2

2

KADE

FLASHBACK

Whoever decided it would be a fucking fantastic idea to go camping as a family needs to die. Preferably before the tents are pitched and I’m lying in mine bored as fuck.

We were supposed to celebrate my brother Jason’s birthday with a party in the manor, and as much as I hate parties, I would’ve been able to drag Stacey into a spare room or closet and devour her face until we couldn’t breathe.

I despise any sort of social gathering. But this? Spending the weekend close to Stacey but not being able to kiss or touch or even speak to her? Way worse. It’s torture.

I have to maintain this facade that she does my head in because apparently it’ll look suspicious if I randomly stop calling her names and making her life hell.

Last night, when everyone went back to their tents while Ewan and Base got into a heated debate about the blueprints of the Eiffel Tower, we texted for hours before she fell asleep. The last message was me asking if she was still awake, and I’ve had nothing from her all day.

All. Fucking. Day. It’s brutal. Being so close but not being able to do anything. I’m sharing a tent with Jason, Dez and Base. Ewan and Mum are in their own tent, and Luciella, Stacey and Tylar are in the other a few spaces away.

I can hear my sister giggling, and it irritates the fuck out of me. How is it fair that she gets to have Stacey to herself?

It’s been an entire month since we left London, since I woke up with the smell of her vanilla-scented hair in my face, her body on top of mine, her soft breaths hitting my neck. It felt different, maybe because we’d just had sex for the first time. I felt the butterflies intensifying, especially when she woke up and smiled at me.

I’m not afraid to admit that I stayed in that position for fucking hours, stroking her dark hair, tracing the ink on her shoulder blades, wondering how long it would last before she got fed up with me.

We’ve been going slow when it comes to sex, or any other acts for that matter. I don’t mind at all. We aren’t in any rush. But the five times we have fucked, it’s been careful, safe and always ends with me holding her until we both fall asleep. I usually wake to her gone.

We’re still learning from each other. I think, along with her as a person and how beautiful she is, I’m also drawn to how understanding she is. None of this is easy for me. Emotions I’ve never been in touch with are surfacing whenever I’m around her. She’s patient with me, and I think that alone makes me comfortable around her.

Call me insecure, but I second-guess everything. It’s impossible for a person to be as happy as I am and not have the other shoe drop like fucking thunder. She doesn’t even want me to meet her family yet, for fuck’s sake.

We aren’t in a relationship. Nothing has really been established. We haven’t spoken about how we feel, except for the odd time she tells me she likes me, and I need to hold back on telling her I think I might be falling in love with her.

Might be.

I’m not sure if the need to see her, speak to her or even fucking smell her is an obsessive trait, one that may turn into a dangerous need for control or make me manipulative. I can’t wake up without her on my mind, and when I go to sleep, all I can think about is her.

When I’m not with her, I check my phone every five minutes, intentionally going to the kitchen when I know Luciella is there to see if Stacey is with her. I’m always on her social media, her tagged pictures and checking if she’s following anyone new.

My heart literally sinks when she takes forever to respond to me. But it also explodes in ecstasy when she smiles at me, when she cuddles into my side and tells me she doesn’t want to go back to my sister’s room.

I haven’t heard any noises from the other tent in a while. Would it be psychotic of me to sneak in, kidnap Stacey and drag her to the woods to kiss the living daylights out of her?

Debatable.

I sit up in my sleeping bag and grab my phone.

Me: Still awake?

Three dots appear, and I internally sigh with relief and lie back, holding my phone up to my face while I wait for her reply. I pull the strings of my hoodie, tightening the hood around my face.

Freckles: Yep. I can hear Ewan snoring from away over here! I would’ve suffocated him with a pillow by now if I was your mother. Wait. Is that Ewan or Aria?

Could be either of them. In all fairness, Stacey snores as well. I won’t say that to her though. She’s in denial about her singing voice – imagine I commented on her snoring too? I’d be the one suffocated with a pillow.

Me: It sucks being so close to you and not being able to do anything. How is it possible to miss you, yet you’re right here?

Was that too forward? Fuck it, the message has already sent. Dad told me to be honest, so I’m being fucking honest.

Freckles: I miss you too.

I smile and type a reply.

Me: I have a question…

Freckles: You may ask.

