I walk slowly, analyzing everything as I pass it, moving closer to the vibrant corkboards beside her desk. What I see in the photos tells me a lot about her. She’s playful, loyal, and free spirited. Or at least she was until her parents took control of her life.
I lean against a small cane chair by the photo boards, my finger twitching against a thin, soft fabric. I glance down at the black tee resting over the back of the seat. On the left breast pocket, in cursive writing, is the name of a store I’ve walked by one hundred times on Main Street.
I lift the shirt. Cassia works at Peppa’s Perfumes.
Smiling, I return the shirt to its spot and glance up. My stomach drops in the most delightful way when a photo in the middle of the corkboard catches my eye. It’s her smile I see first, wide and wild, exposing perfect white teeth, followed secondly by her large, blue eyes, framed with long, dark lashes. The photo is taken from a higher angle, looking down on her. She’s the only one in the photo, her hands threaded together on her thighs. The angle would show off her breasts if she wasn’t wearing a white dress that covered the majority of her chest. I pluck the photo from the corkboard and hold it in my hand.
I think I’ll keep it.
“What are you doing?” I lift my head as she strolls barefoot from her bathroom and I can’t help the grin that pulls at my lips.
With her usual sass, she folds her arms over her chest and leans against the doorframe.
“You’re cute.” I say, slipping the photograph into my back pocket.
“Thanks.” She scratches her lip. “Do I even want to know what you plan on doing with that?”
Isn’t it obvious? Excitement bubbles in my stomach. If only she could see the images I see. I smile, unable to contain it as wicked, dirty, nasty thoughts flood my brain.
“I’m going to come all over it.”
Cassia cringes, screwing up her pretty face. “Gross.”
I turn towards her, tilting my head in that way she likes so much. How do I know? Because she flexes her fingers every time I do it.
“When I’m finished with it, I’ll give it back to you in exchange for a new one.”
A smile breaks over her beautiful mouth as she lets out a humorous rush of air. Any other girl would find me disturbing, probably, but Cassia isn’t any other girl. She absorbs my kinks and my desires without a flinch. Hell, I told her I was going to fuck her ass and I witnessed yearning burn brightly in her eyes. Most girls would shudder at the thought.
“You’re twisted, you know that, right?”
I nod. “I know.”
She shifts her weight onto her left leg. “Does it work?”
I step closer. “Does what work?”
“Your wolf among sheep routine. Does it work?”
I take another step and the beat of my heart kicks up, thrumming at an unusual pace. I try to ignore it, but the heat that blooms underneath my collar is making it difficult. I’ve never felt this before…this heat. It’s unbearable.
“You tell me. Does it make you horny knowing who I truly am underneath my mask?”
She rakes her teeth over her bottom lip, carefully selecting her next sentence. “It has its appeal...especially to girls like me who are tired of having their sexual desires suppressed by overprotective parents.”
Tingles dance along the surface of my skin, setting it alight. “And what are your sexual desires?”
Cassia smirks, lowering her hands as I take another step, leaving only a few inches of space between us. “I barely know you, Caleb Andrews.”
“You know enough.” I state, placing my hand on the wall beside her head.
She quirks a brow in that way I’ve come to like so much. “Enough for me to give you a piece of my soul? I don’t think so.”
I snort. “That’s what you think sex is? The exchanging of soul fragments?”
Silly, naïve girl.
Her stare flicks over my lips. “Maybe not for everybody, but I like to think sex leaves impressions on us…no matter how disconnected and primal it is.”
“Sex can be a nameless game. No connection. No emotion. No exchange. No impressions.”
Our eyes lock and the honesty in the ocean of her irises punches me in the stomach. Did Thomas leave an impression on her? If he did, how long will it take me to lick her clean? To leave an impression so deep nothing can cover it.
“Not for me.”
Interesting. I bend my elbow a little, resting my body against hers. I’m hard—so hard it fucking hurts.
