CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sleep came, but it wasn't near long enough. At six o'clock, the alarm went off, and Damien was hurrying me out the door, so he could get to school on time. I groaned as I drove home, feeling like I had been hit by a freight train. My finger hurt, my pussy ached, and I had an emotional hangover.
Unfortunately, there wasn't much time to dwell on any of it. I still had to get home, change my clothes, and head to class on time to face a miserable day of thinking about Chase Vogel and Damien Reed. Who would I choose?
The answer still seemed obvious. Damien was temporary. Once our lessons were over, so was our relationship. Chase was familiar and steady. Still, I felt like I'd be missing out on something if I committed to a relationship with Chase.
By the end of the day, I still hadn't made up my mind. The thought that I had to choose between them made me angry. Why couldn't I have my cake and eat it too? It had worked so well up until this point, hadn't it?
I decided to visit my mom after school, hoping she could talk some sense into me. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I knew what the best decision was. It was just going to take someone else actually saying it to nudge me in the right direction.
She was happy to see me, as always, ushering me inside with a hug and offering me a soda and pizza. I grabbed a few slices of meat lovers and sat on the sofa, listening to her tell me all about the drama at her job while I ate. There was always something miserable going on there, whether it be her boss pissing her off or other employees leaving the store filthy. My mom loved to complain, and if it wasn't about her job, then it was usually about her neighbors or their dogs or whatever else she could think of that was wrong with the world.
It felt like a rite of passage to listen until she ran out of words. Then it was my turn, though I rarely had as much to say. My life was fairly undramatic, aside from this new love triangle.
“Chase wants a relationship,” I began.
“I thought you two already were in one.”
“No. I've been putting him off because of this other guy.”
“The one you only felt lust for,” she said with a disapproving tone.
“Yeah. I think I'm starting to feel a bit more for him though.” I hated to admit it to myself, but it was true. After the afternoon in the pool, and the way Damien had taken care of me when I had injured myself . . . Well, there was definitely more than lust there.
“And how does he feel about you?”
“I don't know.”
“Still a mystery man, huh?” she huffed.
“Yeah. But I kind of like that about him.”
“Honey, not all mysteries are good. If he's not telling you everything about himself, then he's probably hiding something.”
It wasn't like that, but how could I possibly make her understand without telling her everything.
I sighed, “I'm just worried that if I get with Chase, I'm going to be missing out on something great.”
“If you don't get with Chase, you're going to be missing out on something great,” she insisted, and I knew she was right.
Damien is only temporary, I had to remind myself. Make that your mantra. Every time you become unsure, tell yourself that. You can't have him, not in the way you want him. It will never happen. You need to get over it.
The thought depressed me, but I knew it was for the best. It was time to stop being selfish. These lessons, as invigorating as they were, needed to stop. I had already gotten myself in too deep. If I kept playing these games, I'd never be able to dig myself out.
“You're right,” I said finally. “Chase is the better choice. I see that now . . . clearly.”
“Good.”
“Thanks for the talk, Mom.”
“Anytime, sweetie.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon watching a show about cheetahs. It didn't interest me in the least, and I kinda wished we could watch something with more of a plot to help take my mind off of things, but I didn't dare to ask. Her house; her rules.
I drove home that night with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, knowing what I had to do. The following weekend, I would not be showing up at Damien Reed's house. My lessons with him were over. It was time to buck up and commit to Chase, and that meant making him my one and only.
Despite this new resolution though, I couldn't force myself to text him and give him my decision. Saying that I would be his girlfriend sounded so final.
I couldn't count the number of times I had the phone in my hand. Sometimes, I even typed out a full message but then ended up deleting it. Why was this so damn difficult? Damien is only temporary. You can't have him, I reminded myself over and over again, but that didn't make texting Chase any easier.
On Wednesday, he sent me another text, asking me if I wanted to go to a barbeque at his parents' house the following night. There was no wishy-washy 'be my girlfriend' message attached to it, and I sighed in relief, thinking that somehow, maybe by the grace of God, I had managed to dodge a bullet. Perhaps he had just felt a moment of need when he initially sent me that text and could hold on a bit longer while I truly made up my mind. I hoped so. Either way, I decided not to avoid him this time. My fingers worked quickly to text back an acceptance to his invitation, to which he replied that he'd pick me up at six o'clock.
The next day, I tried to look my best for Chase, putting on a modest purple dress with an embroidered design and tortoise-shell buttons. He showed up at the door with a bouquet of daisies in hand, and his face lit up when he saw me.
“You look amazing,” he said, handing the flowers over.
I welcomed him inside while I went to put them in a vase. Unfortunately, vases were in short supply in my father's bachelor pad, so I ended up sticking them in a pitcher instead. Chase gave it a funny look, but said nothing.
When I returned to him, I flung my arms around his shoulders, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. His hands caressed my waist.
“You ready to go?” he asked.
