For Authentication Purposes (15 page)

I did as he said and watched as his jaw pulsed.
 

“Yeah, like that. Now suck a little harder.”

I followed his instructions and hollowed my cheeks as he slid out a little and pulsed back in. Breathing through my nose, I just
felt
. I could tell by his reactions when I was doing something he liked. And after a moment I closed my eyes, concentrating on the experience of him hitting the back of my throat before retracting.

He’d moved himself a couple of times, and I hadn’t thought anything of it until I felt his hands on me again, splaying me open. His fingers slid between my drenched lips and grazed my clit. The buzzing sound I heard earlier was now coming from somewhere else, and I tried to decipher where it was before I felt something being placed against my aching nerves.

I jerked, and Warner shushed me as he brought the vibrator down a little more against me. “This is the G-spot vibe we got.”

My memory clicked through the toys we’d purchased, and right away I knew which one he was talking about.

I moaned around him as he pressed my left leg to the mattress and let the vibrator glide against me. It paused at my opening before he pushed it inside me very, very slow. My entire body went rigid as it settled right onto my G-spot. Without knowing it, I’d begun to dig my fingers into his thighs. My hips were shaking and rolling, jerking every once in a while. My lips had clamped down around him like a vise.
 

His hand started to move faster between my legs as he rhythmically pressed against my G-spot. He tapped, rolled, and twisted the vibe against me until I was squeezing my eyes shut and screaming around his cock.

I came hard and gripped his thighs, clamped down on the vibrator as my knees pulled upward toward my chest. I felt his hands at my ears as he gruffly exclaimed that he was coming before I felt thick, hot shots of his come hitting the back of my throat. It threatened to make me choke and come flying out my nose.

But he was whispering for me to relax. Telling me it was so good. His hands kneaded my breasts and stroked my throat as I swallowed and felt him step backward until he was out of my mouth. I was left with a salty taste at the back of my throat, teeth indentions in my cheeks, and an active vibrator between my legs. Rolling to my side, I slid it out of me, turned it off, and threw it to the ground. I lay there shaking and gasping for breath with my eyes closed. Pressing my face into his comforter, I felt my heart beat a crazy rhythm in my chest, satisfied and happy. The music was turned off. The lights followed. And right before I fell into a deep sleep, I felt Warner’s arms around me. He secured me to his chest, maneuvering our bodies underneath his blanket.

It was comfortable throughout the night, and I found myself waking every once in a while just to snuggle in closer to his chest. Bury my nose into his neck. And he would press a kiss to my forehead or breathe my name in his sleep, making me feel lightheaded before drifting back into my dreams.

Wardo

Mandie.

I don’t think about her much anymore. Or at least I didn’t before all this book shit started.
 

Dawn once asked about how many women I’d slept with, and I wasn’t lying when I said three. I think what I was lying about was calling my time with Mandie a relationship. Relationships aren’t supposed to be a secret. They’re not supposed to be built around the kind of things we had done. I’m not sure that a relationship would be defined as your college professor, your mom’s friend, sneaking you out of the freshman dorms and into her apartment after midnight because her boyfriend worked the night shift and she was lonely.

College was new and exciting, and having an older woman whispering all the filthy things she wanted to do to me, or with me, or with the two of us and other people—well, it was hard to resist the invitation. The truth is that I didn’t want to say no. Well, I don’t think I did.

If I allowed myself to think about it, there were a lot of reasons that it happened. I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy it. There were things I wish I’d said no to, and there were things I wish I’d done differently. The most obvious thing I wish I could change was letting her ride my dick in the back of her car in a parking lot on campus.

I don’t get off thinking about it. I feel stupid. We were getting sloppy, and it was just a matter of time before we slipped up enough to get caught. From the first night she snuck me into her apartment and offered me whiskey, a blunt, and whispered she’d be more than happy to show me what good sex could be like. To the last night where she’d dug her nails into my chest so hard that there were bruises a few days later. I knew what I was doing and who I was doing it with.

She drank wine, and to this day I can’t smell a fine red without my stomach turning sour. But that night, the one that started it all, she smelled like lust. Curled up on her couch, her head resting against a pillow, long black hair curled at the ends. She’d looked at me with those blue eyes filled with this heat that caused my cheeks to turn red because, believe it or not, she made me feel shy.
 

Inexperienced.

Like a boy instead of a man.

“What was her name?”

My vision was a little hazy while I looked her over, noticing her skirt pulled tight against her thighs and riding higher each time she took a sip from her glass. “Who?”

She smiled, lowering her lashes and chuckling. “The girl you lost your virginity to.”

“Willow.”

The way her eyebrows rose made me want to laugh. She looked, dare I say, interested?

“Was it good?”

“Yeah. It was good.”

“No it wasn’t. There’s no way in hell a teenage girl could give you everything you need, Warner.” Her voice was so light and thin, whispering from her spot the couch. “I can, though.” It was the way she said my name. Her toe against my thigh. The glimpse of her lace panties when she leaned up to place her drink on the table and then kind of crawled over to me so I could see right down her shirt.

She straddled me. I mean, she’d already sucked my dick. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting something when I went over. Just not
that
.

Her lips hovered just out of reach, and she pulled on my hair to angle my head back while she looked me in the eye. God, I was already so damn hard and all she’d done was sit on my lap. “Tell me you want it.”
 

