Clusterf*ck

by Ash Harlow

  “You’re the person I saved it for,” she says. “You’re the person I wanted to be my first. But if you don’t want me…”

  I pull her hand away. “Now you’re being manipulative. Of course I want you. If I didn’t want you, you’d be home in your own bed.”

  “Or out with Darcy’s cousins.”

  My anger at what nearly happened with those guys redlines. “Shit, you see what I saved you from there?” I’m not even making sense but I’m becoming aware of the fact that I don’t want her to leave here tonight still a virgin because it’s going to kill me when I see her with any other guy, knowing that he’s potentially going to be the first one. She’s done something to me. Witchcraft, probably. Since when were you protecting someone by taking their virginity, but that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  I roll her on to her back, and she opens her legs for me to nestle between them.

  10 ~ GINGER

  Luther’s hard cock is pressed against my thigh, rather than against my pussy where it felt both nice and somewhat threatening just minutes ago. His fingers are on my face, touching me everywhere. They smell of me, and that gives me a warm, sexy feeling in my belly.

  His cock, though, is hot, on fire. It pulses, especially when he nudges it into the soft flesh of my thigh. The look on his face is intense, and I want him to speak, or move, or fuck me, anything but this watching.

  This new intimacy between us is so foreign, I’m still finding my way around it. Until now, he’s been unapproachable, protected behind steel and razor wire. I don’t care what he thinks about daybreak. There’s no way we can ever go back to how we were.

  “Luther?” He has a name you can breathe.

  “Virginia?”

  “Are we going to fuck now?”

  He draws a breath. It’s long, deep, and held for way too long before he exhales. I know his reply is going to disappoint me.

  “No, sweetheart, we’re not.”

  “Why? Is your cock broken or something?” I’m trying to joke, but my voice cracks a little.

  He smiles. “It’s not broken. In fact, it can’t understand why it’s waiting so patiently outside the most beautiful pussy I’ve touched.”

  “Your cock has thoughts?”

  “Men have two brains. Rational brain, and cock brain. Right now, rational brain tells me we’re just going to lie like this and fall asleep. Cock brain is trying to convince me otherwise.”

  I want to beg. That’s my first reaction to the way I’m breaking apart inside. Then I want to insult him, his masculinity, tell him he’s not man enough to fuck a virgin. I’m confused, and sad, and rejected. Everything’s tumbling and I don’t know which emotion to latch onto and append to this night of humiliation.

  I feel as though I’ve handed him a gift and instead of opening it, he’s placed it on a shelf, pretty wrapping still intact. I want to take it back.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. I don’t want his new, soft voice. I want his hard cock.

  “No. No I’m not even close.” I’m hurt. I feel less than a woman. My sexuality has been insulted. “I’d like to go home,” I say, shoving at his chest.

  He pins me with his body. “I don’t want you to go. I want to sleep with you in my arms.”

  I don’t believe him. I think he’s trying to let me down gently. “Until daybreak.”

  “Yes, until daybreak. I want to fuck you, Ginger, of course I do. I’m trying to be honorable here. What I don’t want to be is your biggest regret when you meet a guy you’ll fall in love with and marry. Imagine how happy you’ll be that you’ve saved yourself for him.”

  I have saved myself for him, but he doesn’t want me.

  “Meanwhile, everyone else gets to have fun. I should have slept with Todd Beacon—” He’s an old boyfriend who never got more than my mouth on his cock.

  “Thanks. But no, I’m glad you didn’t. That guy’s a dick.”

  “I’m going to be a fifty-year-old virgin at this rate. They’ll make a documentary about me, and I’ll be a one-day sensation on talkback radio. I’m twenty-two, Luther. At my age, virginity is a curse, not a virtue.”

  “It’s not a curse—”

  “I think I’ve just proved that it is.”

  What he doesn’t understand is that it’s him I want. I’ve tried to get past that. I’ve dated, even had a couple of relationships that lasted around a year. But without a spark the kindling wouldn’t ignite. I’m not settling for mediocre. Maraea thinks it’s because Luther is so unattainable that I want him. But, it’s more than that. I see everything he tries to hide behind his brash words and hard looks. I see—just sometimes—I see him watching me with fire in those glacial eyes.

