Deepen The Kiss

by Willow Winters

  I get up to meet him and quickly smooth my hair before he enters the kitchen, butterflies in my stomach and my heart racing.

  “Hi," Derek says with a smile as he enters the room. That smile. It brightens my world. I can't get enough of it. It’s a crime that he doesn’t smile all the time.

  "Hi,” I greet as I stand on my tiptoes, planting a kiss on his lips as he wraps his arms around my waist. ‘’What are you doing here?" I ask, rocking on my feet.

  He shrugs, looking past me for a moment and then back at me. "I have some time off, and I just wanted to hang out. Like we used to," he says as I wrap my arms around his neck. He leans in and kisses my neck. It’s that sensitive place that somehow seems connected to both my nipples and clit. I'm already primed for him.

  He walks us over to the chair I was sitting in before he got here, sits easily and pulls me onto his lap.

  "You're on break, so take a break with me," he says as he closes my book.

  I look into his eyes. We need to talk about what's happening here. I lick my lips as my blood pressure climbs, and suck it up. I’m a grown ass woman. We aren’t two teens in puppy love. We’re adults, and we need to talk.

  "I'm scared, Derek," I say honestly. I think back to my lectures. State what you’re feeling. Then explain why you’re feeling it, and how you wish for it to be resolved. It’s as simple as that.

  "Of what, Sweetheart?" he says as he strokes my cheek. His eyes shine with sincerity, and a wrinkle forms right down the center of his forehead. It’s always there when he’s concerned. I trace it with my fingertip, wishing we didn’t have to have this conversation. I shift in his lap, knowing it’s for the best. Even if this isn’t going to work, it’s better that we get it out of the way now.

  I close my eyes and clear my throat. "Of this, of us," I answer him.

  He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Don't think about it. Just go with it, Sweetheart." He kisses my neck again before I can respond, and I want to just go along with it. But I need to know what he's thinking, what we're doing here. I can’t just keep brushing this under the rug.

  "You know I'm going back soon. In three weeks," I say, pulling away to look him in the eye. A part of me thinks this is all just temporary for him anyway. As soon as I leave, he'll have someone else. It's a small part though. If I really believed it, it would make ending this so much easier. If I thought I could just be replaced so easily by him. But I don’t think that. Maybe I’m naive, but I don’t want to believe it.

  His hands pause on my waist, his fingers gripping me a little tighter. "Yeah," he says suspiciously, that wrinkle returning.

  "And then what?" I ask. That’s really where my problem lies. I need to know.

  "Well, it's only one semester, right?" he responds.

  "Yeah." What is he thinking? I can feel that damn wrinkle on his forehead form on mine. My heart seems to beat so loud that I can’t hear anything else. I wish it would shut up. I need to hear what he’s saying.

  "That won't be long. Just a few months, and we can handle that," he says hopefully.

  "I just don't want to start something, and then you go and fuck around-" the words come out so fast. I can’t help it. It’s what’s in my head, and I need him to tell me it’s going to be alright.

  He grabs my face with both hands, forcing me to look at him. "I have never fucked around on you. I never will. I'm not interested in anyone else," he says, cutting me off. My breathing comes in faster.

  "What is this between us?" I ask him. I stand up, pushing off his lap and getting out of his hold to put some space between us.

  "I told you I want you." His voice is sincere as he grabs my hand, as if he needs to touch me to get through this.

  "For now?"

  He stands up and wraps his arms around my waist; I don’t deny him. "For however long we have." I hate that answer. I need something more than that, something concrete. But the way he says it reminds me of what he's going through. I have to close my eyes and try to focus on our conversation, but I can’t.

  "Don't think about it, sweetheart. Just kiss me." His voice lowers as he pulls me closer to him.

  I wish he would just say the words I’m thinking. I love you. It would make this so much easier. But that would be too good to be true. And I’m stupid for thinking it. For however long we have.

  It’s so easy to do as he says. To just stop thinking. The way he presses his lips to mine makes me want to forget about everything and just be his for the moment and I take them greedily, needing to just get lost in his touch.

