I hang the blow-dryer on the rack she asked me to install in the bathroom last week for her hair tools. She turns around to face me and I just want to lift her up and slide my cock inside her right there, but I have to be patient tonight. Tonight is about the long game.
I grab her neck gently, placing my thumb over her pulse, then I kiss her tenderly until I can feel her heartbeat racing. Pulling away slowly, I place a soft kiss on her cheekbone before I take her hand and lead her into the bedroom. The book she bought today is lying on her side of the bed. I hold the covers up for her to get in, then I take off my boxers before sliding in next to her.
“Is this historical fiction?” I ask, as she settles in under the covers.
“I think it’s—”
“Wait. Don’t tell me. I want to try to figure it out.”
“Of course. You like to be surprised.” She drags out the “i” in “surprised” to mock me.
I reach over and gently grab her breast and she gasps because my hands are a little cold. “See? You like being surprised too.”
She lightly smacks my hand. “All right. You’ve made your point. Can I have my breast back?”
“But it’s so warm. Can I hold on a little longer? I promise I’ll still listen.”
She rolls her eyes as she begins reading the first page. “In the light of my grandmother’s torchère, the one with the fringed lampshade, I wrote my first letter to my dead husband.” She stops and slowly closes the book. “Maybe I should read something else.”
“Why?”
She turns to me with tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to read this.”
I let go of her breast and take the book from her hands. I lay it on my nightstand and by the time I turn back to her, she’s composed herself. My hand slides under the sheet, quickly finding her soft abdomen. I brush the backs of my fingers over her skin as I slide my hand to her waist.
Burying my face in her neck, I whisper against her skin. “You want to tell me another story?”
She arches her back a little, pressing her chest to mine. “What kind of story?”
I slide my knee between her thighs as she coils her arms around my shoulders. “Your story.”
She moans softly as I lightly dig my teeth into her neck. “My story is boring.”
I suck on her neck and she wraps her legs around my hips. “Then tell me our story. Tell me how long you’ve wanted me.” I slide my hand behind her knee and lift her leg so my erection is pressed against her throbbing pussy, but I don’t enter her. “Then tell me how our story ends.”
She squeezes her thighs together to tighten them around my hips and I gasp as my cock slides about an inch inside her. She grabs my face so she can look at me as I sink in slowly. Her eyelids flutter with ecstasy until I hit her cervix and she lets out a tiny gasp.
“Talk to me,” I whisper as I move slowly in and out of her.
She smiles as she gently rakes her fingernails down my back, then back up to my shoulders, sending shivers through me and making my cock twitch. “The first time I saw you… you were on your skateboard.”
I let out a soft chuckle, but she continues undaunted, as do I.
“You had your hat on backwards and… I think you were fourteen and you were already almost six feet tall. It was August and you were all sweaty.”
I lift her left leg a bit higher so I can dig deeper. “You like it when I’m all sweaty?”
“Yes,” she moans. “Yes… but I didn’t realize I was in love with you until I was fifteen.”
“Four… years… later?” I time my words with my thrusts and this makes her smile. “Why… so… long?”
She lets out a long sigh as I reach between her legs and massage her clit. “Because that’s when I started touching myself.”
“And you’d think of me?”
Her pussy clenches around my erection as I move my finger in slow circles around her swollen bud. She closes her eyes and tosses her head backward, exposing the graceful arch of her neck. The sensation of her muscles spasming around my dick is getting me too excited, so I pull out of her and her eyes flash open.
“Keep talking, baby,” I urge her as I lay a hot trail of kisses down her neck all the way to her breasts.
She whimpers as I take her nipple into my mouth and suck gently. “That was when you went away to college… I thought of you all the time and… I think I was touching myself at least once a day.”
I tease her nipple with my tongue, smiling when she writhes a bit. “Is it wrong I find it hot you were fantasizing about me at that age?”
“Well, technically, you were eighteen and I was fifteen… so you would have been taking advantage of me if we actually did all the things I imagined we were doing.”
My cock becomes painfully engorged at this comment. “Well, you’re eighteen now, so tell me… what did you imagine us doing?”
I slide down and lay a soft kiss on her abdomen, then my head is between her legs. One of my favorite things about Rory is that she lets me shave her in the shower. Probably because she knows I’ll make her come when I’m done. But nonetheless, it’s one of my favorite parts of showering with her.
She draws in a sharp breath as I use my fingers to part her swollen lips, then I take her perfect clit into my mouth. “Oh, God, Houston.”
“Keep talking or I’m gonna stop.”
She laughs, but she quickly resumes her story. “This. This is what I used to imagine. And… I was a virgin, but I used to imagine you being my first.”
“I was your first,” I mutter, then I go back to licking her.
She threads her fingers through my hair, holding on for dear life as her legs begin to quiver. “I know… and it was way better than I imagined it would be.”
I softly lick her up and down right at the one o’clock position on her clit and, as usual, she comes within seconds. I continue stimulating her, relishing the sound of her moans, until she grabs chunks of my hair and pulls me up.
I mash my lips to hers as I slide into her. I try to move slowly, but she grinds her hips into me, urging me on.
