5. Zoey
Zoey
W aking up with my best friend curled around me, his giant erection pressed into my arse was not how I usually came to on a Saturday morning. I could hear voices outside, one of them probably Caleb’s dad and another also familiar because I couldn’t place it. I tried to focus on that rather than Caleb’s humdinger of a hard-on, but it was almost impossible.
I knew how it felt inside me. I knew what it was like to come on it, to feel him explode because of me, and it had been a very long time since I’d last had anything that was even a poor shadow of how it’d been with him.
I wriggled out of his grasp and slid out of the bed to the bathroom, hoping I wouldn’t wake him. A shower and maybe some quick relief would set the world partly straight and then I could deal with whatever the day was going to throw at me.
Only would that happen with Caleb lying less that twelve feet away with something that could make the morning so much better?
Was I a bad person for thinking about having sex with him? Was I a bad person for having considered it at regular intervals for the entirety of my adult life? Probably not, because he didn’t know.
I showered, debated washing my hair and decided not to, and resisted the urge to seek out a quick orgasm. I didn’t blame myself; waking up with that pressing against you would be too much for most women, especially when it was attached to the best man I knew.
I shaved my legs thinking about the conversation we’d half had last night, about me moving here. I wasn’t impulsive, so it wasn’t just a thought brought on by the conversation last night at book club, although I hadn’t known about the land before. I’d thought Caleb would’ve been more enthusiastic about it so it was fair to say I was disappointed. There’d be a reason though. Caleb always had a reason, it was just he didn’t always want to share it.
I dried off, applied moisturiser I’d had the sense to put in the bathroom last night, and wrapped myself in a robe. Steam followed me out of the bathroom and into a room filled with light.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” Caleb was up and dressed already. “Did I wake you?” I fumbled in my bag for the fresh clothes I’d packed.
“No, but my phone did. Carissa called me. She needs to speak to you ASAP and she said it wasn’t about the record label. Why does she have my number?” He frowned, studying his phone.
“You’re an emergency contact. Shit, I wonder if it’s about the stalker.” I sat down on the bed, too lightheaded to stand. “Can I use your phone?”
He passed it to me, already unlocked although I knew the code. I always had. I redialled Carissa, my heart beating obnoxiously loudly.
“What’s happened?” I interrupted her usual introduction which hadn’t changed in all the time I’d known her. “What is it?”
“You’ve had an email sent in the early hours of the morning from Peter Cash. He’s rather upset.” Carissa was matter of fact. “He knows where you are. I’ve let your security team know but it seems they were prepared for it anyway.”
My heart hit the floor. “I thought it would’ve taken him a bit longer.” I knew at some point he’d work out I was on Anglesey. It was known I used to come here; with social media, not much could be kept private.
“He knows you’re with Caleb Tominey, so he’ll probably be able to work out where you are. I wouldn’t let it change your plans, Zoey. He’ll find you pretty much wherever, although I know that’s not what you want to hear.”
She was right. I didn’t want to hear it. I saw Caleb looking at me, and I figured he’d probably heard what Carissa had said.
“I’m putting you on loudspeaker so Caleb can hear.” I was panicking even though I knew I’d taken precautions, the fear that I’d never be able to be sure that Peter wasn’t watching me pulling me under.
“Hi Carissa. We speak again.” Caleb sat down next to me and put his arm round my shoulders. “Zoey looks like she’s seen a ghost.”
“I know that look.” Carissa was rarely complimentary. She sighed audibly. “I’m guessing that you’re not aware a photo of the two of you was shared yesterday. You were sofa shopping and if you picked the brown velvet loveseat, good choice.”
“Thank you,” Caleb said, managing a grin. “I take it the photo’s upset this Peter Cash?”
