seventeen #2
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I prayed for.
Someone to love me, to want me, to be mine.
So why does my heart still seize up when we turn the corner into the Commons and find Saint sitting on the edge of the fountain reading, the sun turning a few loose threads of his hair golden, a stitch of concentration creasing the skin between his brows?
“What is he doing here?” I ask Angel.
“I told you, we’re hanging out,” he says. “There’s a movie on the lawn tonight. They do it every month when the weather is nice. You didn’t go in the fall?”
“No,” I admit, scowling. “Who would I have gone with?”
“Right,” he says. “Sorry about that. I guess we did kinda make things hard for you when you first got here.”
“That’s all the apology I get?”
“I can eat your pussy later,” he offers.
I roll my eyes. “You do that all the time.”
“Exactly,” he says. “I apologize on my knees every night. Sometimes five or six times.”
“Okay,” I say, laughing through my embarrassment. “You don’t really have to apologize. I got you sent to juvie. You deserved a little revenge.”
“Which is why you apologize on your knees sometimes,” he says. “Though I have to say, I can never tell what you’re saying with your mouth stretched around my cock.”
“Shut up,” I say, swatting his arm.
We arrive at the fountain, where Saint is watching us approach, a fierce scowl on his face.
“Glad you could finally tear yourself away from your honeymoon long enough to join us,” he snaps, standing and stalking away. He’s gripping his paperback so tight it’s rolled into a tube.
“What crawled up his ass?” Angel asks. “I know it wasn’t Heath. Bet he’ll be smiling ear to ear when they finally break that seal.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on, M. You can’t be that na?ve. Even you’ve gotta have seen the tension between those two.”
I swallow hard. “Like… There’s something bothering them?”
“Oh, they’re bothered, alright,” Angel says, hugging me close to his side. “Hot and bothered.”
“I don’t think my brother…”
But I remember a hundred playful jokes between them, the wrestling matches, the cute nicknames.
I thought they all did it—Mom always said “boys will be boys” when I complained they were horsing around too roughly so I couldn’t join in or when they broke the coffee table in an all-out brawl that I was sure was serious, since they all came up red-faced and breathing hard at the end.
Then they laughed, and Mom banned them with her new rule, “no roughhousing in the house.”
It was all three of them then, even random boys from the team who came over to hang out with my brother.
More recently, though, I think of the touches I’ve seen, the way they look at each other a little longer than they look at Angel before they break eye contact.
I thought it was some secret understanding between them, nothing more.
When they tasted me from each other’s mouths, I thought it was the Master’s command.
When Heath was shot, and Saint stayed by his side even when Angel took me home, I thought it was so Heath wouldn’t be alone.
And when he grumbled for us to hit the lights on the way out, and just before the room was plunged into darkness, I saw him reach for Heath’s hand, I thought he was offering comfort to a friend.
“Are you saying my brother’s gay?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. Even I know better than to out someone. My heart hurts for Saint if he is. His parents would disown him.
“Nah,” Angel says. “Just… Maybe a little bit for Heath.”
“And Heath?”
“Is a complicated fellow,” Angel says. “Mind you, this is just speculation. I don’t care what they do. That’s just what I’ve seen.”
I mull that over while we make our way to the campus lawn, a big green space between the lecture hall and the boys dorm.
They’ve hung a huge white screen from the side of the building, and a projector is set up on the grass, showing a static image of the school logo while students trickle in and claim spots in the shadow of the building near the front or in the last rays of evening sun at the back.
We meet Heath in the middle of the lawn, where he’s laid out a big, waterproof picnic blanket.
Angel sits down with him and pulls me down between his thighs, letting me use his chest for a backrest. Instead of joining us, Saint talks to a few football players and then one of the other Hellhounds.
He doesn’t come to join us until the movie starts, and then he sits on Heath’s other side, so we can’t talk to him.
I know it’s dumb, but it feels like he’s avoiding me.
Midway through the movie, Angel grabs one of the other blankets and throws it over us.
I think he’s being sweet and noticed I was cold, but a minute later, I feel his hand creeping up my thigh.
I push it away, since Heath is right beside us, Saint is next to him, and more importantly, a few hundred students are all around us.
“Come on, babe,” Angel whispers, nipping my ear. “You’ve been pressing on my dick for an hour. I’m in blueball hell.”
