Just a Girl (5 page)

“You like that?” he whispered, and caught my earlobe gently in his teeth.

My “yes” was buried in a moan. I tightened my ankles around his waist, wondering just for a second if I was leaving a wet spot on his crotch before deciding I didn’t care. My body was a guitar for Paul to play. And he knew exactly how to tune it, fit his hands to the curves, and pluck my strings.

I wanted him. All of him. I wanted him inside me. Could we possibly balance on this bench well enough? The alternative of gravel path wasn’t very appealing, either. But least appealing of all was the idea that I would let him stop for a single moment to find somewhere comfortable. My hips bucked against his more urgently, and he slid a hand down between us. His thumb found my aching clit and stroked it twice.

Gasping, I dug my fingertips into his shoulders.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmured.

I didn’t answer, but sucked his lower lip greedily.

“Easy, killer.” He shifted his legs, raising me up more fully onto his lap, and put that thumb back to work. There was no chance I’d bite his lip now—my mouth was hanging open as the pleasure began to coil tight in my pelvis. Each breath ended in a tiny whimper. Paul’s other hand found my breast again.

My grip on his shoulders grew dangerously tight as he worked me into a frenzy and then suddenly the orgasm was on me and I let out three sobbing breaths before it was over. Boneless, I let go of his shoulders and slumped toward him while he eased me back onto the bench and found my mouth for a searing kiss.

“You keep doing that to me,” I whispered when he let go.

“You keep making me want to.”

I dropped one hand to run my palm over the bulge in his jeans. “I want you,” I said.

And that was when the light hit us both in the face.

P
ARK
H
OURS

S
UNRISE TO 10 P.M. YEAR-ROUND

“The park’s closed,” a disembodied voice said.

Softly, Paul groaned.

“Okay, sorry about that,” I called. “We’ll be on our way.”

“I’m gonna need to see some ID,” the voice said.

“Why? Who are you?” Paul said.

We heard the crunch of gravel as the light bobbed and got brighter. I put up a hand to shield my eyes. After a moment, the light shifted, to reveal the uniformed police officer holding it.

“Officer Reese.”

“Why do you need ID, Officer?” Paul asked.

The cop shined his light on the bench, focusing it behind Paul, and I remembered he’d set the bottle of scotch back there. Fuck.

“Who does that belong to?” the cop asked.

“Me,” I said.

“Liquor is not permitted on the park grounds.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I’m gonna need to see some ID.”

With another quiet groan, Paul leaned over to dig out his wallet. I really really wished the cop would stop shining the light at us so I could rehook my bra, but that didn’t seem likely.

Paul flicked open his wallet and extracted a driver’s license, which he handed over. Officer Reese turned his light on the card, and I seized the moment to put my boobs back where they belonged.

“Thank you. Now you.” He moved the light back to me, but kept it angled down a bit more so it wasn’t blinding me.

“I don’t have it on me. It’s in his car.”

“Uh-huh.” The cop sounded suspicious.

“It is,” I protested. “We’re parked back that way.” I pointed in the direction we’d come from. It wasn’t a long distance, but you couldn’t see it from here.

“She’s twenty-one,” Paul said.

“Uh-huh.”

“I am. We weren’t doing anything wrong,” I said.

“I know exactly what you were doing,” Officer Reese said. “I could hear you.”

Well, that was basically humiliating. Heat rushed into my cheeks.

“Not to mention trespassing,” he continued. “The park closes at ten.”

“We’ll go,” Paul said. “Right now.” He made as if to stand up, but Reese made a noise of warning and he dropped back to the seat.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to take you both to my car, and you’re going to direct me back to where you’re parked. You’re going to show me some ID, and if you really
are
twenty-one, you won’t get a ticket for underaged drinking. Doesn’t that sound great?”

His attitude was annoying. Part of me wanted to get riled and protest. But we were trespassing, and as far as he knew, Paul was supplying a minor with alcohol. We didn’t have a lot of moral high ground to stand on at the moment.

“Are we under arrest?” Paul asked.