“Got it in one. There’s a ton of speculation that you’re dating Zoey, Caleb, and it seems to have tipped Peter over an edge. What he’s written is descriptive in its violence and the police are concerned due to the level of threat. It’s finally got their attention anyway, which is a good thing. But what’s stuck the knife in, is that the rumours about Zoey retiring have gone viral. I must’ve seen about fifty videos on it in the last hour all saying that you’ve turned your back on performing.”
“Why’s that bothered Peter?” Caleb frowned at me. “Wouldn’t he prefer other people to not be staring at Zoey?”
I shook my head. “Peter believes I’m in a relationship with him, and when I’m singing, I’m singing to him. He’s used my songs to create this fantasy where we’ve been in a relationship for years. He’s always sent more letters and messages when I haven’t been on tour.”
“How long’s this been going on for?” Caleb looked like he was about to explode.
“About fifteen months.” I answered before Carissa. I knew she’d try to cover for me because I’d been adamant that Caleb shouldn’t know because I knew what his response would be, because we’d been here before, kind of, just not on this scale.
He folded his arms and stepped away from me, looking out of the window, saying nothing.
“We’re having a meeting with the detective in charge in an hour, Zoey, you need to be on that call. Killian O’Hara will be on it too as the police are aware you’ve got private security in place. There’s a criminal psychologist who’s been consulted and he’s said this combined with the relationship will be perceived by him as a double attack. Caleb’s taken you away from him.” Carissa lacked her usual bounce which was making me feel even more twitchy.
“Do we need to issue a statement saying Caleb and I are childhood friends and there’s no romance? And something about me focusing on songwriting for the next twelve months, so it doesn’t sound permanent?” I was upset and angry and consumed with guilt. All I wanted was some freedom, some time to be me or find who else I was. I’d danced to the tune set by the record company, my mother and manager for so long – I didn’t want to perform for the sake of Peter Cash.
“The psychologist person suggested you flaunt a relationship with Caleb. He theorised that while Peter thinks you’re in a relationship with someone like Caleb – tall, strong, masculine, all those alpha qualities and I hope Caleb’s ego can cope with that, and I’m always happy to deflate any ego – he won’t actually do anything because he’ll be scared. He thinks Peter’s more likely to try to do something if he thinks you’re single because he’ll blame you for not playing your part as he sees it. While you’re with Caleb, he’ll blame him. You can ask more questions about it at the meeting, Zoey. My suggestion is to get a photo of you and Caleb up on social media with just a heart as the caption, if Caleb agrees to that.”
Carissa let the silence hang for a minute.
Caleb turned around, the light from the window making his figure a silhouette.
“We can do that.” He spoke quietly. “That’s no big deal. I’ve been in Zoey’s photos before. What are the police doing to catch him if it’s been going on for fifteen months?”
“They’re trying to find out who he actually is,” Carissa said, no background noises for once. “Peter Cash isn’t his real name. Killian thought they’d found it out, but it turns out to be another pseudonym. Peter’s pretty skilled online; he hides his tracks.”
“Roe Holland who lives here in Puffin Bay’s pretty skilled too,” Caleb said, sitting back down on the bed. “He’s part of Killian O’Hara’s team.”
“I believe so. Have a think about how you want to play it with the publicity. I haven’t responded to any requests for comments yet. Will you be okay?” Carissa sounded tense.It worried me when Carissa was concerned for my welfare.
“We’re spending the day cleaning Caleb’s flat. If we can do that, I can survive anything.” It was almost true.
“Well, okay. I’ll send you the link for the meeting with the detective – which email?”
I went through those details with Carissa, aware there was a large, rock of a man who was waiting for answers.
“What do you want to know?” I said when I passed him his phone back.
“Why didn’t you tell me and is there anything else you’re leaving out?” He shook his head slowly.
