Coercion (20 page)

Michael let out a groan, throwing his head back. Then he gestured to Charlotte. The girl jumped on the bed, and he grabbed her hips, positioning her so she straddled his face. Charlotte moaned before his tongue or hands ever touched her. Her thighs gripped his head as she faced the headboard and her hands grabbed onto fistfuls of his hair.

Valerie’s heart plunged as she watched the other girl gyrate her hips over Michael’s face. She knew then that even with his cock inside her, everything—her, Charlotte, the entire moment—didn’t mean a thing to him. She also knew she should get off the bed, get dressed and leave, but she refused to give the other girl the satisfaction of being alone with him. Instead, she continued to move up and down on Michael’s cock. She wanted to be the one to bring Michael the most pleasure. This was a competition now.

Feeling like her heart was a pincushion, Valerie watched Charlotte’s body shake as Michael snaked a finger inside the other girl as his mouth went to work. Charlotte’s hips bucked and her knees pinned his hair to the mattress as she moved her hands to her breasts, reaching under the striped fabric to pinch her nipples.

Valerie’s jealousy intensified as Charlotte’s moans grew louder and more frequent. Even though Michael was actually inside her, she wished it was her experiencing the ministrations of his tongue. She wanted him to be striving for her pleasure, not the other girl’s. In fact, she wished the whole situation was different, and could scarcely believe how far removed the moment was from what she actually wanted.

At that moment, Michael moved Charlotte off him, rolling her onto the other side of the bed. Then he reached for Valerie, pulling her close before flipping her onto her back so he was on top. He thrust inside her at a rapid pace, and her legs quivered as she wrapped them tight around his waist. Charlotte and the rest of the world seemed to melt away as Michael buried himself inside her.

She clutched his arms when he reached between them to stroke her clit. The action cooled her anger. He cared if she had an orgasm. He always had. Didn’t that stand for something? He bent his head to take her nipple in his mouth, and she cried out his name and buried her fingernails in his skin as she came around him. Stars and colors exploded behind her closed eyelids, her body twitching beneath his. Moments later, he pulled out and spilled his come on the bedspread, remaining true to his promise.

His head dropped in the crook of her neck, and they lay still for a moment as their heartbeats returned to normal. Charlotte tumbled off the bed and slid her pants back on. “That was fun, guys.” She adjusted her shirt into place. “Mike, you got any more weed?”

Michael lifted his head off Valerie’s shoulder. “Talk to Rooney.”

Charlotte nodded and rubbed her red eyes. “’Kay.” She let out a yawn as she left, closing the door behind her.

After Charlotte had gone, Valerie pushed Michael off her and sat up slowly. She attempted to fix her clothing, but her hands shook too badly to be of much use. Her teeth dug into her trembling lower lip as a tear rolled down her cheek. To her surprise, Michael brushed it away for her and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“It’s all right.” His hand swept the hair off her face.

She could still smell Charlotte on his breath, and her stomach churned. She looked at him, a hundred questions she didn’t know how to ask thundering in her brain.

He seemed to understand, however, and he put his arm around her. His free hand coaxed her head to rest on his shoulder. She complied and stared at the closet door, willing herself to believe him.

Thursday

April 10, 1975

Michael followed Valerie into the dark movie theater with a container of popcorn and two sodas. “I can’t believe you wanted to come to this.”

“And I can’t believe you’re making me skip class.”

“And
I
can’t believe we’re actually paying to see a movie about a guy hairdresser.”

“It’s supposed to be the best thing Warren Beatty’s ever done.” Valerie’s voice could’ve frozen a field of posies in July.

Michael let out a sigh in response. He didn’t know why he felt so surprised by her frosty attitude. She had been cool toward him ever since the night he had fooled around with both her and What’s Her Name. He supposed he deserved it, considering the incident somehow led to Valerie having a falling out with her friend, the hot girl with the ponytail. Now the two were no longer on speaking terms. Valerie had failed to elaborate any more, although he hadn’t exactly pressed for details. As far as he was concerned, the issue was between the girls.

