Page 20 of Beautiful Lies
We rode the coaster three more times, our kisses growing more frantic, our laughter and her screams getting louder before we took the subway back to Bay Ridge. On the train, we shared earbuds, one for her and one for me. We listened to the British playlist on my iPod. The Rolling Stones, The Smiths, Led Zeppelin, The Verve, Oasis.
“Let’s go to your place,” she said, checking the time on her phone. “I still have time before my curfew.”
“You sure?” I asked as the train screeched to a halt at my station.
“Positive,” she said, grabbing my hand. “We just need to hurry.”
As we exited the station, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed across the sky. “I love summer storms,” she said, her face lit up.
So did I. “The wrath of Zeus.”
“You’re so smart.”
I snorted. I wasn’t all that smart. But I’d gotten onto a Greek mythology kick last year. My favorite story was Odysseus, and I’d told it to Ava a few months ago, about how he’d come up with a cunning plan to get the Greek army inside the walls of Troy by hollowing out a wooden horse to hide the Greek warriors. After winning the war, Odysseus set sail for home. It took him ten long years to reach his home in Ithaca. Along the way, he passed through dangers and temptations, fought with gods and monsters, the sea, and magicians and men. No matter what difficulty was thrown at him, Odysseus battled through it all and never gave up.
The first drop of rain landed on my nose. We’d only walked half a block when the skies opened and unleashed the rain. Ava spread her arms and turned in a circle, her face tipped up to the sky.
“Come on, crazy girl. I’ll give you a ride.” I crouched, and she hopped onto my back, holding her flip-flops in her hand. She nuzzled my neck as I jogged the three blocks to the apartment I shared with Killian above a deli.
By the time we got inside, our clothes were stuck to our bodies and Ava’s hair was dripping onto the uneven parquet floor. I kicked off my Nikes and retreated into the bathroom. I peeled off my wet T-shirt and hung it on the shower rail then grabbed a dry towel for Ava. When I returned to the living room, Ava had stripped down to her bikini. The tiny pieces of fabric left something to the imagination but not much. I swallowed hard as I handed her the towel. She thanked me and wrapped it around her shoulders as I picked up her wet clothes and hung them on the wooden chairs at the kitchen table to dry.
“I’m just…I’m going to change into dry shorts,” I said. Now that we were up here, alone in the apartment, I didn’t know what to do with myself. She’d been here before, a few times after school, but we’d just hung out on the sofa and watched TV or did homework together. But she hadn’t been here since our first kiss and she certainly hadn’t been in a tiny bikini.
Fuck.
I went into my bedroom, a box room barely big enough to fit my double bed, just a mattress and box spring, and a beat-up dresser Killian and I had bought at the Goodwill. I changed into basketball shorts and hung my board shorts on the radiator. A flash of lightning illuminated my room and I heard her footsteps behind me, the floor creaking under her weight.
“Can I borrow a T-shirt? Just until my stuff dries.”
“Yeah. Sure.” I handed her a Rolling Stones T-shirt from my drawer and she slipped it over her head. It reached mid-thigh.
She ran her tongue over her lower lip, her eyes trained on my bare chest. Then she lifted her eyes to mine and took a step closer. I cradled her face in my hands and her arms wrapped around my neck. I closed my eyes and kissed her and while the summer storm raged on outside, I felt at peace in a way I only felt when I was with Ava. Our hands explored each other’s bodies, her skin so soft and her kisses so sweet, my Rolling Stones T-shirt tossed to the floor as we fell onto my bed. She hooked a leg around my waist, pulling me closer and I rolled onto my back, bringing her down on top of me. Ava put her palms on my chest and sat up, her legs straddling me as she ground her body against me. I gripped her hips and guided her movements. I’d never been harder in my life.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes closing and her lips parting. “Oh God.”
Jesus Christ. This was the sweetest form of torture, watching Ava get off. Her legs trembled and she rode me harder, grinding her body against my erection, her short fingernails digging into my shoulders. “Connor,” she cried as the orgasm ripped through her, her lips parted on a gasp, her eyes closed as she rode it out. She collapsed on top of me, boneless, her head resting on my shoulder, her soft breath on my neck. I wrapped my arms around her and tangled my hand in her wet hair, my dick so hard it was painful. She lifted her head and kissed me.
“Show me what to do,” she whispered.
Something about the way she said it and the way she looked…like she was nervous, made me hesitate. “You don’t need to do anything.”
“I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”
I chuckled. “I didn’t do anything. I was just laying here.”
“Then show me what you do to yourself. I want to watch.”
“You want to watch me jerk off?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. She rolled off me and lay on her side, her head propped on her hand, her eyes trained on the bulge in my shorts.
It wouldn’t take long. I pushed down my shorts and wrapped my hand around my dick.
* * *
I wokewith a start and blinked into the darkness. Ava’s warm body was curled up against mine, her breathing deep and even. Instinctively, my arm around her tightened as the pounding on the door grew louder and more insistent. “Open the door,” Seamus growled from the other side.
Fuck. I leaped out of bed and grabbed Ava’s clothes from the chairs, still damp, but they’d have to do. She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes.