“You know I get tons of mail and messages from sick fuckers who make threats and are generally vile?” He nodded at me. We’d covered this before. “So Peter started off like they all do, but then it became obvious to my team who deal with all that shit and filter through it, that he knew things about me that weren’t in the public domain. Most of the stalking stuff is done online; not much is done in real time apart from them coming to events, but even that’s not common. We upped security as a precaution, then there was an incident where we think he got into my changing room but my drummer went in there instead of me – long story about condoms – and scared him out of the room. He left me a letter though. It’s spiralled up from there to the break in. Peter Cash, or whatever his real name is, likes to send me photos of the underwear he stole, and discuss how he thinks we should redecorate my house, hence I want to burn it down.”
“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me.”
“Because when there was that man who tracked me down to here, you found him and rearranged his face.” And narrowly escaped being arrested, which could’ve had a negative effect on his career.
“And if I find Peter Cash or whatever name he wants to be called, I’ll rearrange his face too.” He said it with a smile on his face. “He doesn’t get to make you feel this way, Zo.”
I felt tears prick in my eyes and blinked them back. “Shall we go and have breakfast? Will Amelie feed us?” I needed to break away from this conversation.
“You need to be wearing more than a towel first. Do you want me on the call with the police?”
I picked up the clothes I’d dropped. “Yes. But please don’t be mad at me for not telling you sooner. I’d hoped Peter would’ve gotten bored by now.”
“No one ever gets bored with you. Even me. I’m still here, putting up with your celebrity shit.” His features softened and he opened his arms for me to step into, which I did, feeling his warm, strong arms wrap around me.
“You’re going to be fake dating me. Good job you haven’t got a girlfriend at the moment.” I could make some light of this. “But you could wrangle yourself a celebrity girlfriend after we fabricate our break up. There are a few singers who like having my cast offs.”
“I’ll never be one of your cast offs, Zoey Mitchell. It’s worth remembering that.”
We took the video call from Caleb’s flat, which was now cleaner than a hospital and just as bare. He was borrowing a load of bean bags from the Holland brothers, who had about ten of the things for an event held every so often at the gin distillery they owned, so we would have something to sit on. The vibe was reminding me of the summer we camped out in the garden, or when I stayed at Caleb’s halls of residence when he was in his first semester at university. I didn’t mind it.
The detective talked me through what they were planning on doing with the investigation. The threat levels had grown to where they wouldn’t ignore them, that, along with him breaking into my house was enough to ramp things up a bit. They were co-ordinating with the police force in North Wales, but it was being led by the Met police.
We agreed to keep the narrative about me and Caleb being a couple, and I’d release a statement to the press about my on stage career going on hiatus, so only one lie. Then we were to take precautions, most of which were already in place.
I’d gotten myself a fake boyfriend.
So helping him finish cleaning the flat wasn’t much of a payback, given his face was going to be splashed all over gossip columns everywhere.
“I think you need more furniture than just a sofa, by the way.” He’d paid for a couple of people to take old furniture away the day before. He was now lacking a dining table, chairs, side tables and coffee table.
“We can order it online. I think that’s how I’ll be doing any furniture shopping from now on.” He looked around the lounge. “I know I need to get some more. Want to help me choose?”
“You mean, can I choose it for you?” I knew him too well.
“Pretty much. Then what do you want to do? What’s on your list?” He sat down on the floor next to me. “You’re not spending the day sitting round and feeling guilty.”
“How did you know that’s what I intended?” That was exactly what I was planning to do.
“Because I know you. Let’s head to the beach and go for a walk to Lligwy. Go and see the stone circle that freaks you out.”
Caleb was satisfied that the flat was clean now and tidy enough for us to move back into, the sofa now arriving on Monday while Caleb was at work, but I could be in to receive delivery of it, which was exactly what a good girlfriend would do, I figured.
I put on trainers that were full of sand already and a windproof coat. It was a bright day, but the wind was cold, the sort of cold that sank into your bones and took an age to warm back up.
For the first ten minutes we walked in silence, just the sounds of the wind and the waves and the calling of seagulls, few other people around unless they were walking dogs. The sky was a canvas of clouds, white cotton balls peppered with tinges of greys, blending with the sea so it was almost impossible to tell where they actually met.
