by Rylee Swann
She breaks the kiss, her expression one of wide-eyed shock and wonderment. “I need you, Fringe.” She wraps her arms around me, grasping my back and ass, digging her nails in. “It’s you, it has to be you. You’re the one. Now. Please.”
I groan, her words waking the primal beast within me. This is what I’ve craved—a clear sign of her desire, her longing for me, only me. It rips through me like a whirlwind and I pull my finger from her. She whines in protest but I smile, a baring of teeth. I’m the predator and have my prey cornered, steam enveloping us in its embrace. I’ve never felt so powerful. Taking Dawn by the shoulders, I press her against the cool tiled shower wall, savagely spreading her legs with my knee.
“You want me?” My voice is rough with need.
She nods, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You know I do.”
No more hesitation, I plunge my cock deep into her.
She’s hot and tight and I revel in taking her like this, being her first, making me the one she’ll always remember.
She lets out a gasp, which turns into a keening so full of need that I hilt in her again. I’m wild, crazed, rational thought gone. She’s the same, clawing at my back, biting down on my neck as I plunge in, drag myself back out of her. Hard, fast. Flat against the wall, she can’t escape my onslaught, but I know she doesn’t want to.
“More, Fringe, more. Now, harder!” Her voice is a throaty rasp.
Taking her hands in one of mine, I raise them above her head, pinning them in place, and bend to suck a tight bud into my mouth as I slow my hips a fraction, drawing out then back into her tight warmth. With my free hand, I take a firm hold of her other breast and caress it, stroking the nipple with my thumb. She stops breathing and convulses around me. Grabbing her hip, I ratchet my speed back up, pounding into her until I’m unable to catch my breath.
“Come for me,” I punctuate each word with a hard stroke then return to her nipple, teasing it with my teeth, “baby doll.”
“Harder.” The whites of her eyes flash and I hilt ever deeper, grunting with the effort to hold back.
At last, her body stiffens. My balls respond by becoming tight, almost painful. “That’s it, let yourself go.”
Her inner walls clench down on my throbbing cock. We’re both so close. I need her to get there. Releasing her hip, I find her clit and stroke it in time with the in and out of my cock.
“Oh god!” she screams, thrashing wildly as I plunge as deep in her as possible. As a torrential ball of energy races out of me and into her, her face contorts in exquisite pain. I crush my body against hers, letting go of her hands. She wraps her arms around me, shuddering in her climax, my balls still emptying into her.
At last the fevered pitch slows, recedes, and I become conscious of the water beating down, the heat starting to cool. Trying to catch my breath, I look at Dawn but she’s faded, become a shimmer that disappears into the mist. It’s not Dawn against the shower wall, it was never her. It is only me, lost in a fantasy so real I ache for its return.
Chest heaving, I release my spent cock, letting the water wash away my seed.
It takes a long time to come down and I’m utterly exhausted when I finally push away from the wall, shut off the water, and step out of the shower. To my surprised delight, I find that my hangover is mostly gone, but I feel like I could sleep for a week. My throat is parched. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I head to the kitchen for something to drink.
Downing almost a full liter of bottled water, I gasp for breath, unexpected laughter billowing up and out of my throat. I feel good—calm and relaxed—better than I have for days.
And all it took was to fantasy fuck my best friend.
My cell phone chirps, a call coming in, and I stride through the apartment in search of it. Finding it on the floor by the couch, I swipe it on.
“Hi, Fringe!” The voice is upbeat and friendly, almost too exuberant. Angie.
“Hey.” I’m not sure how to react, what to say. She’s the one who cooled off after that disastrous LA party. I can’t blame her, but still, I’m a man and have my pride and all that shit.
“Look, umm, sorry about flaking on you. I’d like to explain. Is it okay if I stop by a little later today?” She sounds nervous and like she’s overcompensating.
