EIGHT
Violet
I have spent the last couple days moping around at home. Where I should probably be plucking petals off flowers to “He Loves Me” and whistling songs with bluebirds, my head is stuck in a revolving door of shame and guilt over wondering if I deserve to be happy. So, I shower, put on clean clothes, but that’s about it. I feel like I could possibly suffocate on the feeling of blah. Cullen texted me yesterday, but I just said I didn’t feel like going to school and left it at that. I’m ashamed for what sounded like a blow-off, especially since I practically begged him to kiss me and haven’t seen him since.
I shake my head at the thought, partially loosening the messy bun perched on my head. There’s no makeup on my face and my pink booty shorts keep riding up my ass. It doesn’t matter, though, because the off-shoulder cupcake t-shirt that says “Eat Me” on it takes away from the questionable shorts. It’s a Netflix day, and I’m having a “Fast and the Furious” marathon. I’m getting ready to watch number six when there’s a knock on my door. I figure there’s a high probability that it’s Renee since she has a lady hard-on for Vin Diesel and her kids are in some kind of sport off-season right now so she has free time.
I yank open the door, “Yo, Chica!”
It’s Cullen. Shades are on, hair slanted to the side, beard trimmed, and he smells like that goddamned delicious soap of his. I look like a slumber party terrorist and here he is in plaid cargo shorts and a “fuck me” polo. I almost close the door. He must sense what I’m considering because he leans on my door jam. Dammit.
“Hey, 2 Color, whatcha wearin’?” The side of his mouth curves up in a sexy smirk as he deliberately scans my body. It’s hot, and I want to lick him. I think I’ve lost my mind.
“Eat me,” I challenge and fold my arms across my chest. “You know, that’s what the cupcake says.”
“Is that an offer? You know, from the cupcake?” He puts his sunglasses on top of his head. His gaze is heated and fireworks start going off in my belly just like the other night.
I audibly swallow. “Shouldn’t you be at practice?”
“Done for today. Game’s tomorrow. First one of the season; you should come.”
I match his stare for a minute, then clear my throat avoiding the comment. I’m not sure how I would manage watching him along the sidelines with his whistle. “Um, how did you find me?”
“Oh, well,” he stands up straight and guiltily puts his hands in his pockets. The gesture makes his biceps flex briefly and a quick shudder rips through me. “She said you could—and I quote “Kill her later”—but Renee told me. I ran into her at school today and I said I’d seen you, but then I didn’t see you. I wondered if something was up because… you know…”
He waggles his eyebrows at me.
“Oh my god. Did you tell her about the other day?”
“Uh, no, I figured you would though. Look, I kinda feel like a creeper out here talking about this so…”
I unfold my arms and sweep one hand towards my living room. Cullen smiles at me as he walks past and then gives me a big, smacking kiss on the cheek at the last second. I roll my eyes and close the door, making sure it’s locked, but I can’t help but smile, too.
“Anyway,” he says from in front of the TV, “I thought I would have seen you at Vista by now, but when I didn’t, I thought maybe I made a move on you too fast and wanted to apologize if I did.”
I just stand still like I’m helpless. I don’t know what to do. He’s apologizing? For kissing me?
“No, not for kissing you.” He comes towards me. Oh, shit, I said that out loud. “I’m apologizing for pushing you and making a move if you weren’t ready for it. I just felt something, you know, and acted on it. You’re amazing and you take my breath away…and now I’m making this awkward.”
I look up at him and all his perfection and crinkle up my face. “I’m not amazing, Cullen, I’m a damn mess.” I pull at my shirt and let it go, flopping my hands at my sides. “Look at me for shit’s sake.”
“I am,” he tucks some out-of-control strands of hair behind my ears and cups my cheeks. “Beautiful.”
I resist rolling my eyes because I think he might actually believe that. I, however, have to look at the truth every day.
“Well, thanks. That’s nice coming from the flawless.”
He chuckles, “Is that so?”
And then his lips are on mine. He’s not so soft this time, nor does he hesitate to slide his sweet tongue along my lower lip to make some space and then some contact with mine. I return the favor by parting my lips to give us both access to sweep and taste at our leisure. Our bodies are pressed tightly together and I can feel the pounding of his heart in my breasts.
One strong arm wraps around my shoulders and the other across my lower back with his hand low on my hip. His very talented fingers dig into the skin right above my ass, and it’s taking everything I have not to start moaning. Our mouths stay connected, exploring and savoring, as he lifts me. My arms wrap around his wide, thick shoulders and he steadily walks over to the couch. He sits and puts me on his lap, straddling him, one knee on each side resting on a cushion.
Now I break contact and rest my forehead on his. I rake my fingers through the hair along his jaw. His giant hands are at my sides, thumbs pressing into the soft skin on either side of my belly button.
“Stop me,” he says. His eyes are closed. Low and deep rumbles his voice.
“No.”