This was autumn, or a shade of it anyway. Early autumn had passed and I’d missed it, probably the prettiest month with the leaves turning colour and the skies still wearing blue. October was crisp and could be stormy, the sea giving up its pretence of friendliness unless it was in a very good mood.
I knew Caleb loved this season, the smells and the colours and its wildness. There had been one year when he’d spent most of October and November on a research vessel in the Atlantic and I’d never heard him so pissed off about being away from home.
He wasn’t pissed off today, but something was preoccupying him and I’d be a fool if I didn’t know what.
“I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this.” I threaded my hand through his arm and linked him. “I don’t have to stay here. I could go and stay with Leonie in Cali – I’m pretty sure Peter won’t find me there.”
Caleb moved my arm so he was holding my hand, his grip tight and warm and comforting.
“You don’t need to apologise for what that dickhead’s done. You should be able to spend time where you want without being worried. I’m not cross with you – I’m just trying to work out how we do this.” He didn’t look at me though, focusing on something up ahead on the beach.
“Do what?”
“Pretend to be in a relationship without actually ending up in one.”
His words smarted. I’d known Caleb wasn’t interested in me as anything other than a friend; there’d been numerous opportunities over the years for something more and he’d never taken advantage of them. I’d sometimes fantasized about what it would’ve been like to have him to come home to at the end of a tour and then realised why it wouldn’t work.
I’d miss him too much. I’d want to be on tour less than I already did. Maybe he thought the same, or maybe he’d never thought about us being together in the first place because I wasn’t the type of woman he wanted to settle down with – although I wasn’t sure what his type was, given his longest relationship was about three months and even then, he’d only talked about her once.
I pulled my hand out of his. “There’s hardly anyone around to take a photo and post it online, so if you’re not sure you can pretend to be my boyfriend without jumping my bones we can stick with posting the odd staged selfie or not bother at all.” The hurt was audible.
Caleb stopped walking and turned to face the sea. I was a couple of steps ahead before I paused.
“We’ve managed not to be a relationship for all these years, how much difference is this going to make?” When I was upset, I couldn’t stop talking. It came from having a mother who was a master at the silent treatment, and I’d try to fill those awkward silences with words, giving away too much and often agreeing to things just so she’d give me a response.
“We’ve never pretended to be in a relationship before. We’ve always just been friends. Even when we slept together.” He looked at the sand. “I felt shit after that.”
I closed the distance between us, because even though the nearest person to us on the beach was at least a hundred metres away, absorbed in metal detecting, this wasn’t even a conversation for the seagulls.
“You never said.”
He shook his head. “There was no reason to. You were fine with it all and happy, I just wished it could’ve been better.”
“The sex was great, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
His grin was his usual thousand watt beamer. “No, I know that was good. It was more around sleeping together when we weren’t in a relationship. I wish it’d been the proper boyfriend experience.”
“Caleb, have you ever been a proper boyfriend for anyone?” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Seriously? What’s the longest relationship you’ve had?”
“A few months and I’m a good boyfriend. It’s not usually me who ends it.” His arms went around me and that was the problem. It’d always been too easy to touch each other, too easy to kiss that one time we did it.
“Why do they end it?”
“Because they don’t think they have a future with me. I’m too casual for long term.” He squeezed me tighter to him. “We’re going to have to kiss in public or get a photo for your socials. You’re going to have to look at me like I’m the best thing that’s happened to you.”
“You’ll have to do the same.”
“That’s not hard, Zo.”
It was that sentence that would keep me awake that night.
October, Twelve Years Ago
I was nervous. What I was nervous about I wasn’t sure exactly because so many thoughts were zooming around my head, I couldn’t make sense of any of them and work out what the actual problem was apart from the obvious that I was going to lose my virginity at long last. How would I feel afterwards? Would I be disappointed? I lived in a world where sex sold and everything was based on attractiveness and attraction so the actual act was built up in my head as something mythically perfect. Would I disappoint Caleb? Would I be so terrible that he was too embarrassed to still be my friend and put up with all my oddities and the strangeness of my life?
