And, thank god, I think she agrees. I love the way she moans, the soft little noises she makes, the catches in her breath and the glide of her wetness as I fuck her.I’m actually fucking.This is surreal and magnificent and better than my wildest dreams.
I pull on her neckline until her tits pop out, and I’m sheathed to the hilt in her, and I’m not sure whether I find her more devastatinglysexy, grinding against me as her nipples harden into points, or if she’s moreadorable, wrapped in a damp coat with droplets of rain from her wet hair falling onto me.
I’ll figure it out some other time, I tell myself, breathless as I gently scrape my teeth over one of her tips, making her squirm and mewl. Just as she is now, she’s the most beautiful, erotic sight I ever saw. It’s killing me, in the best way. Grabbing her hips as I feel the telltale warning tickling the base of my spine, I grind right back at her, feeling like the goddamnmanwhen her eyes widen and she nods fast. “Yes…like that,” she bursts out, shifting slightly until she’s mashing her clit against my pubic bone, and then this furtive car fuck becomes a sweaty, blurry, furious rollercoaster of lust and clenching that nothing and no-one can stop, and…and…
Nom de Dieu,the feeling of pumping a hot load into the soft, warm wetness engulfing and clenching at me as she gets off is like nothing I could have anticipated. It’s nothing like I thought it would be. It’s better. I never could have envisioned this.
I made her come with my cock.I did it.
I feel more powerful, more like a vital, alive man than I ever have before. And it’s intoxicating.
Even though my boner is dying down inside her, I want her again. I want to lose myself one more time…
Liaden
As we peelourselves apart and readjust our clothes, it becomes clear the rain isn’t going to let up any time soon. I climb into my seat, and Dean takes my hand and kisses my fingers.
My place is closer,he says,come back to mine?There’s a hint of pleading in his eyes. He’s not ready for the day to end any more than I am. And I’ve got no intention of saying goodnight any time soon.
I flip the heating on as I start the car. “Deal.”
By the time we’re back, fork lightning is tearing across the sky and rainwater is running down the street like a river. He takes my hand and we run into his place, dashing up some stairs and through the front door. I giggle as we both stand in his hallway with rain dripping off us, catching sight of the disaster that is my hair in the hall mirror. He smiles at me slowly, focused entirely on me and my laugh, before he cups my face in his hands and pulls me close.
His movements are more confident now, though still hurried, albeit in a way that speaks of raw want rather than inexperience. He pins my wrists above my head and devours my mouth. He walks me backwards to his bedroom, peeling my wet clothes off and leaving them where they fall. He falls on top of me the instant the back of my knees touch his bed, and his handssmooth over every part of me before returning to my wrists and holding them down again. This is his third time having sex, and it’s an unexpected erotic jackpot to have been his first lover. His need is keener, his enthusiasm wonderfully sharp. Who wouldn’t want to bewantedthis way?
But this time it’s fully brought home to me, from the conspicuously absent sounds of his enjoyment, that I am never going tohearthis man tell me he loves me, or that he wants me, or that he wants to fuck me until I cry. Not once. Having said that, the way his touch is still greedy rather than practised, his thrusts still more jerky and instinctual than finessed, tells me everything I could possibly want to know about how he sees me. His body is saying everything his mouth can’t.
So I respond in kind. I take his face in my hands and guide his mouth back to mine, kissing him until our tongues glide and thrust in time with his cock. I rub my nipples against his chest, knowing he can feel them all tight and hard even through his vest, swallowing his gasp and enjoying the mingling of our breath. I tighten my walls around him, startled when this hurries along my own climax as well as his.
There is no more language barrier; this is one we can both speak.
Dean
“Gimme the remote, buttface,” Neroli growls playfully, “How I Met Your Mother is on.” She makes a grab for it, treating me like her brother instead of an invalid now enough time has passed that my wounds have closed. Well, my physical wounds. It’s been four years since it happened, and I’m learning to exist with the inner ones, the grief, the terror that never quite passed. The emotional wounds will always be open and raw.
I like moments like this. Bickering lightly with my little sister. It’s a taste of normalcy, like working part time for my dad’s motor parts business, staying behind the scenes sourcing hard to find parts for his clients. I can even summon up a silent chuckle as I hold the remote high above my head, making her reach for it. I love this kid. She’s been so fierce about me, my recovery, chasing off strangers who tried to talk to me about Prom Night the few times I’ve gone out, and damn near barking at them like an angry Jack Russell.
She’s even stayed up with me sometimes when she’s found me awake and trembling in the kitchen, unable to sleep. And when I started drinking and relying on diazepam a little too much - a lot too much - she’d sit with me and hold my hand, Mom on my other side, as I rode out the craving for some more. Mom’s been amazing. Never judging me, but determined that this wasn’t going to be her son’s life, he wasn’t going to be strung out all the time. I was mad at her at first, but I know she was right. Mrs Oberman didn’t die so I could spend my time getting jacked up.
Neroli gives me a gentle jab in the ribs to get me to drop the remote, neatly catching it and changing channels with asmirk. She’s sixteen now, whip smart, and blessedly confident. She’ll go far, further than I ever could have even if Mr Whitmire hadn’t done what he did.
I sign to her, and her head turns immediately, watching carefully.You still gonna marry Ted?I ask, my hands slow and steady. We’ve learned ASL as a family, and we’re all able to get by. We’ll all be fluent before much longer.
She snorts. “Nah,” she scoffs, “I want Marshall. The way he looks at Lily? That’s what I want. Plus, don’t know if you’ve seenForgetting Sarah Marshall, but I saw it at Riley’s - oh, don’t tell Mom and Dad, OK? - and his - ”
“We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this breaking news,” the TV anchorman announces. “A Wal-Mart in Palmetto, Louisiana was the site of a grisly mass shooting today, when a man dressed as DC’s The Joker opened fire inside the store, killing two and injuring several. Police shot him at the scene, and - ”
The next thing I know, my father is raising his voice to me, pulling on my hand. It’s clasped around Neroli’s mouth, because we have to be quiet, we have to be silent as the grave. I have to protect her. We have a chance in this cupboard, a small chance that maybe he won’t find us. My hand is wet. Neroli’s crying, her tears covering my hand as she whimpers. I’m holding her very tightly. He’s not getting her. He’s not killing my baby sister. I won’t let him…
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dean
My pink sunshine.
That’s what she’s become, chasing out the dark and making me see things through rose tinted shades.
She’s asleep in the crook of my arm, and I can’t stop looking at her. I was always planning on staying awake all night to keep her safe, in case I had a nightmare, but even if that wasn’t my priority, there’s nothing I’d rather do than just watch her breathe and nestle until dawn.
