Part III
Book Three
Whipped (A Second Helpings Short Story)
It’s impossible to get through a Thanksgiving holiday without some dysfunctional family drama.
It’s just a hard and fast rule: if more than two members of the same family are gathered under one roof, they’ve been plied with savory food and holiday cocktails, and they’re required to spend time together – it’s a sure recipe for disaster.
Except this Thanksgiving the discord isn’t with my family – albeit, my aunt Zoe is really getting on my last nerve with her man-bashing ideals. No, this year, I’m all whipped up over the guy sitting directly across the dinner table from me. He’s no relation to me (thank God, ‘cause that would be justewww) but we did practically grow up together.
Jase Lathrop is not of any familial relation to me or a member of my extended family. He just happens to be the boy I’ve had a crush on since I was a tween, when I had plump cheeks, pimples adorning my chin and a mouth full of braces. He also happens to be the guy who kissed me and then dissed me four years ago.
It adds an entirely different meaning todiss-functional to this family gathering.
“Jase, it’s so good to have you join us tonight, sweetheart,” my mother coos, blotting her lips with the holiday-décor’d napkin before returning it neatly back in her lap.
My eyes snap to her as I see her smile sweetly at our unexpected guest.
My dad chimes in with his booming voice, raising his glass in a toast.
“Here’s to Jase. Thank you for your service.”
A chorus of “here-here’s” goes around the table with the clinking of glasses, as I sneak a surreptitious glance at Jase through my lashes.
He sits in his military uniform, as sexy-as-can-be, his smile as genuine as it’s always been, but this time when he snags my gaze, I notice there’s something a little darker residing there. The heat from his eyes seems to travel across the table, landing heavily between my legs, where I have to clutch my thighs together tightly to relieve the ache.
That heat is quickly doused with the fact that he’s still off limits to me. Jase is my older brother Chris’s best friend. The one who practically lived here when we were kids, hanging out every weekend and during summer vacations until he and my brother graduated four years ago, each going their different directions. Chris went to college and Jase went off to the Marines. And I stayed back to finish high school.
It was the night of their graduation party when Jase kissed me, making all my teenage fantasies come true and my teen emotions go wonky. It was only a kiss to Jase, I’m sure. It probably wasn’t even a memorable one for him since he was pretty drunk and by then had kissed a hundred girls. But to me, it meant everything.
Although he’d been drinking, the kiss wasn’t a sloppy, slobbering drunken kiss. Jase knew what he was doing – cupping my cheeks in his hands, slipping his tongue across the seam of my lips, tasting me gently, before tilting my head and giving me the most sensual kiss of my life. He didn’t know it, but it was my first kiss.
The perfect moment was cut short, however, when Chris called down the stairs that night and informed Jase they were heading to another party. The look Jase gave me was half apology and half longing. Everything about our kiss was over before it even began and left me hungry for more. Pining over a guy I’d never have a real chance with.
Except now that same guy is staring at me with an expression I can’t quite interpret.
By the way his dark gaze caresses my skin, turning my insides all hot and bubbly like the toasted marshmallows on the sweet potato casserole, it sure feels like there might be a chance.
The way he’s looking at me suggests he wants me for his after-dinner dessert tonight.
“I’ll go get dessert served.”
I watch, intrigued, as Cecilia jumps from her chair, practically toppling it over in her haste to get away from the table.
I don’t blame her for needing to get out of here. The last two hours have been hell for me as I’ve sat in agony and regret, watching CC pick at her food, catching her furtive glances through her lush lashes that have set me on fire. That shy smile on her face and her golden shoulders exposed by the cut-outs of her blouse, have tortured my sanity with the need to touch her.
I’ve known the Sundstrom’s since Chris and I were in middle school, when my mom and I moved to town after the divorce. As his best friend, I was always over at his house, hanging out and having sleep overs. At first, CC was just an annoyance, as any little sister is to teenage boys. But as we grew older, I watched her blossom and turn into a beautiful young woman.
By the time she was fifteen, no longer wearing a mouth full of braces and filling out her bikinis like some pin-up girl, she became every fantasy in my pubescent spank bank. But there was nothing I could do about it.
She was Chris’s little sister and too young for me at the time, so all I could do was watch from afar. It wrecked me then, and it’s absolutely tormenting me now knowing what those soft, luscious lips taste like. I want a second helping of what she’s dishing out.
My pants are feeling a little snug – and not just from all the turkey I ate. My cock is pressed against my thigh with only one thing on his mind – kissing CC again. And maybe doing a whole lot more than we had a chance to four years ago.
That one kiss – and the silken feel of her hair as I ran my fingers through it – along with the breathy gasp that escaped her mouth that night - took with me through the hells of bootcamp and has been embedded in my dreams all this time.
The memory of that kiss and the way she looked at me afterwards – as if I’d hung the stars just for her - has me wanting to lay her out on this table and devour her just like I did with the food on my plate.