It was the last one that made my stomach bounce off the floor below.
I followed Caleb to his dad’s house, toeing off my shoes in the hallway which reminded Caleb to do the same. Neither of us said anything, the thick atmosphere saying everything.
“How do we do this? I don’t mean the actual, you know, but how we get there? Or should we just go up to bed?” More word vomit. I needed to work on that.
Caleb took his coat off and hung it up, then turned to look at me. His smile was soft, emotion not well hidden behind it.
“Let’s get a drink, sit on the sofa and watch a film and see what happens from there.” He helped me off with my coat, his hands tender and slow.
A shiver trickled over my skin. I felt warmer between my legs and some of the nerves were replaced by sweet anticipation.
“What film?” I wondered if he’d suggest a James Bond or an action film.
“I’ve never seen Dirty Dancing. Why don’t we watch that?” He took hold of my hand and led me into the house. “Get changed into something comfier and let’s just see how it goes.”
I nodded, nervousness taking over again.
“You change your mind at any time and we forget anything ever happened or was said.” He touched under my chin with his forefinger.
“Or if I just, you know, want to warm up tonight and do everything else tomorrow?” I reached up to put my hands on his shoulders. “If, if - ”
“That’s all good. Or we can just watch Dirty Dancing.”
I froze, fear rising again. “Do you not want to? It’s okay - ”
He put a finger on my lips and I stopped stumbling for words.
“Zoey, I really want to. I’ve had a hard-on since we left the café and I’m really struggling to think of what it’ll feel like when I’m buried deep inside you.” He took hold of one of my hands and placed it palm down on his cock, over his jeans. “Do you need to question whether I want to fuck you or not?”
“Oh.” For a girl who was full of words I surprisingly had none to say. Apart from: “Will it fit?”
I was burning between my legs already. If that did fit inside me, I’d be burning even more afterwards.
Caleb laughed, tipping his head back. “It’ll fit. I’ll make sure you’re ready for me.”
My eyes widened. I’d watched some porn, heard people talk about sex and read enough romance to have a good idea of what he meant.
“Zoey, what have you actually done with someone else?” His laughter had stopped, his arms wrapped round my waist now.
I pushed my embarrassment aside. “Kissed. I’ve been felt up and I tried to, you know, give a blow job but we got interrupted. I was still in school.”
I could tell he was trying not to laugh, but I didn’t think the laughter was at me. “You gave the blow job while you were in school – as in the building?”
I laughed, pressing myself closer to him. “No. It was at a party. I wasn’t meant to be at it because I had a meeting with an agent the next day and my mum was really funny about me going to things like that anyway. It was the house of the boy next door but one to where we lived and I got carried away in his bedroom, but his sister walked in before he could finish.”
“Okay. Good to know all that. Let’s try one thing first.” He leaned down and kissed me, his lips softly pressing against mine, dictating it to be slow, then deep and then I didn’t want it to end. I pushed my hands under his sweater, pulling up the T-shirt he wore under it running my fingers over his abs and feeling the rough dusting of hair that led from his navel to below his belt.
And I kissed him back, feeling his hands dropping onto my bottom and pressing his fingers in. My body heated, a pulse between my legs bloomed and the rest of the world faded into nothingness.
He broke the kiss first. “Let’s go and get changed.” His eyes were dark and lips redder from the kiss. “See you back on the sofa and don’t overthink things.”
I headed to the guest room, stripping off my jeans and sweater. I needed ten minutes for a quick shower – did I need to shave my legs? I was waxed in between them – the outfits on stage made that a necessity, but everything else I took care of.
