by Shey Stahl
I’m assuming he means come in his shorts, but I’m not sure. The only sexual experiences I have are with him, he’s made sure of that.
I move, as I’m told, and sit in the chair across from him, the heat of the night and between us giving my body a glistening glow of excitement. I can feel my cheeks burning, my heart pounding while the haze of the alcohol lingers.
Tiller looks at me, his hooded with desire, then to the bottle of Black Barrel he has between his legs.
“Fuck the bottle with your mouth,” he orders, gesturing to the bottle with a lazy nod.
I blink, confused. “Why?”
He gives me that look. The one that screams, why would you question me? “Because I asked you.”
I know I don’t have to do it. He may be demanding, but a part of me wants to. The part he’s corrupted over the years. The part that lives for the hooded desire in those dark eyes. Without too much encouragement needed, I lower my head between his legs until I feel the coolness of the bottle hit my burning lips. Opening my mouth, I slide the first inch between my lips.
“Fuck yeah.” His hand rises from his side, and he grabs a handful of my hair, giving me a gentle push. “Take as much as you can.”
I’ve never been so nervous around him and my eyes keep darting to everyone around me, waiting to see what they’re going to think. He tugs on my hair. “Don’t look at them. Only look at me.”
Oh my God, what is he doing to me? I wasn’t sure I even knew the me present. The pureness inside me had somehow become possessed by the mind of a devil with whiskey eyes and a torched soul.
Letting go of my hair, he takes hold of the bottle. I gag but recover. “You look good with your mouth full.”
I don’t say anything, what with a bottle in my mouth, but I smile around the neck of the bottle shoved down my throat. I honestly have to say, this is the weirdest thing I’ve done for him and that includes the time he stuck a sucker inside me so he could taste me. Don’t judge. I was eighteen and drunk.
“Are you imagining what my cock tastes like?” The tip it hits the back of my throat, and I want to gag again, but resist. Tears form at the corners of my eyes.
I feel dirty for doing this in front of all these people, but hearing him talk this way to me is way more erotic than it should be. It goes to show you how much I really desire this side of him. My beautiful sin.
Laughter draws my attention, a group of guys in the pool whistling and cheering. “Deep throat it!” they yell, taunting me.
“Shut the fuck up, motherfuckers.” His fingertips under my chin forces me to look at him. He tips the bottle up and gives me some of the liquid amber burn. I swallow. “Don’t look at them. The only cock that will ever be in your mouth is mine. Understand?”
I don’t have a chance to reply before he yanks the bottle from my mouth and captures my lips with his own. Eagerly, he shoves a hand beneath my dress. Higher on my thigh, he fists my panties at my hips and tugs. “Take these off, now,” he demands.
Without hesitation, I lean back, using my feet to push myself up on the edge of his chair. He removes my panties and tosses them on the ground at his bare feet. Are you shocked how far this is going? Don’t be. It’s normal.
Scooting me to the edge, I place my feet on either side of his hips. He sets the bottle on the table and then lifts me back onto his lap. Only this time his hand is between my legs.
I bite my lip, breathing heavily. He stares at me, pushing two fingers inside me. It’s not soft or easy—it’s everything he is. Unapologetic and hasty. Strong and bold and so certain he’ll have what he wants.
I squirm and shift, heat licking my face in waves. Trying so hard not to give away what’s happening, I fail. Helpless to what he does to me. I can’t believe I’m allowing him to do this, but I also can’t deny him because it feels so good.
“Give it to me. Come all over my fingers.” Leaning forward, his mouth finds mine, swallowing my moans. “I own these screams, too. Don’t ya fuckin’ forget it either.”
With my lips on his, he draws my bottom lip into his mouth, sucking, biting, just as my orgasm hits me, coursing through my body in a delicious wave. It spreads through me from my belly to my thighs. I grip his arm so tightly my nails make indentations in his bicep.
It takes me a breathy few seconds, or an entire minute, before my mind returns and I think and my first words are, “Oh my God,” I gasp, my cheek pressed to his warm ear.
