“Come on,” I say quietly. “Come and ride me. Show me how you want it.”

She throws a leg over me and straddles my hips, and all her wet girly parts are touching my hard manly parts. She rocks, riding the ridge of me, until my dick is notched in the cleft where her cl*thides.

“Reach between us and take me inside,” I say. My voice is so rough, I can barely understand it. But she hears me and she does. She places the head of my dick at her opening, and then she stops. “Everything all right?” I ask. I bite my lower lip to keep from screaming.

She doesn’t respond, but she starts to sink down on me. Her legs and arms are trembling, and I take her h*ps to help guide her. She’s hot, and she slides onto me like a tight-fitting velvet glove. “Shit,” I say. I wish I didn’t because she stops moving.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I say. “You’re f**king perfect. Keep going.”

She sinks down some more and says, “You’re in.”

God, yes, I am. “Yep,” I say. I grit my teeth to keep from coming.

“You’re inside me, Pete,” she says.

I feel a wet plop on my chest. “Are you crying?” I ask.

“Maybe,” she says. She’s very still.

“Are you hurting?” I ask. I run my hands up her na**d thighs.

“No,” she says. “And I was so worried it would. I just…” She sniffles. “I just don’t want it to be over, Pete,” she says. “I want to stay like this forever.”

I chuckle at that, and my dick moves inside her. “Oh,” she says. She adjusts her body. I’m only about halfway in, but I wanted her to do this her own way. My dick pulses, and I lower her on me and arch my h*ps to push further into her at the same time. She cries out. “Oh!” she says.

I pull her down to me and kiss her so she’ll be quiet. My brothers are in the living room. “Shh,” I say. I arch my h*ps and f**k into her, and her tongue slides in my mouth. “Jesus,” I say when she lifts her head. Her legs are shaking, and she balances herself on my chest.

“Can you?” she asks.

“Can I what?” Can I stay like this forever? Nope. Because I’m going to come and leave her unsatisfied.

“Can you do it?” she asks, her voice hesitant.

I sit up and wrap my arm around her, and then roll her very slowly onto her back. Her legs lift to wrap around my hips. I push inside her, further than before but still not all the way in. “Oh, that’s nice,” she says.

I chuckle and bury my head in her neck. “Is this all right?” I whisper. I push in a little more and then pull back out. When I push back in I sink as far into her as I can go. She’s so tight that I can barely breathe.

“Yeah.” She whimpers when I tilt her bottom up and dig deep, taking everything she’ll give me.

I’m going to come, and she’s not. So I make some room between us, and my hand seeks out her heat, rubbing her clit. I take her nipple between my teeth and abrade it gently, and she starts to squirm beneath me. Her h*ps arch to meet my thrusts, and her cries are little noises by my ear. Her breath blows across my cheek, as moist and humid as her private place where I’m buried and f**king loving it.

Suddenly, she clutches my shoulders and stiffens beneath me. Her body quakes, and she starts to come. I rub her through it, and it’s so hard not to push her legs back toward her shoulders and power through my own orgasm. But I force myself to keep it slow and soft. She quakes in my arms. And it’s not until she’s loose and languid that I take my own pleasure. I wrap my arms under hers and bury my face against her and thrust once, twice, three times. And then I pour into her as I come. I feel like my balls are trying to come out through my toes, and she just wraps her arms around me and holds me close while I lose myself in her.

I brush her hair back from her face, and her body starts to quake under mine. Is she crying? Oh fuck. But then she snorts, and I realize she’s laughing. Almost hysterically. Her body shakes and rocks, and her tight depths grip my dick. I pull out of her, because I need to, not because I want to. My dick is so sensitive that I can barely stand the retreat.

She giggles, and I look down at her. Her eyes are dark in the dim light of the room, and they’re shiny. But not from tears. From happiness.

“How did I do?” I ask. I kiss her cheek quickly with little pecks. She giggles again.

“That was a practice test,” she says. “When can we do the final exam?”