And then what to wear? I mulled it over while I showered and moisturised. No bra – no point making things even more fumbly and awkward, sweatpants and cute knickers, a tightish vest top and a sweater because that could come off easily. I checked my reflection: I was bare faced like I had been all day – I was less easily recognised when I didn’t have make up on. My hair was windblown, curls everywhere but it looked cute.
I looked like a person who could be Caleb’s girlfriend.
Heart pounding, I headed downstairs and into the lounge. Caleb was already there, sweatpants on too and a T-shirt that was pulled tight. His feet were on the coffee table and there was a bowl of tiny spicy crackers and cans of cola too.
No alcohol. For either of us.
“Did you overthink things?” He watched me head across the room.
“Of course.” I sat down next to him, not leaving any space with my back to his chest, which wasn’t unusual when we sat watching a film or a box set, and I put my feet up on the sofa. “Still up for Dirty Dancing?”
“Up for that and up in general.” He shifted his legs and I realised what he was referring to.
“Oh. Does it hurt if it’s been hard for so long?” I was aching but it didn’t hurt.
“A bit. It isn’t going to kill me though. Ready to start?” He reached for the remote control.
It was slow torture watching Baby learn to dance while falling in love with Johnny. I tried to focus on the film – I’d usually sing along to most of the songs – but I was utterly distracted by how Caleb was touching me. I’d lost the sweater, throwing a blanket over us which made it feel cozy and snug, and gave the idea that nothing was happening because I couldn’t see where his hands were.
He grazed the backs of his fingers along my arm, setting my body on a slow burn, pressing kisses to my shoulder that incinerated my flesh. I could feel his erection pressing into my lower back, thick and long. I wanted to touch it, to look at it, to see what power I could wield over it.
Over Caleb.
At the moment, it was he who had the power over me, his hands softly wandering over my vest top, over warm flesh hidden by the fleecy blanket. His hands grew braver, skimming over my breasts, grazing over my nipples that had peaked and down over my stomach, under the waistband of my sweatpants, his hand steadying on top of my underwear.
“Is this enough?” His words hummed against my ear. On the TV, Baby danced with Johnny, their evening as sultry as ours.
“It feels good.” I turned my head so he could kiss me, his hands becoming more confident, pinching my nipples over my vest and the other dipping into my underwear, smooth, quick movements that teased and offered me a chance to stop if I wanted.
I didn’t want.
“I want to take your sweats off. Then I’m going to make you come on my hand.” He used both hands to push down the waistband of my sweats and underwear. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
“Don’t stop.”
“Do you want me to make you come?” He kissed my neck. “Do you want me to make you soaking wet?”
I raised my hips, kicking my sweats down my legs and off my feet along with the underwear. He cupped my breasts with his hands, toying with my nipples. “I’m already soaking wet. Is that normal?”
“It’s good. It means things feel right.” His pulled my vest top up over my breasts and for the first time touched them with no material in between. My hips shifted as one of his hands moved downwards, over my stomach to between my legs.
“Is this feeling good, Zoey?”
“It feels great. I feel very selfish though. You’re doing all the work.”
“This isn’t work, Zo. This is the best thing ever.” He slid a finger to my centre, finding the wetness there, sliding it up onto my clit and using a second finger to start small circles over it, his other hand still playing with my breasts. “How does it feel? Harder or softer, quicker or slower?”
“Harder.” It came out as a moan. “It feels good.”
“It’s meant to.” He slipped a finger down again, pushing it inside of me slowly. “How’s that?”
“Good.” I was nearly there, about to come from someone else for the first time.
“You’re really fucking tight. You’re going to feel amazing around my dick.” He went back to my clit, his fingers wetter, the emptiness from them leaving inside me compensated with what he started doing again to my clit. Circles and pinches making my legs spread wider for him and there was no question around it, I wanted the rest tonight.
I came viciously, my whole body shaking, my legs tensing, Caleb whispering dirty words about how wet I was, or how pretty I looked when he made me come.
