by Ella Fields
I tried not to be offended or jealous that he’d been in these situations with others. “You look tired.”
“I am,” he said. “Been busting my ass at the garage. Rent’s due and the assholes have decided to stop paying it now that I’m done with school.”
“You’re kidding,” I choked out. “But you haven’t even graduated yet.”
“They don’t care,” he said, hands moving behind his head as he fell back over my blue and green patchwork duvet. “As far as they’re concerned, I should’ve already dropped out and gotten full-time work.”
A squeezing sensation constricted my stomach. “I hate them.”
Everett huffed a laugh. “They weren’t always this bad.” A pause. “But yeah, I hate them too.”
I lowered and turned onto my side, leaning on my elbow to stare down at him. “What made them change?”
His expression tightened, fingers drumming over his stomach to an invisible beat. His black shirt gathered enough to show a glimpse of skin above his jeans and the waistband of his briefs.
My stomach unclenched, leaping at the sight of the coarse trickle of hair that led from his belly button to the depths beyond, beneath his pants. I’d seen plenty of guys with their shirts off, but I’d never seen one I liked this close, one I wanted to see more of. To touch. To feel—
“You’re making me hard,” he said.
Shocked, I sputtered out a coughed laugh, my cheeks heating as I removed my eyes from his stomach and tented pants. “Your parents,” I prompted, needing to know, even if the temptation to maybe do other things was strong.
His gaze shuttered, then he rolled into me, his hand molding to my waist. “Enough about them.”
I froze as his thumb started circling my hip, my T-shirt rising and drooping over my midsection. His eyes stayed on mine, watching, studying. “This okay?”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“Can I kiss you again?”
I almost said yeah but stopped. “Why do you want to?”
He blinked, eyes hooding and hand sliding higher to settle into the dip beneath my ribs. Taking his time, he stared, and it felt like someone was blowing bubbles inside my veins. “Because I realized something the other night.” I waited, dizzy for whatever it could be. “Maybe even before then, if I’m being honest. That what I feel for you is far more than friendship or brotherly protectiveness.”
“It is?” I breathed out.
He leaned closer, nose gentle as it bumped mine, the scent of mint and tobacco on his breath. “It is. It just took me looking outside my own shit for longer than two minutes to actually see it for what it is.”
I erased the space, my mouth melding to his, his hand pressing our bodies together. Our teeth clinked as the kiss went from soft exploration to firm detonation. From parted lips to seeking tongues.
“You always smell like a vanilla milkshake,” he said, groaning and licking the underside of my top lip. “But you taste way better.”
Butterflies exploded like a fizzing bomb erupting, decimating every cell in my body.
And then a bang sounded outside, followed by yelling and cussing.
I pulled away, and Everett dived off the bed, cracking open the door in time for us to hear, “Everett, fuck.” Hendrix hollered, “Where are you? Get out here, quick!”
He raced back to the bed, climbing over me to peck my lips. “When I can, mark my words, Clover, I’ll find you.”
“Don’t take so long next time.”
His brows jumped in clear surprise, and he grinned, biting my lip before throwing himself off the bed and adjusting his jeans on the way out.
Turning my face into my bedding, I smothered a giggle while kicking my feet in the air behind me.
The creak of the rising window alerted me, and I sat up, blinking sleep heavy eyes as Everett climbed in and stumbled to my bedroom floor.
“Shhh,” I hissed. “Want to wake everyone up?”
“Hendrix is still out,” Everett said, a little slurred, and rolled over to kick off his boots. “I wanted to see you, so I left.”
There were parties down on the beach all weekend to celebrate the end of school. Bonfire smoke tumbled off Everett as he crawled over to the bed, almost as strong as the stench of alcohol and weed.
His hand fell on mine, fingers stroking. “I don’t wanna sleep on the floor this time.”
“Oh,” I exhaled.
