to waste money or be nice. I’ll have to owe him something, which might be a blessing. Nate won’t want me after that.
It’ll settle that problem, but not how I want it.
What other choice do I have?
Donovan dips his head toward my drink. “Three, two, one.”
I lick my hand, throw back the shot in my mouth, and after pushing that down, suck on the lemon.
On my fourth go, it barely burns, so I watch Donovan’s screwed up face as he feels the heat and the power of the tequila going down. He unclenches his eyes, and shakes his head in an animalistic way to bring him back.
I must be looking at him in a funny way, because he licks away the last of the tequila from his lips as he leans in and presses his lips to mine. I let him kiss me, feeling his urging tongue to enter my mouth.
I pull back and assess the still-empty dance floor and sofas along the side and take his hand.
“Where are we …”
With his hand in mine, his voice disappears under the music from the speaker on our right as I cross over the dance floor and to the hallway for the toilets. Halfway down the hallway I jerk to a stop, and Donovan’s erection nudges my ass.
I spin and grin, a knowing look; I felt that.
“Are you going to ask me to come back to your room, Donovan?”
He looks stunned. “Fuck off,” he replies.
“As I thought,” I say, kissing down his neck.
Shit, I forgot he sprays there, forgot I’m now used to Nate and the temptation of his alluring scent, without the chemical taste of the alcohol since he sprays everywhere but my favourite spot, tantalising me.
I hold my gaze on Donovan’s eyes as I un-pop his button and slide my hand under, cupping him over his jocks.
He starts and makes a noise of pleasure, of shock, too. I rub soothingly up and down over the material until he arches his head back and moans, “Yes, fuck, please touch under.”
That’s when I stop.
“Lick me, then,” I say, looking down. “Right here.”
He drops to his knees and pushes my G-string to the side with his fingers. I watch over him, also watching him slide his own hand in his pants and get himself off as he begins licking me.
I close my eyes but all I see is Nate’s face. I’d rather him there. I pretend it’s Nate, but it’s difficult staying in the moment because a) no one has walked past and I’m panicking, and b) he’s just not doing it for me.
He stops licking for a moment and tries a new style that rips me out of my forced erotic vision of Nate licking me. I see a shadow between fluttering my eyelids shut, and open them fully, watching a guy at the entrance to the hallway.
Good. I wink at him, which somehow makes him feel at ease and he slips past us on one side of the wall to the men’s room. My muscles spasm down there, knowing I’ve been caught, replaying the moment he saw me with Donovan’s head under my skirt, and I can’t not get off now. Two “almosts” will kill me, so I slide my hand under the waist of my skirt and bring myself to climax, thrusting Donovan’s head harder against my skin although it’s my frantic fingers buzzing at my spot with Nate’s image hot and wanting for me down there that makes me slam my head against the wall and cry out.
Shudders rack my body, and I fight the urge to slip as my thighs and calves clench to keep upright.
As my legs begin to find their strength, my mind comes back and I wonder. Wonder why Donovan has left his tongue plastered to my entrance like it’s been glued, until I feel him shaking and look down, watching his hand jerking inside his pants. That same guy comes out but this time he won’t move, instead stunned at the men’s room door, the light from inside closing out. Finally, moments later, he disappears into the blackness.
Donovan moans and I rub his head into me, urging his own climax on, moaning for more, and he licks furiously though he can’t give me anything at the moment. I pretend for his sake and he cries, “Oh my God, Kalli, I’m coming” and in his mad jerking off, his briefs slip down, his length slips out and he shoots out between my legs to the corner of the carpet and the wall.
It turns me on to the point where I’m hot again, and could almost get myself off feeling that guy watching us, hearing the music and the people unaware behind the wall, and seeing Donovan’s come messed on the floor between my legs.
Donovan adjusts his pants and stands. “Um, so wow.”
I don’t have to act worked up. I am, just not from him, as it’s always been.
Always except for with Nate. I get off from Nate.
“Wow,” I reply.
“You are a crazy bitch,” Donovan says, pecking my lips. I can taste myself on him and am reminded for a split second of Nate’s head down there.
Get a grip. Forget about Nate. You can’t give him a relationship, the voice says.
“I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to return the favour just then,” Donovan cuts into my thoughts. I look back at him as he says, “You were too fucking hot. I couldn’t wait.”