I’m surprised, to say the least. I’m still flying high from my phantom Dawn fucking and my gut reaction is to say no, but curiosity gets the better of me. “Yeah, sure, I guess. I’ll be around.”
“Okay, great!” Her voice is full of relief. “I’ll see you later.”
She disconnects and I’m left standing in a room that smells like a brewery, wondering what the fuck is going on.
Why do I have the sinking feeling that I just made a big mistake?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Raven Dawn
In the morning, Divine and Mom are already in the kitchen when I shuffle in, the smell of bacon making my mouth water. I greet them with a smile while I pile a plate high with scrambled eggs and bacon. I’m grateful for the first time that I didn’t drink and will be going to school without a hangover. I feel more mature, more adult for having made good decisions last night.
Mom smiles and gives me a one-armed hug before pouring me a glass of orange juice. She sets it at my place at the table then joins us.
Around a huge mouthful of eggs, I ask, “Where’s Dad? Is he having breakfast?”
“He’s painting.” Mom waves a fork in the general direction of his studio. “Inspiration struck him early today.”
Divine finishes eating and rushes off to get ready for school. I jump up to join her but Mom lays a gentle hand on my arm.
“Raven, I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”
Here it comes. She’s going to give me shit about last night. I roll my eyes even before I know I’m doing it.
“Please sit down, and don’t do that, roll your eyes. I think you’re mistaken about what I want to talk about.”
I lower myself back into the seat. “So this isn’t about last night?”
She shakes her head. “No, not really.” I watch her take a deep breath, very curious now. “This is difficult for me. I have no experience with this, no frame of reference other than what my gut has been telling me recently.” She smiles through a sad expression. “You know my past, the things that happened, and the bad habits I developed. I curse a lot, stay up late, smoke more pot than I care to admit to. I’m really not a good role model for you and the woman I hope for you to become.”
“What?” I scoff. “You’re a great mom.”
That sad little smile stays in place. “Of course, I am. For a teenager who wants to break the rules, be rebellious, challenge everything. I’m not here for you enough. That’s what my gut’s been saying.” She places a hand over mine. “We haven’t had any of the important talks a mother should have with her daughter.”
“That’s okay, Mom.” I feel a deep need to convince her that she’s the greatest. I love my mom with a mad passion. She needs to know. How does she not know? “Dean helped me understand that Grandma and Grandpa didn’t get to have those talks with you because you left home so early. It’s okay. I love you so much. You’re an amazing mom.”
A look of surprise crosses her features. “You talked to Dean about me?”
Uh-oh. Did I do something wrong?
“Well, yeah. The other night when he took me to dinner.” My words come out fast, tumbling over each other. “He really helped, Mom. It wasn’t anything. He just figured that I had questions and—”
“It’s okay, baby. Calm down. I’m just surprised, but I’m glad, too. Glad that he was there for you. Glad that he helped.” She pauses and I can tell she’s struggling with what to say next. “Do you have any questions? For me?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, Dean answered most of my umm… sex questions.” Heat crawls up my neck to my face. “I guess, I kinda just wish you’d had a better childhood. Not that Grandma and Grandpa didn’t do their best, but…”
<
br /> She gives my hand a squeeze. “I know what you mean. But you should know that it wasn’t all bad. There were good parts, too.” Her face transforms into a dazzling smile. “Some very good parts. And, I also learned some valuable lessons.”
“Like don’t hookup with your skeevy manager?”
At any other time, Mom would offer a stern reprimand for talking this way, but right now is different. I feel it. We’re different. I suddenly get that we’re speaking as equals. She’s treating me like an adult.
“Yeah, that, among others.” She smiles ruefully. “I want so desperately for you to not make the same mistakes I made. I want… need you to know that you can come to me with anything, Raven. Absolutely anything.”
It’s time to be completely honest with her.
