2. Liv
2
LIV
“ I can’t believe you put ‘Bye Traitor, Hope you Fail’ on my goodbye cake,” I say, shoving Caleb onto his couch.
“It’s the same as saying break a leg in the theater.” His breath hitches in his throat when I straddle him. “It’s a joke. You know we’re all rooting for you.”
“Just like I was ‘joking’ when I told you that I would make you pay for it later. And how did you respond to that?”
He squirms. “I said you could sleep at my place.”
I tug on his hair and make him look at me. “Liar.”
“I did say that,” he protests.
I lean close so our lips are just inches apart. He tries to press forward to kiss me, but I pin his shoulders against the couch cushions.
“You didn’t say that at work because I would have killed you.” I press open-mouthed kisses down the side of his neck. “So how about you tell me what you really said?”
“I, uh, don’t remember.”
I roll my hips hard against his. His responding moan makes my own core ache with need.
I am going to miss this when I go to Boston.
“You sure you want to go with that?” I ask, pressing my hands harder against his shoulders.
“Yes,” he gasps.
“Too bad. If you would’ve just told me, I wouldn't have to punish you.”
I try to stand, but as soon as my hands leave his shoulders, he grabs me by the waist and rolls us so he’s on top of me. I sink deeper into the couch as his hands roam over every inch of my body.
“Suppose I make it up to you instead, mistress?”
His hand slips under my shirt. I arch into his touch as he caresses me over my bra.
“Lace, huh?” Caleb raises an eyebrow. “Did you have that on all day at work?”
“What do you think?”
“I’m thinking I want to make you come.”
“Beg me.”
He presses a trail of kisses just above the waistband of my dress pants.
“Please, mistress, let me taste you. Let me please you with my tongue, with my fingers. I need to hear your sounds of pleasure, need to feel you come one last time before you leave for Boston.”
I thread my hands in his hair. “Just once?”
“As many times as you want.”
“Don’t keep me waiting, then.”
His hands make quick work of the dress pants, and in a matter of seconds, they’re tossed across the room.
He traces the swirls of lace covering me first with his fingertips, then with his mouth. My legs are shaking by the time he tosses my panties across the room.
I’m so sensitive from his teasing, that just the brush of his tongue against me makes me squirm. He takes his time, finding every spot that makes me see stars and when I come, I sigh and melt into a puddle of bliss.
Caleb presses a soft kiss to the inside of my thigh.
“You still mad at me about the whole cake thing?”
“Yes.”
He responds by thrusting his tongue into my pussy, and I scream his name. My breath comes in gasps as he works me mercilessly with his tongue and fingers. My heart races as orgasm after orgasm rips through my body.
“I need to fuck you.”
Caleb slides himself up until we’re face to face and kisses me deeply.
“Where do you want me?”
“Chair. Now.”
He plants himself in the kitchen chair before I can even blink.
I want nothing more than to just take what I want from him, but I told him I’d make him pay for it as soon as I saw the message on the cake.
I slip my shirt over my head and toss it over with my other clothes, then walk slowly across the apartment to the kitchen table.
He strokes himself over his pants as he watches me come to him. As soon as I get within a foot, he immediately puts his hands behind the back of the chair.
Seeing him do what I want without me having to utter a word has me drunk off the power of it all.
I undo his tie and use it to tie his hands in place.
As I make my way back to the front of the chair, I grab a wooden spoon off the counter. I run the edge of it lightly up his arm and across his chest until he starts trying to twist his way out of the knots I made. I place the edge of it under his chin and force him to look up at me.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, Caleb. I’m going to fuck you with my mouth until your legs are shaking, but you’re not going to come until I say so, understand?”
He nods earnestly.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, mistress.”
“Good boy. And do you know why?”
“Because I laughed at you when you said you’d make me pay.”
“That’s right.”
The spoon falls to the floor with a clatter as I drop to my knees in front of him.
Little goosebumps crop up on his arms as I undo his pants.
Just one look at his hard length tells me he’s already close to the edge. I flick my tongue over the tip of him and his breath catches in his throat.
“If you don’t tell me when you’re close I’m going to leave you tied to this chair all night, got it?”
