Page 25 of Dying to Meet You

Words to a song playing cut me. “Aw, pitter patter, it’s just my heart, why does it matter?”

That’s the real truth: My heart doesn’t matter as much as anyone else’s in this family. I will always put them first.

Chapter Thirteen

That anxiety though...

Eden

Myanxietyhaswrittenan essay with cited sources of all the damning reasons why I should be freaking out. All the angles danger could come at us from. The ghosts of the past taunt me with memories, reminding me not to trust anyone. Not even myself.

Wrapping myself around Caleb, I rest my head over his heart. He feels the shift turning slightly to pull me in closer. “Don’t leave yet,” he says, smoothing a hand down my back.

“Mmmm,” I moan. “I don’t want to.”

After taking turns readingRobin Hoodto the boys before bed, I followed him to his room. A surprised look, then a showering of praises followed. Doesn’t he understand his attractiveness? More than a pretty face, which he has, or well-built body, holy yes check, he brings me to my knees with his pure heart. His innocent outlook, the sweet dancing in the kitchen after supper, his love for the animals and our kids. He is a treasure beyond my wildest dreams.

If our family has a glue, it’s Caleb Smith.

“Uh, baby?” My face heats as I snuggle in closer, his impressive erection flush to my thigh. Every fiber of my being melts into a puddle at the thought of making love to him. He takes “our bodies are temples” to the next level by worshipping our union, always leaving me limp and weak with an ear-to-ear grin.

We may have snuggled up falling asleep after some murmured talk, but I don’t intend to leave this morning without having him.

Oh, yeah …my ovaries just high-fived themselves with the look he gives me. His hand uses mine to run over his cock while his nose nudges me gently to give him access to my lips.

I slide on top of him, a hand caressing him through the gap in his boxers. His head falls back against his pillows. The way he sounds, the tendons in his neck protruding and the way his hands gently move me…it undoes me.

He sits up to pull off the T-shirt of his I wore to bed. A delicious groan is elicited from him as he latches his mouth on one of my nipples. Sucking lightly, he teases it with the tip of his tongue. “Put me inside of you,” he says in a ragged voice, his hands occupied with my breasts.

No encouragement needed. My pussy is throbbing in anticipation. I rub myself against the length of him before feeding him in a couple of inches at a time, wiggling to fit him in. I redirect his mouth to mine, whispering words of love to him as I take him. “Baby…love…sweetheart…sunshine…” The words fall apart as I’m unable to catch my breath.

My grinding on top of him becomes fevered as I cling to his upper arms, my eyes on his. He takes over guiding me on him, my moans having to be muffled by his chest when I break eye contact. We don’t last long before pleasure is wrung from me, my toes cramping in a curl. His last thrusts before bursting make my teeth clamp down lightly on his pec. Drool-actual damn drool- wets my chin.

Lying next to each other, our hands don’t stop touching, the loving words don’t dry up as we luxuriate in each other. I apologize profusely for the mark I left on him. We never do that. It’s more a product of passion when I’m with Blaine or Keir.

My hand covers it, thumb pressing down. “I couldn’t help it…sorry.”

He smiles at me. “I didn’t hate it.”

Chapter Fourteen

If you say so

Blaine

Beingaguidancecounselorhas very few perks. Let’s be honest…it has no real perks, only perceived ones. Like thinking I’m the cool guy among all the adults who don’t get what being a misunderstood teenager is like. I dress better than the rest of the staff that much I know. “Had your phone taken away again, huh, Brayden?”

The burly kid with a stocking cap pulled down over his mullet skulks into my office with his hand out. “Mr. Davenport, I need my phone back. I need it for work.”

“Third offense in a week, though. Right, my man?” I know he does DoorDash deliveries and needs his phone to do it, but I can’t just let it go unaddressed. “You could have a seat. Don’t give me that look. I came out swinging for you last offense. Sit.”

We’re interrupted twice: Once when one of the sophomore girls who gets low blood sugar rushes in to grab a handful of candy from one of my desk drawers, then again when a junior male on the basketball team wants to complain about a test score in his geography class. That was in ten minutes. All day long they flock into my office. It used to seem like a badge of honor, like “the cool, popular guidance counselor gets us”. Fuck that shit. Now I feel like I’m being played.

A feeling I've grown more accustomed to all the time.

I’m locking my office door to make a couple phone calls after Brayden finally fucks off when I see a baggy with differently colored pills on the floor by the lockers outside my door.

Grabbing it quickly, I shove it in my pocket. Drugs run rampant around here at the alternative high school, but we don’t find them often. The only find I’ve ever had was a couple joints left on the ledge of a mirror in the men’s restroom. I run my fingers over the shapes of the pills. Fuck my life, I remember this…the miscellaneous pills I’d pop to escape.

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