“Casual,” my father says. “Casual but...appropriate.” He’s been droning on for the last twenty minutes, giving us a big lecture about tomorrow morning’s breakfast, the summer kick-off to his re-election campaign. I look down at my food again, picking at my salmon even though it’s my favorite. I'm trying to distract myself from the hell on earth I've found myself in, sitting here at the table with my father and Ella and Caulter. Ella nods enthusiastically and beams, while Caulter sits in the chair perpendicular to me, suspiciously quiet. He's not made a single sarcastic comment during the entire meal, and his weirdly pleasant demeanor makes me think my salmon might very well be poisoned.
Caulter nods at something my father says, as if he's had some kind of personality transplant. Maybe he hit his head when I pushed him into the lake. That wasn't one of my finer moments, but Caulter damn sure doesn't bring out the mature side of me.
I'm wondering what the hell he has up his sleeve, when I feel something on my calf and nearly jump out of my skin. I catch Caulter's eye and he winks.
It's his foot.
I jerk my leg over, glaring at him. Footsies at the table. That's real fucking mature.
“You know, sir,” Caulter says. In two years at school, I've never once heard Caulter use the word sir. "I was thinking about the re-election campaign, re-evaluating my priorities for the summer.”
“Caulter…” Ella hisses. Ella isn't stupid enough to be falling for this, I think. She's smart enough to know her son.
“Ella,” my father says, silencing her by covering her palm with his. “Let him speak. Maybe he’s realized that this is exactly what he needs for the summer. Responsibility."
Ella’s face is pale, and she sips from her wine glass. She looks meaningfully at Caulter. “Yes. Maybe he’s realized that there are significant things at stake.”
I'm sure Ella is trying to subtly threaten Caulter with his trust fund, and I hope he's not stupid enough to be playing some kind of game with my father's campaign.
“I’m impressed by the importance of family, mom,” he says.
Yeah, right.
“And by the idea of contributing to a political campaign," he continues. "I think I'd like to try having a little structure, some boundaries." Caulter slides his foot up the side of my leg again, and I move my leg away.
“You should be involved." My father is stupid enough to fall for Caulter's brand of bullshit? “Structure and boundaries. It's what you need. You see, Ella, I've said this a hundred times. Structure and boundaries are the two most important things when raising children. Look at Katherine. She's a product of that."
"Katherine is a fine example of that, sir," Caulter says, sliding his foot up my leg. This time, I kick him, hard on the shin, and he flinches.
“You know, I'm just really tired,” I say. “The sunshine has taken it out of me.”
“Oh?” my father asks. “Did you go swimming?”
“No, the water is still too cold for me. But Caulter went for a dip out in the lake, didn't you, Caulter? The lakes here can be so refreshing."
My father looks at Caulter. "You just got here this afternoon," he says. "Already taking advantage of the lake?"
Caulter smiles and shrugs. "I just couldn't resist the water."
"I didn't think you liked the beach, Caulter," Ella says.
“Oh, well, it’s the lake, Ella,” my father says. “It's different from the beach.”
“You know, sir,” Caulter says. “A swim in the lake was exactly what I needed to cool off. And I just want to say that Katherine has gone out of her way to make me feel welcome here. It's like we're already family. Bosom buddies."
I choke on my water, prompting a quizzical look from my father. “Wrong pipe,” I gasp. “Could I excuse myself?”
“Go, go,” my father shoos me away. “Caulter, I’m pleased to hear that you’re…” His voice trails off as I walk out of the room and upstairs.
Flopping down on the bed, I think about how in the world I'm going to get through this summer. I can already tell that I’m going to be in a perpetual state of annoyance.
Annoyance and sexual frustration.
I could tell that Jo didn't quite believe it when I said he annoyed me earlier, as I walked away from the dock with her, after pushing Caulter in the lake.
