Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Allie

Over the years, my mother’s voice has started to fade from my head, but I can remember her saying, “Oh, Betty,” when something interested her. Or made her sit up and take notice. And watching the claw-marked muscle of Moore’s back shift in the darkness, I mouth those words to myself. Oh, Betty.

After we…

After what happened at the lake…

I don’t know what to call what we did. I’m scared to call it “making love.” “Sex” sounds too surface level for something so intense. “Fucking” sounds too coarse, too impersonal, when what passed between us on the shore of the lake couldn’t have been more personal.

We stormed. That’s what we did.

All this time, I envisioned Moore meeting girls on the weekends, forgetting all about me in a quest for momentary male bliss. But that wasn’t the case at all. He’s been…he waited. He waited for me. The bald honesty in his eyes when making that confession left absolutely no doubt that he…feels something for me. Quite a lot, if I can believe what a man says in the heat of the moment. None of what Moore said felt like bluster, though. Or a man telling a woman what she wants to hear.

It was as if he’d been holding it in and pleasure broke the dam of secrets, sending them rushing toward me. Leaving me to stay afloat in all of this new knowledge.

I sit on the back porch of the cabin, arms wrapped around my knees, watching Moore connect the generator so we can have light. When we got back to the house, the electricity wasn’t working. Now, shirtless, my nails marks creating patterns all over his back, he works on his knees in front of the machine, a line of focus between his dark brows. Every minute or so, he stops working to glance over at me, his throat bobbing, watchful and hungry, the outline of his erection back to pressing against the front of his wet jeans.

The newfound feminine knowledge inside of me purrs, stretches out on a fur rug in front of a fireplace and demands attention. My jeans were sodden, so I didn’t bother putting them back on. Now I’m clad in panties and a T-shirt, which is also drenched. My lack of clothing feels forbidden, in a way, as does being alone at a cabin with a boy. For the whole night. And I don’t know what to do about the desire he’s stoked inside of me. I don’t know what to do with the excitement of knowing we’re both new at exploring the bodies of the opposite sex…and all the ways we could do it now. Inside the cabin. Alone. No one to hear us, judge us, see us. No getting in trouble. Nothing holding us back.

Except for the abuse he heaped on me for two bitterly long years.

Except for the fact that I need to get far away from here, from my father, and it won’t do me a lick of good to get attached to this magnetic boy.

My bully. My infatuation.

There can only be one night. I need to make a fresh start. I need to cut myself clean off from everything that has made me feel shitty in the past—and whether my heart likes it or not, Moore Dunnegan is one of those things.

He’s looking at me right now like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. And it’s that kind of intuition he seems to have about me that is going to get me into trouble. Going to make me second-guess my determination to leave him in my rearview, along with everyone and everything else I’ve grown up with.

Moore sets down the tool in his hand and flips a switch, lighting up a string of Christmas lights on the porch overhang above me. “Looks like it’s working.”

“Yeah.” He sends me a tight smile. “They don’t call me a handyman for nothing.”

It occurs to me in that moment that I don’t know a lot about Moore’s private life. I know he lives in a trailer on the other side of town. I’ve driven past it hundreds of times, seen it in the shade of a magnolia tree. Secluded. Lonely. I’ve even seen him come and go from it once or twice, toolbox in hand, ball cap pulled down low over his eyes, rag sticking out of his back pocket. I want to escape this place? Does he? “Are you…planning on hanging around Perryville after graduation?”

His movements pause ever so slightly, but I catch it. “Hadn’t thought too much about it.”

“Really?”

“No,” he sighs. “That’s a lie.” Crouched down in front of the toolbox, a line flexes in his cheek, his gaze eventually meandering its way back to me. “And I don’t want to lie to you anymore, Allie.”

“Then don’t,” I say quickly, holding my breath.

“There was nowhere you could go…that I wouldn’t follow.” He looks down at his hands. “I couldn’t figure out which college you’ve decided to attend…no one had the answer. But once I knew, yeah, I was going to follow you.”

“Oh.” I’m suddenly finding it very hard to swallow. “You were going to follow me to college and bully me.”

Even in the muted moonlight, I can see the reddening of his cheekbones. “I know how fucked up that sounds. It is fucked up. Believe me, for the rest of my life I’m going to hate myself for how I’ve been treating you. I thought…”

“What?”

He shakes his head, but answers anyway. “That night in the field, I thought when you found out I was a handyman, that I was there to repair your roof…you remembered I was beneath you. That you were better than me, looked down on me. I thought you were ignoring me all this time because you regretted everything that happened, everything you said. You had a momentary lapse of reason and climbed back onto your pedestal, out of reach of my grubby hands. It hurt to think I disgusted you. It hurt and I took it out on you.”

