I’m not sure what to make of last night. What about you? I know what you’re thinking, could you have been anymore detached? About that. I was nervous. That’s the only answer I can give you because even I didn’t understand the nerves. Maybe because I’ve known this girl since I was five years old and every time we came close to finally doing it, she’d put the brakes on and I’d be left hanging. But this time, for God knows what reason, she didn’t and finally let me have her.
Me. The fuck up. She wanted the deranged motherfucker who begged to make her pussy bleed and then when I finally do, I didn’t know how to act. The fact that I’m the only man to ever experience her tight pussy, it makes me hard as fuck, even now.
Would it be wrong to wake her up and ask for more?
Probably.
Do you see her there? Curled against my pillow she stole from me?
She spent the night. In my bed. Are you surprised? Shit yeah you are.
Her naked body’s draped across my chest and while I don’t have rules about this kind of thing—because I’m no good at following them—I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do next.
Southern California sun filters through the black curtains, sparking light in my room. I stare at the ceiling, trying to remember if we’re out of Captain Crunch or not. If Camden ate the last of it, I’m going to nut punch that fucker.
Not that I’m surprised last night happened or that she’s still in my bed, yet I’m uncomfortable. You can’t share a twin bed, which is partially why I still have a twin bed in my twenties. If the chick’s uncomfortable, she won’t want to stay the night. Tell me that’s not smart.
But. . . here’s the heavy shit. Brace yourself. I was not expecting to want her to stay. There. I said it.
Amberly Johnson has and always will be an addiction for me, worse than cocaine, and I’ve fought this need for so long, it’s hard to understand my feelings now.
Carefully, I shift out from under her, the scent of her fading from my skin as I pull on my shorts from the night before.
I quietly sneak out and downstairs to the kitchen. Shade and Scarlet are in there with Camden. When they notice me, their attention shifts, their eyes burning into my back as I grab the coffee pot and a cup from the cupboard.
“Crazy night, Wild Cat?” Shade asks, sounding obnoxiously cheerful.
I ignore the question and pour myself a cup of coffee.
“Did you have a nice evening?” Scarlet asks next.
“That’s none of your fuckin’ business.” When I turn to face them, I find Scarlet’s gaze on me, grinning, and guess who’s on her hip?
If you said River, then you’d be right. I really need to watch myself around her. Pretty soon she’s going to start cussing like me. When I’m next to her, River lunges for me like a monkey. I catch her, thankfully. “Why they call you Wild Cat? Your name Tiller.”
“It’s a nickname.”
Her brow furrows, her eyes on my tattoos she’s fascinated by. “I want a nut name.”
I laugh and set her on the counter. “You mean nickname?”
“Yeah.”
“Well they’re earned. We’ll have to think of one.”
Camden appears, naturally eating cereal and sits next to us. “I have one. Mine’s Cam-Man.”
River brow furrows even more. Laughing lightly, I sit beside her. “Hungry?”
She nods. “Where’s the cereal?”
Roan walks in, with Ophelia behind him. This time I don’t say anything. Ophelia looks at me, then River. “Um, who’s that?”
“I’m Raptor,” River says proudly.
Did you burst out laughing? I did. So did everyone else in the room. About the time Amberly comes downstairs wearing one of my T-shirts, Ophelia looks to Roan. “Is her name really Raptor?”
He nods, retrieving the milk and eggs from the fridge and a loaf of bread off the counter. “Yep.” He glances at River. “How about some French toast, Raptor.”
Her eyes light up. “Yup!”
Now take a look at Amberly when she approaches me from behind. I can’t see her face yet, but I can feel her behind me. I don’t know what to say to her and I think she feels the same way. Something’s changed between us. Not only physically, but emotionally. We’re in many ways, playing house, but what does it mean? How long before I fuck it up because you know damn well I’m going to.
I turn to face her. Do you notice the way she looks around the room at everyone but me? She’s nervously assessing the situation and how I’m going to react now that I’ve fucked her. Even I don’t know how I’m going to react, but if you heard the way my heart thumped louder the moment her presence in the room is known, you know she’s mine.
I want to say something, but just like last night, my voice stalls, chokes on words I’m not sure I can say to her. Ones that hold meaning and security she deserves. Ones I’m not sure I know the true meaning behind.
“Sleep good?” I finally ask, twisting toward the coffee pot to pour her a cup of coffee.
She nods, her smile breaking through. Handing her the coffee, I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “Ready for round two?”
Her cheeks heat but she doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t need to. I can tell by the underlying hunger in her eyes she enjoyed last night.
Roan makes French toast. Amberly and River eat, as do most of the others but me, my stomach’s in knots. I drink my coffee instead. I can’t tell you why, but maybe it has to do with her, River, the fact that I haven’t touched drugs in weeks and have that feeling deep inside my gut this is all going to end badly.
After breakfast, Camden’s playing video games and River’s sitting next to him. Amberly places her hand on my shoulder. We’re alone, aside from the kids.
I tense. Not because the touch isn’t wanted, but because it’s needed. I twist, drawing her between my legs. The inner part of my thighs meet the outside of hers, trapping her. I want to fuck her, again, over and over again.
I pull her against me, my intentions clear. I search her eyes waiting for her reaction. Only she gives nothing away. “Do you feel me?”
Her brow furrows. “What?”
“Do. You. Feel. Me?”
She sighs. “Like your touch? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Her eyes drop to between us. “Are you talking about your penis? Are you like hard?”
Do you sense the nervousness in her voice? It’s almost entertaining the way she says penis. Now it’s my turn to sigh though. I grip her tighter. “It’s cock, honey. Not a penis. It’s a fucking cock and it was deep inside your wet pussy last night.” I lean in, my harsh breath blowing over her face. “Every movement you make today you’re gonna be reminded that I was there, inside you. Marking you as mine from the inside.”
She doesn’t take me seriously, giggles and tries to wriggle out of my grasp. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“River’s busy,” I mumble, kissing the side of her neck. “Let’s go upstairs.” My hands move lower, from her hips to the swell of her ass. Underneath my T-shirt, she’s wearing a pair of my shorts, folded down to fit her.
“We can’t,” she says, just as breathless. “You have to go get that DNA test done today and I really need to take River back to the apartment.”
“Come with me and I’ll go to the apartment with you.”
She considers it, then smiles, setting the coffee cup she had in her hands down. “You’d want to do that?” Her hands move to my chest, up and over my shoulders to wrap around my neck. If you looked us here, in the kitchen, you’d think we were a couple, wouldn’t you? In some ways, we are, we’ve always been since that day with the flower. In other ways, we’re still worlds apart.
Time slows and becomes meaningless, and I’m trapped in her eyes. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at me. I want in this moment forever. I ruin the moment by being crass as usual. “Not really, but I will if it means later you’ll let me fuck you again.”
Playfully, she slaps at my chest. “Is that all you think about?”
Smiling, I nod, my stomach burning. “Yes, pretty much.”