“Not quite yet. I was hoping we could . . . play first.”
“Play?” He arched an eyebrow. “I told my parents we'd be there by seven.”
“They don't live an hour away,” I reminded him.
“No, but I don't want to be late.”
“Then I guess we better hurry.”
My hands slipped down, working to unfasten the button on his slacks. It amused me how he was dressed in his Sunday's finest just to visit his parents. He looked absolutely adorable in a blue polo and a pair of gray slacks. Adorable, and yummy.
“Can't this wait until afterward?” he asked.
“No. It can't. I need you.”
My hand was already inside the fly of his pants, working to pull out his flaccid cock. It twitched at my touch, and when I looked back up into his eyes, I knew I had won him over. I grinned wickedly, squeezing his length and giving it a gentle tug.
“You're insatiable,” he groaned, grabbing me by the wrist and leading me back to my bedroom.
I giggled like a school girl, taking short fast steps, so I wouldn't trip in my heels. By the time we reached my room, we were ravenous, ripping at each other's clothing. In two heartbeats, we were both naked, our bodies pressed against each other, his rigid cock in my hand.
“We've got to make this quick,” he said, as if that fact hadn't already been established.
“Stick it in me then, stud.” I tossed myself back onto the bed, spreading my legs.
He gave me a queer look, though it didn't stop him from climbing over me. “You're the most wanton girl I've ever met. I seriously never would have thought you'd turn out like this.”
For some reason, that caused a twinge of pain in my chest. He made it sound like I had turned into a nymphet. Or worse, a slut. If he knew about Damien, he'd definitely think I was a slut. Was I a slut? Was that what I was becoming?
I scowled internally until his fingers nudged through my labia. Then everything melted away into pleasure. His fingers spread my lips while his thumb traveled up to rub against my red hot button, turning my body's sensitive core on. I groaned, gyrating my hips, using him as a stationary tool to grind on.
It wasn't long before he took his hand away, leaning over me to press his tool inside. The way he slammed into me was urgent, and though there was pleasure on his face, I couldn't help but feel he was just trying to get the job done. His meat stick slipped in too easily, barely causing a shiver of pleasure when it filled me to the hilt. Perhaps I was too wet. Or maybe I had just been fucked too much recently. Whatever the case, I found myself feeling a bit disconnected and having to work a harder to bring my body to its full lustful bliss.
I reached a hand up to tweak one of my nipples, enjoying the tiny sensations that ran down my stomach to my clit. It still wasn't enough though. My body needed more stimulation, so I grabbed one of his hands and guided it down between my legs.
Chase took the hint, massaging his fingers over my hot bud while he bucked his hips into me. That's it, I thought. Now it's happening.
His thrusts were fast and urgent, as if he was trying to get off as quickly as possible. I moaned as his fingers vibrated against me at sonic speed, driving me over the edge. There were no breaks. Just fast. Hard.
My body quickly approached the point of no return, my tunnel squeezing around him as the contractions began. I panted in ecstasy, grabbing his hand and pressing his fingers hard against my clit to feel the orgasm roll through me. Beads of sweat dripped from Chase's brow, dotting my skin, and I knew he wouldn't be able to keep up much longer.
With a low groan, he pulled out and shot a stream of milky love juice onto my stomach. His face was red and blotchy, as if he had been holding his breath the entire time. I looked up at him, watching his expression. There was relief there, and love. For as frustrated with me as he had been for me practically forcing him to have sex, I could tell he wasn't upset. Heck, he seemed pretty happy, grinning and leaning forward to kiss me. I pulled him down to me, worshiping his lips with mine. And when he finally broke away from the kiss, he whispered, “I love you.”
Every sexual light in my body darkened with those words, and I felt utterly and totally trapped. Was I supposed to say it back? He expected me to say it, but I wasn't certain if I really did love him or not. Sure, I loved him as a friend, but he hadn't meant it in that way. And if I said it back, he would not take it in that way.
“We should shower,” was all I could think of to respond, quickly pushing past him to grab my dress from the floor and head into the bathroom.
“If I joined you, we could save time,” he called to me, but at that point, the door was already closed, and I wasn't going to open it.
I needed time away from him, time to think. But I also knew I couldn't take too long. At this rate, we were definitely going to be late.
Dammit, Chey, you handled that horribly.
I let the water run over me, though I honestly didn't do much bathing. My mind was running ninety to nothing, trying to figure out how I was going to face him again. If I could have crawled out of the bathroom window and run away, I probably would have. But it was too high up, and too small.
As long as he doesn't say it again or ask you, you'll be fine. And if he does ask you, just be honest. Tell him you don't know. It will hurt, but it's better to be honest than lie.
I finished up my halfhearted shower and quickly got dressed, towel drying my hair as I exited the bathroom and trying to act normal. Chase was sitting on my bed, looking a bit annoyed at me for taking so long.
“We need to get going,” he said.