At the end of his explanation, my mouth is hanging open. No wonder he was so mad, lashing out all the time. He thought I was ignoring him because I thought myself better. Above him. For a prideful male like Moore, being ignored because of his status, that would have stung worse than anything else. “Why are you only telling me this now?”

“Because it sounds like an excuse—and I’m not making one. Ever.”

“I didn’t think I was better than you. I missed you.” That strong chest of his starts to rise and fall quickly, his gaze penetrating me through the darkness. “I know that sounds silly. It was just one night.”

“No. I missed you, too.” He takes a step in my direction. “Still do.” His eyes close and he releases a bumpy breath. “Brutally, baby.”

Nerve endings tingle everywhere on my body, the need to touch and be touched by Moore increasing the temperature of my skin rapidly, making my breasts feel plump, my legs weak. I’ve never tried drugs, but I understand now what addiction must be like. Fighting a pull, battling an urge that is self destructive, but also promises an incredible high before the downward spiral.

If I give him the slightest encouragement, he’s going to bring me inside and…storm with me again. Is that what I want? Yes. Will giving in to my physical urges make it much harder when I have to leave town for good? Yes. Yes. There isn’t anything casual about me and Moore. And how can I begin to rebuild my pride, my life, if my first act of independence is giving my body to the person who made me cry so many times since sophomore year, I’ve lost count?

I search for a way to change the subject. To take the focus off the gravity dragging us back together. “Well.” I dampen my lips. “There’s a good reason you couldn’t figure out which colleges I got into. My father hid all of my acceptance letters. Lost my tuition money. Lost all the money. He was never really going to let me go.” I weave my fingers together and tighten them until they leach of color. “Tonight was the first time I ever spoke back to him. I was just so angry.”

Several beats pass. “Of course you were.” He drops down onto the back porch, a couple of feet to my right, staring out into the trees. “Jesus, Allie. I’m sorry he did that.”

I nod. “I did a lot of thinking on the back of your bike. It’s good for that. Thinking. Isn’t it?”

“Yeah. When you don’t want to think…it’s good for that, too.”

“Hmm.”

He looks over at me, hands clasped loosely between his bent knees. “What did you think about?”

“College. How to salvage the original plan.” I feel kind of jumpy, sharing my ideas with Moore, with anyone, I’ve kept things to myself for so long, not confiding in my peers, not getting close to others, lest my father find a way to blacken the connection. To make people sorry for interacting with me. “I was thinking…maybe I could go and see the school guidance counselor. She should be able to find out which colleges accepted me. Once I know that, I could commit to one. Maybe the counselor could help me work on a loan application. There has to be a way to make it work.”

Moore nods, brow puckered, like he’s giving my plan some serious thought. “It’s not safe for you to go back to the school, Allie. I’ll go. I’ll go do whatever you need. Pick up your transcripts, get duplicates of the acceptance letters. We can find a library around here to fill out the loan applications online…”

My heart thumps heavily. All that time spent with him, getting deeper and deeper. It wouldn’t be wise. “You don’t have to do all of that.”

“I want to.” He spears a handful of fingers into his hair and leans back against the top step, hesitating as if deciding whether or not to tell me something. “My aunt, Allie…she is the guidance counselor.”

Understanding dawns slowly. The answer to a question that has been plaguing me for years. “Your aunt. That’s how you got into all of my classes?”

He winces slightly. “To be fair, she didn’t know I was…stalking you. She thought it was a crush. And I was bribing her with some serious ammunition. The woman has never been able to turn down a Snickers—and I supplied them by the case.”

When I laugh, I cut myself off in surprise. Am I really laughing over the lengths Moore went to shadow me every hour of the school day? His head jerks around at the sound, searching my face, hope beginning to bleed into his expression. I shouldn’t allow that hope. Nor should I rely on him for things I need to do myself. Things that will be required to take control of my life. “It’s not safe for you at the school, either. What if my father presses assault charges?” As soon as I ask the question, I shake my head. “Never mind. He’d never do that. People would know you bested him. They’d know what he did to me, too—and he’d never allow that.”

“So I’ll go to the school for you?” he asks, quietly, casually, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. It’s not a simple question. If I say yes to this favor, it means our…relationship will extend beyond one night. To include tomorrow—Sunday—plus Monday morning, before the school opens. It adds time to the us I know he still wants. Do I have a choice, though? What he’s willing to do could help me tremendously. Could start me on the path to a new beginning.

“Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll go.”

Moore swallows loudly, his eyelids briefly dropping.