I take a deep breath. “Any time you want, princess. I live to serve.”

She laughs again, and I have never, ever heard a more beautiful sound. Ever.

Reagan

I wake up to the feel of my bottom nestled in Pete’s lap, his hardness pressed against my butt. He rocks against me, and I come awake slowly. He pushes my hair from my nape, and his lips touch the sensitive place where my neck meets my shoulder. Strong fingers cup my breast, and he doesn’t move. He doesn’t inch toward my nipple, he just strokes his fingers lazily beneath the sensitive sweep of my boob.

“Pete,” I whisper.

“What?” he whispers back, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Are you trying to put the moves on me?” I ask.

He chuckles. “If you have to ask that, I’m doing a really bad job at it.” He rolls me to my back and throws my leg over his shoulder, and his breath is hot against my curls as he grins and says, “I’ll have to work harder.”

I gasp when he spreads me open with his thumbs and bends his head, his tongue lolling against my cl*tover and over. “I’ll have you trained before I know it,” I say. But I can barely get my breath. I reach a hand into his hair and hold him tightly, pushing him where I want him. He latches onto my cl*tjust as he slides his finger inside me. He’s less careful with me today than he has been in the past. He seems less afraid to try something new with me, but he’s still gentle and slow. I know that he holds back for me, and I wonder how long he’ll feel the need to do that. Forever?

I’m not afraid of him or what he does to me, and I never have been. I grip the sheets in my hands and squeeze tightly as he crooks a finger inside me and reaches a spot I didn’t know existed. I cry out, and he gently and rhythmically sucks my cl*tin time with the movement of his fingers until I spiral out of control. I come so hard I can barely breathe, and he drinks in the power of it. I push his head back when I grow too sensitive, and he unlatches from my cl*tand licks across it. I tremble with aftershocks.

Pete wipes his face on my inner thigh and then crawls up my body. He reaches over me and grabs a condom and sheathes himself quickly. Just when I think he’ll settle between my legs, he doesn’t. He rolls my body over slowly, and slides a pillow beneath my hips. “This all right?” he asks. He puts his weight on my back, and his lips touch my shoulder again, just like he did a few minutes ago, and he gently bites down. “I need you,” he says.

I nod. “It’s all right,” I say. He sinks into me from behind. It’s one slow thrust until he’s fully seated inside me. “Are you sore?” he asks.

“A little,” I admit. There’s a little pinch, but I welcome it because Pete’s inside me again, and that’s right where I want him to be.

“I’ll be careful,” he whispers. I know he will. I don’t want careful. I want Pete.

He takes me with lazy strokes, filling and then retreating, pushing and then pulling, riding me with care and caution. I came with his mouth between my legs, but I feel a build-up again. It’s a completely different feeling. It’s more of a warm wash of heat rather than a raging, quaking orgasm. I come, and he grunts and pushes himself deep inside me, his body shaking as he comes with me. He grunts and makes a noise low in his throat. It’s a noise of completion. All too soon, he pulls out, and stands up, removes the condom and cleans himself up. Then he hands me a towel and turns his back. I wipe off really quickly, and then he’s back in bed with me, drawing me in to his chest.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling me down to lie in the crook where his arm meets his shoulder.

“I’m not going to break, Pete,” I say quietly. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

He startles and looks down his nose at me. “I’m not.”

“You are,” I say quietly. I hate that I’m doing this. But I can’t have a relationship based on fears he thinks he wants to avoid with me.

My phone dings, and I reach for my pants on the floor because I know it’s in my pocket.

I pull it out and read the screen.

Dad: Where are you?

Me: I’m at Pete’s.

Dad: Why?

Shit. What do I say?

Me: Can we talk about this later?

Dad: Sure, we can. As soon as you arrive at your apartment where we’ve been waiting since last night.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Me: I’ll be there in a few minutes.

I heave a sigh and lay my head on the bed. Dad is going to kill me. Or kill Pete. “My parents are at my apartment,” I say.

