MY JAW HONESTLY WOULD have dropped in response to Beau's question if it wasn't, you know, already unhinged so I could fit his thick cock in my mouth.
I hesitated, trying to give my head a chance to catch up with how my blood was pounding in my veins, and Beau noticed, mistaking it for uncertainty. He dropped his hand to cup my cheek, nudging me so I'd look up at him. I did, finding his dark, hazy gaze and a tense expression that he was visibly trying to soften.
"Show me how much you can take," he rasped, "and I promise I won't go further than that."
Oh God, he was being serious. He wanted to use my mouth to get off, and I was admittedly turned on by it. Like really turned on by it. I could see how badly he wanted to be in control, but at the same time, he was so clearly, so painfully at my mercy. And that combination was making me all but drip down my legs.
So I hollowed my cheeks, breathed through my nose, and guided Beau into my mouth, taking him as deep as I could. And all the while, I watched him beneath my lashes.
His face contorted with a satisfying amount of pleasure. "Holy shit, baby girl." He groaned, tipping his head back for a second. His thumb swiped over my cheek sweetly. "Are you sure?"
Was I sure that he could fuck me this deep in my throat? Absolutely.
I ran my tongue up the side of his length and then let him pop out of my mouth. "Yes, Beau. I'm sure."
Another groan slipped out of him. "If you want me to stop, just pinch me," he said before curving his hand around to grab hold of my head again.
I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't feel this safe handing myself over to a guy I'd met a few hours ago. But I did; there wasn't any doubt about it.
Beau's voice dropped as he guided me back toward his waiting erection. "Do you want me to finish in you or on you?"
Shit, I hadn't even thought about that. Why did sex involve so many decisions? Why did there have to be so many options? It seemed common knowledge that guys preferred when girls swallowed, but to be frank, it wasn't something I had done very often, for the simple reason that this wasn't something I had done very often. And—
"Neither?" Beau offered when it took me a while to answer, and I quickly shook my head. No, that wasn't it. Beau's lips tilted up in a smirk. "On you, then?"
A little part of me was relieved, and I nodded. Although, I did, admittedly, worry that Beau would be disappointed somehow.
But that worry quickly vanished.
As soon as he thrust into my mouth, he grunted, "Your tits are going to look so fucking good with my cum on them."
—
It could have been worse. That was what I kept telling myself about being home alone on Christmas.
And it was true. I watched Elf over FaceTime with my brother, Cameron, and I listened to my mom play White Christmas on the piano. Then I FaceTimed with Mia, who took over my spot at Directions, and I got to see a handful of kids who were spending Christmas with their second family. Reese's face was entirely covered by cookie frosting by the time the phone made it to him, and it made my heart swell up.
The last few years, that was where I had been. With them at St. Peter's Cathedral. And it was what I told my mom and brother I would be doing tonight, so they didn't worry. I actually thought about breaking the rule I made for myself and going back to Fresno to see everyone, but somehow I managed to stay put.
The apartment was cozy. Before leaving for Mammoth Lakes, Beau, Nessa, and I had put up a fake tree, decorating it with whatever ornaments were on clearance. It was mismatched and eclectic, and I loved it. I never really bothered putting up a tree when I lived by myself. I had nothing against Christmas trees, but they seemed like a lot of work for something that would have to be taken down a couple weeks later. And it wasn't like anything ever went underneath it.
Crossing the living room, I went to stand by the window, hating how the floorboards creaked. It made me feel that much more...alone for some reason. The alley behind our duplex was quiet, empty. And everything outside was brown.
Never thought I would say it, but I missed the snow. I missed being in the mountains. I missed Beau. And Nessa and Grayson, Bren and Madie.
But if I was honest with myself...I mostly missed Beau.
It felt sad, the way we'd parted. But it was for the best. Beau made it clear when he'd pulled me off him in the hot tub that he didn't want to be led on. And so what other choice did I have then to walk away the next morning?
