Pandora Wild Child Page 3

  “Are you going to come this easily for me?” I ask.

  “Dominic.” She sounds like she’s about to sob.

  “Yeah, babe? What’s up?” I probe at her core, my finger more insistent this time.

  When the pressure increases in just the right spot, she leans back into my arms and stares up at me, gaze hazy with lust. She holds her breath, waiting.

  “Last call. Yes?” I whisper, unable to voice the “no” option anymore. She nods slowly.

  “Okay…” I slip two fingers inside of her, and she’s warm, so slick.

  “Ah,” is all she says, and I would bury myself to the hilt right here, right now. Forget condoms, rules, is what my dick tells me. Instead I push my fingers inside her slowly, and she arches into my hand. I am so fucking turned on.

  I withdraw and swivel her toward the mirror. I stand behind her, my rock-hard extension wedged in between her butt cheeks. We have the same expression on our faces. Our lips are parted, and our eyelids droop. We both watch my hands trace over her puckered nipples, down her belly. We stare as I pull her lips apart and reveal glistening pink. Then, her sex disappears from view as my hand slides down and cups it.

  Pandora cries out when I let myself into her again, my two fingers sliding back in from the front, and she quivers around them. I suck on her neck as she comes into my palm. I slow down, prolonging her pleasure. Making sure to apply pressure to her clit with the heel of my hand.

  “Yes, baby,” I soothe her. “Go on—keep coming for me.”

  I keep her steady on her feet as we walk to my bedroom. She wasn’t too drunk to orgasm, so I don’t feel bad anymore.

  “You have one-night stands often?” I ask as I lower her onto the bed. I roll her jeans off the other leg too and throw them on the floor with my own. I undo her bra, kiss her mouth. Nibble on a breast while I wait for her answer. She squirms under me and wants to pull me in over her.

  “Maybe I do,” she says, and I know she’s lying. This might be her first one. I hope to God she’s had sex before. If she hasn’t, I’m an asshole. There’s no going back now, though. No more chitchat; I need to slam into her.

  “Mind if I slide in?” I ask casually, and she giggles.

  “Please. You wearin’ protection, right?”

  “Of course.” I glide my dick against her slit. Back and forth, back and forth. It moves so smoothly in the natural lubrication from her climax that suddenly I’m inside her. We groan together, Pandora’s eyes widening under me.

  “So. Tight,” I husk out. There’s no cry of pain from her, and I’m thankful that I didn’t just pop her cherry. Then, I start a slow rhythm, rocking in and out of her carefully. She draws me down, her fingers digging into my ass as she moves under me. Her thighs are parted wide for me, and I go in as deep as I can. She knows what she wants, this girl, and soon—soon—she’s climbing around me and her body’s tensing again.

  “Ah, babe—you’re awesome.” I swear I sound like I’m about to fucking cry. I pick up speed, moving faster with her, and she arches, clawing me closer.

  I look down at her through the haze of my desire. Pandora’s mouth is a deep, swollen red. “Your lips… ah, fuck!”

  A small, high-pitched squeal presses out through those lips. I realize that she’s coming again, and I can’t take it another second.

  I lose control.

  I’m in so deep. I roll into her, and when I start to shudder, I clutch her close as if this isn’t merely a one-nighter.

  For some reason, I’m still awake. It’s been an hour since Pandora stopped chattering and fell asleep. She’s got a light snore going, and I wonder if it’s because she’s still drunk. Maybe she’s a snorer? The thought makes me smile.

  Her body is beautiful. I see a lot of skin at the Elysium Spa, all shapes and sizes of people. Generally, I don’t take notice. But here in my bed, it’s different. Oh yes, tonight I notice, and I’m enjoying the view.

  I’ve just had sex with this woman, so I’m entitled to touch her. I won’t have that privilege tomorrow or the day after. I trace her collarbone down to a breast. It spills out on her lowered side, and I fill my palm with it. Now that she’s not aroused anymore, her aureole seems lighter, a puffy pink.

  While I watch her, my mind strays to how busy I am. I’m in the last year of my degree. I exercise to keep my sanity, but that’s all I do besides school and work. My life has no room for anything—anyone—else.

