Lasts

by C. L. Matthews

  The need to erase Sy is daunting. After seeing Brax’s face, my body rejects every sign that Sy took my virginity. Scrubbing myself from head to toe, the water washes away my sins from the night before but only physically. The memories will stay forever.

  I stand in there long after I’m clean. As the water pelts my back, my mind doesn’t falter in its attempt to make my heart suffer along with it.

  Finally braving face, I get out of the shower, towel off, and get ready to tell Sy about the threat. He’s going to take this as well as Brax took me sleeping with Sy. This’ll be interesting.

  After Mamá and Dad disappear, I hurry out of the house and call a cab company. They come within ten minutes. Then, I’m on my way.

  When Sy’s sister Acindina answers, I’m surprised. Silas has shown me pictures of Dina, but she’s much more mature now. She grew into her strong jaw. She’s a little older than me by a few years, tan as can be, and her hair is crude-oil black. It even has that shiny appearance. It’s curlier, similar to mine. If you attempted to put a brush in it, the brush would disappear, break, or your hair would poof beyond belief. She’s stunning.

  I remember him telling me once that he hasn’t been allowed to visit her or Ximena, his other sister in years.

  “Yes?” Dina says, her voice softer than a shy school girl in an old-fashioned sitcom. It’s adorable. I’m used to confident Puerto Rican women who tell me what I’m doing here rather than asking. Not Dina. She’s quiet and mousy. It’s refreshing.

  “Is Sy-Silas here?” I corrected myself before making it seem too odd. I’m a young ass girl on her doorstep for a man twice my age, plus some change. She probably speculates a lot.

  “You must be Leia?” She sounds off, like Sy has somehow talked about me to everyone.

  In return, I nod my head softly, wondering why she hasn’t tell me to go away.

  “Tree boy is in the back.” She stifles her laughter at the name.

  Sy told me one day that if he ever caught me calling him Tree boy like his siblings, he’d spank me. They call him that because biblically, Silas means Tree God or God of forests. They like teasing him for it.

  “Thank you,” I say. I walk in through the front and then toward the palms and other trees in the back. It’s like a rainforest out here, so breathtaking. The sun hasn’t yet set, but Sy’s family has tiki torches and lights outside, illuminating the foliage in the yard.

  When I stop gaping at how beautiful their home is, I spot him. He rests in a hammock attached to two palms. He’s eating a mango, digging into the soft flesh with his teeth bared. His tongue flicks out, eating it, devouring it really. It’s carnal and all Silas.

  As I get closer, I can see the juices flowing down his chin. For the life of me, the desire to lick every last drop off him is nearly unbearable. Focus. This ends here. As I watch him wipe his chin, my pussy clenches, remembering how he did the same after eating me. I stop mid-step to squeeze my thighs together, the ache making me feel weak. What the hell?

  Now that I’m deflowered, am I going to suddenly have insatiable urges to fuck?

  “Mi corazoncito, you left this morning,” he states. He bites into the succulent fruit once more. Without cause, I find myself biting my lip. Sy waves me closer, so I continue moving, shuffling over to him after reminding myself I’m here to talk.

  If he expects me to respond to his comment, he doesn’t say so. Instead, I search his face for how he feels. He’s always so broody and unreadable. Tonight is no different.

  “W-We need to talk, Silas.” My voice sounds weak, scared even, and I swallow the nerves and pretend I’m okay with this. I pretend I’m an adult and can handle situations that are difficult.

  “Full names, hmm?” He chuckles, still not facing me. He must think of me as immature if he can’t respect me enough to talk to me directly.

  “Someone saw us last night,” I mutter, my body humming with nervousness.

  After the last word leaves my mouth, he’s out of the hammock and within three steps of me. Much too soon, we’re face-to-face, and he’s devouring me from head to toe with his hardened stare. The fruit that once touched his lips now grazes the ground.

  Can one be jealous of the ground for it gets to kiss all objects that he touches? I can, and I am.

  After he’s made the space nearly nonexistent between us, his big strong hand grips my throat in the next moment. He has me backed against a viesques tree in another, and his mountain of a figure looms in front of me.