  Just this moment.

  His hot tongue slips against the seams of my lips and part for him, opening and letting him inside my mouth. His tongue strokes strong and heavily against mine possessively. His kiss is taking from me with everything he has. It’s a hot dark dance of our mingled breath.

  As his hands roam my body, I realize that I’m enabling him. I’m allowing him to have me without any type of resolution. I’m weak because of him. I’m weak for him.

  His fingers trail along my waist, tickling my skin and making me writhe under his touch. Such a soft touch. He’s always gentle at first; that’s how he gets me. He shows me the side of him that no one else can see.

  It’s a side I’m addicted to.

  “Lie to me, sweetheart,” Derek says as he pulls back, his eyes closed and his hot breath coming in quicker.

  He lifts me up by the waist, walking the length of the small kitchen and setting me down on the counter. He kisses my neck gently as I register his words.

  His lips barely press against the sensitive area just under my ear. That spot. He must know exactly what it does to me.

  “Lie to you?” I ask. I’m surprised I can even talk, my heart’s beating so fast and I feel like I can hardly even think.

  His deft fingers unbutton my jeans, and I let him. I don’t tell him no.

  I can’t. I want this just as much as he does, even if we haven’t resolved a damn thing. He did say he’d never cheat on me. But how long is he mine to claim? And more importantly, when is he going to stop dealing? When is he going to straighten up his life?

  I shake my head at the thought as he slips my jeans off my hips. He lifts my ass up off the counter and I have to lean against him, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. The denim slides down my thighs and he lowers himself while he pulls them off, kissing my collarbone, down between my breasts, down to my hips. He stops at my thighs, tugging the jeans down my legs.

  They fall to the floor, making the only sound that fills the silence in the room besides our heavy breathing. “Lie to me and tell me I was your first,” he says softly with his eyes on my pussy as he pushes my legs further apart.

  He gently nips my thigh, his hands at the back of my knees as he gently kisses my leg, up to my hot pussy. He brushes his nose against my panties, and my cheeks flame with embarrassment. His hands move to my hips, holding me in place as he bites through the lace and gently nips my clit. Fuck! The heated sensation vibrates through my body.

  My hands slide into his hair as I cry out, “Derek!” It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before, a sharp pain followed by the sweet bliss of pleasure. I want it again. I want more; my clit throbs for more.

  “Do it, Sweetheart,” he says as he looks up at me with a hunger in his eyes I’ve never seen. He stares deep into my eyes as his thumbs tear through the lace of my panties, shredding them, making me bare to him. Holy fuck. “Tell me I was your first, I need to hear it.”

  He pulls my ass to the edge of the counter and lines his dick up; my legs wrap around his waist, my arms wrap around his shoulders. He kisses my throat and my head falls back as he gently pushes into me. I’m still sore. He’s had me every day since he took me at his house.

  “I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. We're already denying so much of the truth, but I won’t lie to him. “I’ll never lie to you, Derek.”

  He fills me so slowly, so sweetly, but with an aching stretch that burns slightly from his thick girt
h.

  Derek’s arms wrap around my back and one hand grips the nape of my neck as he thrusts harder into me. It’s a punishing fuck, like he’s angry I won’t lie to him. I scream out loudly, not caring about anything. Just needing him to hear what he does to me.

  “Lie to me, sweetheart,” he groans through his clenched teeth as he continues to thrust harder and harder, pushing me higher and higher toward the peak I’m desperately seeking.

  He forcefully pumps his hips over and over as his jeans fall to the floor around his ankles. He fucks me with primal need; my body heats, and my skin tingles with the sensation of desire. I need more. I whimper an incoherent response as I cling to him.

  His rough pubic hair brushes against my clit with each stroke, making the intense feeling that much stronger. I feel so unsteady. Extreme pleasure stirs in the pit of my stomach and radiates outward. My toes seem to go numb as my fingers grip onto him, my nails digging through his thin t-shirt and into his shoulders. I bury my head in the crook of his neck as he continues the punishing fuck.