I take a deep breath before plunging in. “You know, Mom, I didn’t know that before.” She opens her mouth to speak. “Let me finish. You were always distant about things like this, like you couldn’t be bothered or didn’t have the time or whatever. Dean helped me see that you were just scared and didn’t know what to say.” I smile and give her hand a little squeeze like she’s been doing. “I’m okay with that. I get the feeling that you’ve rounded the bend and you are here for me now.”
“I’m so sorry, Raven. Yes, I am here for you now, one-hundred-percent.”
I nod. “Tell me something. What got you over the hump?”
She breaks eye contact and her cheeks turn red. “Your father and I had dinner with Dean last night.”
My mouth drops open. That was the last thing I expected her to say.
“Well, fuck, just fuck.” It’s her infamous catchphrase that I’ve used, the one that she always tries so hard not to say in front of me. The way her eyes widen in glee makes me burst into laughter.
Mom slowly joins in and we stand at the same time, like our movements are orchestrated, and hug. We stay that way for a few moments, Mom smoothing down my hair and patting my back. I hold on to her tight, to show her the fierce love I have for her.
Then, she whispers softly against my ear. “Please don’t make my mistakes, my precious girl. I was too young, much too young.”
“I won’t, Mom. That’s why I’ve been waiting until I’m eighteen.”
She pulls away from me, her head tilting like she’s trying to comprehend what I said. She bites her lip, shakes her head, at a loss for words.
“I’m just saying I’m still a virgin.” I lean forward to kiss her on the cheek. “I gotta get going or I’ll be late for school.”
I dash off to get ready and fifteen minutes later, Divine and I are rushing out the door.
“Love you, Mom!” I shout just before the door closes.
***
“Miss Fahr? Hello, Miss Fahr?”
Have I fallen asleep with my eyes open? Now I remember why I usually skip this class. It’s so boring. I mean, seriously, when am I ever going to need to know the square root of anything?
“Miss Fahr, it’s very nice of you to join us today but do, please, give me the respect of at least pretending to pay attention.” Mr. Krebs, the math teacher, has stopped at my desk. I have no idea what he was saying.
Oh, shit. Please don’t let him ask me to answer one of his idiotic geometry problems.
A few of the students snicker quietly while I gather my wits. There’s a lot of scribbles and scrawls on the blackboard that look like equations, but I can’t make heads or tails of them. Math is not my strong point.
I so prefer English and Art. That’s where my passions lie. I’ve done some scribbling of my own, mostly poems, and not anything to do with numbers. I’ve never shown my writing to anyone except Fringe. I remember, I was so nervous. But the smile that broke out on his face as he read made me love him like never before. He told me it was amazing and that I had true talent. He’s definitely good for the ego.
“Uhh, sorry, Mr. Krebs.” I clear my throat. “My attention is now undivided.”
A ripple of laughter goes around the classroom. They caught what I did, not saying where my attention will be, but Krebs is clueless as he nods and resumes his lecture. When he turns his back to write something on the board, I smile. I’m not the class clown but having the other kids laugh at my inside joke was kind of fun.
I feel my cell phone vibrate and pull it out of my bag. Keeping it under my desk, I read the text.
Lobo: Where u been?
Me: Busy
Lobo: No shit. Meet me tonite at Lucifers
I frown as I read his text. I don’t want to go there. I don’t have any desire to hang at the bar and get drunk. I think I’ve finally put that behavior behind me.
Me: Can’t
Lobo: Come on ur birthday is soon, wanna cu, make plans
That would be sweet if I didn’t know he just wants to get in my pants. But, he is the one I chose to get in them, so I better see what’s up with him.
Me: Meet me at the diner. We can grab a bite after school.
Lobo: Aren’t u ditching?
Me: Not today. In class now.
Lobo: Why the fuck the diner?
Me: Just meet me there?
Lobo: Fine
The rest of my classes pass without incident and when the last bell rings, I make a beeline for the exit. The diner is only a few blocks away. Even so, I’m grateful that today isn’t one of those really cold January days. It’s just cold enough to force me to shove my hands into my coat pockets as I head down the street, keeping my pace brisk.