Beau gave me butterflies that I couldn't chase.
In another life, I would have said yes. I would have followed my fluttering feelings, gone home with him for Christmas. Even though it scared the shit out of me to think about it, I would have gladly jumped at the opportunity to see where he was from, meet his parents, spend any extra few days with him. In another life, I wouldn't have cared that those things seemed so coupley. Because in another life, I think maybe we could have been a couple.
But I was stuck in this life.
The life where I'd killed someone. I killed my best friend's dad. And his family had the power to snap the neck on all my dreams, all my goals, all my everything if they wanted to.
A life for a life, I supposed. Sometimes I wondered if this really was what I deserved.
I heard the creaking of the front porch before the knock on the door. I froze, a chill washing over me.
Who the hell?
Striding from the window to the front door, I winced when, once again, the floor shifted beneath my feet. Stilling, I hoped to some fucking higher power that whoever was outside hadn't heard that. But I quickly realized I wasn't going to be so lucky.
"Collins!"
Jesus Christ, it was Denver. How the hell had he found me?
"I know you're in there," he yelled. "I heard you walking around, and your car is out front."
Goddamnit. My stomach dropped into my gut, a wrenching feeling at hearing his voice. It was gruff, a little bit low, and scratchy. It was a voice that had comforted me on so many nights, and was it wrong that tonight, sitting here alone on Christmas, I ached for that voice? That a little bit of me was healed by hearing that voice?
Until I remembered that Denver and I weren't friends anymore. And comfort wasn't what followed in his wake.
"Go home, Denver."
"Come on, Collins." He didn't bother hiding his impatience. "It's Christmas."
He was doing it; he was pulling me back in. And it was so hard not to let him.
I clutched at my chest, toying with the neckline of my shirt, which suddenly felt too tight even though it was baggy and draping off me. "How'd you find me?"
"Stopped by St. Peter's." There was a light thud from the other side of the door, and I imagined that he'd rested his forehead there. His voice carried through the deadbolt, whispering to my soul to unlock it. Unlock the past that I'd foolishly tried to run from. "Thought you'd be there. Mia gave it to me."
Seriously, Mia? Ugh, I wanted to be pissed, but it was hard to do considering how tight-lipped I'd been. Denver and I had been best friends for the longest time, and that was all she knew. She'd heard about the accident, of course, but she didn't know about all the shit behind the scenes. She wouldn't have thought twice about giving him my new address.
"And you thought you'd drive two hours to come see me? On a whim?"
"Yeah," he grumbled, "so let me fucking in."
Groaning, I closed the distance between my spot in the middle of the living room and the front door. As much as I didn't want to deal with Bailey family shit, I didn't know how to do this...I didn't know how to turn away that voice, not on Christmas.
"Thank you," he said with an exasperated sigh when I opened the door. Without waiting for a further invitation, he strode into the apartment.
Denver took up a large portion of the front entryway. He was a tall, broad-shouldered guy with slicked dark blonde hair, and tonight he was dressed like he was on his way to a charity gala or fancy date. He looked out of place in my college apartment, especially when next to me, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a flannel shirt. Beau's sweatpants and Beau's flannel shirt.
Sticking his hand out, Denver handed me a small package.
"Merry Christmas."
"Denver...." I started, looking at it warily. "What is this?"
He shrugged. "Just a gift. We used to always exchange gifts."
"Used to," I emphasized beneath my breath.
Denver threw off his coat with an exaggerated exhale and tossed it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs before walking over to drop onto my couch. I couldn't help but notice how different he looked; his huskiness used to be comforting, a teddy-bear gentleness that would wrap me up in hugs. Now his stature seemed intimidating, and I kept staring at the couch, marveling at how it suddenly appeared so small compared to Denver's frame.
He looked around the room, and I saw judgment in every flick of his eyes. Our apartment was nice for college housing, but it wouldn't be up to Denver Bailey's standards.