"I don't know," she says. "He's pretty hot." She turns to look at him, pulling himself out of the water and up onto the dock. He makes a show of stripping off his shirt and shaking out his hair, knowing we're looking at him, and I turn away. I'm surprised he hasn't stripped buck naked right there; the prospect of that isn't entirely unpleasant. “I’d do him," she says.
“You’d do Charles Manson."
“Don’t be a bitch, Kate. He’s hot and has a reputation,” she says. “Besides, he obviously has a thing for you.”
“Of course he doesn’t.”
She raises her eyebrows. “He does. And you have one for him, I’d say.”
“I do not." I shake my head. “Emphatically, absolutely no. He’s a disgusting pig who thinks women exist solely so he can go after them. Didn’t you see him eye-fucking you?”
Jo laughs and cocks her head to the side. “No,” she says. “I didn’t. But you were paying a lot of attention to where his eyes were.”
“I’m not talking about it,” I insist. “Caulter Sterling is a no. A huge no.”
“I'm just saying.” She walks toward her car, this total beater she’s had since we were sixteen. “I bet he’s great in the sack.”
“Jo!” My voice is sharp. We're standing in front of my house, where anyone could overhear. But she just grins and shrugs.
“Later, bitch,” she says.
Jo is not right about Caulter. Caulter Sterling certainly does not have a thing for me, unless that thing involves trying to irritate me as much as possible. Or get his dick in me again.
The image of Caulter Sterling's dick flashes into my head and I try to push it aside. Caulter was a one-time deal, I tell myself. That's the whole point of a one night stand -- you never have to see the person again.
Of course, most one night stands don't then show up on your front doorstep to live with you for the summer.
It was one time only.
One time that happened to be really fucking good. Like, mind-blowingly good. The kind of thing you read about in dirty books.
My breath quickens at the thought of Caulter inside me. I can put him out of my head. I don't need to think about that night with Caulter. But once my mind goes there, it can't stop. It doesn't want to stop.
Caulter is above me, his movement gentle. I told him I wasn't a virgin; we both knew I was lying. He's probably deflowered lots of virgins, I think; he's probably an expert in virginity-taking. The way he moves inside me, his tenderness afterward as he cleans me up, makes me think that's definitely the case. Caulter Sterling: Virginity Removal Specialist. I picture the words on a business card, and it makes me laugh.
An hour later, he's teased me to the brink again, until I'm dripping with the anticipation of him. He rolls me on top of him, and I squirm, self-conscious under the intensity of his gaze. But his grip on my waist is firm. “Ride me."
"Caulter, I don't know --"
"Do you feel how fucking hard I am?" he asked. "I want you again."
"We don't always get what we want, Caulter," I tease.
"I do," he says.
Heat rushes through me at the thought of the way I'd slipped back onto his cock, despite the aching between my legs. I rode him, tentative at first, until it started to feel so good that I lost my self-consciousness, eagerly leaning forward so Caulter could close his lips around my breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive area around my nipple.
I tell myself to stop fantasizing about Caulter. But I can't help it, even now, knowing that he's right downstairs talking to my father. The fact that he's downstairs makes it even more irresistible and thrilling.
Undoing the button on my jeans, I slip them over my hips and slide my hand between my legs. My finger presses against my clit, sending warmth radiating through my body. My nipples harden against the fabric of my bra, and I slide my other hand underneath my shirt, pushing my finger between the lace bra cup and my skin.
I masturbated before Caulter, but I swear that screwing him did something to my brain; I feel completely preoccupied with sex. It's like my hormones are in overdrive. I wonder if that's what happens when everyone loses their virginity, or if it's something about Caulter that's making me a sex-crazed lunatic. Maybe Jo was right -- maybe Caulter did have some kind of magic touch.
Caulter and his magic cock. The thought would make me laugh if I weren't so damn horny. I slide my hand under the pillow on the bed, reaching for the vibrator I'd tucked in the pillowcase this morning. Pushing my jeans further down my legs, I roll the vibrator over my clit until the emptiness between my legs is too impossible to resist.