How the hell do I ask about exclusivity without asking her to be my girlfriend? I reckon the latter will scare her, considering how secretive she wants us to be, so I won’t mention us being in an actual relationship.

Me: I know we spoke about this when I was in America, but do you want to see other people?

She types. Deletes. Goes offline. Comes back online and types. Offline. Online. Types and deletes.

Freckles: Ummmm…

Fuck me, my heart is rattling in my chest. What if things have changed since London and she’s been seeing other people, and I’ve completely read this wrong?

My left eye twitches, an unsettling, violent feeling sinking into me at the thought of someone else kissing her. Seeing her smile. Hearing her giggle. Watching her dance and falling asleep with her in their arms.

I’ll find out who and I’ll hurt them. Threaten them.

Wait, no, fuck. No.

Freckles: Have I misjudged this? Without sounding needy, I only want you. But if you’re wanting to see other people, then please tell me. I’m not into sharing.

Is the heavy weight lifting from my chest what relief feels like?

Me: I only want you too. Come here and I’ll prove it.

Freckles: Do you forget the part where you’re sharing a tent with your brother and friends?

Me: They’re drunk and asleep. Come keep me company.

I shut my screen off when she goes offline, and I check to make sure they’re definitely asleep. It’s three in the morning – I doubt anyone will be awake. Base has his arm over his eyes, mouth open with deep, sleepy breaths, mumbling in Russian. Dez is face down and keeps twitching in whatever dream he’s in. Jason is motionless, a sure sign he’s in a deep sleep.

I throw one of Base’s protein bars at them, and none threaten to kill me.

Definitely asleep.

The zipper of the tent slowly moves up, and her head appears. Her hair is mostly pulled back with a clip. Her face, from what I can see in the moonlight, is make-up free, but there’s a slight sheen on her lips where she’s put on lip balm before coming here.

In a hoodie and baggy sweats to keep her warm in this frigid weather, she climbs into the tent, zips it back up at the speed of a snail then crawls over to me as quietly as she can.

It’s kind of pathetic how my heart skips a beat over her willingly wanting to spend time with me. The excitement I feel that she’s sneaking away from her friends, sneaking around mine and sliding in beside me in my sleeping bag is unmatched by any thrill I’ve ever had.

That’s just it with Stacey. She could be singing a musical horrendously off-key with food all over her face, and I’d still see her as my own fucking angel.

“Hi,” she breathes as I turn on my side to face her, mirroring her position. “This is risky.”

I look over her shoulder at my friends then look down at her, pulling my sleeping bag up to hide her from them. I half-smile and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Risky is fun.”

“They won’t wake up and tell Luciella I’m here?” Her voice is so quiet, so sweet and soft.

“Not if they want to live, no. It’s just Base and his big mouth though. He’s a fucking gossip.”

We whisper as low as possible, talking about anything and everything – what she’s been up to this week, the classes she’s been teaching, the sketches I sent her one night when I was bored. After she saw them, she asked if I’d design her a tattoo.

Stacey is already a work of art. The idea of having my drawings on her skin makes mine tingle. I’m no pro, but my therapist has started encouraging me to doodle often, since it helps when I’m overwhelmed or need to express myself in a way I struggle with.

She wraps her arms around my neck, hiking her leg up to rest on top of my hip. “I can’t fall asleep here,” she tells me. “But I want to cuddle for a bit.”

I tighten my hold on her waist, bringing her knee up higher to my ribs. “Then cuddle me, Freckles. It’s been brutal not being able to do this with you.”

“I love how romantic you are,” she says. “I know you keep saying you’re not, but you really are. You’re just as needy as me.”

I squeeze her ass. “I’m not romantic.” Needy? Yeah, I’m fucking needy when it comes to her.

She hums quietly. “Is that why you researched all the side effects to my pill and restocked your minifridge with things to make me feel better? Or when you bought me a hot-water bottle the morning after our first time, because I was sore?”

“The side effects are a little intense. I was being nice.” I raise my shoulder. “I need to take care of you somehow after how well you take it.”

She slaps my arm, and we both silently chuckle.

Most of the time, we just do this whenever we’re together. Cuddle and talk.