“All right. So you need a connection. What’s ours?”
A red hot blush creeps up her slender throat and washes into her cheeks. “We’re certainly not lovers and I wouldn’t go as far as to say we’re friends.”
I almost smile.
“Not like you and little Tommy.” I tease.
Her eyes thin as she pins me with a glare. “Little? He’s bigger than you.”
Annoyance pricks at me, her defensiveness over that pathetic boy unsettling in my stomach. I’ll fuck her in ways she’s never been fucked before. In ways that’ll have her believe she was still a virgin up until she met me.
“Not where it counts.”
Cassia rolls her eyes, ignoring my shot at Tommy’s penis. “That remains to be seen.”
Her challenge sets fire to my blood. Lowering my hands, I unbuckle my belt. Cassia watches, a red flush surging over her face, but she doesn’t stop me from pulling my cock out of my pants. Her lips part as she takes it in with her greedy, blue eyes. My nerves thrum through my body, restricting how much oxygen I can suck into my lungs.
“You were saying?” I ask, unable to keep the smug feeling in my chest from affecting my tone.
If she loves it now, she’ll love it even more when it gives her the best orgasm of her life.
“Well…I…you…” She stutters, her eyes glazing over in a lust filled haze.
Exactly.
Cassia inhales and rushes it out in the same second. “Can…can I touch it?”
Arousal, unstoppable and resilient, has my stomach muscles tightening in ways I’ve never experienced. It contracts around that huge black hole of emptiness I’ve felt for so long and it compresses it, allowing my lungs more space to expand. I lean closer, desperate for her to temporarily fix me, to temporarily make me feel like I’m someone who isn’t totally wrong for her.
“If you don’t, I will. Either way, that thing you’re wearing will be covered in my c—”
“It’s a romper.” She cuts in, her brows furrowing in frustration.
I drop my head back and blow out an exhale. “I don’t even care. Will you please wrap you fingers around my c—”
She snatches my shaft in her hand, her warm, firm, and feminine fingers, gripping me tightly.
“Ohhh…” I groan, my lips parting as I bring my face back to hers. “You are fucking torture.”
“I want it inside me.” Cassia whispers, sliding her hand down the length of my shaft. “Now.”
Do I fucking look like I need to be told twice? Shit.
“You’re going to get it.” I grip her hips and pull her close.
Her breasts push against my chest, filling my head with all of the things I’m going to do to them. I’ll suck them, lick them, bite them, and rub my dick between them—everything. I’ll do anything.
Cassia’s breath hitches in her throat as I turn her around and shove her against the wall. I press my cock against her backside, buying myself a second to figure out how the FUCK I’m going to get her naked. What kind of satanic contraption is this? I mean, God damn! The little, black romper is sexy as hell, but super inconvenient. I stare at the back of it, not knowing what the hell I’m supposed to do.
“There’s a button at the top.” She urges me, pulling her hair to the side. “Undo it.”
As she lifts her arms, I see a small sliver of her skin just below a shiny black button. Without thought, I grab each side of the lacy fabric and I tear it open, exposing her beautiful, smooth back.
br /> “Or tear it open.” She mutters, shrugging the lace over her shoulders. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Spontaneity. It’s sexy.”
I plant wet, eager kisses along her shoulder and into the nape of her neck. Soft moans of pleasure—pleasure I’m making her feel—seep from her lips and damn near make me come on the spot. Her tones are light and musical, sounds I could listen to all day.
I pause.
The sound I can do without, though, is the thump of shoes climbing the staircase outside her room. Are you kidding me?! Adrenaline is slick on my skin, sending my heart rate through the roof.
“Shit!” Cassia swears, thrusting backward. “Someone’s coming.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not me.”
“Will you stop?” She hisses, adjusting her clothes. “And pull your pants up!”
I pull up my jeans, completely covering my ass.