  In ten months, I’ll be heading back west where I’m partnering in my uncle’s healthy little PT practice. Can’t wait to get out of this town.

  I’m brought back by Pandora gasping into consciousness and sitting up in bed. “Ohmigod,” she mumbles, eyes floating to meet mine. I remain sprawled out, waiting.

  “Shit.” She shakes her head sluggishly. I realize she’s way worse than I thought. Wow. The last drink she had must have taken its time kicking in. “My stomach,” she says, face already a shade paler, from nausea I’m guessing. “Where’s my phone?”

  I check the alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s four a.m., and she shouldn’t be calling anyone at this hour. Except—

  “I totally ditched my friends!”

  True.

  An iPhone peeks out of the back pocket of her jeans on the floor. I marvel at how it didn’t fall all the way out when I ripped her clothes off. I lean over, grab it, and hand her the device.

  Fumbling, she swears under her breath. “Piece of crap doesn’t work.”

  “Gimme.” I turn it on for her. “Who do you want to call? I’ll dial for you.”

  She pinches her eyebrows together in an exaggerated frown and tries to glare at me. Only she can’t focus entirely. Yeah, she’s so not good.

  “No! I know how to use a phone,” she manages. “Mica—she’s the best. She’ll cover for me.” Her fingers race down her address list while she mouths, “M… mmm. Not Nnnn—starts with Mmm.”

  Even senseless, she’s gorgeous.

  She must have found Mica under her “M’s,” because she’s waiting, phone to her ear.

  “Pandora-honey?” someone gasps out. “The Lord Almighty—we’ve been so scared! What… are you okay? It’s so late!”

  Pandora makes a strangled sound in her throat. She covers her phone and hisses, “I. Called. Mom!”

  I flop back against the pillow and laugh silently. I won’t make this worse for her, but that is simply hilarious.

  “Not funny,” she explains, before she hands me the phone. I stare at her. On the other end, her mother sounds like a witch the way she cackles out never-ending strings of questions.

  “Your dad’s about to get in the car and drive to the airport and—

  “Why didn’t you call? You were supposed to call from the very first rest stop—every hour, we said, remember—

  “Miss Pandora, answer me this minute, or you’ll never—

  “Dad says he’ll stop paying your—

  “Count the times I’ve called you, okay? COUNT them.”

  Wow. Wee-wow.

  I rest the phone against my stomach so Mother Dearest can’t hear. “Are you a fifteen-year-old on the run? Or just abnormally overprotected?”

  “Overporrtr…” She starts again. “Overprostect…” She growls, frustrated with herself. “The last thing.”

  “You want to talk with her?” I say.

  “You talk.”

  What? Oh, hell no.

  “Okay, no. I’m hanging up, then.”

  “Please! You don’t understand—they’ll be on their way here!”

  The lady’s voice literally buzzes from the speaker and into my skin. It’s ridiculous. Does she ever stop prattling?

  “Pandora. Tell her you’re fine, you realized you forgot to call, and wanted to apologize. You’ll call tomorrow because you’re sleepy.”

  She hesitates, eyes swimming. “Don’t want to.”

  “So… you’d rather they pay you a visit?”

  She holds my gaze for four drunken seconds before she reaches out
and grabs the phone. A long inhale later, and she’s got it pressed against her ear.

  “Mom, ssshhhh. I’m fine. Just realized…” Her lips move, practicing the next words quietly. “I forgot. Soooo sorry.”

  Yeah, that was a lot of “soooo.” Well. I curve my index finger over my mouth to hide my amusement.

  Another tirade I don’t care to focus on litters out of the speaker. I catch “young lady” and “last warning.”

  “Yes…” She stares at me for support, and I mouth, “Soooo sorry.” She doesn’t get that I’m teasing her. Instead, she nods and repeats it, every vowel much longer than the first time. I groan.

  The tirade stops dead on the other end.

  “Pandora!” her mother barks. “Are you DRUNK?”

  That sobers her up. “Oh, geez, Mom, I’m just sleepy,” Pandora says, and she sounds absolutely, one hundred percent lucid. Amazing. “Talk in the morning, ’kay? Love ya.”