When he opens them again, his gaze traces my bare thighs hungrily. We have until Monday now. What are we going to do with all that time to kill? That question hangs in the air, unspoken, but louder than a shout. I can almost feel the binds tightening us together, strengthening until they become impossible to snap. And it scares me, but I’ve always loved storms. Always loved being scared, electrified, by beautiful things, and bare-chested in the moonlight, Moore is by far the most beautiful of all. “Allie…” he breathes, swallowing loudly. “Can I lick your pussy again?”

Heat envelops me, wraps me tight in its grip.

I’ve always worried I need to touch myself too often. That I have a more pronounced sexual appetite than I’m supposed to have at my age. But as Moore kneels on the lower stair in front of me and separates my thighs, kissing a path toward my apex, I know he’s the reason. Moore is the reason I’ve been riding the heel of my hand, crying frustration into my pillow, night after night after night. He’s the one that inspires the excruciating arousal—and I don’t have a shot in hell of saying no to him. Not when it comes to being physical.

I just have to remember to say no to anything more. Anything beyond this.

“Yes…” I lean back on my elbows. “You can.”

He barks a hoarse curse and starts to pant, tangling his fingers in the sides of my panties and stripping them down my legs. Licking his mouth until it glistens, the moonlight bouncing off of it, his reverent breath coasting over my slick folds. “I want to try everything with you. I want your first time in every single position to be with me. Standing up, sitting down, on top, behind you.”

“Yes.”

His face tips toward the sky, as if issuing a prayer. And then he worships only me, his tongue parting my flesh in a slow, shallow light, waking up every cell, every hair follicle in my body, making me tremble on the step, moving my thighs open wider, restlessly, leaning back on my elbows.

“I’m going to eat this first, every single time,” he rasps, planting a hard kiss on top of my clit, nudging it with his nose. “Make sure you’re wet.” I hear his zipper come down and look through the scant space between our bodies, watching his heavy balls and long, thick shaft drop down, free of the wet denim, his relieved growl of freedom turning my nipples to pulsing points. “Which way are we going to try next, Allie?” He sips at my sex, gently, then parts me roughly with a stiff, flat tongue, dragging it over that hyper-sensitive bud, making me cry out. “I’ve always dreamed of fucking you standing up. Right there at your locker, taking my dick beneath your skirt, those innocent, pink Mary Janes dangling behind me.”

My arms, which are supporting me, almost give out, that image is so raw, so easy to picture, because I’ve thought of it before, too. Thought of Moore kissing and touching me in the school hallway, instead of sneering and insulting me. I’ve wanted it, yearned for that intimacy with him so badly. Now he’s offering and I’m taking. I can’t do anything but take.

“S-standing up. Let’s try standing up.”

Mid-lick, Moore moans. Lays another kiss on top of my clitoris, petting it once with his thumb. Then I’m being dragged to my feet, the T-shirt whipped from my body, leaving me completely nude. On the porch of this strange cabin in the middle of nowhere. Free of my father’s torment, hungrily kissing the object of my lust, and I feel wild for it. Wild under the glow of the moon, the whisper of the wind and call of forest animals, coming from deep in the inky black.

We stumble backward on the porch toward the entrance, but Moore’s hand stops my back from hitting the front door just in time, his mouth insatiable on mine, our tongues in a continuous tango, slipping and pulling. And we don’t wait, can’t wait. Moore lifts me and I lock my legs around his hips, my back finally meeting the door, rattling the old brass knocker. He doesn’t even need a hand to guide himself to my entrance, he’s as stiff as a pike. The broad head of his shaft nudges, breaches my sex an inch, two—we both suck in a breath—and he drives into me with an upward buck of his hips, flattening me back onto the door.

“Don’t come, don’t come,” he chants to himself, his lower body undulating in tight circles, stroking my tight ring of nerves with the fat base of his erection. “Rub your clit on me, baby. Can’t thrust yet. You’re built so fucking perfect. God.” He exhales roughly into my ear. “Rub it. Come on, rub it so good, wet baby. Do it.”

His unfiltered speech, the raw stretch of his thickness inside of me, my newfound freedom, it all combines and creates an implosion. Of lust, greed, feminine power, and I tangle my fingers in Moore’s hair and ride all over his huge sex. It’s planted so deep inside me, throbbing, his jaw clenched, pectorals flexed, so sexy. So masculine. And I’m driving him insane with every grind and side-to-side rub of my clitoris on his manhood. I’m riding him so hard, our stomachs slap together. Unfettered, unashamed. I look him right in the eye while I’m doing it.

“Oh Jesus, Allie. Jesus, baby. Fuck!”

“Don’t move,” I whimper, my loins quickening, stealing my ability to see or think, all I can do is strain, bear down, whip my hips, faster, faster. “I-it’s happening.”