Following her lead, I stuff my hard dick back into my pants—which I deserve a medal for, really—and she pulls the black fabric of her romper over her shoulders.
Blowing out a gush of air, she tightens her long ponytail and leans against the wall. I only just manage to get my dick back into my pants and cross the room to her computer-less computer desk before the door opens. I’ve been up here barely seven minutes. How does that even warrant a checkup?
Marcus pops his head in as I lower myself onto Cassia’s cane chair, hiding my unbuckled belt and throbbing erection. Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about it for too long. As soon as Marcus and I make eye contact, it pretty much shrivels up inside itself.
“Checking up on me?” Cassia bites out, folding her arms across her chest once again.
He shakes his head. “Caleb, your father got a call and has to go.”
I nod. “All right. I’ll be down in a minute.”
Without a word, Marcus closes the door. Cassia scoffs, pushing off the wall. With heavy feet, she storms forward, then turns, and storms back in the other direction. She repeats it over and over. It’s kind of annoying.
“A celibacy ceremony? Can you believe him?”
“Do it.” I say, standing up to buckle my belt.
Cassia frowns, her entire body tightening as she stops pacing the length of the room. “Excuse me?”
After I zip my zipper, I push five disappointed fingers through my hair, devastated I never got to bury myself inside her. So close. So close, yet so far.
“The ceremony.” I sigh. “Do it.”
“Are you out of your mind?” She steps toward me. “I don’t have to succumb to that humiliation. Don’t you think I’ve put up with enough embarrassment for one lifetime?”
“It’ll make your life a hell of a lot easier while you’re still living under your parent’s roof.”
“Caleb—”
“I’m celibate.” I say.
Cassia laughs once, rolling her eyes so dramatically I half expect them to roll out of her head. “Yeah, okay.”
“I am.”
She plants a hand on her hip. “Where’s your ring?”
“I lost it at the beach.”
Another eye roll. “How convenient.”
So. Damn. Sassy. Where’s that Bible of hers? Now’s a good a time as any to use it on her ass.
“None of it means shit—the ceremony, the ring—they don’t prevent anything. I could fuck you through this wall and then go downstairs, look your daddy in the eye and swear black and blue that I didn’t touch a single hair on your pretty little head, keeping my celibate status intact.”
She laughs once. “You think God doesn’t know you’re lying?”
I shrug. “Who cares? You and I, we’re going to hell anyway, right? Might as well make a show of it.”
Cassia straightens her spine, smoothing her hands down the front of her romper. “You’re going to Hell. I’m on the path to redemption.”
Oh, cute. She thinks redemption is a thing. I won’t be the one to tell her once you fuck up, you fuck up.
Redemption? Repenting? There’s no such thing. If you had bad intentions when you made your mistake, you’re not getting forgiven for that.
“Let’s analyze that real quick, shall we? You refused a celibacy ceremony, told your parents and a priest to get fucked, and straight up asked me to put my cock in your tight little cunt.” I point out, slowly swallowing the distance between us. “Since we’re reflecting on your outrageously sexy behavior tonight, how’s that path looking to you?”
A fierce flush flares in her cheeks, but it doesn’t touch her furious glare. I half expect her to jab me in the nuts now I’m within arm’s reach. Instead, she points a straight, angry finger at the door.
“Go fuck yourself.”
I laugh under my breath, unable to help the slight chuckle that breaks through. “I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?”
She opens her mouth to spit another hateful string of words at me, but I snatch her jaw in my hand, squeezing her mouth with enough pressure to trap her words in her throat.
I like her like this.
Quiet and at my mercy.
I crane my neck and she sucks in air with a loud hitch as I suck her bottom lip inside my mouth and lick it. She tastes even sweeter than I imagined. I catch her lip between my teeth, applying a little pressure, before I let it go.
Once again, I’m as hard as stone. I fucking hate myself. Why? Why do I keep torturing my body with this woman? Why haven’t I dabbled in other pussy while waiting for Cassia to grace me with hers? I have no idea.
