“I want to try and do the same thing I did last time.” When I frown, she explains, “I want to kiss you. Leave lipstick imprints on your skin. You said this shade would show up better, remember?”
I do remember. Wait until she sees what else I have in store for her.
“Have at it.” I open my arms wide and let them fall by my side, as if I’m helpless. She repositions herself, straddling me once again. She touches the ring—her ring—that hangs on my chain, her expression thoughtful.
“Do you want it back?” I ask, knowing what my answer will be if she says yes.
A firm no.
Wren slowly shakes her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to say when I’m asked where it is though.”
“You lost it?” Which is true.
She lost it—her virginity—to me.
“He’ll be mad.”
“He’ll be mad no matter what you tell him. What would he do if you told him the truth?” I raise a brow.
“Rip this right off your neck.” She traces the gold chain.
“I wouldn’t give him the opportunity.” My smile is smug. I could take Harvey Beaumont. That man doesn’t scare me. I’ve had to deal with my father and uncles my entire life. Those guys would slay Beaumont dead with just a fucking look.
“Ooh, you’re so tough,” Wren teases.
“You like it.”
“I do,” she whispers before she leans in and presses her mouth to my chest once. Twice.
A few more times.
I bend my head down, watching her leave her mark, pleased to see the red lipstick shows up, vivid against my skin. She leans back, studying her work, her lips curled up in a closed-mouth smile.
“I like it.”
I lift my gaze to hers. “You’re a little weird, Birdy.”
“I don’t think you mind though,” she says, her cheeks turning a faint pink.
“I like anything that makes you happy.” I reach for her but she leaps off my lap and grabs her phone. “You sure your dad won’t find these photos?”
“I’m positive.” She nods. “I changed my password.”
“What to?”
“Oh, I’m definitely not going to tell you.” She aims her phone at me, taking a few steps closer to focus tightly on where the kiss prints are. “This is going to look good.”
“And you said you didn’t want to recreate it,” I murmur.
She frowns. “Recreate what?”
“Your favorite piece. A million kisses in your lifetime. You’re doing that right now. I’m your canvas.”
She blinks at me. “I guess you are.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I want to do your back next,” she says as she checks out the photos on her phone. “Oh, this looks amazing. Just how I wanted it to.”
“You know what I want to do?”
“What?” she asks, her gaze still on the photos.
“I want to see those bright red lips wrapped tight around my cock.”
Her wide-eyed gaze lifts to mine. “No photos, right?”
I would love photos. I would never share them with a soul. Only her.
“If you don’t want me to take your picture, then I won’t,” I say. I’m no Larsen Van Weller, that’s for damn sure.
“I don’t.” She slowly shakes her head, and I realize in this instant, she still doesn’t fully trust me.
And I also realize in this instant, just as she dips her head and wraps those red lips tightly around the head of my cock, that I want her trust more than anything else in the world.
How did she get past the iron fortress and worm her way into my heart in such a short period of time? I was the one who refused to believe in relationships and love and all the bullshit that comes with it. When you’re in a family like mine, you witness fake love on a constant basis. With the generations before us, marriages were made as business transactions. Powerful families coming together and becoming that much more powerful. Hell, it still happens. Look at my sister, married to a man because of our family name and his.
I don’t want a fucking merger. I want someone I can laugh with. Someone who’s admittedly a little different and likes to press her lip-sticked mouth to my skin. A sweet, innocent girl who has a dirty mind.
Like Wren.
I push her hair away from her face so I can watch. She has no idea what she’s doing, but it doesn’t matter. Her enthusiasm more than makes up for any lack of experience.
She grips me tight and licks me like a fucking lollipop. Swirls her tongue around the head before she envelops it completely with her mouth, sucking on it. Making slurping sounds that make me clench up, knowing the end is already coming closer.
Damn this girl. Despite her inexperience, she makes me come faster than anyone else ever has. Is it because I care about her? Is that why?
How do I tell her this? How do I express myself when I grew up in a house where feelings were mocked, especially if you’re a guy. We’re supposed to be cold and unfeeling.
