Chapter 44
TRAVIS
I stretch my legs as best I can and start to roll over, then I remember I fell asleep with Cinnamon on my stomach. She’s curled up in the corner by my feet. Apparently, sleeping with me is her new favorite spot, and I’m not going to tell her no.
I hit the bathroom, then head to the main area. Calvin’s driving the bus. I need to talk to him about getting a few more pills. We have a little over a month left, and my supply is running thin again.
My feet freeze when I see Ellie curled up on the sofa watching some dating show, it appears.
Typical. For the girl who says she doesn’t want love, she loves to watch it on TV.
Always rooting for the couples after, even though they never last long.
Once the cameras turn off their true selves come out.
They realize after the drinks have dried up and there are no longer glorious views and fancy dates, that they don’t like each other at all.
“Hey.” I take the spot by her feet, and she sits up.
“Hey, you can’t sleep either?”
“Had to pee.”
She studies me, but I jerk my chin to the TV. “This again?”
Her gaze moves back to the screen. “Yes. I like it.”
I know. “Why?”
She frowns, keeping her eyes on the couple making out. “I don’t know. I think it’s romantic to see two complete strangers from different parts of the country or world find each other by chance like this.”
“It’s not random. They signed up for this shit.”
“I know, but still. You can’t fake connections.”
I give her a flat look that she refuses to acknowledge.
“It’s reality TV. This is the fakest shit on the planet.
They’re all high on the elements. Drinking day and night, and doing cool excursions.
Anyone could fall in love under those circumstances.
That’s what the producers and writers want.
They’re playing right into their hands.”
“But some of them stay together. There are couples on The Bachelor that are happily married with families,” she argues.
“Ok, so one out of five thousand might make it. The odds of meeting your ‘soul mate’ on the street are better than that.”
“Soul mate, huh?” She grins at me.
“I’m saying, if you believe in that, which I don’t.”
“But you did once, right?”
I sigh heavily. “I guess.” I lean back, and she shifts, getting comfortable and stretching her legs, which press against my thigh.
For some reason, I place them in my lap so she has more room.
Her eyes flick behind her, and mine follow.
Calvin is driving, but he’s too far away to hear us with the TV on.
He could only see us if he turned completely around.
“Me too,” she says so quietly I almost don’t hear.
My brow raises, and I meet her eyes. “Ellie in love?” I tease. This is the first I’m hearing about it. Suddenly, I need to know everything. Who was he? What happened?
“I was young and dumb,” she says. “I didn’t know any better.
” There’s something in her voice that doesn’t sound like her, and my stomach churns.
I start massaging her feet to distract myself from the discomfort building in me.
“So your first love didn’t turn out?” Join the club I want to add, but don’t.
“You shouldn’t let that deter you. He was probably young and dumb, too. ”
Boys are fucking stupid. They have no idea what they’re doing, especially teenagers.
All the testosterone pumping through them, making them horndogs.
I never would’ve dreamed of cheating on my girlfriend, but I still wasn’t perfect.
I made mistakes. I was an idiot. Shit, I still am.
But relationships are hard. That’s why I don’t prefer them anymore.
Hookups are easy. Less time-consuming and no chance of fucking up.
Unless, of course, you’re a bad lay. I’m not.
“He wasn’t young,” she mumbles.
My hands halt their movements. “What do you mean?”
She glances at me, a hint of something behind her green eyes that looks a little too much like shame or regret. My heart picks up again. Damn, it cannot be good for me to keep raising it like this.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” She looks away. I start squeezing her foot again, a little harder, and her attention snaps back to me. I stare her down, urging her to go on, and she gives in. “He was like twenty-eight or something. I don’t know.”
Ten years is a pretty heavy age gap, I guess. Eighteen is still young for her. They would’ve been in totally different places in life.
“Where’d you meet him? Brown? Was he a professor?” I joke, but she winces. “Shit, really?”
She shakes her head. “No, he wasn’t a professor.”
I blow out a quiet breath. That would’ve been weird.
“But he was a teacher.”
“Oh.” OH. Fuck, no. “Ellie.” I tread lightly.
“Was he your teacher?” The vein in my neck throbs as I wait for her response, but I already know what it’s going to be.
The look in her eyes is a dead giveaway.
The pain that only lingers this long from something that’s cut you deep, jagged and painful enough to leave a lasting scar.
She gives me a pinched smile and shrugs like she’s trying to play it off, but I already saw the hurt. “Like I said, young and dumb.”
“How young?”
“I really don’t want to talk ab—”
“How young?” I grit.
“Sixteen.”
My eyes fall shut, bile swimming in my gut. I don’t realize how hard I’m squeezing her foot until she whimpers and tries to pull away. “Shit, sorry,” I say, relaxing my grip.
Sixteen. She was sixteen and he was damn near thirty. Fucking pervert.
We're quiet for a minute. My thoughts are running rampant. Picturing an innocent little Ellie thinking she’d fallen in love with someone for the first time, only for it to be a trap.
“You must think I’m awful, huh?” she asks, bringing me back.
I glare at her. How could she think that? I was thinking of how to find this guy so I could fuck him up good, maybe kill him. “No, Ellie. I don’t. I think, no, I know you were groomed and taken advantage of.”
“I wasn’t innocent,” she argues, and it pisses me off that she could think even a fraction of whatever happened was her fault.
“You were, though. Sixteen is innocent. You didn’t know any better. He was a grown-ass man and an authority figure.”
“He was wrong, but I knew it was wrong, too.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not your fault. You were tricked.”
“You don’t even know what happened.”
“Did you sleep with him?” I grind my molars together, keeping my voice as level as possible.
She just stares at me.