Stacey being a cuddler has been unexpected. Without a doubt, this is one of my favourite things about her – whenever we sleep, she always has to touch me.

Her head is always on my chest, and whenever I wake and we’re tangled as one, I can’t seem to move. I don’t want to move. It’s moments like those – this – when I try to figure out if my dad ever felt this way about my mum, and at what point it all turned sour. At what point did he decide it wasn’t enough and start using manipulation and coercion to keep her for as long as he did?

He still does. In a way. Her life, twenty years later, still revolves around my dad like fragile glass. She loves him – a part of her can never not love him. They remain in this toxic bubble, where she lights up around him, and he conceals every vicious urge to keep her happy.

I know that takes a lot for him, and sometimes, when Mum needs space from dealing with his bad days, my dad ends up in solitary confinement for being an enraged psycho.

One thing I will say, and fuck if my parents ever found out, but I never want them back together. They’re truly toxic. Plain and simple. She’s married, and I honestly think I’d go with Ewan if they split up.

Personally, I think Ewan deserves better. He should find someone who can love him the way he loves her.

I’m the worst son ever for thinking that.

Stacey brings me out of my head fuck by cupping my cheek. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. She doesn’t need to know where my thoughts go sometimes. “Nothing. I really do miss you.”

Base is definitely asleep. Because he’d be snorting and trying not to laugh if he heard me.

She grins and gives me a chaste kiss. I go in for more, but she presses her middle finger to my lips. “I’m right here.”

Yeah, she is, but I can’t kiss her or hold her or fucking even look at her ass without chancing us being caught. Her shitty rule of keeping this all hush-hush is starting to piss me off. I’m trying to be patient, but fuck me.

I’m not patient.

And I’m also starting to despise my sister.

“You know what I mean,” I say against her finger.

She moves her hand and slides it between us, gripping the waistband of my grey sweats. “We’re going home tomorrow. I’ll see you after my hoop class. I’m teaching until nine.”

I sigh deeply and lower my forehead to hers. “Not enough.”

Stacey shakes slightly in a silent laugh. “What are you going to do when I go to Hawaii with my family in January?”

“Burn your passport before you can leave.”

She curls her fingers into my waistband and whispers, “I keep it in the drawer beside my bed. You’d need to sneak into my room and get it.”

“Sneaking into your room isn’t impossible.” Her dad has tightened security since I showed up at their door, but that won’t stop me.

Stacey bites her bottom lip, sucks it and releases it slowly. My eyes are drawn to her mouth, and I want to taste those lips, to slip my tongue inside and roll her beneath me.

“I want you to sneak into my room.”

Jesus. “You do?”

Her hand slides below the waistbands of both my sweats and boxers. “Uh-huh.” A groan drops from my mouth as she wraps her fingers around my hardening cock and begins stroking me from base to tip. “Next week when my… family is away. I want you to sneak in through my window and climb into my bed and wake me up with your face between my legs.”

Fuck. Fucking fuck. My dick swells in her hand with each movement, images in my head of me between her legs and sucking on her clit.

“That,” I say, stopping as she swipes her thumb over the tip, smearing my precum, “can be arranged, Freckles.”

“Good,” she says, capturing my bottom lip between her teeth and sucking on it. It pops back, and she tightens her grip around me, making me fight an audible groan.

Dez and Base and Jason are right there, and her hand is wrapped around my cock, but I don’t care about them, just her and the way she watches me with each stroke.

With one last glance at them sleeping behind her, I lower my head, nudging her nose with mine. I release her thigh and grab the nape of her neck, crushing our mouths together in a kiss.

I tilt my head and shove my tongue past her lips. The kiss becomes hungrier – more demanding each time she twists her wrist at my swollen head.

My hand vanishes from her hair, dropping between us and into her panties. She’s wet – really fucking wet – and I roll my hips into her grip as my thumb presses to her clit.

She quietly whimpers into my mouth, gasping as I push two fingers inside and fuck her with them. I curl them against her warmth, feeling her tighten, her hips rolling into my hand.

I ease them out of her and yank her sweats down while she completely frees my cock from my own sweats. As quietly as possible, we get one of her legs free of material and hike her knee to my hip.

We lie on our sides again, facing each other, and my dick presses between her thighs. I rub the tip against her entrance then lower my head with a mouthed fuck. “I don’t have a condom.”