I start nibbling on his ear, then beneath it. I slowly drag the very tip of my tongue down the side of his neck muscles, following the path of the vein that’s pulsating with his heartbeat. He tilts his head back and I begin lifting his shirt. I don’t know when I became so bold, but I think I like it.
“Violet,” he whispers and groans at the same time.
“Stop me,” I say into his collar.
“No” is his reply. He leans forward and helps me remove the polo. Sweet Jesus, he’s a miracle of creation. Tan, smooth skin over tight, ripped muscles—Cullen looks like a freaking sculpture.
“Holy shit.” I comb my nails down his pecks, over his nipples, past his eight pack, to the fine dark trail of hair disappearing into his shorts. I sweep my finger over it and his dick jumps. Until now, his hands haven’t moved, letting me do my thing. In one swift motion, however, I’m on my back on the couch and Cullen, in his shirtless glory, is hovering above me. Supporting himself on his hand like he’s doing a one-armed push up, he adjusts his shorts, then lowers himself down to his forearm, covering my leg with his body. The anticipation of what he’s planning to do has me so wet I’m seeing stars.
His free hand plays with the bra strap exposed by my cupcake shirt. The sensation is intense when my nerves are firing like they are. I stroke his bare back, fingers playing into his shorts just a little, teasing the dip right above his cheek.
“What now, Metz?” I’m nervous but not awkward. Anticipatory but not scared. Cullen’s power is magnificent, not frightening, and he makes me brave rather than ready to collapse in on myself. I want this. Badly.
He brushes the length of my nose with his. My eyes close at the intimacy of the gesture. His fingers follow my strap down to my breast. It’s a light touch. It’s making me crazy. I try not to squirm, but I can’t stop from breathing heavier. Cullen’s resistance seems to be dwindling, too, by the press of his full, hot length into my side.
“Stop me,” he says again. His fingers dance over my hardened nipple, and I let out a whimper. I can feel how swollen I am for him through my panties, how soaked they are. Fuck no. No one’s stopping.
“No.” There’s conviction in my head but when I say it, it comes out as a tiny sound.
Cullen sits up for just a minute and pulls off my shorts, leaving my panties behind. He comes back down to where he was, same spot, but now my leg is shaking. I’m nervous and excited and so turned on I’m about to explode. He runs a desirous hand from my knee to the crease of my core. There is no way he can’t feel the burning heat and moisture seeping through the material there. Sure enough, Cullen smiles at me with his discovery and then our mouths meld together, tongues dancing, breaths blending from him to me and back again. He tastes so good I could stay like this all day.
He bites my lip, then runs his tongue over the sting as his fingers move inside the edge of my underwear along my folds. I quietly moan his name into his mouth, one hand grasping the waistband of his cargo shorts and the other hand in the dark brown tips of his hair.
His fingers move into my panties right between my legs, and he slides the backs of two of them up and down the bare sensitive skin with ease. I’m on fire. Holding the fabric over with his thumb, he slides one, then two fingers into my heat. With a sharp breath, I release his mouth and tilt my head back. Cullen lightly brushes over my neck with his lips, alternating with his beard for a sensation I never imagined would be dreamy and erotic all at once. I don’t know what to focus on or when.
Rhythmically, he slides his fingers in and out while swirling his thumb over my thick bundle of nerves. This isn’t going to take long. I reach down farther into his shorts for the tight muscle of his ass and hang on to his wrist with my other hand. A few more thrusts a little bit faster is all it takes to shoot me over the moon and squeeze his fingers so tight he can’t move. Forget trying to breathe.
“Holy shit, Metz.” He chuckles and kisses me.
“I need my fingers back, Gorgeous.”
“You sure? I kinda like them where they are,” I wink and kiss him again, purposely relaxing my muscles so he can withdraw from my body. He sits up and pulls me into his chest. “What about you?” I ask. I want to unwrap the whole package, but he locks our fingers together instead when I try for his belt.
“Mmm, today is about you. I want you to be comfortable, ok? Just for you.”
I look up at him and marvel at how he can be so damn thoughtful and strong at the same time. Cullen’s so different from what I’m used to; he’s everything I’ve been without.
Tucking myself into his side, I snuggle in deep. “I’m comfortable,” I tell him.
He kisses the top of my head, “Then so am I.” He hands me the remote.
“Wanna watch a movie?” I’m still a little shaky and my head is sort of swimming.
“Uh, is it a chick-flick? I’m all about sensitivity and shit, but I’ve got limits,” he chuckles to himself.
I lightly smack his abs, “Yeah, it sounds like it. No, it’s ‘Fast and Furious 6’. But if it was a chick-flick, you’d watch it with me if I asked you to, huh?”
He squeezes me tighter, “I’d do anything you asked me to.”
***
Cullen and I are by his car in the parking lot outside my place. We’re talking about school starting and how we’d rather just be on perpetual vacation. I notice an older man with white hair and pale skin pacing up and down the sidewalk. He’s carrying a canvas bag slung across his body and I feel like I’ve seen it before. He looks like he’s waiting for someone but he keeps glancing at us sideways.
