by C. A. Harms
She drops her arms to her sides and shakes her head. “The only thing that strap is going to serve as is a gag for you.”
“Damn, babe ; that’s harsh.” I stretch out and push my hand down on my cock, which is also unhappy about being dismissed, and pretend to apply pressure as I try to contain my excitement. “I didn’t know you were into that kind of kinky shit, but I’m game. Let’s give it a whirl."
She stares at me. In return, I smile brightly. Neither of us say a word in our non-verbal showdown. I wave my hand toward the bedroom as if to say, move it along, and her eyes light up with amusement.
“I’ve got nothing .” Reese smiles, throwing her hands up in the air to surrender. Oh yeah, baby, you’ll be surrendering to me all night long.
“What is that like, twenty to one ?” I toss in one last dig, “You need to catch up Reese. I’m getting better at this winning thing.”
“I let you win,” she assures me, “because when you lose, you pout like a toddler. You are a poor loser, Dawson Layne, and I can’t stand to see you looking so scorned and defeated.”
“But then you’re missing the chance of kissing me and making everything better. Because you, Reese, have the power to make everything better.”
“I don’t need you sad or wounded to kiss you.” She walks closer, and I feel the anticipation of her closeness pounding in my ears. “I can kiss you anytime I want.”
“Please do, Reese. Kiss me anywhere and anytime, baby.” She leans in, and I allow my head to fall back against the cushion behind my head as I wait for her lips to touch mine. My eyes close as she moves in closer. Then nothing happens. Nothing. Wait . . . what?
As I peek back at her, I find that she has now stepped back and is looking down at me all smug and pleased with herself. “Too bad for you, baby, that I’m not in the mood to kiss right now.” She offers a shrug, swiveling around and shaking her ass entirely too much on her way back toward the kitchen. Damn tease. She pauses just before she steps behind the wall and looks back at me. “I think that’s a point for me, smartass.” Well played, Reese. Well played.
Reese
“Aced it !” I hold out the paper in front of me and shake it around excitedly. I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief after acing the exams I’d been stressing about. I’m so close to finishing school. With each passing week, I feel more accomplished and proud. I do, however, wish that my father was a little more supportive, but part of me is okay with the idea that my mother would’ve been over the moon. Now that I am with Dawson in an entirely different way, now that things have shifted between us, I can sympathize with what he must be feeling without my mother at his side.
After all, only a couple weeks ago, I thought I’d lost Dawson.
I perform a crazy little dance as I turn in circles. Dawson remains in bed, looking like he is half asleep as he stares back at me with a silly grin on his face.
“Get over here, ya goof!” His gruff tone stops me in place and I let my bag slide off my shoulder before I lower it carefully to the floor near my feet. He waits for me to join him in bed, using his good arm to hold himself up as he rolls over me. “Not that I’m not extremely proud of you, but I just had this dream.” I can already feel the effects of this so-called dream pressed against my hip. “And you remember that devil’s costume you wore last year to that Halloween party we went to?”
I arch my brow, already knowing where this is going.
“You were wearing that outfit, and let’s just say you were a very, very naughty girl.” He shifts against me, his big tool poking me as if to announce its presence too, and I stifle a moan. “You did things to me that made me feel like the top of my head was gonna shoot off. This head,” he says with a smirk and points to his forehead, making my smile widen, “though I should add that the other head blew—” I stop him from finishing by pressing my finger to his lips.
“Alright, dirty talker, I already know what that head did and does.”
“But I kinda want to relive the dream,” he says with a little pout.
“Is that right?” He nods enthusiastically. It is actually quite adorable how eager he appears. “I should warn you that I don’t have that outfit anymore.” His frown deepens. “But I think I can make it up to you.”
With that, I don’t wait for him to answer. Instead, I push against his chest, and he falls without hesitation. Crawling over him quickly, I rub myself over his hardness like a cat in heat. I can’t help myself. Dawson brings out a wild side of me I was always so bashful of before. He makes me feel desirable where I have no qualms about releasing my inner vixen. It’s freeing in a way.
