But she smiled, stood up, took my sweaty hand, and led us into the dark laundry room in Brody’s basement, and closed the door.
I waited for her to bail or peck my cheek to be polite and call it done. I gave her an out. “You don’t have to if you don’t wanna.”
But she asked, “What’s your name again?”
Her voice was so sweet, and my dick got so hard. Thank god it was a dark room. “M.J.”
My fucking voice cracked as I answered her, but she didn’t mock that either.
“I haven’t been kissed before, M.J.”
“Me neither,” I confessed. “Do you wanna?”
“Yes,” she replied, her heat nearing my body. “You’re really cute. Like… super hot.”
I don’t know what came over me, but after watching so many telenovelas with my sisters, I copied what I’d seen on the screen. Reaching through the darkness, I found her cheeks before gently sinking my hands into her long strands; damn, her hair was silky.
I made her sigh, and that made me even harder and more nervous, searching for her lips in the dark. I think she mistook my hesitation for seduction because she wedged into me, feeling how hard I was for her under my basketball shorts. It made her softly gasp as my lips finally found hers, so I went slow. I was gentle.
Hell, yes, I was kissing Stacey James, and then it was much more.
Her kiss tasted like peaches. Her mouth was as sweet as her trust in me, so I dared to find her tongue with mine, carefully seeking it, and she tongued me back; I didn’t know I could groan like that at fifteen. I didn’t know girls would grab me back like that. I didn’t know how lust takes over. That when you’re actually with another person, it’s so intense, so much better than getting off by yourself.
It made me dizzy, losing my mind and almost my balance. The way Stacey rubbed her body against mine, with her incredible breasts in that sexy baby T-shirt showing peeks of her belly, I’ll never forget it.
How when I reached down and caressed her hips, instinct had me grinding my swollen cock into her, and she moaned into my mouth. I was taller than she was. My erection against her belly kept making her moan, and suddenly, I panicked. She was making me come so fast. It fucking terrified me. I tried stopping it, but “god,” she sighed against my lips, rubbing that body on me again, and I lost it. I came right there with my mouth gasping into hers.
The embarrassment was murder. My cum was on my shorts and her belly. “Shit. I’m sorry.” I’d never survive it. I didn’t need another reason to be different, to be ridiculed.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Here.” She got clever, reaching behind us and fumbling until she found the dryer sheets. “We’ll use these.”
I had no choice but to take her suggestion. “Sorry,” I muttered again, cleaning myself off while she did the same.
The fire in my cheeks was painful. I wanted to throw up. I dreaded walking back outside where all our friends would know, then the whole school would, and fuck, my life was over.
Of all people? I came on the hottest girl in school?
“I won’t tell anyone, M.J.; I swear.” Stacey caressed my arm and kept her word.
That afternoon. That summer. The whole next year in school, she tried talking to me again, but I avoided her. I was a dick to her, but still, she protected me.
I struggled to get my pride back. Then finally, she gave up on me before I moved to a different high school the following year. That was so long ago, and I don’t look like that innocent boy.
But I knew the morning we showed up whose house we were painting.
Stacey James went on to be a local legend, a beauty queen.
Around town, most girls talked shit about her, while most guys wanted to fuck her. It was no surprise when she married into one of the wealthiest families in Hilton Head. It was no shock when her husband became a state senator with her on his arm. Her beauty won his elections, trumping his arrogance.
But what I still can’t understand, from when she opened the door to us yesterday with tears in her eyes. When I can tell she’s still the same sweet girl who’d never hurt people—why is she still married to one of the wickedest men I’ve heard of?
Ford clocked it the minute we left their house yesterday.
I don’t know what the fuck bothered him so much.
I mean, the guy’s former military and a hard ass, but deep down, Ford’s good. Like, waaaay down, once you get past all his broken baggage. He’s got a heart of gold. I love the guy.
But he was a total dick about Stacey Evans.
Driving back to our place in the van, he warned, “I don’t give two fucking shits for how smokin’ hot that woman is. Don’t even think about it. Don’t even let her tingle your dicks. You stay the fuck away from her.”
“Dude,” Luke laughed from the back seat, “like we’d fuck a client.”
Ford snarled, “Like a client has ever looked like that. Like any woman looks like that.”
“Sounds like you’re the one who won’t be able to stay away from her.” I was joking with Ford and it went over like a fart in church.
“The fuck I will,” Ford snarled. “Her husband married her for a reason. And he’s got millions of them to fuck your world over if you go near his wife.”
Luke laughed again. The fucker finds humor in everything. I love that about him. “She ain’t a fucking trophy we’re gonna steal, man. And we ain’t zit-poppin’, cock jerkin’ dickweeds who can’t control our boners anymore. We got discipline.” Luke let it hang for a second. “And you know it.”
I’d never seen Ford drive so fast, like something was chasing him inside.
And just to fuck with him. “I kissed her,” I said, and the motherfucker slammed the brakes!
Thank fuck we were on a side road and not the highway. “The fuck?”
“When I was fifteen, man.” I started rolling. “She was my first kiss. But she doesn’t recognize me, so chill.”
“How was she?” Luke taunted, only pissing Ford off more.
“Fucking hot as hell,” I answered. “She made me come in my shorts and didn’t rat me out. She never told anyone.”
Slamming down the gas pedal, Ford muttered, “We’re so fucked.”
“We’re painting her fancy house for some fancy party,” Luke said. “Relax, dude. That’s all it is.”
“It’s not her house,” Ford seethed. “It’s his house, and she’s Mrs. Gentry Evans, just like she said. You hear me? That’s what you call her, or the trusty ol’, ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Don’t give that piece-of-shit husband of hers one reason to be jealous, or we’ll get new assholes the size of Texas.”
“Sounds fun,” Luke teased again, and I kept laughing.
“Keep it up”—Ford fought the smile behind his beard—“and I’ll show you fun when we get home.”
Luke’s tone dropped. “Promise?”
Still, I could tell—something’s bothering Ford.
Yesterday and this morning with Stacey, he’s acting weird. He goes from professional to a powder keg around her. The sexual tension between them is a fucking propane leak about to explode.