Ricochet (23 page)

It’s not so easy for me.

“That’s not how this works,” Lo says. “I’m in charge. If I
tell you to come, you’ll come. If I tell you to stop, you’ll stop.”

I need boundaries to harness my compulsions.
We’ve talked about this
, I remind
myself. I drop my arms, exposing my breasts again for him. That’s a start. Lo
will provide the guidelines for my limits so I don’t overdo it. I just need to
learn how to accept them.

Lo has given himself completely to me. It’s my turn to let
him have me.

I obey his first command and turn my panties inside out and
raise them to the screen, silently hoping the computer isn’t high-definition.
Though, clearly, they’re soaked.

“Satisfied?” I ask after a few seconds.

“Immeasurably.” His grin softens my heart, and my stomach
flutters, weakening my resolve. This taunting can’t go on for much longer.

I toss the panties on the floor, and he shifts a little on
his bed. But I still can’t see below his waist.

“Hold up your hands,” Lo orders.

I frown and raise my palms to the computer. He gazes at me
for a long moment, and I suddenly realize what he’s about to do. I open my
mouth to complain, but he cuts me off. “I want us to come together,” he says
seriously. “Keep your hands up and when I tell you to touch yourself, you can.”

I surrender at the words
come
together
. I can’t stop nodding, and another smile quirks his lips. Slowly,
his hand lowers, and his eyes flicker down a little. His camera is still angled
so I can’t see anything below his waist. Maybe that’s the point. Some things
are hotter left unseen.

His eyes rise back to mine, penetrating me, not tearing away
even as his breathing deepens, the rise and fall of his ribs quickening. His
body rocks forward a bit, and small grunts escape his parted lips. My eyes
dance around his arm that moves in fast succession, his chest glistening with a
layer of sweat, sultry and hot.

“Hands up,” he says in a hoarse tone. I raise them again, not
realizing I even dropped them.

I squirm on the bed as I feel the wetness slide down my
inner thigh. I grab a pillow and press it between my legs, the spot throbbing
for more pressure, more weight, more friction—begging for touch.

“Hands,” he orders.

I raise them for the third time, practically tearing out my
hair. I tremble and let out a small whimper.

I can’t wait anymore.

“Lo,” I cry out.

“Hold on, love,” he encourages kindly, but his eyes say
something different.
Hold the fuck on.
He’s
testing me. I know it. And I want to pass and succeed and show him that I can
fight my compulsions.
 

I keep my eyes on his and try not to look anywhere else. It
barely helps since he stares at me like he wants to be deep inside of me. God,
what I’d give for that…

After another long moment he says, “Drop your hands.”

That’s all it takes.

My hands fall and slide down, feeling the wetness for the
first time. I gasp and moan all at once and nearly collapse backwards onto my
pillow.
I need you
, I want to scream.
Please.

“Eyes on me, Lil.”

I prop my body on a weak elbow and try to keep my focus on
him without tilting my head back, without my eyelids fluttering closed. I am
so…close to being completely and utterly gone. I alternate between rubbing and
sliding my fingers inside. The pressure mounts, spiking my nerves on every
surface of my skin. Even though he wants me to look at him, his eyes begin to
drift from mine. They lower from my breasts to my abdomen to my wrist where the
screen ends.

At the same time my hips buck, he jerks forward a little.
Our breathing synchronizes with our heady movements. And all of a sudden, it
feels as though he’s really here. Inside of me.

He reaches up and tilts the screen down. For a mere second,
he lets me see what he’s doing—his hand grips the base of his cock and runs up
and down along the shaft. The camera moves back up to his face, and I’m lit on
fire. I need to come. I need to release
now
.

His arm quickens, and my moans grow louder. I hear him groan
in a deep husky breath. My body tightens, clenches and squeezes while my toes
curl. The whole world rotates. I claw at the sheets with my free hand and ride
the high out.

A few moments later, I flop against the bed, my elbow giving
way to exhaustion and my staggered, heavy breathing. My stomach, breasts,
thighs and ass are slick with sweat. God…that was incredible.

I want to feel it again.

Impulsively, my hand trails down my body and touches my
tender mound. A moan escapes my lips, and I rub harder.

“Lily.” Lo’s voice fills my head. I close my eyes and slip
my fingers inside.

Yes.

“Lily.
Stop
.”

My eyes snap open, but I keep my hand between my thighs.
Gently, I prop myself up to look at the screen. In the little box to the left,
I see myself sprawled on my bed in this position, but Lo only has a view of my
belly button up, my legs drifting past the computer. But I suppose it’s obvious
what I was doing.