  The tree is large. It has above-the-surface roots that appear like tree trunks escaping the earth, and those very roots dig into my back while he breathes heavily against my lips.

  Is he going to kiss me again? Why do I want him to?

  His tongue brushes the corner of my mouth, and they involuntarily part for him. He takes the opportunity to seek entrance, and I moan. He tastes like ripe mango, lime, and something else I can’t quite distinguish. It’s the perfect blend of salty, sweet, and tangy, and it’s what I’ll choose to remember about his mouth when this moment no longer exists.

  When we no longer exist.

  Because we both know this moment won’t last.

  And neither will we.

  Sy continues to swirl his tongue with mine while holding my throat with one hand and palming my breast with the other. When he pulls away, he nips at my lip harshly. He’s obsessed with biting, and I’m obsessed with being bit by him. It’s titillating in its torture.

  “So beautiful,” he rasps against my mouth. Each feathering of his breaths makes me squirm against his hold.

  Sy brings his thumb to my lips, dragging it across where he just bit. I sink my teeth into his thumb after his third swipe, and he growls almost approvingly.

  I’m caught up in him when I remember we aren’t alone here and that we’ve already been caught once. Being seen by his family is just as terrifying as the random stranger who messaged me.

  “Sy, stop,” I demand, chastising him for distracting me all over again. Placing my hands on his chest, I push him away. It could be done roughly, and this wall of a man still wouldn’t feel a thing.

  “No,” he states, bringing me flush to his chest. He holds the back of my neck, forcing us to be only millimeters away from each other.

  “Yes,” I whimper. Fear—the wedge needed to separate us taking over. “Someone saw us and acted like they were going to tell the cops. I can’t let you go to prison, Sy.”

  “I won’t,” he proclaims, shrugging the suggestion off like he’s invincible or something. “In Puerto Rico, the age of consent is sixteen. They’re even trying to push for it to be fourteen.” Fourteen!

  I scrunch my face and scoff. That’s disgusting. Fourteen years old? I may have wanted Sy at that age, but not everyone is mature like I was. Even then, I was nowhere near prepared for sex, especially not sex with Silas Esparza. Fourteen is way too young to be deciding if you should be fucking anyone, let alone a man as old as your father.

  “Don’t give me that face, Leia. You forget I knew you at that age,” he growls, forcing me to see his eyes.

  If this were any other person. I’d freak out and question my sanity at the fierce connection. No matter how much I love him, no matter how right he feels under my fingertips, it’s too many shades of wrong.

  “That doesn’t change the fact that it was erroneous, that this is wrong,” I let out before ducking under his arms and giving myself the space to breathe and think without his interference.

  When Sy’s around, he’s all I see, all I feel, all I hear, and all I smell. He’s like a fire. He’s all consuming, and if I give him oxygen, it’ll destroy us both.

  He’s in my body, in my veins, and in my tainted fucking heart. He consumes me, takes a hold of my every thought, and I unknowingly give him that power.

  “You’re not walking away,” he growls, gripping my shoulder, spinning me to face him. “I won’t give you up now that I’ve tasted you. I can’t. I won’t.”

  “W-We can’t do this.
You’re my stepdad, Sy. This is so fucking wrong.”

  “No matter how wrong it is, mi cielo, I’m no longer capable of stopping.”

  With that, my mouth is once again pressed against his, but this time, I’m taking everything from him like he took everything from me. I jump up, wrapping my legs around his waist, his hands reaching out to keep me up. My arms nestle around his neck. He’s solid muscle beneath me, and I’m addicted to how he feels.

  One thing is for certain. Sy gives much more than he ever receives. He seamlessly carries me over to the canopy on the west side of the yard, hidden from view. It’s so beautiful here, and when he sets me down on the lush grassed area, I smile against him.

  He hovers over me, taking off his shirt and then his board shorts next. When I finally look at his bare chest, the one I spent a lot of time with last night, I notice all the bite marks and hickeys. Did I do that? My gaze roams his body, remembering each muscle beneath my fingertips, each ridge and edge of him touching me. I close my eyes in memory, my body heating up even more.