“What I need you to do is just lay back and relax.” Dawson lifts his hand up and places it behind his head. Relaxing back, his stare locks with mine. “Close your eyes.”
A sexy smirk covers his mouth as he slowly closes his eyes.
Gently brushing my fingertips over his chest, he tenses beneath them and his hips lift upward. As I slowly move further down, his eyes suddenly pop open.
“Close them,” I whisper, stopping my movements until he does as I, demand. Once they are closed, I replace my fingertips with my mouth as I teasingly kiss over his stomach, dragging my tongue along his delicious rippled abs of steel. “Keep them closed,” I direct as I hook the band of his boxers and drag them over his thighs. “If you open them, I’ll stop.”
“Jesus,” he groans. His thighs tremble and the muscles in his arms tense as he grips the pillow behind him tighter.
With one hand on each of his thighs, I glide the tip of my tongue over the entire length of his large cock, loving the sound of my name falling from his lips in what sounds like a plea. It is so satisfying to watch him fight against the drive I know lingers inside of him to take control. Dawson loves power but he knows giving it up to me will be worth the pleasure.
I pause, ensuring that I have a full view of his face as I slide my lips over his delicious length.
“Holy fuck.” He lifts his hips, helping to push his cock further into my mouth. “Reese, I wanna watch you.” He hasn’t yet opened his eyes, and I can’t help the feeling of seductiveness and pride that fill me as I hold all the power over him right now.
“Please, babe,” he growls, slowly pumping his hips.
“Open,” I whisper around the head of his cock. When he opens his eyes, I can see the lust burning inside them.
“That is so hot.” I stop moving over him and allow him to take what he needs, getting my own satisfaction out of his pleasure. When he tries to pull back, I refuse to let him. Lowering my mouth over him, I feel him hit the back of my throat. When I swallow, my throat hugs him gently. As he fists my hair, it’s like a boost of need hits him. Quick drives of his hips join the deep groan that rips from his lips, and I know what is coming.
I want it. I need it.
“I can’t hold off.”
“Don’t,” I command just before his thighs tighten and he holds my head close to him. Warm spurts hit the back of my throat, and I take everything he offers. For a second, his mouth falls lax, his eyebrows crease and he lets out that deep, satisfied sigh, making it by far the most erotic experience. I know I’ll never grow tired of it and him.
I am later awakened by the sound of Dawson’s phone ringing. By its continuous ringing, it is someone very persistent. While I wish he’d ignore it and stay in bed with me, to my disappointment, he slips away, leaving me alone beneath the thin sheet of his bed. I hear him mumble a hello.
The room grows silent, and I peek through the strands of hair that have fallen around my face to find the room empty. He must have slipped out into the hallway and left me alone in bed. At first, I thought maybe he’d done it to avoid waking me, but then I hear his irritated voice echo through the small gap and find myself curious. I sit up, moving toward the end of the bed to attempt to understand clearly.
Part of me feels terrible for eavesdropping.
“What do you want?” There are a few passing seconds of silence as I stare at
the shadow peeking through from beneath the door. He is just beyond the door and at any minute can push it open, only I don’t let that fear diminish my interest. “What am I supposed to do about that?”
Again silence.
“Why call me?”
Each time he speaks, it makes my heart race more. I can’t determine who or even what he is discussing and I hate the unknown.
“That was a long time ago.” I hear him let out a deep, exasperated breath. “Things are different now. I don’t think asking me for help is your only option.”
The shadow moves away from the door, and I hurry from the bed toward the door, leaning in closely, fearful I will miss part of what he is saying.
“Where are you staying?”
My heart rate spikes and my stomach does a crazy flip thing.
“Yeah,” Dawson says in a defeated tone that concerns me. “Sunset Tower on the Boulevard, I know the one. I’ll see you in an hour.”