I avoid his gaze. “Give me a second,” I tell him in a soft,
guilty whisper. I lie down and disappear fully from his sight, the screen
tilted towards my headboard, not the mattress. My fingers move once more. I
need
to feel it again.

“Fuck,” Lo curses. “Lily! I said
stop
.” I hear him. I do, but listening is so fucking hard. And a
selfish, horrible part of me wants to kick the computer closed to drown out his
demands. The pressure intensifies as I stand on another precipice, preparing to
jump. Oh God…

“Lily, sit up so I can see you,” he orders.

I can’t. I rub faster and harder and longer. I need more.
I’ve always needed more. I cry, my bony shoulders digging into the mattress, my
body writhing. I want his hands to pick me up, to throw me into his chest, his
muscles to meld into
me
. My eyes
clench closed, and I imagine it all. That he’s hard against me—that he’s
inside, waiting for me to come, whispering in my ear that everything is going
to be okay if I just release while I’m filled with him.

Yes!
I scream, my
spine arching, my body prickling with a fire so hot that I can barely breathe.
I hit it. Again. And then…I begin to come down. My open mouth closes, and my
heartbeat slows, moving past the irregular, erratic pace and towards something
I hate.

“Goddammit, Lily,” Lo snaps. “Sit the fuck up,
now.
”

My eyes widen in horror at what I’ve done, burning with
guilty tears. Everything feels different this time. I pull my hand away and
mechanically hoist my sluggish body to a sitting position. I hunch forward and
hold a nearby throw blanket to my chest. “I didn’t mean…” I bite my fingernail
and wipe an escaped tear. Shame crashes into me like a hundred pound wave. I
can’t even look at the screen to meet Lo’s disappointed gaze.

I understand now. Why he wanted me to listen to him from the
beginning. So we could avoid
this.
What’s
even worse is beneath the festering shame and guilt, there’s a small part of me
that wants to do it again. Maybe after we end the Skype conversation…
no!

“Did that feel good?” he asks in a tense voice.

Which part?
And
why do I have to ruin everything? I stare pathetically at my hands. “Don’t look
at me like that,” I whisper.

“You haven’t even looked at me yet,” he murmurs.

I inhale a strained breath and finally embrace the courage
to meet his gaze. No judgment crosses his features. Instead, his amber eyes
swim with empathy that I do not deserve. And I see the worry, as though I broke
his heart, as though the extremity and horror of my compulsions just fully
registered in his head.
 

“I’m sorry,” I choke. I rub my tears before they fall. “You
don’t have to…”
be with me.
I am a
monster.

“I love you,” he says. “We’re going to work on this
together.” Translation:
I’m not going
anywhere.

“I want to do it again,” I admit in a small voice.

“I know.” He rubs his lips in thought.

“So…then can we do it together again…tonight?” He’s just mad
I did it without him, surely.

“We’re done for today,” he says, each word like a mountain
he has to climb.

“But I only came twice.” Fear pushes into my chest, making
it difficult to breathe.

“And I was only going to let you come once,” he says. “I
tried to exhaust you with foreplay, but it’s hard. I should have made you wait
longer, and you should have listened to me afterwards. We’re going to get
better at it though, but it’ll take time and practice.”

So that’s it for me. I’m not allowed to have any kind of
self-love, and Lo is done for the night. I don’t want to do something moronic
when he leaves.
Don’t think about it,
Lily.
I let out a deep breath, but it barely calms me.

“Talk to me,” Lo says urgently. He rests his forearms on his
bent knees. “What are you thinking, Lil?”

“I’m scared,” I mutter. “…I’m so terrified of what I may
do.” I feel hot, searing tears scald tracks down my cheeks.

“I know it’s difficult. I can’t imagine someone giving me
one beer and forcing me to stop there. I get it, Lil. I so fucking get it,” he
says. “But you have to find the strength to wait. I know it’s there. You just
have to dig.”

I let his words sink in for a full minute. A pain weighs on
my chest, and it explodes with my next proclamation. “I wish you were here.” My
chin quivers, and my voice gives out. I press my forehead to my knees, hiding
my shattered expression.

“I am there, love,” he murmurs. “I’m right there with you.”
I hear the hurt in his voice. He tries to relax as much as possible, but it’s
as though I’m gripping his heart as much as he’s clenching mine. “You’re in my
arms,” he tells me, “and I’m kissing your lips, your cheek, your nose…” I shut
my eyes and drift to his voice that begins to settle my torment. “Your head
leans against my chest, and you listen to the beat of my heart as it slows. I
hold your wrists, allowing you to gently come down from your high on my terms.
You collapse against me.”