"Come back to Fresno already, will ya?"
I shook my head. "I needed a change of scenery. And a degree, so I can hopefully make a living wage someday. Not to mention, I was tired of your mom watching my every move."
He grimaced, his expression a regretful admittance. "Yeah, well, I hate to break it to you, but she's about to get a hell of a lot more annoying if you insist on staying out here."
I trained my voice to stay steady, but my stomach was dropping inside. Anxiety took flight with tiny flapping wings. "I don't get why she cares."
Denver pinned me with a look. "She cares because she's scared."
I barked out a laugh. "What could your mom have to be scared of? She literally has the world in her hands."
She was at the helm of an investment firm. Pauline Bailey could make or break companies in a day. And she had.
"Yeah, and she wants to keep it that way." Denver looked bored, like all of this should be obvious. "You know that."
I did know that.
Even after placing a steadying hand on the kitchen counter, my next words still came out shrill and tight. There were only so many times you could repeat something without going a little mad, after all.
"I'm not going to leak to anyone that your dad was drunk, Denver," I said. "I'm not going to spill what you lied about. I'm not going to sell your family's secrets, drag your name, the company's name, in the press. I just want to put this all behind me."
His eyes darkened. "Easy for you to say."
Regret punched me in the gut. I mean, it lived there, the regret. It was constant, but every once in a while, it really came down hard, making me want to bend over and retch until it was all gone. And right now was one of those times.
"Den—"
"Some of us can't just put our dad's death behind us," Collins.
"I know that," I said quietly. "You don't think I know that?"
My dad's face flashed before me. His eyes, which were almost the same shade as mine, looked sad. God, what would he think of me if he were here to see this? It squeezed my heart more than anything else.
"Mom felt a lot more secure about our whole arrangement—"
That put the life, the fire, back into me. "You mean the arrangement where you threatened me with vehicular homicide charges to quiet me?"
"—when you were in town. Now she's growing a little...unstable."
Fuck you, Pauline.
"She liked it when I was in town because she knew I was stuck." My voice shook a bit, but I pressed on. "I didn't have friends, Denver. I didn't have family. I didn't have anyone to lean on except the people at work. Who I would never burden my shit on because I'm supposed to be the one supporting them. Not the other way around. She wanted me isolated with no hopes of living. No chance to branch out, spill any secrets across California about the truth of the Bailey family. And I couldn't do it anymore."
"I'm there," he said, reciprocating my biting tone. "I'm in town."
"We can't be friends anymore, Denver," I said through gritted teeth.
"Why not?"
I threw my hands up in the air in frustration. "You know why!"
"I made a mistake, okay?" Denver jumped to his feet, pleading. "Come on, Collins. My dad was dead. And my mom begged me to lie, to say it was your fault. I didn't—I know I shouldn't have. But give me a goddamn break, will ya?"
"I know." I grabbed at the roots of my hair, wanting to pull it all out. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know how to react to him. But all I knew was that I didn't want him here right now. This was anything but a comfort. This was anything but how I remembered things used to be. And I definitely knew I didn't want to return to Fresno. "I can't go back, though."
Taking a few quick strides across the room, Denver reached out for me. And I instinctively took a step back, backing into the half-wall that separated the kitchen from the living room.
"Collins, I don't want this to get ugly." He'd stopped in front of me, respecting my space but barely. He was breathing down my front, frustration rolling off of him. "Come back to Fresno."
"Please leave, Denver," I said lowly.
"Col—"
"Leave! For crying out loud—"
The front door interrupted as it kicked open.
"I think she fucking told you to leave."
Peeking around Denver, I saw Beau standing in the front entryway of the apartment.
And he looked pissed.
"I don't know who you are, but get the hell out of this apartment." When Denver didn't move, Beau made a low noise in his throat and stepped forward.
"Now."
✨
*makes popcorn*
*sips tea*
xoxo Amelie