Deeper (Caroline & West #1)(67)
“I’ve got my pink silk shirt on.” I can hear the shift in her voice, too. Saying yes.
I slip my hand inside my shorts.
“And that long, tight brown skirt,” she adds. “Brown boots.”
“You have boots?”
“Sure. Every girl in America has boots.”
A tight grip. A slow stroke. “You’ll have to wear them for me sometime.”
“Why?”
“I like boots.”
The strain. There’s nothing like it—so bad and so good. It’s in every muscle in my body.
“Oh.” The sound is a sigh.
“Hey, rich girl?”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“Turn the volume off on the TV.”
I wait, working up a rhythm. The background noise fades to nothing. I can hear her breathing.
“What do you think they get up to in that closet?” I ask her. “You know, when the camera cuts away?”
There’s a pause. “I never really thought about it.”
“You wanna think about it now?”
“Maybe.”
“Where’s your hands?”
“Mmm. I’m not sure I’m saying.”
“Put one of them someplace interesting.”
She sniffs, a kind of laugh, and I wait a few seconds to make sure she’s doing it. Then I say, quiet and low, “I think they started off kissing.”
“Yeah.”
“And the kissing got hot, and he pushed her back down onto the bench.”
“I’m not sure there’s a bench.”
“There’s a bench. It’s long and flat, with no back on it, so he can lay her down and kneel next to her and push her skirt up past her knees.”
“It’s kind of long and tight, though. I don’t think he could push it up.”
“He’s good with skirts. He doesn’t have to take it off. He just pushes it up and leaves it up, so she feels the air on her thighs and starts to worry they’re gonna get caught. It’s exciting, thinking that. Maybe someone will walk in on them, the good girl with her legs spread, the bad boy kneeling there on the floor, kissing her. Touching her.”
“Where’s he touching her?”
“Everywhere except where she really wants it the most.”
She inhales deep and her breath catches. I’ve heard her do that before. Seen her do that. The sound draws up a surge of heat from my balls, and I slick it over the head, draw it down. Slow and tight.
“What are you doing, Caro?”
“What do you want me to be doing?”
“I want you on your back with your skirt up and your legs spread.”
That gets me a muffled mmph.
“You’re there already, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s my girl.”
“What are you doing?”
“Honey, you know what I’m doing.”
“Like last time?” she asks. “Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah.”
She’s just breathing.
“He’s got her shirt pushed up now,” I tell her. “His mouth on her stomach. Moving down.”
“She’s nervous.”
“How come?”
“She’s never done this before. It’s exciting.”
“He likes the way she smells. How smooth her legs are, how pale she is. Like a secret. She’s wearing yellow panties under there, just plain ones. Are they wet, Caroline?”
She kind of squeaks, and my grip tightens. God, I love that squeak.
“Tell me.”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, I thought so. Wet through her panties, and he’s going to go ahead and straddle that bench and get his nose right down there, pushing into the wet spot.”
“That’s crude.”
“He’s crude. That’s why she likes him.”
“That’s not the only reason.”
“It’s one, though. She thinks he’s exciting. She loves knowing he thinks about her when she’s not around. That she makes him hard. Makes him come in his bed, in his shower, but he’s never touched her.”
“God. That’s hot.”
I smile.
“Why’s he like her?” she asks.
I have to think about it—not the easiest thing to do with your hand on your dick, but I manage. “He likes that she doesn’t know all the things he knows. That she hasn’t seen the worst of life.”
“She’s seen more than he thinks.”
“Maybe, but she’s still got this air around her, like the bad things can never really touch her.”
“She’d hate that,” Caroline says. “If he told her that was why—she’d be disappointed.”
“But that’s not the only reason. It’s not even the main one.”
“What’s the main one?”
I try to focus on the movie. Not Caroline on her couch, spread open, touching herself. “That she’s there in the closet. She’s brave, once she’s made up her mind what she wants. Fierce.”
“He likes her when she’s fierce?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”