I look up to meet his gaze. It’s filled with hope, with
longing and something more. Something that I think can only be shared between
two broken people.

“And you stop struggling,” he whispers. “I watch your body
relax against me, and then I kiss you on the top of your head. I tell you how
proud I am of you, and how making you come once lasts a
lifetime
.”

My last tear falls. I can’t move to wipe it. I am transfixed
by Loren Hale, my
everything.

“I love you,” he says again, “and no other man will ever say
those words and mean them the way I do.”

My chest hurts so badly. His words are beautiful and painful
at the same time. Like us, I suppose. I have to be strong. For him. For me. For
us.
My throat has swollen, but I find
the resolve to reply. “I’m going to spend the rest of the night with Rose.” I
nod, solidifying the plan in my head.

“That’s a good idea,” he agrees. “How about you clean
yourself up. Get dressed. Tell me goodbye, and then I’ll call Rose and make
sure you’re with her.”

I nod again. I’d like that. So much. Having him on my side
makes the unbearable feel tolerable. I just hope in the future our struggle
will become easier.

Hope. Such a silly thing.

Sometimes it doesn’t come true.

{11}

A few days later Rose has finally finished
decorating our house and decides that we need a proper housewarming party to
commemorate the event. She also wants to coincide this with a “Lily Vow Day” or
LVD for short. She coined the term and also proposed the idea.

Writing down my vows on a piece of paper and reading them
aloud is supposed to reinforce my long-term goals. I was all on board until she
invited Connor and Ryke. I reminded her that she’s a feminist and supposed to
be on
my
side. I’m the girl.

She responded with “you shouldn’t be ashamed of your
addiction” and “it’ll give you more incentive not to break the vows.” Because
apparently I’ll feel way more guilty breaking vows that three people hear rather
than just Rose…okay, she has a point.

“I don’t understand why we had to do this outside,” I
complain, wrapping my arms in one of Rose’s fur coats that are way warmer than
anything in my closet. Topped with my Star Wars Wampa cap that has large ear flaps,
I literally look like some sort of furry monster.

“I didn’t want to start a fire in the house,” she says. A
light layer of snow coats the ground, but grass still manages to stick out of
the powder. A fire roars in a metal trashcan a couple feet in front of us. The
flames lick the nippy air, and I question how Rose even started it to begin
with.

Though it can’t be rocket science. Hobos do it.

The glass backdoor slides open and Rose says, “Finally, what
took you so long?” After the Fizzle event in January, Rose and Connor have
shockingly stayed together. But I’m waiting for their next twenty-four-hour
break up.

Connor’s loafers crunch against the snow as he walks towards
us. “Driving generally requires time,” he tells her. “Simple physics really.
Time equals distance divided by speed.”

“I know the formula for time, Connor.”

“I know, you know,” he replies with a smile. “I just like
the way your forehead wrinkles when you think I’m insulting you.”

“When you
are
insulting me.”

“That’s your perspective,” he says and looks to me. “Hi,
Lily. Big day.”

I shrug nonchalantly, and Rose gives me a hard stare. “It is
a big day, Lily,” she reinforces. “This is when you commit to getting better.”

“Right,” I say with a nod. “I think I’m just nervous.”

Connor frowns. “Why? Isn’t this the easy part? You’ve been
away from Lo for nearly three months and you haven’t cheated,” he pauses and
adds, “according to Rose.”

“I haven’t cheated,” I affirm. “I’m just not a
hundred-percent comfortable talking about this stuff yet.” I’ve kept my
addiction a secret so long that
sharing
requires a lot more courage than someone like Connor or Rose could ever
understand.

“It will feel better when you get everything off your
chest,” Rose assures me. She turns to look at the house and then glances
anxiously at her watch. Her lips purse before she says, “Ryke better be here
soon. The housewarming party starts in fifteen minutes.”

Daisy, Poppy, my parents and basically the whole brood are
invited, and they cannot witness this act of symbolic declaration. The rest of
my family remains in the dark about my addiction until I decide I’m ready to
tell them. I’m not sure if that day will come anytime soon.

“Shouldn’t you have waited for Lo to have the party?” Connor
asks. “He’s going to be living here, right?”

Lo will move into our little secluded house. I talked with
Dr. Banning and she agreed that we should live together if we want to continue
to have a relationship. The only stipulation and change from our normal routine
is that we actually have to
live
together. No more separate rooms and secret lives. At this juncture, we may be
co-dependent but our addiction to each other may very well kick our other ones.
Helping rather than enabling. If Dr. Banning thinks Lo is a huge key to my
success (not an obstacle), then I believe it. She’s smarter than me after all.