I tossed the towel across my computer chair and followed him out the door. As soon as we got into his car, I turned on the radio, wanting to avoid conversation at all costs. It worked pretty well, keeping him silent until we got there, though I figured his silence was more because he was thinking or upset than because of the music. I was too scared to ask which one it was.
When we got to his parents' house, they greeted me with more fervor than I had saved up for them. To be honest, I felt completely awkward, my mind still stuck on the possibility of that uncomfortable sentence coming up again. Thankfully, both of his sisters were home, and they were able to drag my mind away from it, reminiscing about high school and getting me caught up on what was going on in their lives. I had never been particularly close to either one of them, but they had hung out with us from time to time, so it was good to see them again.
Things were going pretty smoothly until we sat down to eat. That's when the big bomb went off.
Chase's mother was asking me about my studies when his father broke in to ask how long we had been dating. I felt my cheeks go warm, though I didn't know why. Technically, we had been dating. Isn't that what it's called when two people get together to regularly have sex these days?
“I'm glad you two are finally a couple,” Mrs. Vogel said. “I didn't think it would ever happen.”
“Me neither,” I laughed uncomfortably.
“So, how are you enjoying being Butthead's girlfriend?” Mary, one of Chase's sisters, asked.
The word girlfriend set off alarms in my head, swirling around with their red lights, making me dizzy. Is that what he had told them, that we were boyfriend and girlfriend now? I had never consented to that title.
My mouth felt suddenly dry, and I didn't know how to respond. Chase reached a hand over to grab mine and give it a gentle squeeze. He smiled at me, but the returned gesture was completely forced.
“It's okay,” was all I could come up with, and it sounded about as enthusiastic as I meant it.
His father coughed, seeming to catch on to my discontent, but the rest of the table remained oblivious, which was exactly how I preferred it.
For the rest of the meal, I stayed silent, staring at my plate of barbeque and barely touching a morsel. I felt absolutely sick to my stomach. Was I in a relationship now? Had I somehow managed to fall in this trap without even seeing it?
It's not a trap, Chey. This is what you wanted, remember—is what you want. If it's what I want though, then why does it feel so odd.
Chase was a good guy. I should be happy things had progressed to this level. It was the normal way the relationship should have progressed. And maybe I would have been fine with it . . . if not for Damien Reed. I knew good and well that I could never have him, that chasing him was a waste of time, but I felt like I couldn't live without him. He was my perfect drug, and I was always waiting for my next fix—would continue to wait for it until my supply ran out. There was no way I would ever be able to commit to Chase until I got him out of my system.
As soon as we said our goodbyes to his family and crawled into the car, I turned on the radio again, trying to avoid conversation. Chase almost immediately turned it back off though.
“So, did you have a good time?” he asked, sounding so cheerful that it made my heart hurt.
“Yes. It was nice to see your family again. I haven't seen your sisters in so long,” I replied.
“What's wrong? You sound upset.” He gave me a look of concern.
A hard ball of nerves formed in my throat, threatening to choke me. I didn't want to talk about it, but I knew it was unavoidable. If I said I was okay, it would be a lie. Besides, Chase knew me too well to believe it.
I hesitated, unsure of how to word what I wanted to say. “Your sister thinks I'm your girlfriend.”
“You are my girlfriend.”
“When did we come to this decision?”
Chase sighed, his happiness quickly draining away. “I figured you understood what that text message meant. I wanted to bring you to the barbeque as acknowledgment that we were a couple.”
“Oh, I didn't know that.” My voice sounded incredibly small and filled with remorse. “I thought you were just inviting me over to be nice.”
“No. That wasn't the case.”
We drove in silence all the way back to my father's house. I wanted to turn on the radio again, but I was too scared to move—too afraid to make Chase angry. He was already upset, there was no question about that. It felt like any wrong move could springboard an argument that I didn't want to get into.
He pulled up into the driveway and killed the engine, staring forward as if he couldn't stand to look at me. The expression on his face made my heart ache. I didn't know what to say or do to make it better. There was nothing I could say or do to make it better.
“Are you okay to drive home?” I asked.
“I'm upset, Chey, not drunk.” He rolled his eyes.
“Okay. I just wanted to make sure.” I grabbed the door handle to get out of the car, but Chase wrapped his hand around my wrist, pulling me back.
“Listen, I'm sorry. We really need to talk about this though. I can't just keep . . . doing this, whatever it is you think we're doing. I need to know, and I need to know right now. Do you love me?”
Everything in me wanted to pull out of his grasp and run inside, to hide away from him and the world and this horrible situation. I didn't want to tell him the truth because I knew what it meant. He had had enough. If I told him no, then it was as good as telling him goodbye . . . forever.
“I need time to think,” I said finally.
“That's not what I asked. There's no more thinking. No more waiting. Do you love me or do you not?”
As I said the words, the first hot tear streamed down my face. “I don't love you.”