Bloodshot emerald eyes rose, long lashes curling to meet his brows. “No sex,” he said. “I’m…” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I’m not worthy of that from you. I just want to hold you, Clover, and feel your skin against mine.” Still watching me with nothing but the moon to highlight our features, he dragged his teeth over his lip. “That okay?”
Tears pricked at the vulnerable, honest timbre of his words. “That’s okay.”
He flashed me a grin, then stood and shoved off his jeans, almost stumbling to the floor again.
I grabbed his arm, pulling him onto my bed before he knocked something over and woke up my parents.
His hand moved to my back, ducking beneath my sleep shirt and rubbing. The scent of the night’s festivities was almost overbearing with him this close. “Did you have fun?”
“Mmm,” he moaned, nose nudging my chin. “Wish you’d been there. Fucking Hendrix.”
I held back a laugh, smiling when his head shifted to rest next to mine on the pillow. “You’re beautiful, but when you smile, you’re a portrait of starlit dreams.”
Still smiling, I absorbed his words, knowing he was drunk but knowing that unless he was singing, it was rare to hear such openness from him. My hand found his cheek, my thumb ghosting over the tiny, almost undetectable, scar beneath his eye.
He hummed, his large hand pressing me closer, legs entangled with mine as his eyelids drifted closed. “I love your touch the most.”
I kissed his lips, pushing him back when he tried to take things deeper. “Sleep, Everett.”
“Not worthy,” he whispered. “But I’ll probably keep trying to take you anyway.”
His breathing had settled into even puffs that drifted from his lips and nose to stir my hair when I whispered, “You’re worthy. You just haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Just hold your nose,” Adela encouraged, laughing.
I did as she said, coughing and splattering as the vodka burned a hole in my tongue and throat. “Holy fire.”
She fell back to the sand, howling at the moon.
“Yo, Sandrine!”
So used to hearing it directed at Hendrix, I almost ignored the person calling my surname.
Then I remembered Hendrix was playing a gig in the next town over. We were going to go, but Mom and Dad were out for their anniversary, and Adela wanted to drink. I didn’t have a car, and I doubted Adela’s parents wanted me driving her new Mercedes.
So we’d walked down to the beach. I hadn’t planned on drinking much, but that was before vodka.
As the sound of feet crunching over sand hit my ears, I turned, spying Mark from biology.
“Wassup?” I mumbled, my eyelids heavy as I raised them. Adela snorted, and I asked, “How much have we drank?”
She held up the one-liter glass bottle she’d swiped from her parents’ mini bar, and I leaned closer to discover it was half empty. “Oh fucking dear.”
“Oh dear is right.” Adela snickered. “What’s crackin’, Mark?”
He stopped, flip-flops kicking up sand behind him. “That fucking bonfire over there. Come sit with us.”
I looked up at him, squinting, then over at the people dancing and drinking around the fire. “Nah. Too far.”
Mark chuckled, then went to take a seat. “I’ll just hang here with you gals, then.”
“No, you won’t. Fuck off, Jones.”
All three of us did a double take at the sound of Everett’s voice.
“Hey, man. Good show?” Mark staggered back as Everett’s shadow darkened the sand in front of me.
�
��Yeah, great. Bye.”
With a wink, Mark saluted us, then jogged back over the sand to the fire.
“Hey, Everett.”
“Hi,” he said to Adela.
I didn’t know what was funnier—Everett telling Mark to fuck off, or the fact that I was drunk and he seemed to be the sober one for once. I laughed at both.
“What’s so funny, Clover?” He dropped down beside me. “Shit, you’re tanked.”
“That’s what’s funny.”
“Oh, look. I think I see Gabby,” Adela slurred, non-convincingly. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”
“She’s going home,” Everett said. “Want us to take you?”
Adela grabbed the vodka, swinging it beside her as she began walking away. “No thanks, three’s a crowd and all that.” I didn’t want her wandering off on her own, but I knew she was likely heading home.
“She knows,” Everett said once she was out of earshot.
“Duh, she’s my best friend.”