Coming down from the high only he provides, I sink forward, my body sagging against his. His lips press against my shoulder. It’s oddly affectionate for him, but there’s a smug look of arrogance plastered on his face. And then he ruins the moment by looking over his shoulder and bringing his hand that was just inside me to his mouth and sucks my juices from his fingers, taunting the group of guys in the pool by saying, “Tastes good, fuckers. She’s mine.”
Embarrassed, I laugh into his neck. “You’re so gross.”
“My turn,” he says gruffly. His mouth meets the base of my throat and his tongue darts out, dragging up my overly heated skin. Burying his lips in my neck, kissing and biting, but never once do they make their way to my lips.
I swallow, nerves jumping in my throat. “What. . . do you want?”
“I want that tight virgin pussy,” he growls into my skin.
I swallow again. He knows I’m holding onto my virginity, and at times like this, I have no idea why. I’m too scared and he knows it. “Tiller, no. Please not here.”
He pulls back. “Why not?”
“I want it to be special.”
“Like what, candles?”
“No, just special.” My voice is weak, like my will. I want to give in, I really do, and I think he knows it.
“Jesus Christ.” Tiller sighs, annoyed. His jaw’s tight when he huffs out, “I don’t know what that means. Be specific.”
I knew Tiller’s had sex with other girls. And apparently with my sister too. It’s not like I’m naive about it. And while I wish I’m enough, I know I’m not enough for someone like him. I’m not sure I ever will be. But still, at these parties, I know what goes on and that he probably hooks up with whoever he wants and wherever he wants. I don’t want to be that girl. So while I mess around with him, I still can’t bring myself to go all the way.
His forehead hits my shoulder, grabbing at my thigh and trying to scoot me onto his lap. “Come on, why can’t we just do it?”
“I’m not ready.”
“When?” He’s impatient and probably horny. “There’s always an excuse with you.”
“There is not.” My anger when he constantly pressures me surfaces in a rush through my blood. I motion to the pool, where Scarlet and Shade are nearing sex, and Roan, in a lounge chair with a chick on her knees and I’m pretty sure she’s giving him a blow job. “Excuse me if I don’t want to have sex with your brothers watching or just be another girl you toss aside when you’re done.”
“They’re not. Look at them. They’re clearly busy,” he points out, ignoring the rest of my comment. Maybe on purpose.
I stand my ground, laughing at him. “I’m not doing it here.”
“Fine.” His brow raises, his eyes sleepy. “My room?”
“Tiller. No.”
He removes his hand from my thigh, running it through his hair. He leaves it sticking up at odd adorable angles. Bloodshot eyes find mine. “You’re being unreasonable.”
“I am not.” I cross my arms over my chest, but it does nothing for me because it pushes my breasts up and he notices right away, his eyes dropping. “You’re being a nightmare.”
Leaning forward, he bites my neck. Hard. “I am not. Take it back.”
Giggling, I push his head away, trying to squirm away from him. “No.”
“I bet I could make you.” Do you notice the warning? He’s about to do something incredibly stupid and we both know it.
Pointing my finger in his face, I glare, my warning going unnoticed. “Don’t even think about it Tiller.�
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Picking up the bottle of Black Barrel, he takes a long pull from it and then sets it on the table, standing up. “Oh, I’m thinking about it.”
Do you see us there? We’re in the pool because his dumbass threw me in and I wouldn’t let go of him. Even with an arm in a sling, he supports my weight, dragging us to the deep end away from the others in the pool.
Trapping me against the side near the diving board and rocks, his hips press into mine. “Feel what you do to me. I want you.” His mouth finds my collarbone again, biting and sucking on my wet skin.
“I’m sure every girl here could get you hard,” I breathe out, lying my head back against the rocks and giving him full access to my skin.
“Not true,” he mumbles, reaching up under my dress between my legs again. Did I mention we’re both clothed? Well, kind of. He’s in shorts and I’m in my dress, still missing my panties. They’re over there by the table and the chairs he knocked over in the process of getting me inside the pool.