  He rolls off me. “Don’t move, I need the bathroom.”

  The soft glow of lamplight makes his body even more beautiful. Ridges of muscle enhanced by shadows, square shoulders, a back built for carrying troubles. Tattoos. Lots of them. Across his shoulders, down his arms. Strong hands that have touched the most intimate parts of me. No, Luther, at daybreak, everything will not be back to normal.

  Something hard is coiled inside my chest and if I set it free, it’ll spit and hiss. And I’ll lose Luther. I refuse to let him see my resentment in case he uses it to firm his resolve. He wanted me tonight. He still does. I’m not going to make it easy for him to dismiss that.

  He returns, shutting off the lamps as he moves through the room. His cock is still hard, but the condom has gone. Beside me in bed his body is cooler now, but heats quickly against mine. We face each other and he holds me to his chest, while slowly pulling the pins from my hair. The last vestiges of being a bridesmaid fall away as he releases the elegant knot, teasing the hair free, and using his fingers like a comb. It’s sensual, this feeling of being tended.

  “Your poor beautiful hair has been abused by all that hairspray.” His lips touch the top of my head. “I want to wash it out and make it soft again.”

  “How do you know it’s soft?”

  He laughs. “Men notice these things. Texture, color. Yours is rare. Women think guys only notice breasts, asses, hips, legs. We don’t. We notice everything, and you have the sort of hair that draws attention.”

  “Are you going romantic on me?” I tease. Somehow, his touches have unraveled that coil of pain in my chest.

  “Not one bit. I had ideas for this hair tonight.”

  His fingers catch in a piece that must have knotted, or had a particularly large amount of hair product gluing it together. There’s a tug on my scalp that makes it tingle as he parts the strands, then continues finger-combing.

  “What were these ideas?” I tip my head up and try to read his face in the dark.

  He kisses my forehead. “It’s close to dawn. I’d have fucked you, let you sleep for a short while then woken you again with my fingers teasing your clit. I’d make you come, for the fifth time, not four as I promised, but five. I’m an over-achiever like that, and you come easily. Then I’d sit on the edge of the bed, looking out to sea and tell you to get on your knees between my legs. That was when I’d fix your hair. Take out the pins, pull it free, wind it around my fist and lower your mouth to my cock, because like now, I’d be hard as fuck.”

  His filthy words make my pussy throb. I want to taste him. I want that fantasy, too. On my knees, sucking him.

  “I’d control everything. Your head, how much of my cock I’d let you have in your mouth, how deep, how long. I’d come down your throat as the first rays of light split the horizon.”

  “Grand finale,” I say, our intimacy making me brave.

  “Happy ending.”

  “You’ve made me horny again.”

  “Greedy girl.” His fingers leave my hair and trail down my back until he’s stroking my ass. His touch goes over the curve, down to the crease where my butt meets my thigh, then back up again. It’s dreamy, and sexy, and I wriggle closer until his hard dick presses to my thigh. A little adjustment and as he strokes me, I trap his dick between my legs.
>
  A warning rumbles in Luther’s chest. I ignore him, rocking slightly until the precum that leaks from the head of his cock coats my thighs, making a slippery passage for him to slide through. Our movements are synchronized and with each glide along his length I adjust my position until he’s almost sliding between the slick folds of my pussy. As our hips met, I press my clit against his pelvic bone and pleasure spreads through me like spilled ink.

  There are no words. Just noises, grunts, whimpers, hard breathing. Luther’s fingers dig into my ass, the other hand taking a fistful of hair to tip my head back. Our mouths collide, hungry and aggressive. There’s nothing careful about us now. This is pleasurable revenge to make up for the earlier denial.

  Luther breaks the kiss. “Fuck, Ginger,” he says, thrusting hard between my legs. Everything tightens around us. His fist in my hair, my thighs around his cock. He pulls my ass hard, my cheeks spreading as he drives his cock faster. My nails dig into his shoulder, hanging on while the pleasure no longer comes in bursts that fade. Now it grows with every thrust. I angle my hips so that the head of his cock stutters against my entrance. Luther grabs my hip and holds me away.