“Fuck,” he spat. “Clover…”
I turned into him, my finger rising to those decadent lips. “Shhh. She’s known for a while and hasn’t breathed a word. Chill.”
“Chill?” he repeated, taking my finger and depositing it back in my lap. “This can’t turn—”
“Gah, don’t ruin my buzz, Ever.” I got to my feet, swaying until he jumped up and righted me.
“Ever?” His hold loosened.
Fluttering my lashes, I nodded. “Let’s go make out under the pier.”
He tugged me back to him. “We can’t.”
“We can, the ocean says so.”
“The ocean?” His brow arched.
“Listen to it,” I said, hearing the waves crash beneath the sound of humans littering the beach. “It doesn’t judge or care.”
“You’re drunk.” His lips thinned. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not that drunk. I’d want to make out with you even if I hadn’t had one drop of alcohol.” At his resolute expression, I snatched my hand from his. “Wait, so we can make out in my room but nowhere else?”
Everett cursed, glancing around to see if anyone was within hearing distance. Then he started walking.
I followed, or tried to, slipping over grooves of sand in my flip-flops. “Where are you going?”
“Just keep walking,” he said.
I frowned, knowing why he refused to wait but not liking it.
We entered the parking lot, and I saw Dale’s car down at the end beneath the bridge that crossed the lagoon to enter town.
“How was the show?” I asked when he stopped, waiting for me to catch up. “You’re not drunk.”
“Because I wanted to see you, and you weren’t there or at home.” Annoyance lined his voice.
“Home,” I said, smiling. “Sorry.”
He said nothing and opened the door of Dale’s Camry for me to climb in.
I shut it, then moved into Everett, pressing my mouth to his chin as my hands roamed down the hard planes of his chest, feeling the dips and bumps of his stomach. “I want you,” I breathed. “Your hands on me, your mouth on mine, and our clothes off.”
“Jesus,” he rasped out.
My tongue licked at the underside of his jaw, over the coarse bristles erupting from his warm skin. Grabbing his head, I tilted it down as I rose to my toes to run my tongue over his lips. “Kiss me, Ever.”
His control snapped, his mouth opening and his tongue diving for mine while his hands dug into my hair. He moved, and then my back was against the cool metal of the car he was reaching to open. “In,” he breathed, ragged.
I knew he was worried someone might see—even though it was dark, and we were far enough away from the beach party for anyone to see a thing—so I did as I was told. Before doing so, I ripped off my dress, laughing softly at the way his eyes widened. Then, in only my baby blue panties and matching frill-laden bra, I crawled over the back seat.
Turning, I leaned against the door and crooked a finger for him to come to me.
He did, and I’d never felt more thankful for the brazenness that came with the consumption of alcohol. I’d dreamed of us in these scenarios for what felt like years, and now, I finally had the nerve to make those dreams a reality.
He pulled the door closed behind him, and I moved forward, tugging his shirt over his head to scrape my nails over his chest. “So soft, like velvet over steel.” He chuckled and then lifted me to straddle his lap, the car rocking a little. With his hardness digging into me, I moaned, “I wonder if that will feel the same.”
“Fucking hell, Clover. Are you trying to kill me?” His words were choppy, his chest heaving beneath my greedy hands. “I’m not fucking you in my friend’s car.”
“No?” I pouted, lowering my lips to his and searching for his hand. “Then you need to at least make me come for the first time in your friend’s car.”
Stilling, he tugged his hand from mine to grip my face, forcing my eyes to his questioning ones. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”
“Only by my own hands.” I licked my lips, my hair falling over my cheek, tickling the swells of my breasts. “I mean, fingers.”
He stared for the longest minute, and I could feel the war raging inside his head. Both heads. To help make up his mind, I began to move over the one in his pants, a tiny moan slipping free as I grinded right where I needed friction.
Transfixed, he watched. His heated gaze flicked over my face, my hands tangled in my hair, my chest, and dipping further. Down, down, down to where I could feel myself damp against him. A caress, a kiss, and a brand, I shivered under the weight of those molten eyes.