“Thanks for the photo.” I murmur, dragging my thumb up her jaw and across her lip. “It’ll speed things along.”
“You’re disgusting.” She says, but her words lack the venom they were spitting before I took the kiss I wanted from her.
I smirk. Christ. She’s insanely pretty. Have I thought that already?
“If you had a phone I’d text you progress shots.” I say, leaving her alone as I walk over to the door. I glance over my shoulder. “Unfortunately, your parents took that when they robbed you of your freedom too.”
She flinches as I open the door and step out into the passageway, closing it behind me. Fresh air swoops into my lungs—air that isn’t tainted with the taste of her. I blow air out from my cheeks and tilt my head back, waiting for her spell to fade. What am I doing? Why am I messing around with this girl? I normally do what I do and then get out before anyone has the chance to ruin my life. It’s usually not this hard to do. I promised myself I’d stop playing on the edge, stop risking my ass for a quick screw. If Dad lost the church because of me…he’d die. It’s the only thing keeping what’s left of his heart beating.
Repositioning my game face, I stroll down the hall, my hands in my pockets, and meander down the stairs. At the door, my father is in a serious, quiet discussion with Marcus while Linda clears the table.
“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Claire.” I say, dropping off of the last step.
She smiles over her shoulder. “Any time, Caleb.”
I smile back and nod. Yeah. I don’t see these guys inviting anyone to dinner for a little while. At least, not until they get their little gimp under control. Seriously. It makes me sick and the fact think this pathetic excuse of a mother allows her child to be emotionally abused is beyond my comprehension. My mother would never…
I clench my jaw.
My mother would never judge me for who I am. Sure, she’d try to guide me down the right path, but only with a gentle hand. I’d bet a thousand dollars Marcus could beat Cassia and Linda wouldn’t lift a finger to stop it. Love thy husband…but at what cost?
“Grab the car keys off the table, will you, Caleb? I’ll meet you at the car.” Dad calls out, disappearing into the dark.
I cross over to the table and grab the keys.
“I was just apologizing to your father about tonight, Caleb.” Marcus says, holding the front door open.
I turn to look at him.
“Apologizing?” I ask, stepping closer. “Would that
be for ruining a nice dinner or for the serious emotional abuse you hurl at your daughter?”
Marcus flinches, his chubby face pinching in confusion. He can’t believe I said what I said. I can’t either. This is what I was talking about when I said I should get out before I fuck my own life up over a girl. But this isn’t about me. This is about the mental state of an already fragile individual. If he pushes her any further, she’ll be blowing guys on a corner for the reputation, not the money.
He widens his stance and folds his arms over his puffy chest. “Excuse me?”
Casually, I toss the keys into the air and catch them in my palm. Don’t do it. Do not argue with him. It’s not worth it.
“I know it’s none of my business,” Ah, fuck. “but you should be a little nicer to your daughter. She’s the only one you have.”
He shifts his weight and huffs, apparently offended. “I only provide pressure where it’s needed. When you have children you’ll understand.”
“I don’t need to have children of my own. I already know I’ll be twice the father you are.” I step out of his house and stroll across the porch, suppressing what I truly want to say.
Thanks for dinner, Marcus. You piece of shit.
Thursday.
Four days later.
“I don’t believe you.” Fiona squeals out between obnoxious cackles. “He did not take a picture of you to jerk off to.”
Cringing, I pull three ‘Sex & Bubbles’ perfume bottles from their brown shipper box and sit them on the top shelf, completing the display to the left of the counter.
“I’d rather not relive it. Thank you.” I mutter.
Fiona’s slender, manicured hands fly to her face, covering her open mouth. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you!”
She bounces on the spot, snorting into her hands. With the ruckus she is causing, she’s lucky we’re about to close and there aren’t any customers around to hear her. I don’t know why I told her about the situation that transpired between Caleb and I on Sunday.