  “Did he fuck you like this?” Derek asks, moving away from me slightly, but still buried deep in my heat, gripping my throat with his hand, forcing me to stare back at him. His blue eyes pierce into me.

  “No,” I say and shake my head, or at least I try to. I can barely function, paralyzed by the pleasure he’s giving me.

  “No one will ever fuck you like I can,” he says in a low voice, and the intensity in his gaze is nearly too much. He reaches down with his other hand still squeezing my throat and pinches my clit again. My ass slams against the granite countertop, and the force of his thrusts are so strong that the dishes in the sink rattle. His fingers tighten around my throat although they don’t constrict my breathing.

  “Remember that, Emma,” he says breathily. “I can give you this. I can give you what no one else can.”

  I grip onto him harder, the wetness between my thighs growing hotter. The sound of him pounding into me only makes him fuck me faster and harder as my arousal makes it easier for him. My heels dig into his ass as I hold onto him for dear life. The sensation numbs my body, heating it with a pleasure that threatens to consume me.

  “I wish it had been you,” I moan into the hot air between us tears pricking my eyes.

  With the feeling of him taking from me so ruthlessly, savagely, devouring me with his hard merciless thrusts, I’m already so vulnerable. I’m already so weak and at his mercy. But I do wish it’d been him.

  He’s so rough with me I can hardly stand upright at the mixed sensations of pain and pleasure. He leans down, pushing my tank top and bra out of the way and sucks my nipple into his mouth, his teeth bite down and he pulls back. It hurts, but it’s what sends me over. I spiral into a black abyss of paralyzing pleasure.

  “It’s my fault for letting you go.” I barely hear Derek’s whisper as he pushes himself inside me all the way to the hilt. I can barely stand the sensation as my head is thrown back, and a scream is ripped from my throat. He rubs my clit ruthlessly as my orgasm slowly radiates through my body, as if deliberately torturing me slowly with a pleasure so intense I can’t fight it.

  He cums with me, his thick cock pulsing and filling me. His cum spills from my pussy and down my thighs, mixing with the arousal that made it so easy for him to fuck me like that.

  It’s because I want him.

  That’s why he could take so much from me.

  Because I’m so willing to give it to him.

  CHAPTER 12

  Derek

  * * *

  I RUN my fingers along the small silver pebbled frame sitting on the edge of my desk. It’s a picture of me and Emma. It’s been a couple of weeks, and Ma ordered me a picture frame. She said jokingly that I should have some evidence I could hold down a girl. I huff a laugh, remembering her jab. She thinks she’s funny.

  It’s a good picture of the two of us, too. Emma had it; she kept it from all those years ago.

  She took it in my car, lying next to me, holding her hand up as we lay across the back seats. The two of us are smiling. I can’t think of another picture I have where I’m smiling unless it’s forced. Ma used to make us get pictures together. She said it was important. I know she wanted me to get them because she thought she was dying. She wanted me to have a picture of the two of us, so I could remember her when she was gone.

  In those pictures with her, I’m not really smiling. I hated getting them done. I only agreed to take them because I knew my ma needed them. I forced each smile for her. But they're not real.

  I tap my finger against the edge of the silver picture frame.

  Emma never showed me the pictures she took of us. I knew she wasn’t gonna show anyone anyway, so it didn’t matter to me. I didn’t even know why she wanted them herself.

  I’m glad she did though. Looking at the happiness in her eyes and the way I’m glancing at her rather than looking at the camera, I remember the way she made me feel back then. It’s stronger now, which surprises me. It’s hard to believe that I can feel more for her today than I did in high school. I guess things haven’t changed much at all. We just picked up right from where we left off.

  I think I remember that day, but there were so many of them where we did just that. Lay together in the back of my car, just holding each other and kissing. Some days I let my hands roam along her body.