  “Behave, or I stop,” he warns.

  “Don’t stop, please, keep going.” I know what I mean, I want him to keep going all the way inside me.

  Our mouths are together again. “I won’t stop this, but I won’t fuck you,” he says against my lips. “You’re so fucking wet. Tell me when you’re going to come. Do you want my fingers?”

  “No, just keep doing this.”

  “Good girl, good girl, that’s it. Come for me,” he murmurs between hard kisses.

  His words send me over and as our hips meet I grind against him. My orgasm explodes, my back arches as I cry out his name. Between my legs his cock pulses, and with another hard thrust, his hot cum covers my ass and thighs while the sound of my name fills my ears.

  He rocks me, his cock still hard between my legs. “Fuck. Fuck, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Are you okay?”

  “I’m still a virgin, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Luther chuckles. “I think I’d have noticed if I’d found my way into your gorgeous cunt, Ginger,” he says, pulling a sheet over us and wrapping us tight.

  I want daybreak to stay well away. That’s a first. I don’t sleep well and I’m usually pleased to see the sunrise so that I can get out of bed and start my day. But when the sun comes up in a couple of hours I’ll be like Cinderella at midnight, except there won’t be a handsome prince, shoe in hand, searching for me.

  Luther’s breathing slows and I get the feeling he’s asleep.

  There’s a shift in the way I feel about him now. He’s let me into something. A brief glimpse of a different person, so that he’s no longer this fearsome, almighty master on top of a pedestal. I know a piece of Luther I’ve never seen before. He’s still my knight and my protector. He’s still apart. But I know more of him now.

  11 ~ LUTHER

  Here comes the sun. And, I’m not singing. Ginger is in bed beside me, breathing softly. Our legs are entwined, I’ve got a cock like steel and a fucking dilemma.

  I’m turning into one of my clients, doing spontaneous shit without thinking of the consequences. Spontaneity gets you into trouble, and if you premeditate this sort of debacle then you deserve every problem life throws at you. I’m angry. I have not acted remotely within my rigid code of conduct for about sixteen hours. The madness stops now.

  I want to stay in bed, ease my cock into that perfect tight pussy, and claim that virginity as mine. I breathe easier now I’ve got that off my chest. Acknowledge your wants and set them aside. Now I’m going to have to deal with Ginger being pissy, disappointed, humiliated, regretful, angry. I won’t be able to talk her around those feelings, because she’s going to want to own them and hang onto them for a while.

  This situation can go two ways. Either she’s going to hate me, probably curse a bit in an effort to hurt me. Or she’s going to tell herself that between us we have a future. She’ll be sweet and lovely and beg me to change my mind, become stalkerish. Oh, shit, I hope she doesn’t do that stalker thing. Whatever, I expect there will be tears.

  I’m just going to have to help her move forward and the way I do that is by turning myself back into the person I’ve always been with her.

  She makes a cute noise when I disentangle our legs and ease myself out of bed. I hit the shower because every inch of my skin smells of Ginger, and I like that a lot. No spontaneity, no getting attached. I scrub my body, wash my hair, scrub my body again and my dick’s still seeing eye-to-eye with me whenever I glance down. Fuck it. If I take my hard-on out of the equation I can be sure my cock brain won’t make any stupid decisions for me.

  I soap up my hand, wrap it around my cock and stroke myself to a rapid orgasm, running through that sexy reel of Ginger on her knees with my cock in her mouth. I cup my balls as they tighten and send a few shots of cum to join the stream of water just as Ginger steps into the bathroom.

  “Sorry to bust in on your private moment,” she says, “but I’m desperate for a pee. Carry on, don’t mind me.”

  I tip my head back against the shower wall and let the water stream over my face as I fight the string of curse words I want to set free. I am in control of this. Virginia Hough is off limits.

  I step out of the shower just as she’s flushing the toilet.