I flash a cheeky grin and say, “All good. See ya round, yeah?”
“Maybe later?” he asks.
I shrug.
He seems saddened and watches me go. I don’t look back.
I’m proud and hope I look cocky because I feel like a mess. Even more of a broken, dirty mess than I already am. Because I succeeded. I’m too ruined for Nate now. I always was and now I’m more so.
But I don’t feel the rush of pleasure I need to in the wake of what I’ve done.
Usually it takes the quiet after the party ends for that to happen. It’s the same pattern: I stumble in the door, collapse face-first on my bed, twist and turn, sometimes throw up. Feel so hollow someone could knock and I’d echo. Sleep.
Why do I always feel so powerful giving my body away when the very next morning I am back to being nothing?
What if Nate and I didn’t have sex? If we just hung out alone? Baby steps.
I think and it leads down the same path.
The only thing scarier than me wanting to have sex with Nate somewhere dark and romantic where only him and I can share our laboured breathing is being alone with Nate in a dark room and not having sex at all.
12
I turn the corner out of the hallway, back to the dance floor, and bump straight into Scout. Her eyebrows are perked up and her expression shocked, so her words don’t surprise me.
“Now that’s one way to make things messy.”
I tut, shooing her question away with a face, like, What? I’m confused.
Scout grips onto my upper arm, her fingers too tight to throw off unless I, yeah, throw her off. And I’m sane enough to realise I don’t need more attention right now.
“Just drop it for now. I can’t think straight.”
It’s true. Scout’s Ginger-Spice-type tube dress is making me see glitter everywhere as it reflects from the disco ball, and my thoughts are jumbled since I successfully stuffed everything up. At the forefront is when Nate finds out about it. I wish I could stop time. I didn’t do it to hurt him, but my actions obviously will.
The topic of my event in the hallway isn’t dropped. Scout tells me that guy bumped into her and told her we were pretty much fucking on the wall, thanks to Scout hearing sounds. She asks why the hell I went and did that, just as we find a couch and flop into it. Finally sitting, my body feels drained, in relaxation mode.
“You’re asking me?” I say to Scout. “I don’t know!” I throw my hands up in exasperation.
“I’m asking you. I don’t know what crazy thoughts went through your head to do that, there, with him.”
“Well, Donovan offered me drinks. It just gathered steam from there.”
“You said you thought he’d be shit and you weren’t into him anymore. That’s all.”
Something goes bing! in my mind, as if I’ve been saved.
“I had to try, ya know?”
Scout
rolls her eyes.
“What about that girl, Steph,” I say, changing the subject. “What’s going on with her?”
The subject is dropped after that. Scout’s voice ups an octave, and her hands flutter in the air, and her expression is animated as she talks. Gushes, is a better description. Truth be told, I’ve been waiting for Scout to start seeing a girl. She just doesn’t seem as into guys, though she always reminds me she’s straight.
I’m happy for her. Listening to all this gushing makes me happy. We cross our legs and turn into each other as we let the crowd wash away. I’m engrossed, letting Scout’s voice lead the conversation until Donovan’s voice pops over my shoulder.
“I’m ready for it now.”
I startle at his voice and half spin back with my legs still facing Scout. “For …?” It hits me after I start speaking. “I’m talking. Seriously, right now? I’m hanging out with Scout.”
Donovan scoffs. “Really? You seem to want no privacy, and don’t give a shit. I’m ready to go out the back again or whatever.”
“Donovan, leave before I make you,” Scout warns.
Donovan chuckles. “You? What could you do? You didn’t see Kalli all over me. So shut the—”
“No, but I could kick your ass and I’ll make you leave.”
Nate.
Oh holy mother of all craps.
“Well, another time, Kalli. Say hi to round two for me.” He winks at Nate, but that look evaporates as he looks behind Nate and sees Nate’s friends.
I’m barely offended. I asked to be treated like this. I am a hoe. I’m stupid for not thinking ahead to the scenario where Donovan wanted me to get him off. The idea of touching him is suddenly repulsive. I feel sick.
It’s like I’ve cheated on Nate even though it was clear we weren’t dating.
“Tha—”
“You okay—”
Nate and I cut off at the same time and settle for a half-hearted smile of acknowledgement.
I wonder how much he knows.
“So,” Scout chimes in.
Being Kalli Page 8