I try to lean forward away from his lap to give him some relief, but he tugs me back, wrapping an arm around my middle.
His soft, warm lips trail over the curve of my throat, and shivers race through my body.
He works his hand higher, sliding my skirt up my thighs until he can bury his hand between.
I gasp, then bite down on my lip, not wanting the others to hear.
Heath pulls the blanket over him and tosses the edge onto Saint’s lap, putting us all under the same blanket.
Unbothered, Angel tugs aside my panties and traces his finger up the seam of my lower lips while his teeth tug gently at my earlobe.
I squirm against him, but he opens me and slips a finger into the wet heat of my folds.
I whimper, and he moans quietly against my neck, then drags his fingertip down, coating it with my arousal, before slowly pushing it inside.
My thighs tremble, falling open for him, and my head falls back on his shoulder.
I lose myself to the slow, deep pump of his finger, in and out, up my slit, around my clit, back to my opening, deep inside me.
“Can you stop fingering my sister in public?” Saint asks, loud enough that my eyes snap open. My gaze darts around, and my cheeks burn like hellfire when I see at least a couple people around us giggling and whispering and casting glances our way.
“Why?” Angel asks with a smirk. “Jealous?”
“Because everyone knows what you’re doing,” Saint says flatly.
I squirm to close my legs, but Angel tightens his grip and flicks my clit, making me have to bite my lip not to cry out.
“If you get off my lap now, they’ll think we’re guilty,” he whispers in my ear.
“We are guilty,” I hiss back.
“They don’t know that,” he says, nipping my ear.
He bites down to the point of pain, then pinches my clit between two slippery fingers.
I jolt in his lap, and he chuckles, sending currents of shivery electricity through my entire body.
He presses his hips into me, and I can feel the long, hard ridge of his erection against my back.
The sensation bathes his fingers in my arousal, and when we works two fingers into me, I’m panting so hard I’m starting to get dizzy.
Pleasure rises like a tide inside me, breaking when he curls his two fingers and squeezes his palm against my clit.
I whimper as my walls clench rhythmically, the effort of being quiet nearly bringing tears to my eyes.
Suddenly Angel draws his fingers out, lifts me, and slides me over onto Heath’s lap.
“I’m going to get cleaned up,” he says. “Stretch her for me.”
He leans over and gives me a long, lingering kiss. When he pulls back, he smiles at me with all the love he professed earlier. “When I get back, I want your juicy little cunt loose enough that I can slide in balls deep with no prep.”
Before I can protest, he stands, dropping the blanket over us, and lopes off across the lawn.
“Arrange the blanket over my feet,” Heath orders.
When I lean forward off his lap, I hear him unzip, and then I feel him pull aside my underwear. I freeze, mortification rolling through me when the sensation of his hot, bare, pierced tip presses against my flesh, still slick from Angel’s ministrations.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
A few people around us look over, craning their necks to see what’s going on.
“Sit up, what the fuck,” Heath mutters, tugging at my hip.
“No,” I whisper-shout.
“Angel told you what I was doing.”
“You’re making a scene,” Saint growls, grabbing my arm and yanking me upright.
I yelp when I feel Heath’s hardness sliding into me to the hilt as I sit back on his length. Angel always has to work his way up to that, and I’m not used to being filled full and deep in one go. Little gasps escape me as shudders of pleasure wrack my body.
Saint clamps a hand on my bare thigh. “Shut. Up. You’re acting like a child.”
Heath runs the cold tip of his nose up the side of my neck, sending a shiver through me. A series of pulses flutters through my core, and he chuckles dark and deep against my throat.
“Be quiet and sit still, and they’ll think we’re just watching the movie.”
“They’re staring,” I whisper, my lip trembling. “They know I’m Angel’s girlfriend.”
“All the more reason for you to stop moaning and writhing on my dick,” he whispers, sounding amused.
Humiliation rakes down my body when I realize my hips were moving involuntarily, little grinds seeking friction.
I go still, forcing myself not to move a muscle.
Heath’s cock strains inside me, stretching my walls, pressing deep against all the right places.
I can’t feel his piercing when he’s not moving, but knowing it’s buried deep inside my raw center makes me have to bite down on my lip to keep from whimpering again.