“Not right now,” Reese said. “And it won’t be hard to keep it that way, if you’re telling me the truth.” He kept the flashlight on us and instructed us to get up slowly. We did, and Paul made sure to take the bottle of scotch with him. The three of us walked the short distance to another parking area, where the squad car was waiting.

Reese opened the back door and indicated Paul should get in first. As soon as the door was shut he looked at me.

“Are you with this man of your own free will?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you feel safe?”

“Not so much now that I’m being put in the back of a police car,” I snapped before I could stop myself.

He didn’t say anything else, but opened the opposite door and waved me in.

“Sorry about this,” Paul said.

“
I’m
sorry.” It was me being…vocal that had brought us to the cop’s attention.

Officer Reese drove along the twisted drive back to the lot, where Paul’s was now the only car left.

“It’s the Subaru,” Paul said unnecessarily, which made me laugh.

Reese parked in the middle of the lane with his lights aimed at Paul’s car. He let me out first, cautioning Paul to stay put, but immediately realized that the Subaru’s doors were locked. He looked stymied, but I just turned back and mimed pressing a key fob to Paul. A second later, we heard the locks click open.

Officer Reese instructed me to get my bag out slowly and to keep my other hand where he could see it. I got why he was being cautious, but seriously, we’d been making out in a garden, not robbing a bank, for God’s sake. After I retrieved the bag, he asked me if he could look inside. I didn’t think I had to let him, but I had nothing to hide, and I really just wanted this over with.

Satisfied that the worst thing I could pull on him was a tube of lipstick, he let me rummage for my wallet. When I had it, I selected my California driver’s license and brandished it for the cop. “See?” I said. “Twenty-one.”

“Not for very long,” he said.

“Long enough.” I resisted the urge to flip him off, settling on glaring at him. “Can you let my friend out of the car now?”

Reese hesitated, failing to hide his desire to come up with a reason to detain us. But he knew as well as I did that all he had on his hands were two consenting adults of legal drinking age who’d stayed too long in a public park. I supposed he could have charged us with trespassing, or an open-container violation, but it probably wasn’t even worth the paperwork. Finally, he crossed back to the cruiser and let Paul out of the back.

“You’ll need to leave the park property,” he said sternly.

I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, we’re on it.” Paul held out the nearly empty fifth of scotch to me, and Reese’s eyes lit up.

“Have you been drinking?” he asked Paul.

“I had a few sips,” Paul answered.

“It was mostly me,” I said, crossing the pavement to take the bottle from Paul.

“And I’m not driving right now. I’m not even in a car,” Paul added.

I grinned.

Seeming determined to finish with the upper hand, Reese announced, “You can’t take an open container in your vehicle, sir.” The “sir” was said in anything but a respectful tone.

“Oh, fuck this,” I said, and yanked off the cap to tip the remaining splashes of whiskey into my mouth. It wasn’t even a shot’s worth. “There. Empty. Happy?” I turned the bottle upside down and let the very last drop fall to the ground at my feet.

Reese frowned at me, resting his hands on his belt, one alarmingly close to his service weapon. “Be on your way.”

The urge to swear at him was intense. So, I held out the empty bottle to him. “Would you be a doll and recycle this for me? I don’t want to overstay my welcome looking for the proper receptacle.”

“Go,” was all he said, making no move to accept the bottle.

I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Come on, Presley,” Paul said.

Every rebellious inch of me was ready to continue this idiotic standoff, but there was a larger part of me more interested in continuing what Paul and I had started in the rose garden. So I went back to the passenger side of Paul’s car and got in while he got behind the wheel. He turned the key and rushed to put the car in reverse, rolling back just slightly before hitting the brakes and honking the horn to remind the cop he was blocking our path out.

“Careful,” I teased. “He could pull you over for something else and make you do a whole field sobriety test now that you’re actually driving.”

“Let him try. I’ll pass.”

I grinned at his little demonstration, and sang
“Rebel, rebel,”
at him before snapping my mouth shut.

“You’re feisty,” Paul said. “For a second, I thought you were going to call that guy a pig and start shouting ‘Power to the people.’ ”

I laughed at the image. “My parents would be so proud.”

He turned his attention from the road for a second to smile at me. “I believe it.”

Sobering my expression, I said, “I’m sorry about all of that.”