“Prove it,” I say, tempting him when I know I shouldn’t. He grinds himself into my center, bare for him. It’s then he lets go of me and reaches below the water. I keep my legs wrapped around him, my hands holding onto the rocks to keep us from sinking. He fumbles around, still kissing my neck and then I feel him there, at my opening.
I gasp. Shock hits me and I tighten my legs around his waist. My eyes, so heavy, find the smudged orange-black sky, blurry stars holding my stare, my body arching into him. “Tiller,” I warn, meaning it, but it feels so good I nearly tell him to push forward, finally take what’s been yours from the beginning.
Our eyes lock, his wild and determined, mine pleading and apprehensive.
He flexes forward but doesn’t push inside me. Instead, the head of him brushes over my swollen clit. “It’s you I want. Do you believe me now?” His mouth finds the curve of my neck, the warmth of the water and his lips making me shiver. My mind can’t comprehend much of anything but what he’s doing below the surface of the water. He gives me everything I need, new experiences, new thoughts, feelings, it’s all centered around him. “It’d be easy. To fuck you. Here.”
“But you won’t.” I know he’d never do anything I’m not ready for, but I’m uneasy under his dark eyes.
“I won’t,” he whispers, biting my earlobe. “But you’re getting me off at least.” He lets go of me, only to drag me toward the stairs. “Come with me.”
I do as he says, and he leads me to the side of the house, both of us dripping water and barefoot, to the only privacy around here which is in the bike shop. I can tell you all sorts of things about the shop, between the bikes, the exotic ones that are only prototypes, yet they’re designed specifically for the Sawyer brothers to show off. . . but none of that matters because it’s him and me in here, and you know why we came in here.
There are two guys in here talking about the race bikes, leaning against the wall drinking beers. I don’t know them, but they spot Tiller immediately. Their postures straighten and conversations halt. He gives a nod. They disappear without a word, and he backs me up against the wall, trapping me between a countertop and the air compressor.
He pushes his wet shorts down with his free hand and then takes my hand and places it on his swollen cock. I practically moan at the hardness in my hand. He shifts his feet apart, gaining balance and moves his hand to the back of my neck, latching his mouth on mine.
When that’s not enough for him, he drops his lips to my chest, pushing my dress down to capture my left breast in his mouth. I tip my head back against the wall, closing my eyes in the dim shop light.
It all happens fast, but the next thing I know, Tiller’s groaning and jerking his body toward mine. He shakes, taking a firm grip on himself and stroking fast. His chest trembles, his knees giving way a little. “Look what you do to me,” he pants out, barely able to get the words out through his harsh breathing.
He’s right. He could be outside this very moment with those sluts lingering around, but he’s not. He’s in the shadows with me.
I know when he comes, the soft heady grunts falling from his lips. Thick white bursts of cum covers my hand and my dress. He kisses me then, again, and while I kiss him back, I’m not at all sure what to make of what just happened.
“Someday you’re going to let me inside you,” he mumbles around my lips. “Only me.”
“I will, soon,” I admit, before I know what I’m saying, so caught up in the forbidden passion he consumes me with. He’s not heaven, he’s hell and he’s why I sin.
I’m not sure if he senses it, but things are changing for us. I know that much. I have no title, despite us joking about being boyfriend and girlfriend, and I might not ever have one with him, but our bond, our lifelong connection with one another is changing. A guy like him who does and says what he wants wouldn’t mess around with me for no reason. Something draws him to me. The lion falls for the lamb. The beast falls for the beauty.
The air changes, and I feel it. It’s in the confused expression of his brow and the way he steps back, running his hand over the back of his neck. He hesitates, as if he can’t decide what to say or do next.
Our eyes catch. For someone who’s normally so sure of himself, he’s so uncertain. He gestures to my dress, pulling his shorts up and reaches for a shop towel next to him. “Should we clean your dress?”
I nod, and peel it off. No bra, no panties, and yeah, so I’m completely naked.