Motherfucking shit.
“So, he groomed you, slept with you, then let me guess, told you how much he cared, but that it was wrong? Made it seem like he was all torn up about it when he inevitably ended it?”
She hangs her head, picking at the fleece material of the blanket she’s bundled under. “Not exactly.”
“Then what happened?” I press. She doesn’t want to tell me, but I’m not letting this shit go. I want details. Preferably his name, address, and, if she can swing it, his Social Security number. Guessing that last one is a stretch.
She huffs. “We got caught. He got caught, and I wasn’t the only one he was sleeping with.”
I bare my teeth. Sonofabitch. “Jesus Christ.”
She pops a shoulder. “I mean, hey, they say your first time should be memorable. Definitely can’t forget mine.” She laughs.
I stiffen. “What?”
“What?”
“He was your first?” I swallow, feeling like needles are pricking my throat. My heart’s doing something weird, too. It’s offbeat, and my chest is tight, making it hard to breathe.
“Well, yeah, I was sixteen.”
Something inside of me is breaking or crumbling or...fuck.
“That’s…shit, I’m sorry that happened to you, Ellie.”
“Eh, it’s fine. He spent a year in jail and can’t come near a school anymore, so there’s that.”
I scoff. As if that’s enough. A year? That’s pathetic. How none of those dads didn’t beat his ass into a wheelchair so his dick never worked again is beyond me.
“What’s his name?”
Her brows snap together. “Why?”
“Just wondering. Would like to put a name to the douchebag I’ve created in my head.”
“Austin Miller.”
I store that in my mind for later. Wonder how many Austin Millers there are in Virginia? If he still lives there.
“Do you think you can top that?” she asks, her voice playful again.
“Top what?”
“Your first time? Was it more memorable than that?”
“Let’s not compare.”
“Oh, come on! Tell me. It’s only fair.” She wiggles her toes in my hand, making me realize I’d quit rubbing, too lost in my head. I continue again, putting more effort into it now, hoping to ease some of her pain.
“It was nothing special. I was fifteen and didn’t have a goddamn clue what I was doing.”
“Fifteen,” she tsks. “Young.”
“That’s one year younger than you.”
“Whatever, go on.”
“That’s literally it. We were at her house. Her parents went to the store, and it was over in six minutes.”
She laughs. “Hey, six minutes is impressive for your first time.”
“That was the whole ordeal, foreplay and all. I didn’t even know where the clit was. I had no business doing that shit. But I made it my mission to perfect my craft.”
“I’d say you’ve done alright since then.”
I grin. “Yeah? You think I’m a good fuck, May?”
“Oh my God,” she sighs, attempting to pull her foot back, but I don’t let her.
I grasp her ankle, drag her closer to me, and start tickling her stomach as she squirms, trying to get away.
“Stop!” She snorts, swatting me, and I eventually let her free. She doesn’t go far, keeping her legs in my lap.
I missed this. Teasing her and talking to her. Fighting with her is fun, it turns me on, but this is fun…content. Soothing. Good for my fucking soul.
“I’m sorry for being a dick and kicking you off the bus,” I say again, hoping she knows how much I mean it. “It wasn’t the same without you.” It really wasn’t. It felt emptier somehow. The emptiness was so loud it was practically screaming. Now that she’s back it’s silent, comfortable.
Her tone is sassy. “Obviously.”
She goes back to her show, and my hand skates up her bare leg. She’s in some type of sleep shorts, probably silk. Those are her favorite kind.
She doesn’t tell me to stop, just keeps staring at the TV while I massage her calf, then her thigh.
Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to slide my hand inside her shorts and massage her pussy with my fingers.
Slide nice and deep, in full strokes, dragging out her pleasure until she’s writhing and begging me to let her come.
And I would, I’d give it to her. Then I’d make her clean my fingers, and she’d get so fucking turned-on she’d take my cock out and suck me dry. But we wouldn’t stop there.
No. Once I came down her throat, she’d climb on my lap and ride me good and slow, until I was the one begging to come.
My cock thickens. I place her foot right on my lap, then continue to work her muscles between my fingers. Her gaze hasn’t left the screen, but her breathing is more audible now.
My grip tightens, and she moans. “That feels good.”
“Yeah?” I whisper.
“Mhm.”
Fuck. I spread my legs, and her foot flinches against my cock.
Not sure if it was on purpose, but even the slightest brush of her on me has me throbbing.
I’d take fucking her toes right now if she’d let me.
I just need something. I’d rather have her feet than someone else’s pussy.
That’s how hard up I am for her. It’s just because she’s in my face all the damn time.
It’ll go back to normal when the tour is over.
Maybe.
I think.
I keep working both hands on her legs, alternating between the two and moving up slowly until I’m inches from her pussy. My hand brushes her shorts. Silk, I knew it.
I can practically feel the heat pouring off her, skating across my fingertips. Her foot curls into my dick. This time, I’m sure it wasn’t an accident. I bite my lip to keep from groaning and lift my hips. Right when I’m about to make my move, a ‘meow’ pierces the air.
Ellie jumps, and I curse under my breath as Cinnamon lands on my lap.
“Hey, girl. How’d you get down?” Ellie asks her even though she can’t respond. “I thought she was too small to be making that leap.”
“She’s fine.” I’m not, but she doesn’t seem concerned with the fact that my balls are aching.
“Such a big kitty now, huh?” She continues to talk to the cat as I slide off the couch. “Where are you going?”
“Back to bed,” I grumble. It’s a lie. I’m going to the bathroom to stroke my cock. If she were a good girl, she’d help me. Play with my balls. Maybe lick them, but nope.
I can’t catch a fucking break.