“Oh no,” he breathes. He rolls to the edge of the bed and starts to get dressed.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

He looks up, his brow arched. “I’m going with you.”

“That’s not necessary,” I say. In fact, I’d rather he not. Dad’s going to be pissed and seeing Pete is only going to make it worse.

“I don’t mind,” he says, and he keeps getting dressed.

“Pete,” I call. He finally looks up at me.

“What?”

“I’d rather you stay here.”

“Why?” He looks confused.

“It’s Sunday morning. My parents are probably going to stay all day. I need to spend some time with them.” I really just want to spare him my dad’s wrath.

He nods. “Okay,” he says slowly. He kicks his shoes back off.

I get dressed and go over to give him a kiss. “I’ll call you later?” I ask.

He nods. “Sure.”

I need to deal with this situation with my dad so that I’ll never have to deal with it again.

Pete

The phone rings, and I jump to grab it. It’s six o’clock on Sunday evening and Reagan has been gone all day and hasn’t called even once. “Hello?” I say. Sam chuckles into his fist. He’s taking the bus back to school late tonight, so he’ll be here until around eleven. He says something about my balls being in a vice, and I throw a pillow at him.

“Pete?” a male voice says.

“Yes,” I say.

“Pete, this is Phil.” I must be too quiet because he goes on to say, “Your parole officer.”

“Yes, sir,” I say. I sit up so I can pay close attention.

“Pete, could I come and pick you up and take you somewhere with me? It’s kind of important.”

“Of course,” I say. I don’t even hesitate. “Can I ask where we’re going?”

“I’ll tell you more when I pick you up,” he says. He sounds like he’s upset, and I want to know what’s going on. “Can you be ready in ten minutes?”

We hang up, and I go get dressed. I wonder what could be important enough to make Phil need to see me on a Sunday. But I guess I’ll find out.

Phil pulls up outside my building in a black Ford, and he motions for me to climb in. “I have some bad news, Pete,” he says. He doesn’t look at me.

“What kind of news?” I ask.

“Edward, the boy from the youth program, he got visitation yesterday with his sister after group. He was doing so well, I felt like he was ready, particularly after he spent so much time with you at camp. There was an altercation, and his sister’s foster father was badly injured. Edward was stabbed, and he just got out of surgery. The foster father died in the fight.”

“What?” I breathe. “How could that happen?”

“Apparently, Edward’s sister told him that the foster father wasn’t treating her well. Edward lost his head, and he snapped. He attacked him, and the two fought over a blade the father had. Edward spent the whole morning in surgery.”

“Is he all right?” I ask.

Phil shakes his head. “I’m not sure. That’s why I’m going to see him. He won’t see anyone else, and you seemed to have a real connection with him at the camp and even at group yesterday. So, I thought you might be able to talk to him.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” I ask.

“Hopefully, this is going to be a self-defense case. The last time he got in trouble, he was a juvenile offender. He’s eighteen now. He’ll be tried as an adult if there are criminal charges.” He shakes his head and blows out a breath. “I need for someone to get his story, so Caster can help prepare his defense, but he won’t talk to anybody. I already talked to Bob Caster, and he’s coming to talk to him, too.”

“He’s at Reagan’s,” I say.

He cuts his eyes at me as he puts the truck in gear. “Yes, I heard.”

I sit back and scrub the back of my head with my hand.

“I told you to be careful with her,” Phil reminds me.

“I have been,” I say. “Very careful.”

“He’s pretty pissed,” he tells me. I am sure of that already.

“I love her like crazy, Phil,” I say.

His thumb taps on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t say anything else. When we get to hospital, they let us into the room when Phil flashes his identification. He walks in and I see Tic Tac, no Edward, in bed. He has tubes and wires sticking from his body, and he looks so frail. There’s a young lady in a chair beside him holding his hand, and I can’t help but think this must be his sister. She hops to her feet when we come into the room.