Tiller scowls, dropping the towel next to my dress on the concrete floor, the instantiable hunger returning. “You’re mean.”
It’s enough that it breaks the awkwardness between us though and he smiles and leans in, his warm lips covering my hardened nipple. My hands move to his wet hair, tightening in the thick darkness. I have this craving. A hunger rooted deep inside me I can’t satisfy without him. It’s not a want, no, it’s something like a physiological craving.
It’s him.
Do I regret the other night with Tiller?
No, I can’t say that I do. I don’t regret much of anything I do with him because it’s the excitement I lack in life that he provides.
What I do regret is leaving River that night. I didn’t get home until four in the morning, and she’d barely slept, constantly asking Tracy when I’d be back. I felt absolutely horrible for it.
In the morning, standing in the foyer waiting for Tiller, I ask her, “Are you okay that I was gone?”
Playing with the handle of her suitcase, she seems to have forgot, or maybe it’s the excitement of leaving town, but her eyes are bright as she waits by the front door for Tiller to pick us up. “Where you go? I missed you.”
I swallow over a lump in my throat at the memories of last night. I kiss her forehead. “I was at Tiller’s house,” I admit, drawing back to watch her expression.
Tight and clinging, she worms her arms around my neck. “I don’t want to go to the wedding.”
Me either.
My cell phone beeps and I hear the rumble of his truck in the driveway. “I have a surprise for you.”
“What?”
“Tiller’s coming with us.”
You would have thought I told her she could have a new puppy at the excitement she shows when she sees him at the door and rips it open.
“Hey,” he says when he sees me. His eyes burn like his touch, all reminders of what we did and how even though I don’t feel his touch physically, his presence is enough. His eyes drop to River. “Ready?”
She nods and grabs her bag. “Yup.”
Well, that went easy, didn’t it?
Don’t get too excited. It’s about the only easy part of the weekend. I’m sure of it.
I leave Kona with Tracy next door because the last thing I need is a dog in Tiller’s truck. Actually, he flat out told me no. And I couldn’t blame him. It’s a brand-new truck and Kona slobbers.
Given River’s lack of conversation lately, I will say, I’ve never heard her talk as much as she does when we’re driving
up to Muir Beach with Tiller. We take his truck, because he never lets anyone drive but him if he’s in the car. He hates not being in control. You even have to drug him when he’s on a plane, it’s that bad.
His shoulder’s healing. Once they put it back into place at the event. It was just a matter of healing and not using the shoulder for a few weeks. Other than you know, tossing me in a pool. It essentially got him out of rounds five and six of the After Dark tour though, so he certainly wasn’t complaining about going to a wedding. Well, not yet at least.
While Tiller and River talk about lizards, Alexandra texts me, outraged Tiller’s coming to the wedding.
Alexandra: I can’t believe you’re bringing him.
Me: He’s my plus one.
Alexandra: You weren’t given a plus one for the wedding.
Me: Well, then I won’t come and neither will your flower girl.
I’m getting bolder with Alexandra, and I think maybe I might have Tiller to thank for that. He gives me the courage to stand up for myself.
It’s ten minutes when she texts me back.
Alexandra: Fine. But he better not cause a scene.
I want to reply with “you know he will,” but I don’t. Instead, I slip my phone into my bag on the floorboard.
Tiller glances over at me, one hand draped over the wheel, the other flipping his cell phone around like he can’t stand to not be doing something with his hands, even when driving.
By the look in his eyes, if River wasn’t in the back seat, it’d be up my dress for sure.
I blush. “Stop it.”
He laughs softly. “I didn’t do anything.” But then he lifts his index and middle finger to his bottom lip, tapping them against his lip seductively, a wicked grin present.
What a jerk.
The memory of the other night flashes in my mind, the way he got me off in the chair, the way his body slumped against mine in the shop, and the way he stripped my dress off me and washed it because it had him on it.
“Who were you texting?” he asks, curiously nodding to the floor where my phones at.