Rose will still be living at the house too, making sure Lo
and I mingle with the family instead of resorting to our reclusive ways. The
plan actually seems feasible. But I know it may not be easy. Nothing ever is.

I asked her if she was going to invite Connor to stay with
us. There’s an extra bedroom for him if she wanted to still have privacy. But I
forgot that Connor attends Penn, too far away to permanently reside here.
However, her answer didn’t involve distance. She told me that their
relationship hasn’t progressed to
that
status yet, and she wouldn’t be comfortable asking him. I read between the
lines.

They haven’t had sex.

Rose may be the most confident woman I know, but when it
comes to talking about
her
sex
life—she might as well turn as red as me. She can read textbooks and clinically
diagram the reproductive system without blushing. Hell, she
impersonated
me, acting as though she
had a sex addiction to dozens of therapists. But telling someone about herself
is like pulling rotten teeth. She tries to keep her private life private, but I
think it’s more than that. I think she’s scared to admit how she feels. She
wants people to think she’s this ice queen, but in reality, she
fears
just like the rest of us.

Sometimes I think we’re more alike than different. Maybe
that’s why we’re sisters.

Rose turns to answer Connor’s question. “Lo would hate this
party. I’m doing him a favor.”

She has a point.

“Do you think he’s going to be pissed you’re living with
us?” I ask Rose with a smile. She’s never been his favorite person. Honestly, I
just hope I can survive in the same vicinity as them. They may kill each other
or kill me in the crossfire.

“He’ll have to deal,” Rose snaps.

Connor looks to me. “You and Lo need to live alone together
like a fat kid needs to live in Candyland,” he pauses, realizing this could be
taken as either good or bad, depending on “perspective.” So he adds, “He’d
die.”

I gape, an image of a chubby kid’s corpse popping in my
head, his cheeks stuffed with candy corn. My open mouth contorts into an
extreme downturned frown, grossed out at the disturbing metaphor. “Ewwww…” I
cringe and wiggle my arms to shake off the image.

Rose rolls her eyes, but she’s
smiling
at his response.
That’s
why they’re together
, I think.

The back door whooshes open again and Rose gives Ryke a cold
scowl as he bounds over. “I said to be here at five o’clock.”

“There’s fucking traffic everywhere,” he snaps back and
stuffs his fists in his black North Face jacket. When he sidles next to me, his
eyes immediately rise to my cap. “What the hell is on your head?”

 
“Wampa.”

He stares at me blankly.

“Star Wars.”

“You look ridiculous,” he says and then turns to Connor.
“Did you know what that was?”

“I didn’t care, so I didn’t ask,” Connor tells him dryly.

Ryke glowers and I sense something bad coming. The two of
them are still not warming to each other. I’m really not sure what it will
take.
 

“You’re a tool,” Ryke says, blunt but not in a Connor Cobalt
endearing way. He’s just kind of mean.

“Why are you here again?” Connor asks.

Ryke’s jaw hardens. “I’m Lily’s friend.”

“Well, I’m Rose’s boyfriend
and
Lily’s friend,” Connor says. “I don’t know if you’re good at
math but…” He flashes his prep school smile. Oh…Connor…

Rose smacks him lightly on the arm. “Stop, we’re here for
Lily. The two of you, get a grip. We don’t have much time left.”

She hands me a black plastic bag and I take a quick peek
inside, already knowing it contains the
very
last of my porn. I forgot about one of the shoeboxes in the back of my closet
the last time I threw everything away.

“So I guess I just toss this stuff in?” I turn to Rose for
instruction. She nods and I take a couple steps forward.

“Don’t catch on fire. You’re made of fur,” Ryke warns me. Oh
yeah. I stop a foot away and slowly pull a couple of the magazines from the
bag. I roll them up so that Connor and Ryke can’t tell what they are. I really
don’t need to add to my embarrassment today.

“Goodbye, porn,” I say under my breath and toss them in
one-by-one as quick as I can. The fire cracks and sparks and I step back a
little. Now I am kind of scared I’ll catch on fire.

Hurriedly, I finish with the magazines and throw the empty
bag in last.

“Now your vows,” Rose announces. “Read them out loud.”
 

Right. I stuff my hand in the pocket and pull out a slip of
paper. My fingers are already pink from the cold, but I manage to fold it open
quickly anyway.

I only have a few items on my list, but each one is a little
painful to say. At least in front of Rose, Connor, and Ryke. They move around
the trash can so that I can see them clearly, which makes this even harder.