He held me afterwards, his hands still touching my tits, not quite letting up.
“We can stop or go upstairs to my room. I really want to suck on these.” He squeezed my breasts again, making the heat between my legs flare once more.
“Go to your room. We can watch the rest tomorrow night.” I sat up, the blanket falling to my waist, and reached for the remote control. I saw Caleb looking at my tits and didn’t flinch. Enough people had seen me naked for me not to have any hang ups, but this was the first time it hadn’t been in a dressing room, or a photographer’s studio.
“You’re fucking beautiful.” His eyes were deep and dark, fixed on my tits.
“You always tell me I’m pretty.” He did. He’d never been shy of complimenting me.
“This is more than pretty.”
I wrapped the blanket over me and stood up, not quite sure I was ready for complete bareness in front of him.
Caleb stood up, his sweatpants doing nothing to conceal his erection. I let myself stare at it, aware of his smirk.
“Don’t think I’m done making you wet, Zo. But I think we should find a bed.” He grabbed me in a hug, pulling the blanket away and then scooping me up in his arms like I weighed nothing. “Ready?”
“I’m ready.”
He almost ran up the stairs, both of us laughing, Caleb looking his fill and me fighting myself not to hide.
He liked what he saw, he was making no secret of that and I realised why he’d already had so many lovers. He was gorgeous and his body was like that of a young Greek god, already sculpted and hard, but without the sheen of a model or a dancer. I placed my palm on his chest, feeling the heat from his skin, understanding why he couldn’t stop looking at me because I felt like that about him, and then I was on my back on his bed, naked under him while he was still fully clothed. I should’ve felt vulnerable, but it was the opposite because I understood the other reason he was so attractive. He was safe. He would do anything in his power to protect me, even from himself.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.” I pulled at his T-shirt. “I want to see.”
“You’ve seen me without a T-shirt before.” He pulled it off anyway, keeping himself braced over me with one hand, his knees either side of my hips.
“But I wasn’t allowed to look properly.”
“I wouldn’t have minded,” he said, before dipping his head down to my breast, taking the nipple in his mouth and looking up at me all the while. He cupped his hand in between my legs, his thumb stroking my inner thigh where I knew I was wet and sticky. Then his mouth switched to my other breast, his lips pulling there, then his tongue swirled about my nipple, stiffening it into a peak.
His mouth travelled south, his body shifting down the bed, his feet reaching the floor and then he pulled me down too, throwing my legs over his shoulders.
“Has anyone done this before?”
I lifted my arms to watch him, propping my arms behind me so I could watch as he licked from my centre to my clit. I felt like I was too wet, soaking there, torn between the pleasure that brought and shyness at Caleb being there.
My friend Caleb.
I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.
“How does that feel?” The punctuation was him tonguing my clit. “Does it feel good?”
“Yes.” I paused, worrying. “Do you like it? Doing that.”
He laughed, sending vibrations to my core. “I think eating you out will be my favourite meal.”
He didn’t wait for a response, bowing his head and putting his attention back between my legs, driving me to the edge too quickly, my orgasm rinsing away any shyness as my body was wrecked again.
When he lifted himself back over me, his sweatpants had been lost and he was naked, his cock hard, his arms tense either side of me.
“Are you on birth control?” He was holding his breath?
I nodded, my hands exploring his bare back, one slipping onto his chest. “The shot every three months.”
“I’ll use a condom anyway but just to be sure. Or do you want to stop now?” He didn’t let me speak, taking my mouth with his in a kiss that was deep and soft and made me wrap my legs around his hips, his cock pressing against my lower stomach and below.
“I don’t want to stop. I want to have sex.” I felt like I would die if I didn’t feel him in me.
“Okay, they’re in my bedside drawer.” He nodded over to my right. “Get one out.”
We moved higher up the bed and I shifted so I could reach his drawer, his mouth on my breast again, a hand back between my legs with gentle fingers making slight, soft strokes over my clit.
