Page 3 of Spring Fling

I’m proud of myself for keeping my hand from shaking and my voice from trembling. My nerves are going beserk and most of my instincts are telling me to run back to my safe haven, my baggy clothes, glasses, and books. But, I made a promise to Jess, and to myself, that I would use this trip to put a permanent crack in my protective shell.

Two months ago, when Jess surprised me with a spring break trip to Miami for my birthday, I balked at the idea. I had studying to do, projects to complete, and a to be read list on my kindle a mile long. I’ve taken a full load of college courses along with my high school classes this year so I’ll graduate with enough credits to be a sophomore. It’s left very little time for anything but school and taking a week off to party in Miami seemed irresponsible. Besides that, my parents would never go for it.

Usually, I’m practically chained to this house by my over-protective, overly-conservative, and equally boring parents. Turning eighteen had brought me no more freedom than I had before, except for the stroke of luck that kept them out of town over my birthday weekend. They are even putting their foot down about college, refusing to pay for it unless I go to a small, local college and live at home.

Busting my rear-end in school wasn’t only to please them. I hadn’t admitted it out loud, but Jess knows me better than anyone and she knew a part of me had worked so hard so I could get a scholarship. I may never have the courage to stand up to my parents, but this way, at least I could pretend it was a possibility.

This trip was a trial run of sorts. Jess said it was an opportunity for me to find myself. I could be whoever I wanted on this trip and maybe find the real me in the process. Or, as Jess pointed out, at least I could, um, lose my, you know.

It was all irrelevant anyway, because there was no way around my wardens. Or so I thought. Jess’s family is the total opposite of mine in many ways. Her mother is a functioning alcoholic, her basically absentee father is a philandering donkey’s butt, and her older brother is in rehab for the third time. But to the outside world, they look every bit as perfect and tedious as everyone else in our social circle. I’m sure it’s the only reason I’m allowed to be friends with her.

However, when her mother is sober, she’s actually really cool and a pretty fabulous mom. It just so happened that she was dried out for a while and when Jess explained our trip, she agreed to “chaperone.” What the really meant was that she was going to spend the week at a spa retreat an hour from Miami. And, as far as my parents knew, that’s where Jess and I would be too.

So, here I am, wearing clothes that are tight and revealing, make up carefully applied by my best friend, and trying to decide whether to go home with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life.

Logan is easily over six foot, probably closer to six foot four considering he towers over my five foot seven frame, even in my ridiculous spiked heels. His sandy blond hair is a little long, messy in a “I don’t care kind of way, and his hazel eyes are bright and fiery as they study me. He’s muscular but lean, suggesting his body it toned through sports rather than hours weightlifting at the gym. A tattoo peeks out from the collar of his black t-shirt and another one swirls up from his wrist to disappear beneath on of his shirt sleeves.

I know what I want, but I don’t know if I have the courage to truly shed my skin and be this girl—woman. When his—holy cow that’s freaking huge—erection presses into me, my blood spikes to dangerous levels. I’m already throbbing in my lower area and his movement shifts my piercing and ... Oh. My. Gosh. My panties, which were already wet, are now soaked.

You want this, Abbi.I can hear Jess’ voice in my head, encouraging me to take the next step. I can do this. I push away my fear and anxiety and focus on the vixen inside. Boldly, I cup his arousal and give it a squeeze. To cover up my sudden worry that he is going to tear me in half with that thing, I sassily ask if he knows how to use it.

He groans and—oh my—grows even bigger and harder in my hand. Seriously ... I don’t see how it’s going to fit.

He grabs my face and kisses me quickly, before shifting away from my hand and resting his forehead against mine. “I think I know your answer, Abbi. But, I need you to say the words. I don’t want any misunderstandings between us. I’m desperate to take you home, to fuck you hot and hard until you can’t walk without your pussy remembering how my cock feels buried deep inside you. Then I want to worship your body from head to toe before doing it all again. Is that what you want?”

I don’t expect the searing heat that engulfs my body at his crude words. For some reason, when it comes from his mouth in that low, gritty voice, I feel none of my usual aversion to a dirty mouth.