  I want him. I don’t know why there’s this indistinguishable need for him, and it only flickers more. The flame doesn’t abate or burn out. It doesn’t diminish or fizzle out. It’s a wildfire in a field of dead wheat, and until every root is burned inside the earth, it won’t extinguish, and neither will this feeling.

  He wastes no time undressing me after I’m done scanning all of my handiwork from last night.

  In the back of my mind, Brax is there, begging me to walk away.

  Instead, I absorb everything Sy offers, every touch, kiss, and every thrust.

  After slamming the door to Azalea’s, I get in the cab I’d called and head to the airport. They couldn’t get me on a fast flight, but they got me on the soonest.

  I know it’s immature to run away, to avoid the confrontation altogether, but knowing she slept with him and then came back acting as if it weren’t a big deal killed me. Not even knowing I wasn’t her first kiss hurt this badly. Knowing she chose Silas over me, though? That will stay with me. It won’t be easy to move past, but I refuse to let it own me.

  I want to mark her up for the world to see, to bruise her with loving and harsh kisses, to suck her skin until it’s marked with my love, and then to lick and kiss it better like only I can.

  I’ve never wanted something so badly in my life before.

  As I sit on my flight home, I prepare for how I’ll fix this. Silas might have won this round, but I’m coming back for her. He’s an adult, and he took advantage.

  He's fucking sick.

  I’ll love her so much that she’ll pick me for the rightness of that love. She’ll choose me because she’ll see he’s a predator, and I’m the fucking king to her chessboard. I’ll treat her better than she’s ever been treated, and damn, it’ll feel good to prove how much better of a man I am.

  She’ll see.

  I arrive back in Cape Hill hours later, feeling discombobulated when my seatmate nudges me awake. At some point, I must’ve fallen asleep. Makes sense. I stayed up all night waiting for Leia.

  It’s insane that nearly a day has already passed since then.

  My mom picks me up after I’ve left the terminal. She talks the entire way home, but I’m not paying attention. Leia’s on my mind. She’s always on my mind.

  “Braxton Avery Kol!” screams my mother.

  When I finally glance in her direction, it easy to see that she’s worried. Yeah, your little boy never ignores you, I get it, but middle name that’s also a girlie one, really, Ma?

  “Yeah, Ma?” I ask halfheartedly.

  “Really? You’re going to sit there and pretend you didn’t spend the last forty minutes in lala land?”

  “Did you really have to middle name me?”

  “When you’re this inconsiderate to your mother, you’re damn right I have to, and don’t ignore my question.”

  “I figured it was rhetorical.”

  “Talk to me,” she commands, giving me her motherly tone. Yeah, it’s a thing.

  “I’m good, but thanks,” I deadpan.

  “You came home three days early. There must be a reason, and I want to know it,” she prods, gripping the steering wheel like it’ll magically make me talk.

  “Leia and I got into a fight. That’s all,” I reply, giving her an inch when she wants the whole damn mile.

  “You two don’t fight!” she shrieks, breaking my eardrums. Not literally, of course, but it hurt all the same.

  Her eyes are as wide as saucers. The pure shock in her features has me nearly laughing. If I didn’t know better, I would think she was on a verge of a breakdown. Did something happen when I was gone?

  Darryl. Darryl always happens.

  “Well, when she makes idiotic choices, it’s hard not to,” I growl instead, ignoring her worry and wishing Leia was here so I could yell at her instead.

  When my mom’s eyes narrow, regret settles in me for spilling even that much information. Mom tends to over-dramatize everything, and I’m always the one to pay the price when she tells Leia about my big mouth.

  “What did she do?” she questions with the gossipy expression of a teenager.

  “Not my story.” Until this moment, I didn’t realize we’d stopped driving and were sitting in our driveway. “Can we go inside yet?”

  Not budging, she rolls her eyes. Ma scoffs at me then turns off the ignition. She lets out an exasperated sigh and huffs her way out of the car. She does this when she wants me to talk. She’s like the kids at Cape Hill High.