With my head down to protect myself from the occasional blast of winter, I don’t notice the swarm of paparazzi gathering until I look up when I’m almost at the diner. Darting my eyes around surreptitiously on the busy urban street, I try to calculate if I can make it inside before they reach me. It’s going to be close.
Very close.
I’m not going to make it.
Fuck!
Just as I reach the entrance, they close in on me like the vultures they are. They’re all chattering at once, and like usual, I can’t make out what they’re saying. They only want stupid tidbits of juicy gossip from me, so I don’t bother trying to decipher. Instead, I let it wash over me like white noise.
I spot Lobo standing at the window of the diner. He’s all nice and warm and cozy. I hate to admit it, but I’d much rather be with him than facing this latest onslaught. He lifts his arms and shrugs in a helpless gesture. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not used to this, so I cut him some slack.
“Could you all please just let me pass? I don’t know anything about anything.” I don’t hold out much hope that they’ll listen.
“Come on, Raven. It’s your birthday in a couple of days and we all know what your plans are.” Several mics are shoved in my face.
I instinctively recoil, but there’s little maneuvering room.
“Who’s it going to be?”
“Do you have him picked out already?”
“Where’s he taking you?”
“What do Rachel and Brandon think?”
I want to scream, but I brought this on myself. I should have realized how it would come back on me. There’s a horde of them this time. They smell blood and I’m their next meal. Getting the scoop on who Rachel St. Claire’s daughter is going to give up her virginity to is big news to these bottom-feeders. They don’t get how personal this is. How intrusive. How monumentally rude.
Ducking my head, I try to shoulder my way through them but there’s so many. Even as I push past one, another takes his place. This is no good. My breath starts coming out in short, ragged bursts. The effect is dizzying and I wave my arms in a desperate attempt to break free. A bigger commotion starts. I think I might have punched a couple of the reporters closest to me. Serves them right.
“Let me go. Let me go!” I keep throwing my arms around and after a few anxious minutes the crowd begins to back off. I spot a somewhat clear path and run for the opening.
At last, I’m free of them, but the entrance to the diner is blocked so I continue
running down the street. Slipping on a patch of ice, I pivot and catch a glimpse of what’s behind me as I regain my balance.
They’re running after me.
My heart thuds in my chest and I quicken my pace as I wrack my brain for a game plan. I have to lose them. I need to get away. It must look fairly comical—a bunch of reporters running down the street after a single girl. If this was New York or Los Angeles, I’d be running for my life. As it is, here in Toronto, I’m no better off. All the good Samaritans in the world can’t help me. I could get hurt.
I spot an alley between stores and dart into it. With no time to catch my breath, I hoist myself up onto a dumpster and lean forward to grab the wood fence that separates me from freedom. Barely managing, I find a tenuous purchase and struggle over the top. I land on my feet on the other side but another ice patch brings me down on my ass.
Gingerly getting up, I take a few testing steps and find, to my relief, that no bones are broken and both ankles are good. Despite my burning my lungs, I take off again at a flat-out run.
I know where I’m going now, at least. I don’t think I’m still being chased, but I can’t seem to stop running.
Not away from the paparazzi now, but toward my destination.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Fringe
After I hang up with Angie, I open wide all the windows in my apartment to air the place out. Finding a beer bottle laying on its side in front of the couch and a damp stain on the carpet, I realize why it smells like I’m living in a brewery. I spend a few minutes scrubbing the stain and picking up all the other empties. I had myself one hell of a solitary pity party.
Moving to the hall closet to get my vacuum cleaner, I catch a glimpse of my rumpled bed. Suddenly, that option seems a great deal more attractive.
That’s where I find myself who knows how much later when insistent knocking at my front door rouses me. Throwing off my heavy comforter and getting out of bed, I shiver. All the windows are still open.