Whatever he was going to say after yes fractures into a moan as I wrap my lips around his dick. His arms flex as he tries even harder to free himself from my knots, but he doesn’t fight long. His head drops back against the chair as I relax my throat to take him fully inside me, and it isn’t long before I feel the muscles in his thighs tense.
“I’m so close.”
I release him with a pop and straddle his lap. He lets out a low moan when he feels how wet having him in my mouth has made me.
“I know how close you are, but I need you to hold out just a little longer for me. I want us to come together. Can you do that?”
He nods.
My eyes roll back in my head when he’s fully inside me. I planned to draw this out and give him a goodbye neither of us would forget, but my determination crumbles. He peppers kisses across my breasts as I ride him, sending little sparks throughout my body.
“I’m so close,” I gasp.
He thrusts his hips hard against mine, causing both of us to come undone.
I’m flung into a fog of pleasure so dense I forget my own name for a moment.
When I drift back down, I’m collapsed against his chest, both of us breathing hard.
As soon as I catch my breath, I reach behind him and untie his wrists.
“We need to get to bed. My flight leaves early tomorrow.”
He presses a quick kiss to my lips then smiles. “I guess you’ll have to let me up then.”
We’re quiet during our shower. We’re quiet as we slide into bed and we’re quiet the entire drive to the airport.
Caleb doesn’t park and walk me to the baggage check counter. He just pulls into the drop-off loop, helping me with the few things I hadn’t shipped home, and gives me a quick kiss before driving off.
I don’t know if he looked back but I certainly didn’t.
I know some people might find that type of goodbye awkward or cold, but I don’t. I’d much rather have an honest goodbye, however silent, than any performative whispers of I’ll miss you’s or grand gestures.
He’s not my boyfriend. We started hooking up because it was convenient—that and we both get turned on by an argument. There’s no sense in pretending it’s something it’s not now that I’m leaving. It might seem callous, but the only thing I feel about it is frustration.
I finally got my ideal no-strings-attached relationship. No, “I want you to meet my mom,” or “Why are you spending so much time at work?” or worse, “I thought we had something special. Do you even want to be with me at all?”
There was none of that in the arrangement Caleb and I had. It was the perfect setup for both of us, and now, I’m going to have to start all over again in a town that worships the ground my brother walks on.
Do you know how hard it is to grow up with a brother who’s been famous in your hometown since he was fourteen? He skipped right over the JV hockey team and went straight to varsity.
But that wasn’t enough for Max. He led the team to an undefeated season as the youngest center the school had seen in decades. That same year, I was the head of the debate team and we made it to regionals. I was also on the mathletes and we won nationals by such
an incredibly wide margin it should have been a record. My physics experiment won third place in the school science fair.
Nobody wanted to talk about the things I’d accomplished, though. All they wanted to talk about was Max. It got to the point where one would believe my name was Max’s sister instead of Olivia.
As soon as the Sabers won their third game in a row, I had girls I didn’t even know pretending to be my friend just so they could get closer to Max.
My actual friends were no better. All they ever talked about was him, often in such graphic detail I had to walk away. Suddenly, they didn’t want to do anything with me other than linger around my house, hoping to spot him, and if they did, they threw themselves at him in such a pathetic manner I felt sorry for them.
The guys weren’t much better. I went from being relatively unnoticeable to constantly being bombarded with attention. At first, it made me feel like I was on top of the world. I thought I’d blossomed overnight into a swan.
It didn’t take long for me to realize I was either a conquest, or simply a way to get into Max’s orbit. Most of the time, it was a way to get into Max’s orbit.
Three games.
That’s all it took for me to lose all of my friends, and learn that people couldn’t be trusted, that they were only out for themselves.
I desperately wanted to hate him but I could never seem to muster the energy to feel anything more than annoyed. Aside from my parents, Max was the only one who noticed me and celebrated my achievements. Besides, it wasn’t completely his fault that people threw themselves at him. He never necessarily asked for the attention.
He always asked what was going on in what he liked to call the “geeky side of the universe,” often letting me bounce project ideas off him. He protected me from the creepy guys at school, and even rescued me from some dicey situations. He really was a good brother.
Part of me is pleased to know I’ll be living closer to him and my parents—no more three-hour flights. On the other hand, there will be no escaping his shadow in Boston. It’s going to be like high school all over again, except this time we’re adults, and the press is going to be even worse.