“One,” I say in a small voice. “I will not look at porn.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a proclamation.” Ryke
rocks on the balls of his feet. He leans forward and says, “I can’t even hear
you.”

“Say it like you mean it,” Rose agrees with a supportive
nod.

“Scream it,” Connor adds.

The fire lets out another loud
crack
and it triggers something in me. Or maybe the unbridled
confidence of my friends does. I take a deep breath before I yell, “I will not
look at porn!”

Ryke starts clapping. Connor lets out a whistle with his
fingers, and Rose gives me a smile. The pressure on my chest builds but also
lightens with each word. In this moment, maybe their confidence is contagious.

“Two. I will not masturbate!”

They’re still cheering and I focus on the paper in my cold
fingers.

“Three. I will not be compulsive about sex!” I scream it,
and yet I know this will be the hardest vow to live by. The most difficult to
control.

“And four,” I pause as I look at these final words. They
mean the absolute most to me. “I will not cheat on Loren Hale!”

My blood is pumping from the fire, my friend’s supportive
cheers, and my words—so much so that I toss the paper triumphantly into the
flames.

“What the hell?!” Rose shrieks. I jolt backwards and check
my arms to make sure I haven’t caught on fire. I’m okay though. I touch my cap.
Wampa’s fine too.

“What?” I ask, confused now.

I look back up and see Rose about to faint in distress. “You
burned it,” she says like I’m the one who lost my mind.

“I thought I was supposed to.”

“Why would you burn your vows? They’re supposed to help
you.”

“Then what’s the fire for?” I point at it accusingly.

“For the porn, Lily.” Rose groans into her hands and looks
up. “Okay, we have to do it again.”

“No,” we all say unanimously.

Rose turns on Connor first. “This is important,” she
complains, her hands going to her hips. She means business, but I have no
intention of repeating this. I think one LVD is enough for a lifetime.

“She read it aloud. Isn’t that the point, Rose?” Connor
asks.

“It’s bad luck.”

“Please tell me you’re not superstitious.” Connor tilts his
head, scanning the length of her as though she’s morphed into a gypsy—the
magical kind, not the gaudy ones you see on TLC. “Are you going to tell me you
practice witchcraft and sorcery too?”

“This isn’t the seventeenth century, Richard,” Rose snaps. “If
it was, I suppose you’d have me burned at the stake.”

 
“I wouldn’t have the
chance. I’d already be dead.”

“For what? Being a smartass?”

He edges closer to Rose, only a couple feet away, and I’m
surprised when she stands her ground, not taking one step back. His eyes flit
across her porcelain cheeks, her pink nose from the cold, and her striking
cat-colored eyes. “I would mention how the Earth revolves around the sun, and
they’d cry
heretic
. You, of course,
would be accused of heresy or witchcraft by eighteen.”

“I’d survive,” she declares.

“You would,” he nods. “You’d cut your beautiful hair in
order to.” His fingers skim her brown glossy locks that stop at her chest.

“You think if I cut my hair I would look like a boy?” she
retorts, defensive. I guess to protect herself back then, she would need to be
a man. She jerks out of his grasp, eyes as cold as ice.

He doesn’t shrink back. He takes the challenge with a fervent
smile. “I think you would make an effort to, and I’d keep my smart ass lips
shut so I didn’t die.” He looks her over. “Then I’d pretend to be with a man
just so I could do this.” One of his hands slides across her neck, the other
cups her face, and he presses his lips to hers, drawing her closer as they
kiss.

Her hands hang loose by her side, and as he melds his chest
to her, closing every gap, she relaxes her arms around his shoulders.
Internally, I’m waving Connor Cobalt and Rose Calloway flags, cheering them on.

When they part, their warm breath smokes the cold air.
Rose’s eyes are surprisingly soft, but her words remain fiery. “And then we’d
both be dead,” she reminds him. “We’d be hung for sodomy.”

“Then I’d die with you. Happily.” He grins, and her lips
rise in an equally infatuated smile.

And then the doorbell rings, breaking their moment and
successfully ruining Rose’s pleasant mood. “I still have to put out the fire,”
she says in distress.

Connor squeezes her arms lightly, and her attention returns
to him. “I’ll go mingle with your mother. Take your time, hun.” He kisses her
softly on the cheek and disappears inside the sliding glass doors.

It’s in this moment that I realize how well Connor knows my
sister. Most guys would choose to save the girl from manual labor. But Rose
would rather delay any conversation with our mother. As she walks off to find
something to smother the fire, Ryke approaches me with a stiff gait, his hands
still firmly pocketed in his jacket.