The realization hits that I am still standing near the door with my ear plastered to the small crack before the frame and the door itself. I hurry toward the bed, jump up and tuck myself beneath the sheets just as the door opens. I try my best to keep my breaths smooth and level, free from the rush of adrenaline that is now coursing through me.
Dawson moves around the room quietly, and I can hear him shuffling around in his closet. Then the familiar sound of a zipper, followed by the jingle of keys echo.
Suddenly he touches my hip, and I wait for him to approach me. I feel his lips press to my forehead, and they remain there for a few passing seconds before I slowly open my eyes and turn my head to look up at him. “Hey.”
“Morning.” I look over at the clock and realize it is just barely after nine.
“Where are you going?” Reaching up, I attempt to pull him down to me, only he resists.
“Uh . . .” he hesitates for a few seconds, almost like he is trying to come up with something to say, which alarms me. “Kevin called and asked if I could give him a ride. He went out last night and had to take a cab home.”
The lie he tells me both stuns and stings.
“I shouldn’t be too long,” he adds. The hardest part about the entire thing is the way Dawson looks down at the mattress instead of looking at me when speaking or more like spewing the lie.
“Do you want me to ride along?”
“No.” His reply is so quick that it feels like another sharp stinging jab. “You stay in bed and relax, and later we’ll go out for lunch or something.”
I nod because my throat burns too much to answer him with words. Part of me wants to lash out at him and tell him that I know he’s lying to me. I want to demand to him that he tell me the truth. But an even more significant part can’t look past the hurt, knowing that he can lie to me without hesitation and so comfortably. Just the little bit of what I’ve heard has already confirmed that it wasn’t Kevin he was talking to on the phone. I stare at him. He stares back. A minute passes and our verbal showdown stops. I want to ask him what he is really doing, but I also want to trust him too.
“I’ll see you in a bit then?” It is his turn to nod, and because I can’t look at him any longer, I turn away. I curl myself around the pillow at my side and breathe in his scent. Doing my best to tuck away the hurt, I close my eyes tightly and concentrate on the sound of my breathing instead. How can you have a relationship without trust?
Dawson
She is already waiting outside when I walk up. Her hair is now shorter, bobbed, and hits just beneath her chin. It looks different, not bad, but just not something I’d ever imagined on her. Renee always had long locks of blond hair that she would spend hours curling. Waves that hung down her back that I’d toy with often. She is thinner, almost frail looking and her cheekbones are more distinct. Though she was always pretty slim.
“Hi,” she whispers, and I sense the nervous energy she expresses.
“Hey.” Seeing her looking back at me with those big blue eyes of hers brings back a lot of unsettled feelings. Is it love? I don’t think so. It is more memories of that time in my life. Renee is the first girl I can honestly say I loved, but like I said, that was a long time ago.
“I saw the footage about the accident.” I notice the way her gaze falls to my casted arm. “That must’ve been terrifying.”
“Why call me?” I wasn’t here for conversation.
She worries her lip as her gaze lifts back to meet my own. For a few silent seconds, she says nothing while watching me. When she used to look at me, even giving me one glance, I’d be lost in that sea of blue that flashed back to me. Not anymore.
“Can we go inside, not to my room, but maybe to the bar area?” She seems nervous, her hands shaking as she twists them together in front of her. “It’s early, so it should be a quiet spot to talk.”
My sub-conscience tells me to walk away because Renee and I aren’t an us and I owe her nothing. But that good guy inside me, the one who always feels as if he has to fix or help anyone in need steps up. I nod as I head toward her and she turns back to the entrance behind her.
As she walks, I again scan her all over. There is barely anything left of her with the clothes she wears sagging in places they shouldn’t. They hide what is beneath but not enough to conceal the significant weight change in her.
She finds a small table in the corner, one far from the bar. I join her, still unsure of what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Her eyes shift around like she is in search of a staff member of the hotel.