Then the cups of my bra were yanked down, and one rough hand palmed a breast while his tongue and lips sucked and nibbled the other.
“Yes,” I breathed, my heart racing, the warmth from his mouth stoking the fire between my legs.
Everett’s mouth left my breast with a pop, then, staring up into my face, he licked his thumbs before circling them over my nipples. “You wanna come by humping me?” His head was tilted back against the headrest of the seat, eyelids drooping and his chest rising higher and higher. “Or do you want my fingers?”
My chest sparked and spasmed. “Fingers.”
His lips curled, and then his hands were shifting me. I took the opportunity to unzip his fly and tug at his pants as his fingers slowly found their way inside the slick material of my panties, shoving them aside.
His cock bobbed up against his stomach, bouncing, and I gasped at the sight of it in the moonlight. Long, rigid, and thick with angry looking veins.
“Shit.” I looked from it to Everett’s smirking face right as his fingers spread me open and trailed through the mess he’d created.
My eyes almost rolled. His other hand caught my lower back before gripping my chin and forcing my gaze to his as he circled that nub of nerves. “Ever.” I swallowed, my voice hoarse.
“Climb, Clover.”
His erection stood there between us. I could feel its heat, so even though I had no idea what I was doing, I gripped it and moved my hand up and down as best I could while he evoked sensations that had me trembling.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “Look at me. Give me those blue eyes.”
I did, and his hand joined mine over his length, moving it up and down as one thick finger breached my opening and dipped inside, but not too far.
He did it again and again, returning to tease the swollen part of me before sliding back in, and then I was drifting. “I’m …”
“On my hand, right now.” He groaned, the harsh angles of his face both slack and stark at the same time. He moved my hand up and down, over and around him, faster and harder. My eyes fluttered, my thighs shaking. “Don’t you fucking look away.”
I didn’t, but oh my God, it was hard as my body quaked, and I clenched and curled over him.
Everything frayed and spun, and then Everett was cursing, his eyes bright in the gloom of the moonlit car. “So fucking beautifu
l. God, fuck.”
I’d lost my grip, but he hadn’t and was jerking himself fast. Warm liquid squirted over my hand and his abdomen. Hypnotized, I watched, wanting more while rendered immobile.
His breathing started to slow, but that glow in his eyes didn’t fade.
Grabbing my cheek with the hand he’d had between my legs, he brought our lips flush, and I tilted my head, giving him everything I had left.
Mind, body, and soul, it resonated with a permanence I couldn’t ignore. I was his.
When we finally separated long enough to draw a breath, I blurted, “I love you.” Gradually, he’d snuck inside me, imbedding and making a home for himself beneath my flesh and bone.
He was a crescendo, an ever-increasing note, and there was no end in sight.
Like a switch had flicked, Everett’s body turned from relaxed to concrete beneath me.
I smiled. “You don’t need to say it.” I’d known he probably wouldn’t, no matter what he might’ve felt. “I just wanted you to know.”
After an excruciating minute of feeling my heart pinch while I struggled to maintain eye contact, he swallowed, nodding.
We helped each other dress and cleaned up with a beach towel that was in the trunk.
“How’re we going to clean that?”
Everett tossed it into the small bush behind the car. “We don’t.” He stepped forward, pulling at my dress until it hung right. With a kiss to my brow, he slammed the trunk and moved to the passenger side door. “We need to get you home.”
“What did you tell Dale you were doing with his car?” I asked when we left the parking lot.
“Really want me to answer that?” He turned down some backstreets, then veered left onto one that connected to our cul-de-sac.
No, I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want anything to rid the euphoric feeling that’d taken over. That’d made the globs of orange swaying from the streetlights and passing homes seem more than ordinary.
We made sure all the lights inside were out, and then he left me with a brief but reeling kiss before I exited the car. I fished my key from the rose bush by the mailbox and walked inside feeling sober and drunk at the same time. Feeling lighter than air.