  Then, she hangs up. “How’s that, Dominic?” She accentuates it like she’s still learning my name.

  “Want my opinion?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Train wreck. Total train wreck. The evil witch will be here tomorrow.”

  With my arms under my head on the pillow, I’m on my back, staring at her. I love the way her boobs jiggle when she laughs. My dick’s stirring again at the sight.

  “Meanie,” she says, and straddles me. I don’t move my hands from behind my neck but check out her hips grinding on top of me, how she’s pleasuring herself with me growing under her—right where it counts.

  “Another go?” I ask, my hand already targeting the night table. The pressure of her core lightens against me while she leans in to suck on my lips. Her hair surrounds us, and I grab a lock to steady her head, guiding her fully to my mouth.

  Once my dick’s all wrapped again, she splays out over my hips and I hook into her. We both exhale with relief as she guides herself down until I am deep, so deep, inside of her.

  “God, you’re so damn perfect,” I stutter.

  A really freaking hot guy lies next to me on the unfamiliar bed. He’s relaxed in sleep with an arm covering his eyes. From beneath an elbow, a straight nose peaks out, and a full mouth ticks with some dream he’s braving.

  This boy—this… man—is naked, all the way naked, and I look away as my heart speeds up.

  What have I done?

  Please, boy, please don’t wake up.

  Ah, shit. I was euphoric last night. Now though, with a roaring hangover playing my nerves like a freaking banjo, I’m having all sorts of second thoughts. First night in a new town and I’m already proving how I can’t live without parental supervision.

  The panic rises in me with the echo of Dad’s voice in my head. This is exactly what should not be happening! I want my parents to trust me, to understand that I’m done endangering my future by being irresponsible. I won’t mess up just because they set me free from their Rapunzel tower.

  I remember absolutely squat since I got up to dance on the bar counter last night.

  Or do I?

  Snippets here and there: Me telling him how sexy he is. Him insisting on dropping me off at my apartment to sleep the booze off. Me demanding he take me home instead and begging him to…

  Shoot me in the face.

  My anxiety is blooming, but my need to throw up has more to do with the hangover, I think. Cringing, I peek at Mr. Sleeping Beauty through the curtain of my hair. He isn’t stirring. I let my gaze trail over his body. Small, dark nipples. Rows of relaxed muscle.

  I wish I at least remembered his name.

  The few golden hairs on his chest look so soft, my fingers twitch to touch them. All of him is golden, and I—

  Don’t know him.

  He sighs in his sleep, and I allow my eyes to work their way down his stomach. Dude’s got a full-on six-pack. A swift flashback from last night makes me flush. I groped him. I totally did. Shit!

  Stop ogling him.

  The craziest, most perfect transition between naked abs and golden happy-trail leads me down. I shouldn’t stare, but it’s morning, early morning, and he’s—

  I see him. Him! And I smell us. We—

  Stop it.

  If only my head weren’t imploding. Crème de menthe. Why? WHY! Then again, I know why. Or more like who: Mica.

  My phone lies on the nightstand next to him. Did I really escape through the ladies’ room window of that club? Yes, I did. Without telling my friends where I went. And I dragged this boy with me.

  He’s not the only one naked. I sit up, cover my breasts as I lean over him. I’m so careful, so quiet when I reach for my phone on the nightstand.

  Please, pretty-boy, keep sleeping.

  I’m all nerves, I am, and I don’t want to flip. Right now, those pills Shannon teases me with would be good.

  I try not to brush against him. As my fingers reach the device, warm arms lace around me, and my heart bounces into my throat. From a logical standpoint, I shouldn’t be jumpy; even if I don’t recall us together, we’ve obviously been in this bed for a while. Intimate. We’ve—

  “What’s up?” He’s hoarse. I remember his voice now, and it wasn’t gruff before. This must be his morning voice.

  A squealy reply slinks out between my teeth. “Nothing!”

  “No?” he asks, and the hum he emits strikes me low in my stomach. He holds me, and I still can’t recall his name—it’s driving me crazy. I’ve never had a one-night stand in my life.

