Hot Summer Lust (14 page)

I feel different.
And I like knowing
that no matter what happens to us,
I’ll always share this bond with Elias Hayes.
A bond of blood and beauty.

“Go on.” He’s waiting for me to sing but I hesitate
for a second.
What if he doesn’t like it?

His hands are on my hips, his thumbs barely touching the center of me.

It seem
s weirdly natural, this intimacy. Maybe because the very first time we saw each other, the experience was
so raw and so hot, it sort of blistered through the usual barriers. There’s nothing awkward about this stark closeness.
It just feels right.

He’s lazily swirling the wetness of our lovemaking, playing me in a way that makes me insanely happy: like I’m his.
I think he might be fully hard again. I’m straddling him, sitting up. H
e’s filling me completely, like he’s a part of who I am. Little flicks of pleasure
outline his immense bulk inside me. I know that if I start to move, I could come again very easily. But I want to wait. First I want to see if he likes the song I wrote for him.

The way he’s touching me distracts me for a second, but I think through the notes, remembering the lyrics. And I start to sing.

I’m in love
, that’s all there is to it.

Sadie
’s singing to me and making love to me at the same time and it’s almost more than I can take. It’s like my senses are being bombarded with
ten types of beauty so intense I’m having trouble processing it all. She’s swaying along to her own song and the effect of her
doing this while she’s riding my cock is somewhat mind-blowing, to say the least.
The tips of her long, flaxen hair sweep lightly across the skin of my stomach.
Her breasts bounce a little as she moves and she’s just so damn lovely.
Her eyes close when she sings certain notes and I can feel her emotion not just through the music but through this channel of our
hot, wet physical connection.
I’m so close to coming it’s taking everything I have to hold on. I don’t want
to come yet. I want
this to last. I want to ride this high forever, just watching and listening and feeling her.

As for the song, I don’t even know what to say about that right now
except that she’s some kind of goddamn genius.
Her voice has this clarity which is simultaneously husked with a colorful edge
that’s hard to describe. Like she’s singing more than one single note at a time.
The tune itself is memorable and original, but I can also pick her influences. Weirdly,
I
might be one of them. My
song that’s currently number one on the charts is somehow featuring, very subtly, in the harmonies.

That she’s looking into my eyes as she sings and sways and clenches around my almost-bursting cock is making the whole experience not just physical but somehow
spiritual. Like we’re connecting
on every possible level. Like our minds and our souls and our bodies are all entwining at the same time.

She starts the final chorus and I hold her hips as I start to thrust gently, at first, into her. I pinch her clit lightly
, drawing on her pleasure, insisting. I can feel her tightening around me and she’s sliding herself up, then sitting down onto me as
she squeezes herself around me. Her song is finished and she’s exhaling a soft moan as I meet her descent with a heavy thrust. She does it again, and so do I. She’s riding me and
oh, fuck
squeezing me and she’s coming – and those beautiful spasms grip me so fucking tightly I think I’m gonna lose my
oooh, fuck
the orgasm rockets out of me in excruciatingly intense bursts
that go on and on. I’m filling her with my hot cum. I own her and she own
s me. I am so addicted to how this
girl
feels
, it hurts my heart.

She collapses onto me and we lay there like that, panting and dazed.

After a few minutes, she lifts herself off
me, wincing a little.
I almost feel like crying when I slip out of her body.
Her thighs are stained with cum and blood. There’s a sheen of sweat on her skin and her hair’s messy. And I have never seen anything more exquisite in my pathetic goddamn life.

I gently scoop her up and carry her to the shower.

When I get the water temperature just right I carefully set her down and she leans on me as I wash her everywhere. I can’t remember ever being this gentle before, or wanting to be.

“Did you like the song?” she smiles.

“I fucking loved the song,” I tell her.
I mean it, too.
What I
don’t
quite tell her is so close to the surface I have to make an effort to hold it back. Is she ready? Am
I
ready? These are three words I haven’t spoken since the day my mother died, and they meant something a whole lot different then than they do here and now.

An idea comes to me, and it’s a crazy one.
Crazy and necessary. I decide I absolutely
have to make it happen and I’m already formulating a plan in my head.

Fuck.

How did this happen?

I love her.

“Come to Nashville with me,”
he says.

“What, right now?” I say, laughing a little. I’m sure he’s joking.

But then he says, “Yeah. Right now. I want to show you some things.”

“What things?” I’m still not sure if he’s being serious or not.

“My apartment. My life.
All o
f it. I have a show tonight and I want you to come.”

He definitely sounds serious. “What kind of show?”

Elias turns off the shower and towels me off. Sure, he’s got an amazing voice and a fancy guitar … and an obviously-expensive house sitting on a thousand-acre piece of land
. I assumed he was successful at whatever it was that he did, and
it now seems weird that I have no idea exactly what it
is
that he does. Especially after all that’s
happened over the past few hours. “I’
m a singer
,” he says. “And a songwriter. I’ll show
you everything.” He’s toweling off his hair and it’s sticking up. “Come with me.”