I found the box of condoms, just three or four left and took one out, opening the wrapper while Caleb switched lazily to my other boob, looking up at me.
“Are you going to put it on?” He sat up on his knees, his cock demanding all the attention. I saw the bead of pre-cum at the tip and wondered how it’d taste. “You can do that another time, if you want.”
I looked back up at him. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“I was hoping that was what you were thinking.” He ran a hand up and down his cock. “I was just lucky to be right. Do you want me to show you how to put it on?”
“Please.” I held up the condom, then watched as he guided my hands over his cock, hearing him gasp as my fingers ran over the silk covering steel.
Then he shifted back down, his mouth back on my breast, kissing and sucking and licking, trailing his mouth over my chest and to my jaw, kissing me a little rougher now, his hips pressing against mine, his cock resting between my legs, the length of it pressing against my clit.
We moved together, slight hitches that created fiction, his cock moving closer and closer to where I felt like I needed it, my ankles hooking over his calves.
“I’m sure. You don’t need to ask me again.” I wasn’t going to change my mind and I doubted he was going to change his.
“Okay.” There was concern in his eyes. “I think it’ll feel uncomfortable, but I’ve got you really wet.” His grin was smug. “If you want me to pause, I will.”
He kissed me again, harder, more demanding, and while he did, he lined his cock up with my entrance and started to press, entering me slowly, stopping to let me adjust, his expression tense.
“It feels okay, just do it.” I relaxed more, waiting to be filled instead of bracing myself.
“You feel amazing. I want you to think this is amazing.” He moved fully into me and started to retract, setting up a slow, gently rhythm.
The slice of pain had faded and although I still felt stretched, it was beginning to feel good. The rhythm set in, quickening some, Caleb chasing his own pleasure, all strength and nimbleness, still managing to move a hand to touch me, pinch my nipple which made me moan loudly, and then angling himself so he could find my clit.
“I’m going to come, Zo. I’ll make you come again after. Promise.” His movements became stronger and I wanted to know what it was like when he wasn’t treating me like spun glass.
I wasn’t far off myself, the feel of his need getting me closer, my pussy feeling tighter and then he moved harder and deeper in me, his head tipping back as he groaned, spilling into the condom. Something else I wanted to feel – how was it without.
He kissed me, his body slowing, my body still on fire, wanting more and unsure what happened next. Breathless, he moved his mouth onto my neck and down onto my breast again, pulling his cock out of me and leaving me empty as he reworked the way he’d come up, and then his mouth was between my legs
I felt a bolt of embarrassment. What if I’d bled? What if it was now weird down there, but Caleb didn’t seem to mind, his tongue flicking against my clit, his hand soothing between my thighs and I quickly found that orgasm, not as strong this time but maybe the most satisfying.
“If you want to do that again, I think you’ll come on my cock.” His mouth glistened as he spoke.
“I want to do that again.”
He nodded as he stood up, still erect, the condom still on there. “So we’ll do it. Maybe tomorrow. Let me clean you up.”
He went into the ensuite bathroom and came back with a cloth and no condom, lying on his side next to me as he put the cloth between my legs, the action caring and soothing. I felt thoroughly fucked in the best possible way, relieved it was done and I wasn’t a virgin anymore, happy it’d been with Caleb.
After a bedtime routine, I curled up into Caleb’s bed, with one of his T-shirts on and snuggled up to him. He was naked because why not, and I was more than happy with that. The house was quiet, just the sound of our breathing.
“Can we definitely do this again tomorrow?” I pushed my bottom closer to him, if it was possible. I wanted a repeat, another go when I wasn’t so nervous.
“Hate to tell you, Zo, but you only get to lose your virginity once.”
“Arse. I mean stay in bed. Have sex. I go home Monday morning first thing. We can go back to normal then. Back to just being friends.”
“One more day and night?”
“One more day and night.”