However, he did feel somewhat compelled to make it up to Valerie, thus the occasional date to a movie or a diner. He’d hoped doing so would ease his guilty conscience. Besides, with Breeze avoiding his phone calls and all eye contact with him, what else was he supposed to do with his time? And Valerie was all right. Despite her needy moodiness, she was definitely easy on the eyes, with hair smelling like oranges and legs ending in heaven, which felt like such when they wrapped around his body.

Unfortunately, the sex had been pretty lackluster the past few times he had managed to actually coax her into it. She had been less than receptive to his touches and was prone to staring off into space, never reaching climax. Unresponsiveness was not something he had ever been able to shrug off, but it never discouraged him. He bit his lower lip in an effort to hide a smile.

Michael trailed Valerie halfway up the dimly lit carpeted steps of the theater until she stopped abruptly and he bumped into her back, accidentally scattering some popcorn on the sticky floor. She didn’t seem to notice, though, and asked in a whisper, “Where should we sit?”

“Do you have to ask?” He grinned, nodding toward the empty row beneath the projection booth.

She cocked her head to the side and shot him a warning look. “I don’t think so.”

“Why?” His pitch rose as he feigned innocence.

“Because I actually want to see the movie, okay?”

“And by ‘movie,’ you mean Warren Beatty prancing around with a pair of scissors, don’t you?”

“So what? Why do you have to harass me about everything I show interest in?”

“Christ, relax. We’ll sit wherever you want. I was just pointing out the obvious. Everyone knows the seats in the way back are the best.”

Valerie regarded him silently for a moment, her eyes looking like cold black marble in the dark theater. “If you try anything—”

He raised his hand. “Scout’s honor.”

She motioned up the steps. “Lead the way.”

“I will.” He was glad the lack of lighting masked his smile.

They took their seats in the middle of the last row. Hundreds of dust particles shimmered and spun in the horizontal beam of light floating above their heads as Michael handed the bag of popcorn and a soda to Valerie. She accepted them wordlessly and settled back in her seat, smoothing her skirt over her knees and pressing her thighs together. Again, he tried not smirk.

Silence passed between the two of them during the movie’s opening minutes, and Michael tried not to roll his eyes. The only thing preventing him from walking out was the look on Valerie’s face. She was enraptured the minute Warren Beatty leaped from bed at Lee Grant’s to go make eggs at Goldie Hawn’s apartment. As if in a trance, Valerie reached into the popcorn bag, gobbling up handful after handful, her eyes never leaving the screen. It was like she forgot he was there, and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel a hint of affection toward her. In the dark theater, he let her remind him of someone else.

His amusement with her reaction soon waned and he stifled a yawn. “Apparently, the plot to this movie is none of our business.” He scooped some popcorn out of the bag sitting on Valerie’s lap.

“Shh.” She didn’t even glance in his direction. Her eyes remained on the movie, providing him with an opportunity to look her over. She wore a ruby skirt and a puffy-sleeved blouse. It looked like something he saw a fifth grader wear once. He smiled to himself. He had some tricks up his sleeve that would make a schoolgirl blush.

His gaze flickered back to the screen, where Warren Beatty cruised the streets on his motorcycle, and he rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe he’s supposed to be the town stud. Jesus, I’d hate to see the guys who live there and can’t get any at all.”

“Things were different in the sixties.”

“If you say so.” Michael arched a skeptical eyebrow. “To be honest, I actually feel sorry for the guy, having to deal with all those chicks harping at him all the time.”

“How could you feel sorry for him?” Valerie was aghast. “He treats them all horribly.”

He shrugged. “But they all come back for more.”

She shook her head in response, as if speechless with anger. Michael took it as an opportunity to brush his lips against her earlobe. He smiled as she shivered, giving him the incentive to keep going. His lips trailed down her neck to the curve of her shoulder.

“Don’t.” She attempted to shake him off.

“Why not?” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, ignoring the armrest stabbing his rib cage as his tongue tasted the salty skin of her neck.

“I told you, I want to watch this.” She turned her eyes back toward the screen and pursed her lips, a well-intentioned but weak effort to ignore him.

“So? Go ahead.” He stroked her forearm with his free hand.

“I will.”