“Please. It wasn’t
your
fault. I shouldn’t have taken you to a park that was about to close.”

“Yeah, well, if I had been a little quieter, he probably never would have known we were there.”

“True.” His voice was amused. “You
are
kind of loud.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but that would be a lie, so…”

“One of these days, I’m going to have to take you someplace where we won’t get interrupted.”

“What’s wrong with now?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“You live far from here?”

“Not too far.”

“Good,” I said. “Take me there.”

Paul might have seemed calm, except that I noticed he put a bit more pressure on the gas pedal as we headed through unfamiliar streets toward his apartment. He rounded a block and turned down an alley before pulling into a numbered parking space behind an indistinct building.

“Here we are,” he said, pausing to look at me after he’d pulled the key from the ignition. “I should warn you, I have roommates.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said. “Only they call themselves my parents. Trust me, this is a better option.”

He smiled. We got out and collected his two guitar cases from the back before he led me to an exterior metal staircase. “They’re noisy, but they’re solid,” he promised. And he was right. I followed him up and into the building, then down the hall to a door marked
2
B
, below which someone had put a name tag sticker that read,
O
R
N
OT 2
B
.

“Funny.” I nodded at it.

Paul shook his head, exasperated, and I had a feeling it wasn’t him who had stuck the label there. The door was unlocked and I could hear the sound of a television as he opened it.

Paul shouted, “Hey, dickweeds, we got company, you better have pants on.”

“Is this a problem in your household?” I asked.

“You have no idea.”

“Who’s with you?” a male voice called from within.

Paul positioned the guitar case he was holding to prevent me from walking in and peered into the room. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he stepped through. “This is Presley,” he said. “Presley, this is my roommate Greg.”

On the couch, there was a twenty-something guy wearing what appeared to be sweatpants cut off at a capri length and a DayGlo-green tank top.

“ ’Sup?” he said, not looking up from the laptop balanced on his knees.

“Hey.”

“Where’s James?”

“Dunno.”

“Home?”

“Think so.”

Paul looked at me apologetically. “Greg does online tech support.”

“Yeah, to a bunch of fucking idiots!” Greg said emphatically.

“Well, nice to meet you, Greg,” I said.

“Yeah.” He glanced up for a flash, then did a double take. “Whoa. Intense hair.”

“Intense shirt,” I replied.

He looked down, seeming surprised by the shocking color on his own body. “Yeah.”

“See you later, Greg.” Paul nodded his head toward a dark hallway and I followed him. He flicked on a light, illuminating four doors. As if on cue, one of them opened and another twenty-something guy emerged from it with nothing but a towel around his waist and a six-pack of beer hooked on one finger. He had warm brown skin and short dreadlocks springing from his head. He looked mildly surprised to see us.

“What’s up?” he said.

“James, Presley. Presley, James.” Paul used the end of his guitar case like an awkward pointer to indicate each of us in turn.

“Oh, Presley,” said James, as the light dawned in his eyes. “The Luminous 6 Presley.”

“Not anymore,” I said automatically.

“Right, right.” A little smile played at the corner of his mouth. “Still. You guys were tight.”

Paul cleared his throat.

“But, I’m sure they suck without you,” James added quickly.

“Is Kenzie home?” Paul asked.

“Not yet.”

“Okay, cool.” Paul nodded at the six-pack. “What are you doing?”

“Me?” James seemed surprised by the question. “I have had a hell of a day, and I am going to drink in the shower.”

I couldn’t help laughing.

“You have fun with that,” Paul said.

“It’s guaranteed.” James tipped his head in my direction. “Nice to meet you, Presley.” He started to turn away, then paused and lifted the six-pack. “You guys want one of these?”

Having just finished the fifth of whiskey in the park, I did not need another drink. “No thanks.”

“It’s all you, man,” Paul said.

“Suit yourself.”

James disappeared through a door I presumed led to the bathroom, and I followed Paul a few yards down the hall to another door. He pushed it open and slapped his hand around on the wall until he found the switch. The lights revealed a basically unremarkable bedroom. Between the dresser, the bed, and a tall bookshelf, there wasn’t much floor space. And what space there was quickly disappeared when Paul propped his guitar cases against the wall near the mirrored closet doors.