She grinds against the underside of my dick. “The pill would’ve kicked in by now.”

I lift my head to look at her. “You want me to keep going without one?”

“Only if you want to. I only had to wait seven days before having unprotected sex. It’s been three weeks.”

Just for further permission, I ask, “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” She rocks her hips, her wetness sliding all over my cock. “Please, Kade.”

Note to self: Have Stacey moan my name while fucking her. Preferably not while sharing a tent with my brother and friends.

I nod, gulping before caressing her lips with a gentle kiss. Without breaking our mouths apart, I grab her thigh, holding it to my hip as I line up and push into her with ease. The warmth of her tightness has my eyes closing, has me holding in the noises threatening to leave my throat at how perfectly her pussy is gripping my dick.

Without the barrier of a condom, I can feel everything. From how wet she really is, to the addictive heat, the way her inner walls accommodate my length, the slight pressure from still being new to sex. I already thought sex was amazing, but without the barrier, I think I might die from how good it feels.

Just this once, I’ll enjoy this. As much as fucking her bare for the rest of my life sounds like a day in heaven.

Stacey – flushed with parted lips and dilating eyes – grips on to me for dear life as I sink deeper. I slide out, keeping the tip in, then thrust in again. And again. And again. Until I’m swallowing each shattering sound from her lips with a solid kiss and holding on to her as she matches each thrust. My tongue is on hers, my fingers digging into her flesh, and I glance at the bodies beside us to make sure no one has woken up.

I devour her mouth, tasting her, feeling her under my fingertips as I explore every inch of her body.

I’ll never get used to this. Her.

“Mine,” I say against her mouth.

No one else’s.

I kiss her shoulder, the area where she has a rose and skull tattooed on her skin, then I drag my mouth to her throat, where I want to wrap my hand around it. An impulsive thought, one I’ll never act on.

This is the sixth time we’ve had sex; I doubt she’ll be comfortable with me grabbing her throat while fucking her.

I stop moving when I notice she’s trying to take control. Her little breaths and the way she can’t take her eyes off mine have me cupping her face in both hands, slamming my mouth on hers and letting her take the reins.

She digs her nails into my scalp, tugging my hair to use as leverage to grind on me. Each thick inch is cradled by her wet pussy, and she hooks her heel to my thigh so she can fuck me harder. If we weren’t in a tent with people, I’d allow myself to moan and not bite my lip to stifle each sound.

My balls squeeze, tingling from electrifying sensations at my spine, and I’m so fucking close to exploding inside her, but I’m not ready for this to end.

I pull out completely. “Turn around.”

She does, giving me her perfect ass. I cradle a cheek in my palm, squeezing as I kiss a wet trail up the side of her throat to her ear then nudge through her entrance from behind. It’s tighter from this angle – I hold her leg up as I fuck into her pussy.

It’s a slow and torturous rhythm that I want to speed up; I want to ignore the others sleeping so close to us and slam into her harder, faster, to hear her moaning so loud she wakes all of the wildlife in this campsite.

“Oh God,” she breathes, backing into each thrust, making me go deeper and hitting that sweet spot that has her writhing. I cover her mouth before she can get any louder as I pick up the pace.

I drop my chin, whispering against her ear. “Close your eyes. I don’t want you looking at my friends or my brother while you come from me fucking you.”

A perfectly acceptable demand. In my head anyway. She shuts her eyes and digs her nails into my wrist, my hand still on her mouth as I thrust harder.

Skin slapping skin and heavy breaths echo around the tent, but they don’t stop me from driving into her, or Stacey from arching her extremely flexible back and giving me a new angle.

“You’re doing so good, Freckles,” I say, kissing below her ear as I thrust harder. My voice is shaky, but I keep praising her. “Taking it so fucking well.”

I can feel my dick swelling, the head throbbing from how much she’s tightening around it. I reach in front of her, dropping my hand between her legs and pinching her clit.

She bites into my palm as she clenches around me, her walls strangling my dick as her orgasm crashes into her. Each pulse, each time she swallows me with her euphoric spasms, I start to lose my vision. Blurry. Hazy. Like I’m happy drunk or on uppers, my own fucking drug as my balls pull.