  After jumping out as quickly as possible, I nearly sprint for the front door. My feet smack the pavement obnoxiously. I'm not getting into this with my mother, especially when I don't know the whole story.

  When I get inside and the coast is clear, I run to my room and shower. Maybe it’ll ease some of the tension, or at least my hand will.

  That’s one thing I’ve caved on—masturbation. I can’t not give in. Leia is the fucking sight of perfection. Her skin is this stunning dusky color that makes me immediately hard, makes me imagine if her nipples are dark, too. When I first went through puberty, it was insanely hard to keep myself soft around her.

  The first time I jerked, it was after having gym with Leia. We were partnered for jogging. No big deal, right? Wrong. She wore these not-for-school short shorts that made me stiffen instantly. My stiffy was easily noticeable.

  Leia was naive in that sense. That, or she was too preoccupied even back then. She didn’t say a word, but when we were doing our mile run and her perky tits bounced up and down with each step, I thought I’d die.

  After class, when we got our fifteen minutes to shower and change, I jerked for the first time. Now, I’m thinking of her in tight clothing. Like that sexy dress she wore with the slit up her thigh. I’ve never witnessed a more beautiful sight. How I kneeled before her, eating her with her release as my only mission.

  Turning on the faucet, I lean against the far wall of my shower, barely being sprayed. Taking my body wash off the shelf, I dollop some on my hand and stroke long and slow. Instead of dreading these past few days, I imagine her. I visualize her legs parting for me, the nervous fear in her eyes for finally leaping over our last line. Seeing her give herself over to me, pleading with me even. She’ll moan and then beg me to erase his touches from her.

  I grip myself hard, wondering how she’ll feel, how my first time will feel. How will she scream? Will she say my name or simply moan out in pleasure?

  I’ve watched porn. I know what happens. I know that she can come a little or squirt in bursts. Whichever version I get of her, I’ll cherish it.

  My hips now pump with my fist in tandem as my fantasy of Leia plays out in my mind. I’m not sure what a woman feels like, but I can imagine it feels a million times better than my hand. I want that with her. I want her to be my first. She’s my first real kiss, my first blow job, and will be my first sexual experience.

  But not just that. I’ll do anything on this Earth to have
her be my last of all those, too.

  Picturing her face from the last time she orgasmed with me, I release all over the shower floor. The orgasm pulses through me. It’s long lasting, and I slide my palm up and down until the numbing sets in.

  I should feel relaxed or at the very least satisfied, but I don’t, and it’s because she’s with him and not me. She’s across the country with a man who isn’t me.

  I’ll get you back, baby.

  The clubhouse landline rings. It’s been forty hours since D was picked up. Sleep has evaded me, and my nerves are shot. I’m stressing hard and not for Danté, or the possibility of being locked up, or even the turf wars. I’m worried about Silv. If anything happened to him…

  Checking the caller ID, I see Esperanza Centro Correccional. Must be him. Instead of using his phone call for his girl, he called me. He’s so fucking dumb. Or he’s the smartest man in existence, since she would flip out.

  The automated message comes through, explaining it’s Danté calling and asks if I accept the charges.

  “Sí, acepto los cargos,” I mutter, frustrated that it’s gone this far. Usually he’s out by now. I’m anxious.

  “Silas,” his ragged voices strains. He sounds bad, like he hasn’t slept and got into some brawl.

  “D, are you okay?” Immediately regretting the inquiry, I rub a palm down my tiresome face.

  “That’s a dumb fucking question, Sy.”

  I’m worried. With our luck, Los Perturbados put a hit out on him. He’s wanted by everyone. He’s new, he’s fresh, and he’s fucking ruthless. Everyone’s scared of him, which makes them all want him dead.

  “The fact that you’re not responding and all I can hear is your fucking thoughts, I’m guessing you’re stressing. Don’t be a little bitch. Step up and take command like I taught you. I’m fine.”

  “How long will you be in there?” I implore, not wanting Xo to go into early labor and his siblings to freak out. They only have his mom, and she’s not much help these days.