“I got the smallest room,” he explained.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Imagine if this were the biggest.”

Paul shook his head with a soft laugh. “I guess that’s true.” He took a second to smooth the blankets before inviting me with a courteous gesture to sit.

I sat, surprised when he turned to hitch one hip onto the corner of the dresser. “You don’t have to do that. Come sit.” I patted the spot next to me and after a moment Paul joined me.

The soft mattress made us tilt toward each other until my bare thigh was pressed to his denim-clad one. I let the momentum carry me farther, leaning in to press a kiss lightly to his neck.

“Now, where were we?” I murmured.

He hummed contentedly while I stretched up to kiss the corner of his mouth, then he turned and our lips met once more.

God, what was it about this guy? The instant he kissed me I was ready to burst into flames. I felt like I was expanding to fill the small niches of his shape, that my clothes were suddenly too tight. I was gasoline and he was a match.

There was no shyness after the park. I moved to straddle his lap once more and gave in instantly when he grabbed the hem of my shirt and tugged it up. While my arms were up over my head and my shirt was wrapped around my wrists, he bent to kiss my cleavage.

I shook my shirt free and grabbed eagerly for his, forcing him to lift his head as I pulled it off. At last I could see more of that tantalizing tattoo.

It was much bigger than I expected. From the humble roots and trunk of the tree on his bicep bloomed a tree that covered half his chest.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, leaning back to get a better view.

“Later,” he said, wrapping his arms around me to pull me tight to his chest. We fell back on the bed, mouths fused, and he reached for the clasp on my black bra. It was only a moment’s work to undo it and another to strip my bra free from the tangle of our arms. The sweet heat and sweat of his chest against my bare breasts made me shiver with delight.

“That’s nice,” he said softly.

We kissed again, as if desperate for each other, and his hands roamed my body, one finding its way under my skirt to grip my ass. I rocked my hips appreciatively. Paul matched my rhythm and soon I had to break away from his lips to catch my breath.

“Too much clothing,” I panted.

“Uh-huh.” He rolled to the side, putting me down on the blankets. The new angle distracted us for a minute as I wrapped my leg around his thigh and he slid a hand between us to caress my breast. But it didn’t take long to remember that his jeans were blocking me from the contact I craved.

“Clothes,” I reiterated, reaching for his belt buckle.

His hands searched my waist for some kind of closure on the skirt, but there was none.

“Pull,” I said.

He obeyed, tugging the stretchy fabric over my hips, nearly taking my panties at the same time, but they caught, leaving my right ass cheek exposed.

I giggled and redoubled my efforts with his belt and jeans. It was hard to work in the tight space we’d left between us, but at last I got the button and zipper open. We tried together to get them off, but eventually he made a frustrated sound and sat up to finish the job himself.

For the first time I got a look at his back and once again I couldn’t help but gasp. The magnificent tree tattoo wrapped around his torso, covering half his back with twisted branches. From the ends of the branches near his shoulder, brilliant orange and red leaves blew in an invisible wind while the blackbirds I’d glimpsed above his collar took flight. Below that, closer to his waist, the branches were covered in snow and swirling gusts of flakes swirled toward his spine.

There was more ink under his left arm, but I could hardly tear my eyes from the tree. It was stunning.

After a moment he was free of his shoes and jeans and he turned to face me, letting me see clearly at last that the spring and summer seasons were part of the tree on his front.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, reaching out to trace one of the budded spring branches that followed the curve of his pec. His nipple puckered when my nail skated along the edge, and that was all the viewing time I got because then he was on top of me.

My crooked panties went even more haywire as he moved us to the middle of the bed and settled himself between my upraised thighs. His boxer briefs slid easily on the satinlike fabric of my panties and we both groaned at the improved sensation. I wanted him like I hadn’t ever wanted anyone before. The urge to tear at our underwear and invite him inside me was intense, but so was the grind of his erection.

We thrust against each other like horny high schoolers in the back of a car. It felt primal and a little ridiculous, but also just right. I hooked my heels behind his knees, throwing my head back as once more my body threatened to find a quick release.