I bury my head into the crook of her neck, sucking on the skin there as my thrusts quicken – until I stop completely, stilling deep, my cock twitching as I fill her with each drop of my cum.

I’ve no idea how long we lie here, cuddling, trying to catch our breaths. Long after we fix our clothes, Stacey stays in my arms. We hear birds chirping, the lapping of the water nearby and the pattering of rain against the tent.

She eventually goes out to pee, because apparently that’s a thing after sex, but comes straight back to me.

“I should go,” she says quietly. “People might start waking up.”

I stroke her cheek with my knuckles. “Come for a smoke with me first.”

“We should make a deal to quit,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “It’s bad for us.”

“I will if you let me see you more.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles. “Maybe.”

We sneak out, making sure not to wake my heathen friends or brother, and I follow her into the woods. She leans against a tree, the canopy of branches guarding us from the rain. I hand her a cigarette, light it for her and spark my own.

I’ve never been attracted to smoking, but anything Stacey does is fucking hot to me.

She blows smoke above us and tilts her head. “Why are you staring at me?”

I shrug and inhale deeply. “You’re cute,” I say as smoke releases from my lungs.

Shaking her head, she blushes and takes another draw. “Did you mean it when you said you only wanted me?”

I nod. “Did you?”

She nods too. “Yeah.”

“Great.”

“Great,” she repeats, smiling hard.

So beautiful and mine.

“Sit next to me in the car ride home.”

She hums. “Why?”

“So I can hold your hand.” I shrug and press my mouth to hers. “Or your thigh. Whichever is more accessible.”

“In your mum’s car?”

“I’ll put my hoodie over our hands. Happy?”

“See! You are romantic! That’s kind of like when we were in your living room, when we were watching that dreadful movie Lu chose. We held hands under the blanket.”

I remember that night. I couldn’t get the image of her beneath me out of my head for weeks. “For the billionth time, I’m not romantic.”

“You are!”

I roll my eyes and lift her into my arms, carrying her in the opposite direction from the tents to a nearby picnic bench, settling her on top of it. I stand between her legs, and both our heads gravitate to the side, mesmerised by the sight before us.

The sun rises over the Torridon Hills, illuminations cracking the sky and atmosphere with orange and yellow hues. Flocks of birds fly over the water. I look at Stacey, and her eyes dance with the colours reflecting, her cheeks and nose red from the cold.

She’s like my own sunrise. Beautiful. Perfect. She fills a part of me that’s been empty and dark for as long as I can remember.

Maybe I am falling in love with her. Should I tell her? Would that scare her?

I see her chitter a little, so I yank off my hoodie and pull it over her head. Hers is thin and small. Mine drowns her body, nearly coming down to her knees. “Thank you,” she says, fisting the cuffs and holding them to her cheeks. “It smells like you.”

“Don’t steal this one.”

She grins. “I’ll need to take it off before we go back to the tents, but I’ll steal it later.”

I smirk, pulling her closer to me by the knees. She buries her head in my chest. We stay like this for God knows how long. In a comfortable silence I’d like to stay in. But then the annoying thoughts start to run wild, so wild I’m shocked she can’t hear my heart slamming against my chest.

Gulping nervously, I allow myself to be honest by asking something that’s been bothering me for a while. “Does it not worry you? Who I am?”

Her head lifts. “What? Why would I be worried?”

“I’m the son of a psychopath who kidnapped his own girlfriend and killed multiple people. Does it not scare you that I might be the same as him? It’s genetically possible. You know how much I struggle with emotions.”

Without hesitation, she shakes her head. “You aren’t Tobias.”

“Then why can’t I stop thinking about you? What if it’s the start of an obsession like he has with my mother?”

She grins and pulls me to her, hooking her ankles behind my thighs.

She brushes her fingers through my hair. “I can’t stop thinking about you either. Does that make me a psychopath?”

I scoff. “Of course not.”

“Then there’s your answer. Can you kiss me now? I made it look like I was in my sleeping bag with blankets and a pair of headphones, but it’ll be noticeable now, so I need to go back.”

I chuckle and pull her lips to mine, doing as she says until our tongues are numb. We part ways, our fingers slipping free as she sneaks back into her tent, and I climb into mine.