I growl in frustration as I rest my head against the cool window of the plane.
You made it through this mess once and you can do it again. You’re not a na?ve wide-eyed girl anymore. You’re older. You’re wiser. You’re tougher.
At some point during my internal pep talk, I must have drifted off, because the next thing I know a flight attendant is gently tapping my shoulder.
“Ma’am?”
I blink at her drowsily.
“We’ve landed. Do you need any help with your bags?” she asks.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
I stand and stretch, then grab my carry-on.
Apparently, I don’t have generalized flight anxiety. I have the more specific flying in coach class type of anxiety. I should fly first class more often, clearly I’m more comfortable there. With the pay bump I just got I’ll definitely be able to.
When I get to the baggage claim, I alternate between looking for my luggage and looking for one or both of my parents.
Blue suitcase. Is that it?
No, not my name on the tag.
I spot an older couple out of the corner of my eye.
Nope. Man is too short. Woman is too tall.
Red suitcase.
Duffel bag.
Brown carpet bag falling apart.
I didn’t even know those still existed.
A few drivers are lined up holding signs but I don’t pay them any mind.
Oh! There’s my blue suitcase!
I check the tag, confirm it’s mine, and take another look around for my parents.
One of the drivers coughs obnoxiously.
Buddy, if you’re hacking up a lung, you probably shouldn’t be working today.
There’s no sign of my parents anywhere. I pull out my phone and check for any messages or missed calls.
Nothing.
The coughing driver brandishes his sign in my direction. Something about him seems vaguely familiar. I take a closer look at him—tall, broad shoulders, black beard.
It’s a fake beard. An excellent fake, but a fake, nonetheless.
Oh no.
It’s like he can read my thoughts because when I make eye contact with him again, his expression says, “Oh, yes.”
He walks toward me with an exaggerated limp. “Telemachus, I presume?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Penelope.”
His voice is a caricature of our Boston accent. “I’ve got the car ready for you. Follow me, ma’am.”
He’s ridiculous, but he manages to maintain the fake limp for the entire walk to his car.
“Seriously, Max, does that disguise actually work for you?” I ask once the doors are shut.
“I didn’t see us getting mobbed by reporters, did you?”
“It’s so glaringly fake.”
“To you maybe, but you always were smarter than the average bear.” He laughs. “It’s good to have you home again.”
“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but where’s Mom and Dad? I thought they were picking me up.”
“They’re meeting with their travel agent.”
“Travel agent? You mean they’re finally going to take that retirement trip? Huh, I never thought they’d actually go. I figured me moving home would push the timeline back a bit.”
“Well, I might have given them a little nudge.” He grins.
My eyes narrow. “What kind of nudge?”
“They had planned to wait to talk to an agent until after you got settled into your own place but?—”
Dread settles into the pit of my stomach.
“But what?”
He bites the inside of his cheek. “I may have convinced them you’d be way more comfortable at my place than crammed into your childhood bedroom. I added that I’d look out for you, maybe even sweetened the pot by saying I’d make my place so comfortable that you wouldn’t want to leave, that we’d end up being permanent roomies. We could be carpool buddies too—blasting the music, racing down the highway… just like old times, right, Squeak?”
My jaw clenches. “If you call me Squeak in front of anyone we know or any of my coworkers, I swear to god I will castrate you on the spot.”
He laughs and ruffles my hair. “Good to have you back, little sister.”
“You’re six minutes older. That barely counts,” I argue.
“Six minutes, sixty years, what’s the difference? I’m far more mature and worldly.”
“Says the man with the fake beard and the even faker limp.”
He sighs and smacks his lips. “Ah, this kind of banter is what keeps me young. It’s good to have whippersnappers like you around.”
There’s no arguing with him when he’s like this, so I just roll my eyes and give up.
It’s not until we’re in the elevator of his place that the reality of what he’s done hits me.
“How soon are they leaving? Did you seriously cut my time short with them so you could force me into living here? You get to have them all the time yet as soon as you know I’m coming home, you send them away so you don’t have to share. What the fuck, Max?”
I yank my suitcase out of the elevator with a jerk and step into his living room.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Liv. It’s not like that.”
“My panties are none of your business,” I snap.
I turn and storm off only to come face-to-face with a room full of people.