I pull back so I can look her in the eye. “Slow down, baby. The story’s not over yet.”
She smiles and pulls my mouth to hers again. Her kiss is hot and hungry, making it difficult for me to slow my pace, but I’m determined to make this last. I lift her leg again so she can watch my cock dipping in and out of her as I pierce her slowly and methodically.
Finally, she continues. “You know what comes after our first time together… What else do you want me to say?”
I pull out of her as my arms begin to shake. “Holy fuck. I’m getting so close to blowing my load. Give me a second.”
“Holy fuck. I’m getting so close to blowing my load. Give me a second,” she says, repeating my words back to me as if this is what I wanted her to say.
I laugh at her attempt to inject humor into the situation, but it’s not helping as my dick keeps twitching with an impending orgasm. “Don’t move,” I whisper, then I take a deep breath as I wait for the sensation to pass.
“Okay, I’ll just keep talking. You wanted to know how our story ends?”
I look up at her and she smiles as I very slowly ease my cock back inside her. “How does it end?”
She gazes into my eyes for a moment before she responds. “It doesn’t have to end, does it?”
Unable to hold back any longer, I press my lips together to keep from grunting as I come inside her. Then I think of how our relationship began and how I’ve always known that it’s going to end.
I lay a soft kiss on the corner of her lips. “I hope it never ends.”
Five years ago, February 14th
* * *
Houston is gone by the time I wake up Saturday morning. Our first Valentine’s Day together. Or not together, I guess. I forgot about Valentine’s Day while I was with Houston last night. I don’t know if that’s a testament to how much I love him or how good he is at making me forget th
at anything and anyone else exists.
I consider lying in bed and wallowing for the rest of the day, but I know I’ll start thinking about Hallie and I’ll be a crying mess before long. I should go back to Barnes & Noble and find a more uplifting book, but uplifting is not exactly better. I finally decide to just get up and go for a run.
By the time I have my running shoes and yellow fleece jacket on, Houston bursts through the front door soaked from head to toe and shivering.
“What happened to you?” I ask as I rush over to help him out of his UO hoodie. The rainwater soaking his clothes is so frigid, the cold penetrates through my fleece jacket. “You have to get out of those clothes. You’re freezing. What were you doing out there?”
He pushes my hands away to stop me from removing his hoodie. “Stop, stop. You need to come outside.”
“Are you crazy? You need to change your clothes.”
He smiles. “We can do that later. Right now, you need to come outside with me. But grab an umbrella.”
I shake my head as I grab an umbrella out of the stand next to the door. “You’re acting weird.”
He leads me through the courtyard and out to the parking lot. The freezing rain batters the top of my umbrella, but Houston doesn’t bother trying to take shelter with me. He doesn’t even flinch as the rain batters his hulking shoulders, as if he’s a god impervious to the elements.
Where Houston’s truck should be parked under the carport, I spot another car, a brand-new silver Prius tied with a soggy red bow. That’s why he was parked on the street last night?
“What the fuck is that?”
He laughs as he pulls me toward the car. “It’s yours. The ribbon got a little wet while I was tying it. Do you know how hard it is to tie a ribbon on a car in the middle of a rainstorm?”
“The ribbon got wet?” I reply, looking him up and down. “You’re insane.”
“I’m in love. It kinda goes with the territory. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
In love? Houston has never told me he loves me. This is the first time he’s hinted at it. Well, I guess buying me a car is also a pretty huge hint. I want to scream I love you! loud enough for it to echo in a neighboring galaxy, but I’m speechless.
The hand holding my umbrella falls to my side and raindrops fall steadily on my cheeks. I drop the umbrella and stand on my tiptoes so I can throw my arms around his neck. He squats down and wraps his arms around the tops of my thighs, then he lifts me up so I’m about six inches taller than him.
I cradle his beautiful face in my hands and kiss him with such ferocity our teeth clack against each other. We both chuckle, then I slow down a little so I can savor the sensation of his warm tongue brushing against mine. The rain taps the back of my head, slithering through my hair, then down our faces. I turn my head to catch my breath and Houston sets me down gently.
“You’re shaking. I’m taking you inside.” He grabs my hand and sets off toward the courtyard, but I dig my heels into the asphalt.
“Wait! I didn’t get you anything.”
He turns back to me, confused. “Yes, you did. You told me a story.”
“But… I’m sorry. I can’t accept the car. I don’t deserve it.” My protests are slightly garbled by the staticky sound of rain pouring all around us.
“What are you talking about? Of course you do. And, no offense, but your car is a piece of shit. You need this car.”
A green SUV pulls into the lot and Houston pulls me aside so we’re under the carport.
I wipe the rain from my face and eyelashes. “But what happens if we break up? I can’t afford to make a car payment with a part-time minimum-wage job. That’s why you took me in. I’m poor.”
“That’s not why I took you in.”
I flash him my best don’t-even-try-to-bullshit-me-right-now expression.
He laughs. “Okay, fine. That is partially why I took you in, but the important thing is that we’re not going to break up. The story never ends, remember?”
“Houston, that was a story. It’s not real life. In real life, shit happens.”