I tease my entrance with the toy as the vibrations pulse through me. It slides easily inside, aided by my wetness, and I angle it to hit my g-spot, the place Caulter seemed to be such an expert at reaching. Ignoring the buzzing of the vibrator, I imagine that it's Caulter inside me, that Caulter's mouth is on my breast; that the tip of his cock is pressing up against the walls of my pussy.
I imagine that it's Caulter whispering in my ear: "Your pussy is so slick and warm, so damn tight, the way it squeezes my cock."
It's imagining his dirty talk that pushes me over the edge, and I come quickly, my muscles clenching down around the toy. I bite my lip, cutting off the cry of pleasure that escapes, and lying back with my head on the pillow as the fluttering of my muscles slowly subsides.
I'm still so wrapped up in my thoughts about Caulter that the knock on the door makes me jump. Shit, shit, shit. Sliding the vibrator from between my legs and stuffing it underneath the pillow, I yank my pants up. I already know it's not my father, who retreats to his office working late after dinner, regardless of what day it is. When I reach the door, my heart is still thumping loudly in my chest.
"Evening, sis." Caulter stands in front of the door with a smirk on his face, and my heart sinks. I immediately stick my foot out to prevent the door from swinging open further, and cross my arms in front of my chest.
"What do you want?" My heartbeat feels practically deafening to me, matching the throbbing between my legs, a reminder of what I was just doing and who exactly I was thinking about a minute ago.
"Am I interrupting?" he asks. How long has he been standing there? I picture him outside my door, listening to me as I get off, and I'm mortified. "You look flushed. I hope you're not getting a fever."
Oh my God, he totally heard me. If I weren't flushed when I answered the door, I sure as hell was now. "I'm feeling fine. But thanks for your concern," I say, my voice sarcastic. "Nice act at dinner, by the way. I hope I didn't kick you too hard on the shin."
"Thanks for your concern." He smirks. "I'm perfectly fine. I'm sure you'll be glad to know you didn't harm me in any way."
"That's comforting," I say. "I'd have hated for you to be injured."
"You'd have to nurse me back to health if I was."
I roll my eyes. "You'd be out of luck."
Caulter leans forward, his face inches from mine. "Oh, I don't know, Kate," he says. The way he speaks the short version of my name makes me think about that night and all the things he did to me. "You have to admit, you might like having me as a patient."
I inhale sharply, almost dizzy with lust. I don't push him away. I don't tell him to leave. He's so close to me I think he can smell the sex on me.
Caulter keeps talking, his voice a sultry tone that's practically hypnotic. "Having me as your patient, lying in bed, totally at your mercy while you ride me."
His words trigger the memory of that night -- the same image in my head that made me come not two minutes ago. It's like he has some kind of weird mind-reading capability when it comes to me.
When I don't speak, he lowers his voice almost to a whisper. "I'd close my mouth around your breast and suck your nipple until you panted my name, until you begged me to slide my cock inside you."
I will myself not to think about what he's saying, but I can't stop. My lips fall apart and I'm practically panting. I put my hand on my chest, as if that will keep it from rising and falling the way it does. I think about how easy it would be to slide my hand up underneath the hem of his shirt, run my palm along his abs, around the waistband of his jeans, and just flick that button open.
Fuck. I want him.
He looks into my eyes as if he can read my thoughts, as if he's daring me to do what I'm longing to do. "Did you think about me when you came?" he whispers.
Now I push him back, hard. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He chuckles as he steps back. "I'm right next door if you need me," he says, winking. "Think about that."
I groan aloud as he walks inside his room and shuts the door. I can hear him laughing to himself - the walls in this place aren't exactly thick. In fact, they're paper thin. Sinking onto the bed, I think about how I'm about to be stuck all summer, sharing a wall with Caulter, the guy I can't stop fantasizing about.
I listen to Caulter's door open and close as he comes back from the bathroom, before I decide it's safe to go out myself. I wouldn't want to have any more surprise bathroom encounters with him.
I'm completely lying to myself.