  A few times, she climbed on top of me. That’s the most we ever did, when she’d grind against my hard cock. The first time she did it, I didn’t even realize she was doing it on purpose. It drove me crazy, the slow grinding of her pussy against my dick.

  The corners of my lips kick up into a small smile. I’ll never forget that. I’ll never let her forget that either. I made my good girl do bad things. I made her want bad things. I still do.

  The days are flying by, but each day she seems to get more and more comfortable in my arms again. It helps that she isn’t around any of the shit I’m doing. I sigh heavily, running my hands through my hair. I don’t know how long I can keep this up. I’m putting off meets to go see her. I’m letting assholes get away with stupid shit, too. Which isn’t a good look. Tony never fails to remind me of that.

  Although if Emma saw the shit I’m doing today, she wouldn’t have any concerns. I click on the mouse to get over to my emails again. It’s just paperwork. All day I go through contracts for the businesses in my name. The legit ones. It’s boring shit, but it needs to be done.

  Everything is streamlined, but I still have my hand in every piece of the operation.

  I didn’t get far by handing off work to other people. The details are what matter. Being present matters. Every day I come to this office. Every problem goes through me. That’s how it should be. I’m the boss, so I have to act the part. Everyone needs to know I’m here.

  It’s an important part of being respected. If I’m not doing the work, why would they even give a fuck about me? I could easily be replaced. I can handle the business end of the companies and restaurants I own all day long. But lately I’m falling short on the dealing and supplying end of things

  The thought sends a chill down my spine, but at the same time a feeling of ease flows through me.

  A knock at my door steals my attention and draws my eyes up.

  “Who is it?” I ask loud enough for whoever it is to hear.

  “It’s me, boss,” Tony says from the other side of the door.

  “Come on in,” I tell him.

  My office door opens, and I push the picture frame away. He’s seen it already. I’m not hiding it; I just don’t like looking at Emma when I'm talking business.

  Tony’s got a stack of mail in his hands, one envelope already open. He tosses the envelopes on the desk in front of me and hands me the one that’s open.

  “Just some bills.” I take the one he’s opened and glance at it. “I didn’t know Ma wasn’t takin’ the chemo anymore.” There’s a bit of hurt in his voice, as if I kept it from him.

  My body chills at his
statement. “She’s doing something different.” He’s always calls her Ma. Growing up next to each other, growing up so closely, she was his mother, too.

  He grew up with his grandma, but she passed away a few years ago. She was never really there for him anyway. It wasn’t her fault; she just wasn’t ready to take care of a young kid when she was so old. His mom up and left though, leaving his grandma no choice.

  “They’re trying this new thing.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and waving my hand in the air, trying to remember what they called the pills. “It’s still chemo, just in pill form. They said it'll help without making her body so weak.”

  “Is it helping?” he asks.

  “I don’t know.” It’s a cocktail. Another one. Just a different mixture of the same shit. I shake my head, trying not to think about it. Ma’s not looking any better. She says she’s not feeling any better either.

  “I was talking to her yesterday,” Tony says casually. I know he's faking being relaxed though. He’s not looking at me; instead he’s looking out the window of the office. I know him well enough to know that he’s got something he doesn’t want to tell me. He’s holding back.

  “Oh yeah?” I ask.

  He takes a seat in the chair across from me. His body’s a little stiff, although he’s trying not to show it. It’s making me nervous. We share everything, and I don’t know what the hell’s going on with him right now.

  “Yeah.” His fingers tap nervously against the armrest as he clears his throat. “She was asking about the special stuff.” The bastard has the nerve to look me in the eyes as he says that.

  The special stuff. The shit that’s meant to make death fast and easy. Given in their sleep.

  It means she’s asking for a way to die. My throat dries up instantly. I struggle to breathe, and I can’t even swallow. It’s not the first time she’s done this. I look away and out the window.

  A few weeks ago she was asking me for it. Not outright, but just hinting around about it. I couldn’t take it. I don’t want her to talk like that. And I couldn’t let her do that to herself. I’m not letting her give up. She’s going to beat this.