I’m starting to wonder if my inner vixen is just my pretty way of saying inner slut. I swallow and my insides clench, but I manage to answer him with a steady voice. “Yes. I want that too.”

“Thank fuck,” he grumbles and the next thing I know, I’m sitting in the passenger seat, buckled up, and he’s jogging back around to the driver’s side.

He peels out of the parking lot and I hold on tight to my seat, watching wide-eyed as he maneuvers smoothly, and wicked fast, through the traffic.

“What is your last name?” he queries.

Should I give him my real last name? I didn’t think to ask Jess about it. If I’m really going to spend the week with him, I suppose I should.

“Bronson,” I answer honestly.

Less than ten minutes later, we are pull into a driveway in front of a cream colored, stucco house. I don’t have much time to study it before my door is wrenched open and Logan is unbuckling me. Once the catch releases, he lifts me into his arms, slamming the door with his hip, and strides to the entrance to the house.

“I can walk, Logan,” I say with a nervous laugh.

“Fuck,” he grunts, digging his keys from his pocket. “Hearing my name from that sweet mouth ... I can’t wait to hear you scream it. For now, shut it. Maybe I like carrying you.”

I’m grateful he isn’t looking at me as he unlocks the door because I’m sure to be fire-engine red. Shouldn’t I be appalled by his filthy words? It doesn’t seem to matter either way, my body is clearly a fan.

He crosses the threshold and kicks the door shut, not seeming to care whether it closes as he carries me through the house. It’s night and there are no lights on, so I can’t see much of my surroundings. We enter another dark room and he reaches out to flip a switch, bathing the room in a soft glow when lamps on either side of the bed turn on.

The massive bed just sits there, mocking me, accusing me of being to chicken to use it. Logan diverts my attention to him when he drops my feet and slowly lowers me to the ground. Instead of holding me facing him, he turns my back to his front, so I’m once again in a stare down with the stupid bed.

He brushes my hair to the side, then rests his hands on my upper arms. I feel flutters in my belly as he places soft kisses on my neck, his palms traveling down my arms, before lacing our fingers together. His tongue darts out to lick the sensitive flesh, while his hips press forward, his erection bumping my bottom.

I try to control my rapid breathing, but my heart is banging against my ribs, my blood running hot though my veins. He lets go of my hands and brushes my hair to the other side, before lifting my arms above my head. Then he grips the hem of my sparkly purple top and drags it up and off. I feel like I sizzle everywhere we touch and when he plasters himself against me again, the skin of my back ignites, and I realize he’s removed his shirt as well. A moan slips out before I can contain it and he bites my shoulder while swiveling his hips.

“Don’t hold back, Abbi,” he purrs. “I want to hear every sound.”

His tongue and lips return to my neck and give the same treatment to the other side. but I’m completely distracted from that as his hands land on my belly and blaze a scorching hot trail up my bare skin to cup my breasts.

“Holy angel babies,” I gasp, then immediately wish the floor would open up and swallow me. His muffled chuckle vibrates against my skin, but he doesn’t otherwise comment on my outburst and I exhale in relief.

Two fingers dip into the cups and pull them down, exposing my nipples to the cool air conditioning. They were already pebbled and the air tightens them but then Logan pinches each little peak and they harden to jagged rocks. “Oooooo,” I moan, shifting and squeezing my thighs together, trying to relieve that ache that is growing stronger by the second. My clitoris must be swelling because the little barbell in the hood is causing constant shocks straight to my core.

“Fuck, hearing your pleasure is so hot, baby,” he says in a low tone before plucking my nipples causing me to cry out. “I can’t wait much longer,” he growls. “You taste like peaches, I wonder,” he muses as one hand begins to journey south, “if you taste that sweet everywhere.” It dips below the waistband of my tiny skirt and into my underwear, then he cups me and I hold my breath. Will he notice ... ?

“You’re so fucking wet, Abbi,” he moans. One finger drags up the center until it reaches my clitoris and then he freezes.

Oh shit.

I mentally slap my palms over my mouth, shocked that I swore, even in my head. But, I don’t focus on it for more than a few seconds, waiting in terror to find out what his reaction to my piercing is going to be.

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