Seemingly in awe, Moore reverses our positions and leans his shoulders back against the door, thrusting out his hips, giving me a sturdier platform on his lap, more friction, sweet gravity, and every cell in my body screams toward the apex of my thighs, gathering tight, tight, and the orgasm goes through me like a silk spear, making me scream brokenly, my hips still pumping hungrily, needing to wring out every last second of the blessed relief, the wonderfully terrible ticklish sensation that pulsates madly, addicting me to its power.

I’m barely coherent from the magnitude of my climax when Moore starts to rut into me with sharp upward slams of his hips—and he’s so big, it hurts. He’s right at the edge, rigid as steel, no give to his flesh whatsoever.

“Hurts,” I whine.

“So good. So fucking good.” He digs his fingers into my buttocks and holds me steady for the next roll of his hips, the pressure inside me mounting, splitting me in two. “Ahhhh. Shit. You drenched me, Allie. So fucking hot. I’m going to come to hard.”

“You’re too big. It’s too big.”

“What?” I watch him struggle for awareness, his eyes unfocused as he searches my face. “Too big…”

“It hurts.”

Horror wars with lust. “No. No, I’ll stop.” A shudder passes through his big frame and he pants a breath, stopping causing him visible pain. “I’ll pull out.”

“No.” I tighten my legs around his hips. “Just go slow.”

“Slow.” He nods vigorously, laser focused on my face, as if he’s now afraid of breaking me. “You’re sure, baby? You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

I kiss his mouth to reassure him and he groans, melting at my touch, slowly rolling in and out of me from below—and it still hurts, but the discomfort is manageable with his mouth on mine, when I can experience first hand how badly he needs relief, his shaft swollen and rock hard inside of me. It’s an effort to keep the easy pace, the muscles on his neck straining, perspiration breaking out on his forehead. His teeth are bared, animal sounds climbing his throat. But he continues to thrust, rhythmic and measured, our eyes hot on one another. Eventually wet sounds start to fill the air, his flesh milking into mine and he can’t help it, he starts to bounce me, his body in control, not his mind. My body doing the communicating for me by providing moisture, easing his path.

This is new. This is the beginning of experienced sex.

We’re in pace, we know how to reach our peaks now. Can be in control and out of it at the same time. It’s exciting and light snaps in our eyes as we remain focused on one another, Moore smacking me up and down on his lap, his belt buckle jangling below before eventually dropping heavily to the porch floor.

“Allie…” he pushes through his teeth. “There are things I want to do, things I don’t understand, some thing I know I shouldn’t do…”

“Do them.”

His chest flexes hard, eyes closing. And he slaps my bottom, the sound seeming to urge his hips faster, increase the urgency inside of us both. Yes, us both. It’s not the same as being struck by someone in anger. This is chemical, animal, an understanding between a male and a female. It says, I’m doing the fucking.

“Again,” I choke out, gripping his shoulders for purchase. “Again.”

Moore stumbles sideways a step, relieved by my acceptance, visibly turned on to the point of agony, his hips driving so hard and fast now, my back teeth clack together. “Dick tease,” he growls, turning me, impaling me to the door, shaking the wood on its hinges. “You hot, little dick tease. Wanted to cram that virgin hole so bad, you made me come in my pants in class. Lost count how many times. So hard for this good girl cunt, baby. So fucking hot for it. Every second of my life. Now. Forever. You own me, whether you want me or not.”

I’m still reeling from his guttural confessions when his middle finger presses to my rear entrance, teasing inside every so slightly.

“I don’t know why I want to do this so bad.” His erection jerks inside of me, his breath hitching, that finger testing me deeper. I gasp at the odd sensation, trying to decide if I like it. When my hips start working again, meeting his thrusts, I decide I do. Oh wow. Very much. Having his finger there is forbidden, taboo, unexpected and it’s making me so full, turning my sex so sensitive. “Shit, it’s so sweet and small. You showed it off to me earlier, at the lake. Maybe you want it fucked, Allie. Maybe neither one of us knows how bad it needs dick.”

Another orgasm crests over me unexpectedly and my muscles stiffen, legs squeezing around him, bliss collapsing everything inside of me like a house of cards, turning me into a whining ragdoll, my legs barely capable to staying around his hips. But that display of my pleasure seems to ruin Moore and he catapults over the edge, too, hips powering me into the door one final time, his strangled shout echoing in my ear, hot moisture leaving his body and filling mine.

“God, Allie. God.”

We stay like that so long, fit to one another like puzzle pieces, I start to wonder if either one of us is breathing. I’m drowsy, content to remain in his arms, somehow knowing he’ll die to keep me safe, despite the very recent past. And when he finally carries me into the cabin, I acknowledge to myself how dangerous that belief might turn out to be.