  I’ve sunk low. I think of Jacob, the boyfriend I had for years. He was the son of the preacher-man at my parents’ church. We bonded because of our strict upbringings. Mom and Dad never suspected someone as well raised as Jacob could corrupt their little princess.

  Besides the times I snuck out to hang with Mica and the girls, exploring Jacob’s body was my biggest entertainment. When I left for Deepsilver, we simply hugged goodbye real quick. That’s how deep our feelings ran.

  This man I just met rakes his fingers into my hair and guides my mouth to him. He’s got me on top of him, and I recognize the sensation, how I’ve been here before. My body reacts, already responding to him without my consent.

  He groans and spreads my legs over him so his hardness connects with my core.

  “I gotta call my friend,” I mumble as he kisses me.

  “You texted Mica.”

  “I did?” I roll off him and hold my phone up to read.

  Crazy chicky. Destiny’s so mad.

  I grimace at Mica’s reply before scrolling up and reading my barely understandable message to her. Note to self: don’t drink and text.

  He’s staring at me, so I shoot him a wary glance. “What?”

  “You remember who you called, babe?”

  Babe. Not sure I want him to call me that… even though we slept together… Crap! This is so messed up. I want to take off. How do I leave and never look back? How? In my mind, I rummage for solutions from TV shows and movies, because I have no real-life point of reference.

  “Who did I call?” I ask.

  “Your mom.”

  Oh. Fuck. Me.

  Last night hits me full force. In one giant flash, I remember every stupid detail. I get up and wrap the sheet around me hastily. As I stand, I’m hit with a wave of nausea. Stumbling, I make my way to what I think is the bathroom, only it’s his walk-in closet. Ah!

  “Are you okay?”

  The guy has wood—not carpet—in his bedroom. I swallow compulsively, trying not to vomit all over the elegant mahogany floorboards.

  My mom. Damn!

  “Bathroom!” I plead, my voice coming out strangled.

  “You’re sick.” He links an arm around my waist and pulls me through another door where the porcelain throne beckons for me to hurl my guts out.

  And I do. The sheet sinks from me while I’m busy delivering green goop. I shudder at the aftertaste in my mouth, and I wish he’d back the hell off. I can’t tell him, because I’m too. Freaking. Sick.

>   Sure, I deserve total purgatory, and I hurt like the loser I am right now.

  “Shhh,” he soothes from behind me. He pulls up the sheet, covering my boobs again, and I’m grateful in the midst of my raging hangover.

  “I hate this,” I sob because I’m pitiful and a child.

  “Yeah, it sucks, babe.”

  “I called my mother, huh?”

  “You did. She wasn’t too happy.”

  I projectile-vomit.

  “What’s your name? Sorry,” I add, but he’s not offended.

  “I’m Dominic.”

  Ah yes, and Dominic is no high school kid. This guy can handle a girl. I remember that too.

  Us in the hallway. The way his eyes burned with desire last night. How he showed me me in the mirror. Despite how sick I am, my cheeks heat with an embarrassment I didn’t experience while I was drunk.

  Finally, I decide that short, sweet, and to the point is the best way. Carefully, I shove myself up from the floor. I brush my hair away and meet his gorgeous, hazel eyes. “Thanks for everything, Dominic, and sorry about all of this. I need to go home now.”

  I have the best friends in the world. We’ve stuck together through thick and thin—by “thin” meaning some seriously dire times in high school—and here we are in Deepsilver.

  The guilt floods me at how I’m ruining our first weekend as free humans, away from the parentals. By the time Dominic drove me to our apartment yesterday, Mica had read my stupid text out loud to the rest of them, and my half-assed message made them even more worried than they before.

  Then, I sent Dominic headfirst back to his own pad without introducing him, which sweet Destiny didn’t approve of. Unfortunately, the day never got better, because I couldn’t stop throwing up. Shannon and Destiny took turns keeping my hair out of the bucket I’d suddenly become so fond of, while Mica complained.

  “This was supposed to be fun, Wifey! You’re freaking boring right now,” she repeated until Shannon cut her off once and for all.

  “Mica, you know that hyper-expensive Rolls Royce of a straightening iron you have? It lies really close to my fabric scissors. I promise you they’ll get well acquainted if you don’t quit nagging.”