This girl makes me feel the complete opposite of that.
She draws me deep into her mouth. A little deeper. Until she almost gags and my cock is sliding rapidly out of her mouth.
“Sorry,” she murmurs, blinking hard.
I touch her cheek, tilting her face up to look at me. “You don’t have to deep throat me, Birdy.”
Her cheeks flush pink. “I might’ve watched more porn last night.”
Oh, fuck me. “In private mode, I hope.”
She laughs. “Yes, definitely.”
“I don’t plan on coming in your mouth,” I tell her, pushing her hair away once again. “Just—play with it. Until I can’t take it anymore and I have to fuck you.”
And damn, does she ever play with it. She pushes me to the brink in a short amount of time, until I’m practically tearing her off my dick, positioning her so she’s flat on her back and I’m hovering above her. I slide inside her with ease, going completely still when I feel all of that hot, wet heat grip me.
“I didn’t put on a condom.” I glance down to find her wiggling beneath me, like she’s trying to take me deeper.
“I’m on birth control,” she admits.
I’m shocked. “Seriously?”
“I had irregular periods when I was younger.” She seems embarrassed. “My mom took me to the gynecologist and I’ve been on the pill ever since.”
Goddamn, I love her mom. “I’ve never had sex without a condom. Ever.”
“Me either.”
I kiss her smiling mouth. “You’re funny, Bird.”
“I try,” she teases, lifting her hips so I do actually sink deeper inside her body. “Are you telling me the truth?”
“About never having sex without a condom?” When she nods, I say, “Yes.”
“Then let’s try this. It feels good this way.”
Once we do it this way, it’ll be hard to go back to condoms. I can feel…everything. No barriers, just flesh on flesh.
And fuck, it feels amazing.
“I love being inside of you,” I whisper in her ear, because that’s as close as I can get, using that word. And I mean it—I love being inside of her. Fucking her. Kissing her and making her come. Knowing that I’m the only one who makes her feel good.
“I love being with you like this,” she answers, her hands roaming up my chest to curl around my shoulders. “No one knows me like you do, Crew.”
No one knows me like she does either.
Not a single soul.
I start out gentle at first, not wanting to hurt her. She’s still so new at this, and I’m sure she’s sore. She’s already come twice.
Eventually, I lose control. I fuck her hard. And she doesn’t complain, not once. She moans and whispers my name, clutching me close. I disentangle myself from her grip and rise above her, wrapping my hands around her hips as I fuck her senseless. Until she’s writhing beneath me, her shaky whimper indicating that she’s coming.
I’m coming too. So hard.
Falling for her too.
So damn hard.
WREN
I wakeup first thing Monday morning to my mother knocking on my bedroom door promptly at nine, pushing her way inside with a large, pure white box clutched between her hands.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she chirps. “You have a delivery.”
I push the hair out of my eyes, squinting at her as she sets the box on my desk and goes to my window, pushing open the curtains. It’s a gray day outside but still bright enough to make me groan and fall back onto the pile of pillows.
“I’m on break,” I tell her. “Let me sleep in.”
“I couldn’t stand waiting any longer.” She goes to my desk, grabs the box and hands it to me. “This came for you about an hour ago.”
I sit up, the box in my lap. I know who it’s from, but I have no idea what’s inside. Anticipation makes me feel downright giddy, and I stare at the lid, wondering what he could’ve sent me now.
“Oh my God, open it, darling!” Mother practically screeches.
Laughing, hoping it’s nothing dirty, I pull the lid off and push away the layers of white tissue paper to reveal a slightly smaller box inside, wrapped in glossy black paper. I pull it out, tearing off the paper like a little kid at Christmas, to see it’s a Polaroid Now Instant Camera. A special edition featuring Keith Haring.
“I didn’t even know this existed.” I examine the box, staring at the photo of the camera. It’s a bright, vivid red, with one of Keith’s trademark radiant babies on the front. The back of the camera is a black and white composite of his art. It’s beautiful.
Meaningful.