Wasn’t this supposed to be his turn?
“Wait!” I gasped. “I’m gonna—”

“Again?” Paul went still and looked at me with a mixture of astonishment and amusement.

“I’m trying…to be…polite.” I squirmed beneath him, my body on autopilot.

He laughed and pushed himself up into an impressive plank position.

I couldn’t help it; I whimpered.

“Need something?” he asked.

“You,” I groaned. “Please!”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Oh my God, yes! Take your fucking underwear off!”

He laughed again, but took me at my word. As he rocked back to strip out of his boxer briefs, I shoved my panties down, kicking them God knows where.

“Condom,” I panted.

“On it.” He was busily tearing one open.

“Hurry.”

After what seemed like half an hour to my tightly strung nerves, he was back between my knees, crawling toward me with a look in his eyes that pushed me to the brink. And then he was inside me and I lost it. Once more an orgasm rushed through me like an out-of-control freight train. My nails left marks in his shoulders as I fought to stay quiet. Still a low moan escaped my throat.

Paul started to move then, and let out a satisfied sound. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper.

“Oh God, that’s good.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I agreed.

He dropped down to rest on his elbows, close enough to kiss me as we found a new rhythm. My body was still zinging with sensation, and every movement was like a direct injection to the pleasure center of my brain.

And then there was a knock at the door. “Hey, bro, open up!” It was a female voice.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Paul groaned, dropping his head onto my shoulder for a second.

“Paulie?” she called.

“Paul’s not here,” he shouted.

“Come on, Paul, don’t be a dick.”

He looked down at me. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Who is that?” I asked.

“My sister.” He raised his voice again. “Kenzie, not now!”

“Why?” Now her voice was a singsong. “You got a girl in there with you?”

“Kenzie, I swear to God I will kill you if you don’t go away right now.”

“Jesus, fine!” She sounded put out. We listened for a second as she walked away.

Paul growled in frustration. “Why does this keep happening to me? Are you doing this on purpose somehow?”

“I had nothing to do with this, I swear.” I giggled. “Did she kill your…mood?”

“No!” He was firm on that and gave me a demonstrative thrust to prove it.

“Well, okay then.” Pulling him down by the back of the neck, I kissed him slow and deep. “Let’s reward you for all that patience.”

We began to move together, and with my wits a little more about me, I could match his pace. And after three unexpected interruptions, Paul was very ready for the payoff. I would have thought I’d be spent, but his arousal nearly took me over the edge again. We were both panting and my fingers were leaving marks in his skin once more by the time his rhythm faltered and he gave a last thrust. With a final shudder, he wrapped me in his arms and collapsed sideways, pulling me onto my side.

I giggled again—sex often put me in a silly mood. “Feel better?”

“You have no idea.”

“Aww,” I cooed, stroking his hair. “You hid it very well, if that’s any consolation.”

“Easy for you to say. You got yours. Three times if I’m not mistaken.”

“Something like that.”

“I think I’m impressed.”

“It’s good to be a girl.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I were a guy, I wouldn’t get to keep going.” I smiled. “One man’s premature ejaculation is another woman’s multiple orgasms.”

He laughed. “Good point.”

“Anyway. Sorry I left you hanging the other two times.”

“No worries. They were the sexiest blue balls I’ve ever had.”

Giggling, I kissed him. He rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him for a few minutes of deliriously satisfying kissing. “I should…” he said eventually, sliding a hand down to secure the condom as we moved apart.

“Right.” I pulled his sheet up to cover myself as he stood and stepped into a pair of athletic shorts.

“Be right back.” He unlocked the door to sneak down the hall, pulling the door closed but not shut as he went.

While he was gone, I lay back on the pillows and took a deep breath. I’d done it. I’d slept with someone who wasn’t Brendan. And it was good. Very good.

Take that, you asshole,
I thought at Brendan.

The unlatched door squeaked open and I looked over, expecting Paul, but instead seeing a girl.

When she saw me she screamed and jumped back into the hall. “Oh my God, I’m sorry!”

“Kenzie, what the fuck?” Paul’s voice was in the hall.

“I thought I heard your door, I just wanted to—”

“You have no patience!”