He lets out an impatient sigh. “Fine. If it makes you feel better, you can keep your old car in case we break up.”
“But where are we gonna keep it? Oh! I can keep it in the garage at home. Can you follow me home in your truck—or better yet, follow me in the new car so I can show my parents?”
He’s silent for a moment as he contemplates my request, then he smiles. “I can’t. I promised Troy we’d go to the game tomorrow. But I’ll buy you a train ticket for the ride back. Go visit your parents, on me.”
I consider whining to get my way, because I really want my parents to see my new car. And I really, really want them to see me with Houston, to see how happy we are together. So they can see there is still one bright spark of hope in my life. But he did just buy me a car. I can’t be too demanding right now.
I reach for him and he leans down so I can wrap my arms around his solid neck. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for taking me in. And for giving me a fucking car.”
He laughs as he tilts his head back so he can kiss the tip of my nose.
“But most of all,” I continue, “thanks for being my friend. I… I…”
He squeezes me harder, and for the first time since we left the apartment I feel warm. “I love you more,” he whispers in my ear. “But all I ask in return for this car is that you let me tie you up tonight.”
“I knew there was a catch.” I grin stupidly as the words I love you more repeat inside my mind like a beautifully broken record.
He slides his hand underneath my jacket and I flinch a little when his icy fingers whisper over the small of my back. “There’s always a catch.”
Six years ago, December 24th
* * *
Christmas Eve is usually the day I’m reminded of how my father’s affair tore our family to shreds. Hallie and I normally spend the day commiserating over our mutual dislike of our stepmother, Ilsa, while also expressing how glad we are that we’ll never have to spend another Christmas with her family again—not after the scene Hallie and I caused during our first post-divorce holiday dinner.
I grab a bottle of Hallie’s favorite sparkling cranberry juice out of the fridge and head toward the dining room. As I make my way around the corner, I can already hear her voice, bubbly and sweet as the contents of the bottle in my hand, chatting with Rory and my mom. Rory must have just arrived. I consider going back to the kitchen to grab something for her to drink, but I don’t really know what beverage she prefers with her Christmas dinner. This is the first time Rory will be spending Christmas Eve with us.
I’m not supposed to know that Rory has a crush on me, but it’s kind of hard not to notice the way she quickly turns away whenever I look at her. Or the way it takes her a few seconds to compose herself whenever I answer the phone or the front door.
Also, last year, Hallie confessed that Rory has had a crush on me for a long time, though she won’t tell me how long. I don’t think Hallie meant to betray Rory’s trust by telling me this. It’s just really hard for Hallie and me to keep anything from each other. Considering Hallie told me about Rory’s crush more than a year ago, it’s possible she’s over it by now, especially since it’s been about sixteen months since I left McMinnville for UO.
I enter the dining room and stop in the middle of the archway when I see Rory bent over the table arranging the silverware. She’s wearing a short-sleeved, curve-hugging sweater dress the color of fresh milk. The dress is cut just above her knees, exposing her fair skin, which looks just as soft and creamy. A fiery longing ignites my insides as I’m unable to tear my gaze from her perfect ass.
How have I never noticed that body?
“Uh… Houston, we have a problem?”
I turn sideways and find Hallie standing right at my left, her eyebrows raised. “What?” I shake my head to clear the image of Rory, then I hold up the bottle of cranberry juice. “What do you mean? This isn’t what y
ou wanted?”
My eyes flit back to Rory, but she’s on the other side of the table helping my mom open a bottle of wine. Now I have a view of her from the front and it’s even better, if that’s possible. The dress clings to the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips, accentuating her hourglass figure.
When did Rory grow up?
Suddenly, Hallie yanks me by the arm until we’re outside of the dining room, out of Rory and Mom’s line of sight. Her blue eyes bore into me, seeking answers. But I stare back at her, pretending not to know what she wants.
“What was that?” she demands.
“What?”
She tilts her head. “Don’t play dumb with me, Huey.”
I scrunch my nose at the sound of my mom’s old nickname for me. Hallie only uses it when she wants to get something out of me. She knows I’ll cave just so I don’t have to hear it anymore.
“I was just looking. Don’t worry. I know she’s off limits.”
She looks confused by this statement. “What do you mean, she’s off limits? I don’t care if you get with Rory. You know that.”
“It’s not that. She’s off limits because she’s seventeen.”
I don’t say it aloud, but it’s pretty much the duty of every man over eighteen to know the age of consent in their state. In Oregon, the age of consent is eighteen. I’m twenty. Rory is seventeen. She’s off limits.
“That’s so lame,” Hallie replies, rolling her eyes. “Rory would do backflips if you stuck your wiener in her. She wouldn’t go to the cops.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, I’m not having this conversation with you. Besides, if she did backflips when I stuck my dick in her, I’m pretty sure I’d be the one calling the cops.”
She curls her lip at this reply. “Yeah, I don’t need that kind of visual right before we eat.”
“You started it.”
She takes the bottle of sparkling juice from my hand and we both head into the dining room together. My mom is pulling her dark hair up into a ponytail as Rory pours her a glass of wine.