There was nothing but silence on my end because the entire thing was out of my realm of reality. It was batshit crazy, if I’m being honest with myself. A forty-five-year-old woman grinding up on a seventeen-year-old? Most guys would say I was lucky. At the time I would have agreed.

She kissed me, and I liked it. I let her. In fact, I let her give me a lap dance of sorts on that couch. She moaned and ground herself against my jeans. It was all so exciting and dangerous.
 

I don’t know if she was surprised when I rolled her onto her back, but I wasn’t paying attention because I was trying to push that skirt up around her hips while shoving my pants down to pull out my cock. But she laughed and pushed me off her with her feet and stayed right there, legs wide apart, eyelids half open while she ran a thumb over her nipple and smirked.
 

“Say you want it.”

I glanced at my hard-on and laughed. “It’s obvious, right?”

She sat up and let one leg fall off the couch, slid her panties off, and dropped them to the floor, exposing herself to me even more. “Tell me you want my pussy, Warner.”
 

Now, I’d said that kind of shit in the locker room in high school or out with my buddies, but I’d never said it to a girl. Or a woman. She was older and my mom’s friend, and I wasn’t sure if it was okay to. But when she pulled her skirt up higher and slid her middle finger over her clit, I forgot all about formalities. So I told her what she wanted to hear. What my dick wanted to hear.

She moaned and arched, breathing heavy as she circled faster, clutching at her nipple with the other hand and her hips rose in a rhythm. I watched but did not touch. I don’t think I remembered to breathe. When she came, it wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen before and I just stared, wondering when I was going to get to put my dick inside her.

But when she opened her eyes and brought her fingers to her mouth to lick them clean, I came in my pants.
 

Not my finest hour, of course.
 

She knew, and with her legs tucked under her, she rested her palm over my zipper. “It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed. You can have it, Warner. After you learn how to do that, you can have it. And then I’ll show you a million other things little co-eds could never dream of knowing.”

It took three weeks for me to figure out how to make her come. And another two to do it more than once. Another week to be able to do it with my mouth alone.
 

By week eight she agreed to let me inside her, and she wasn’t soft like Willow. She didn’t tremble and press her lips together to stop from making noise. Mandie was sharp angles and instructions on just how she wanted it. What she wanted me to say. How hard she wanted her hair pulled and right where she wanted my palm to land on her ass.
 

She wanted my fingers everywhere and every toy imaginable in every place one would fit. The woman was aggressive and assertive, she knew just what she wanted from me, and I think at one time I might have believed I cared for her above the constant sex.
 

But the night she brought the girls over, things changed. I wonder about them, sometimes. I wonder if they feel safe because their names never got brought up during the whole shit storm.

I wish I had remembered to roll the car window up so no one could hear me making her come in that parking lot.

Or maybe I’m glad I didn’t because I’d reconnected with Dawn.

I never thought what we had would turn into this thing where I hated her, but when we got caught and she told my mom I’d started it, that I came on to her, it turned sour so fast.

Because my mom believed her.

Dawn

A few things hit me at the same time when I woke up the next morning.

One: My mouth tasted like its usually swampy self, but there was a definite extra sticky quality to it that instantly made me regret not brushing my teeth and letting Wardo’s jizz take up house in the back of my throat all night.

Two: It appears not-sex still smells like sex and can permeate a room just as much.

Three: My mouth wasn’t the only sticky thing in that room, and I was dreading having to remove my thighs from around Warner’s because, from the looks of it, I had been attempting to ride his leg in my sleep.

Four: Morning wood is NOT a myth.

I kept my eyes closed and tried to feel my surroundings for the moment, wondering if I could roll away from him and get to the bathroom without causing any interruptions to his sleep. Sliding my hand down from his chest and between our bodies, I pushed a little in hopes that I could roll him back enough to disentangle myself with dignity.

But this was Warner we were talking about here. He would never let me off that easy.

“Going somewhere?” He chuckled, and I let my eyes open to see him looking down at me with amusement painted all over his face.

I pulled the sheet up to my nose and covered my mouth. “I was going to, ya know, pee and brush my teeth.”

He raised both eyebrows. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah, why?”

His knee nudged upward and into me, making me stifle a whimper. “Because you’re leaking all over my leg. I wasn’t sure if you were done trying to get off on my thigh yet.”

So playful Wardo was back. I had to admit I’d kind of missed him.

“I was not,” I said, moving my leg a little and maintaining eye contact as I did. He was right, of course. I was super wet and sliding over his thigh with ease. Of course, that just meant that his hard-on was bumping into my stomach each time I moved.

Warner laughed, short and quiet. “No? Then what were you dreaming about that was making you call my name out so loud?”

Again, busted. But how do you describe a dream and not have it sound like a complete acid trip? Like, I was running from clowns, but they had dog bodies, and when I found you at my old childhood home in Kentucky, you were wearing a mask. But I knew it was you, even though you were a girl and had lobster claws for hands.

In the dream I had been having, I was doing all kinds of kinky sexual positions with Warner. Except, his face was blurry. His cock was not.

I missed his face.

Clearing my throat, I shifted my hips again, sliding against his leg and tensing as my pussy slid against him. “You were, um.” Thinking fast, I pulled something from thin air. “A were-panther and were trying to kill me. I was calling your name because it was, like, life or death.” Closing my eyes, I moved against him one more time before shoving away and rolling out from beneath the comforter to stand and pull my hair up in the ponytail holder I had around my wrist.

“A were-panther?” He sat up and leaned forward to give me a face that let me know he didn’t believe any of the shit I’d said.