“Elias,” I say. How could this not have come up? How do I not know that he’s a performer?
One that
has a
show
? “
You’re a musician?
That’s
what you do?
Why didn’t you tell me?”

He’s all blasé about it but I’m starting to get the feeling I’ve missed something. Something big, and important.
“Well, I did, sort of. I showed you. I came to your house and sang to you.”

He’s glancing out the window and I notice it then, too: daylight is starting to fade.
It’s
later than I thought.
He seems
to be thinking the same thing.

“
Shit,”
he says. “It’s getting late.”

He walks into his bedroom. I pull my dress on and step into my sandals and
I follow him.
He’s pulling a pair of jeans out of the open suitcase sitting on the floor, and a t-shirt.

“I’m supposed to be on stage at nine. Vaughn’ll go apeshit.”

“Who’s Vaughn?”

“Someone I want you to meet.”
H
e grabs his boots and pulls them on. He stands up. “You ready?”

I’m about to tell him I can’t come with him.
My mother would never let me go to Nashville. Especially with
him
. I told her I got a job cleaning for the new neighbor but I didn’t describe what he looked like.
All I’d said was that he lived there part-time and was hardly ever home.

Then I remember: I’m eighteen now. I’ve graduated and … well, I’m no longer even a
virgin
. It’s time for me to follow my own road, and not let opportunities pass me by purely because I’m feeling the effects of some arbitrary rules that no longer apply.

Because I’ve already decided I
am
going with him. I want to see who he rea
lly is. In
Nashville
. Of course I’m going. “Can I just make a quick phone call first?”

He slings his arm around me, pulling me along with him. “My phone’s in the car. You can make it on the way, darlin’. We gotta hit the road.”

Before I know it, I’m driving along in Elias’s
extremely
fancy car at almost a hundred miles an hour. Towards Nashville.
“What kind of car is this?” I can’t help asking. I’m not really a car person but I like
this one.

“It’s a Mustang Shelby GT350,” he says. “Beaut, right?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles at me and I have to remember to breathe, he’s so gorgeous, with his darklit eyes and his thick hair. With his tanned skin and his taut muscles. My stomach does a little flip as I remember
gripping
those muscles.
As he thrust his big, spilling cock into me. As we came together.

He seems to read my mind. He reaches for my hand.
“If I didn’t have a show I would’ve kept you in my bed with me all night long. I would’ve tied you up,” he says, “so you wouldn’t run away.”

I run my thumb along his palm. I love his hands. They’re strong and brown with callouses exactly where mine are. They’re the callouses of someone who spends a lot of time strumming a guitar.
“I wouldn’t have run away,” I tell him.

I gives me a look that starts me going again. I feel the delicious soreness as my body responds and remembers. Him, claiming me as his own.

His hand slips from my grasp and he takes his phone from a little shelf on the space-age dashboard. “Here. I won’t listen in, I promise.”

I take the phone. “You can, but I’m going to have tell a few lies, I’m sorry to say. My mother
probably wouldn’t be too happy about me taking off with you for the night. I don’t want her to worry too much.”

“I’ll never tell.”

He turns the radio down a little and I dial the number. Daisy answers and she sounds upset. “Daisy? It’s me.”

I hear her sniff, like she’s been crying again. “Sadie, where are you?”

“You remember how I got that job cleaning the neighbor’s house?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m going to
stay here tonight. The owner’s not home and it’s a big job, so I might as well just keep going.”

“Are you sure? You’re all alone?”

“Yeah. He’s got another house he spends most of his time in.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t really know,” I say. At least that part’s true. “I’ve only seen him a couple of times.”

“Do you want me to come over and stay with you? I’ve always wanted to see the inside of that house.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll lock the doors.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You all right?”

She sniffs again and blows her nose. “He hasn’t called. He said he has another gig tonight so I probably won’t hear from him until tomorrow. It’s just … I don’t know. He told me he would call even if he was playing.”

“Maybe he’ll call a little later.”

“Maybe.”

I can almost hear her thinking it: what have I gotten myself into?

“You know what, Sadie? He told me he
loved
me. And
I believed him. That’s how I got into this mess, the bastard.”

“Everything’ll be okay. You’ll see.” My attempt to comfort her sounds
hollow, though. There’s no way we can
know that for sure.
If only we’d gone to the free clinic after
Delilah
got accidentally knocked up, all three of us. If only we hadn’t waited for lightning to strike twice.
Now that I actually understand how hard it is to resist temptation, I can relate to Daisy’s sorrow even more. I wish I could track down that jerk she’s
so in love with, and shake him.
“I won’t tie up the phone line, in case he tries to call. And I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Tell Momma.”