“I’m good.” Immediately she refocuses on me. I can’t help but notice that she continues to shake, looking from her hands that now rest on the table before us and back to me almost frantically. “What’s going on?”
She takes one deep breath after another, almost like she is trying to find the courage to say whatever it is she needs to. Then she looks up at me with tears in her eyes, shocking the hell out of me. “I need help, and I know I don’t have the right to ask you for it, but I don’t know where else to turn. I never meant to get addicted to it; it started out as just a way to fit in. Everyone around me was doing it; it was as common as drinking a glass of wine.”
“What was?”
“Cocaine,” she whispers so low I almost miss it. My stomach drops and my chest tightens.
“I’ve tried to quit on my own, Dawson, I have.” Her tears fall heavy now, her chest heaving as she attempts to hold them back. “But it gets too hard, and then I break, falling right back into old habits. My parents gave up on me. All my friends hate me. The friends that matter anyway, those I had before I let everything go to shit. I feel like I’m gonna crack and there’s gonna be nothing left. I don’t know how to fix this, I don’t know where to turn, I just, it’s just—”
“How long?” Why it matters, I wasn’t sure. I guess I just need to know.
“Right before we ended things.”
She ended things, though I was having a hard time at that point trying to find a reason why we should stay together myself. Renee wanted the glam and the high life. She wanted the attention of not just me, but every other guy out there. It got to a point where the need to impress grew more significant than her love for me and that’s when I began to realize what we had would never be enough.
“I can’t fix you, Renee .” I am not sure what she wants from me. What she thinks I could offer her. “It has to be you that wants to change. You have to beat this.”
“I know, but I don’t know where to start. I don’t have the strength to get through this alone.”
“What we had? We can’t go back to that.” Maybe it is the wrong thing to say in her condition. I don’t know. Fuck. I’m still reeling from the realization that this frail and desperate woman sitting before me is the confident girl I once loved.
“I know, but I thought maybe we could start new,” she says quietly and shrugs as she wipes away her tears. “We were friends once. Can’t be friends again? I could use a good friend.
”
Her comments only make me think of Reese.
“I’m with Reese.” Her eyes widen just a fraction, though I can tell she is trying to appear unaffected.
“I think I always knew that would eventually happen.”
“Everybody did it seems,” I state, “or so everyone has been telling us.”
“I don’t want to come between the two of you.” She again looks down toward her hands. “I just don’t have anywhere else to turn.”
Reese
“What exactly is it we’re doing here?” Heather asks as we sit inside a small diner across the street from the Sunset Tower. It’s the one piece of information I’d taken from the little bit I’d overheard Dawson say during his phone conversation.
“We’re figuring out who Dawson is actually meeting,” I say without looking away from the window, “at a hotel.”
“Why not just ask him?”
“I did and he lied. I could have pushed, but I shouldn’t have to do that. He said it was Kevin and I’ve since confirmed that he worked all night and didn’t get drunk, leaving his vehicle at some bar. So that’s not who he’s meeting.” That hurt the most. My irritation only grows more and more every time I break down the events of the morning in my mind.
“So stalking him is the next best option?” It’s then I look over at her, giving her an annoyed look.
“That or tracking his phone and there isn’t enough time for that. But even tracking it would only confirm he went to a hotel, and I already knew that part.”
“I’m getting a coffee,” she says in a grumpy voice and stands up after pushing back her chair. Heather is apparently not a fan of my waking her up early this morning to be my stakeout partner.
I lift my phone from my bag and decide to text Dawson, just to see if I’ll get a response.
Me: Miss you, babe. Hurry home.
After I send it, I regret it. But then I sit, staring down at my phone, willing Dawson to reply. As the minutes pass, my heart only aches more. The whole situation is making me crazy. The not knowing. The secrets. It’s all turning me into a paranoid freak. Maybe I heard him wrong. Maybe he didn’t state he’d meet whomever at the Sunset Tower.