  “All yours,” I say. “There’s soap, shampoo, conditioner. Towels are stacked over there.” I point to the pyramid of rolled towels the cleaning woman builds for me.

  “Good morning, Luther,” she says, stepping past me and into the stream of water.

  I wrap a towel around my waist and leave the bathroom to stop myself stepping back into the shower with her. I want to be the one who washes all that shit out of her hair. I want to wash her pussy and make her come again with my soapy fingers.

  I want to forget about her.

  I rummage through my drawers and find her a T-shirt, sweater and a pair of sweat pants which she’ll swim in. I take the clothing to the bathroom and set it on the vanity.

  “There’s some clothes there for you. They won’t fit, but I expect your mother will have a fit if I drop you home in your bridesmaid dress.”

  I leave the bathroom without waiting for an answer but hear her anyway.

  “I’m not going home,” she says.

  What. The fuck. She’s not staying here. Jesus, this is a third scenario. The most dangerous one. The one where she refuses to believe that we’re not in a relationship and carries on as if we are. I’ve been here before and there’s not a minute of fun. It’s a clusterfuck.

  I’m grinding my teeth when she appears in the kitchen. I offer coffee because I’m not a complete asshole and I want her brain to kick into gear while we have a little talk.

  She takes the coffee and gives me a smile I have to ignore, just the way I’m ignoring her hair all bundled up in a cute messy twirl, and the way my clothes swim on her. She’s only wearing the T-shirt. No bra. The breasts I met last night are barely hidden. I look away.

  Ginger sips her coffee and makes a happy sound. “I’m house-sitting for Darcy and Oliver while they’re away,” she says. “So, I don’t have to deal with Mom this morning.”

  I make a noise in response that is nothing to do with the relief flooding my system right now. We’re not dealing with scenario number three where one person turns psychotic, after all. And, no, I didn’t over-react back there. Ginger’s mother should be locked away, and that stuff might be hereditary.

  “Right, I’ll drop you over there. I’ll make you breakfast first. I’ve got eggs, bacon, toast. Is that good for you?” I’m staring into the fridge, seeing nothing, because I can’t look at her.

  “Don’t worry about breakfast. I need to get going. That kitten of Darcy’s will have torn the house apart if I don’t get to her soon.” She gulps down her coffee and bangs her mug back to the counter. “Good coffee, thanks. Let me f
ind my things.”

  The boathouse is completely open plan and I watch as she moves around, collecting her clothing. I’m quite stunned at how reasonable she’s being. Not crazy bright and breezy, but completely reasonable, as if she stayed over to watch a movie, and now she needs to get on with her day.

  She’s perfect.

  She picks up her dress from the floor and grimaces at me. “I should have taken better care of this.” Then she finds her shoes. “Will these heels work with your sweats?” She giggles.

  “Ah, no. There are spare flip-flops by the door. Again, way too big for you, but they’ll work well for the path.”

  She finds her bra and holds up the panties I ripped off her. “I liked these,” she says.

  “I’ll replace them.” I want to tell her to leave them behind, but that would send all the wrong signals.

  “Okay, ready when you are.”

  I find my car keys and we walk in silence up the path. I’m confused. Normally, I can predict any outcome, but Ginger has proved herself entirely unpredictable.

  The garage was the first part of the sprawling mansion I own to be finished, mainly because it’s the only new part of Ormidale. The rest has been gutted, restored, renovated, modernized, and should finally be ready for me to shift into in a week. I don’t know what I’ll do with all the space, and I’ll miss living in the boathouse. My first-world problems are never-ending. The garage door opens with the press of a remote button.

  “We’ll take the Maserati, it needs a run.”

  “Oh, fun,” she says, bouncing around to the door I’m holding open for her.

  She’s killing me with glee and I feel a scowl cross my face.

  I enjoy the roar of the engine as I accelerate up the road way too fast. Nobody’s around, and mine is the only property in the street, so I’m not being that reckless. There are a lot of things I want to say to Ginger. I’ve treated her badly, even if I haven’t coerced her. There is nothing about last night that I’ll remember fondly. But I don’t do regret, I simply move on.