He snorted. “Right.” He took her chin in his hand and turned her face toward him. “You couldn’t ignore me if you tried.” He pressed his lips against hers, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth and drawing a soft moan from her. The hand on her chin remained there until he was sure she was engaged in the kiss. Then it drifted down her neck, grazing the skin at her throat before touching her breast over her shirt, causing her to gasp.

“What happened to Scout’s honor?”

He shrugged. “I was never in the Scouts. I don’t even know what hand to raise.”

“Michael.” She leaned away and straightened in her seat. “Come on.”

He heaved a sigh and sat back, removing his arm from around her shoulder. “Fine.” He stared at her for a moment, his knee jiggling as he drummed his fingers on the armrest. “Okay, let’s negotiate.”

“About what?” she asked, her tone already suspicious.

“I’ll let you watch the rest of the movie in peace if you sit right here.” He patted his lap.

She twisted her mouth and raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”

“I hope you weren’t. Otherwise, I think I unknowingly committed a bunch of crimes.” He grinned and tapped his knee. “Well?”

“I thought my ‘no’ was very heavily implied.”

“How about if you don’t do it, not only will I not stop bugging you, I’ll start pretending you’re sucking me off back here. Very loudly.” He gestured to the half dozen moviegoers in the theater, scattered in front of them amid a sea of empty seats. “They might not approve.”

“Why are you being such a pain?”

“Why are you so unwilling to compromise? You know, I’m really surprised by what a total crab ass you’ve become. Never mind. Just forget the lap thing, okay? I won’t annoy you anymore.” He propped his elbows on both armrests and clasped his hands in front of his chest as he turned his attention back to the movie.

Only a few moments drifted by before Valerie sighed. “No fooling around?”

He grinned. “I promise.”

She grudgingly rose from her seat and, with her eyes on the other occupants of the theater, she quickly sat on Michael’s lap. “Happy?”

“Pretty much.” He tried to resist the urge to run his hands all over her body. “Rest against me. You’ll be more comfortable.”

She leaned back, her head nestling on his shoulder and her hair brushing the side of his cheek. He wrapped his hands wrapped around her waist and waited for her body to relax. However, she remained tense, her eyebrows knitted as she gnawed at her lips.

He patted her hip. “I have an idea.” He opened his legs farther so the outside of his knees hit the metal armrests, and she settled in the space he cleared for her. “Is that better?”

She nodded, but he could tell she would still rather have her own seat back. He vowed to change her mind. Only a few minutes passed before he nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck and kissed her there.

“Michael.” She sighed, half in pleasure, half in protest. “I’m watching the movie.”

“Go ahead, no one’s stopping you. Don’t mind me.”

Valerie’s eyes fluttered closed as Michael’s mouth continued to move over her skin. One of his hands left her waist to mold her breast over her shirt, and she whimpered in response. “What if somebody turns around?”

“They’ll probably like what they see a lot more than this.” He nodded toward the movie screen as he undid enough buttons on her shirt so his hand could slip inside and touch her over the bra she was wearing.

She let out a noise that was both a giggle and a moan. He smiled, noticing she wasn’t pushing him away. For the first time in the past month, she actually seemed to be enjoying his touch. That knowledge made him all the more brazen, and his other hand dropped to the area between her legs.

Her eyes flew open and her thighs slammed shut, squeezing and trapping his hand. “What are you doing?” she whispered, facing him.

“I can tell you what I will be doing,” he murmured before his mouth closed over hers. “The answer’s ‘making you come.’”

She turned away from his kiss. “I don’t want to come.”

His patience with Valerie’s obvious nunhood snapped. “No, what you don’t want is me.” He took his hands off her. “Get up.”

“Why?”

“Because. I’m leaving.”

Her face contorted with confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“What
I
don’t understand is why you’re spending all this time with me when you clearly don’t want me.” He stood, bumping her off his lap, and grabbed his jacket. “When you feel like explaining it to me, let me know.”

Michael turned to leave, but Valerie hooked her fingers into the back pocket of his jeans. He looked over his shoulder to see her staring at him, her eyes wide and shining. “Wait,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Michael, please. Don’t leave. I’m sorry. I do want you. You know that.”