“Cullen, that guy keeps looking at us.”
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. He talks into the top of my head, “That’s because you’re so beautiful.”
I mock gag, “No, seriously. It’s creeping me out.”
He looks up from my hair at the guy. “You need something, brother?”
I turn to look at him and nearly choke. It’s Anden, only older. Way older. I can’t breathe. I start gasping. I struggle to run, but Cullen won’t let me go. His arms are too tight. There’s no air.
Anden rushes me, screaming, “Worthless, broken bitch!”
My eyes flash open; I’ve sunken down onto Cullen’s stomach, right below his chest. He’s soothingly rubbing my back, trying to wake me up from my nightmare. He notices the change in my breathing, signaling that I’m awake now.
“Hey, Violet. You ok?”
I push into a sitting position, glancing over at him. He looks so sweet and sexy and concerned with his sleepy eyes and messed up hair. I want to curl back into his naked chest but Anden’s face keeps flashing behind my eyes each time I blink. I have to move. Cullen’s warmth and safe little cocoon can’t protect me from this one.
“Yeah, fine, no biggie,” I shrug. “I gotta get up though.”
“Um, ok,” he consents as I unfold my legs and climb out from beside him. I grab my shorts from the floor and go into the bathroom upstairs. I slide them on, splash cold water on my face, redo my messy hair, then peer into the mirror.
I whisper, “It was a nightmare. Everything with Anden is a nightmare. Let it go.”
You’re so worthless, I hear. “No,” I say, “bury it, Violet. Dammit!”
I leave the bathroom to find Cullen looking over my pictures on the wall. His shirt’s back on and he has his sunglasses and keys.
“You don’t have to go,” I tell him.
He looks at me and smiles, running his hand over his hair. “I know; it’s all good.”
Now I’m worrying about what I said in my sleep, if anything, and what else I did to ruin this.
“Why do I feel awkward now? Like I ruined this great afternoon?” I put my hands behind my head and let my elbows drop forward.
“Huh? You didn’t ruin anything. What makes you say that? It’s just time to go.” I don’t answer his question but just stand there instead. “I’ve just got to prep for our game tomorrow that’s all.”
He wraps me in his strong arms, and I feel safe as I put my forehead on his chest and sigh.
“Promise?” I ask into his polo.
Cullen lightly chuckles, “Yes, I promise. This is good. We’re good. Now kiss me, woman!”
I tickle his sides for the horrendous endearment, and he cringes.
I stand on my tiptoes, part my lips, and pull his full and luscious bottom lip into my mouth. He groans and pulls me closer, pressing his mouth to mine. I delve my tongue between his lips to taste as much as I can of him before he leaves. Finally, I pull away and tuck my arms behind my back. If I can’t touch him, there’s less chance he’ll be late for or miss whatever prep he needs to do.
With an appreciative hum, Cullen gives me one more short kiss, then leaves with a wink, “Bye, Violet.”
“Bye, Metz.”
Cullen
Violet Black tastes like candy-coated lightning. She melts with my touch and just the thought of her pressed up against me, whimpering into my mouth, turns me rock hard. Like right now.
Lying in bed trying to go to sleep is fucking impossible. If I was fourteen, a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues would take care of this problem but that won’t work with Violet. She’s a whole other world, sink under my skin, burrow deep into my organs kind of problem.
When I showed up at her doorstep, I just wanted to talk about why she blew me off when I texted her. I thought she might be flipping out about that red hot, sultry kiss on her lab table. Then she opened her door. What the hell was she thinking wearing those tight-ass pink shorts? Shut. The. Door. I had no choice but to sweep her up in my arms and get her to the couch. I’m a man for shit’s sake.
I’d barely kissed her and my head was spinning. Soft, wet, and bare? Delicate fingers dancing along the waistband of my shorts? Counting backwards from a thousand wasn’t going to tamp down the desire ripping through my insides and clawing its way out.
I kick off the covers the best I can with an insatiable demon in my shorts. I’m past the point of adjusting them. Even without boxer briefs, this is knocking on the door of painful. I have to get up.
The binder I use to log and create offensive formations is on my dresser. Swiping it from the oak surface and taking a t-shirt off the floor, I lumber downstairs. I worked on these plays all afternoon; staring at them some more won’t hurt.
Going with Hart for quarterback in the scrimmage, I consider that he’s better throwing downfield left than right. I think the flag pattern with Jackson as his main receiver to get him warmed up is our best bet coming out of the chute. Down and outs will also work as long as we mix in Hartselle and maybe Grainger.
I’m staring at circles and arrows on a diagram when my phone goes off. I dive for it, thinking it’s Violet, but it’s Coach Roarke instead.
“Hey, Elliot, what’s up?” Dammit.
“I was thinking about those plays for tomorrow. This scrimmage has me nervous. I’m eating antacids like breath mints.”
Now this is the kind of conversation I need to have to make Cullen Junior lay down so I can get some sleep. I lean back on the couch, put an arm behind my head, and let Coach talk circles around tomorrow’s game.