Starlee's Hope (The Wayward Sons 4)

“Whatever,” she says, but I see the smile on her pink lips, “you guys are pretty lovable.”

“No,” I tell her, tilting her chin so she looks at me, “you not only found the best in us and so many others, but you know how to cultivate it. Discern needs. I think that may be your real calling.”

The glassy, intoxicated look in her eyes fades completely and Starlee lifts her mouth, kissing me under the jaw. Her lips are warm, her tongue hot, and her breath fans over my skin as she marks territory. I grit my teeth as her hands wander, settling on my belly, slipping beneath my shirt. I wrap my fingers around her wrist and stop her movements.

Using every ounce of willpower, I say, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

A little line slashes across the bridge of her nose. “Why?”

“Because you’re drunk and you and I have agreed to take this slow. This doesn’t feel slow.”

She pushes herself up on her elbow, jostling the chains. “First of all, I’m not drunk. Swear.” She makes a cross sign over her heart. “Second, just because we’re moving slow doesn’t mean we don’t move at all.”

It’s not exactly that I do want it slow, but I never thought I’d find myself in this moment; with a (slightly) intoxicated Starlee, wrapped under a cozy blanket on a swaying bed. My brother wouldn’t think twice about this and my dick, honestly, isn’t thinking twice either. My desire for Starlee has reached epic proportions. I can’t pretend I haven’t been hard this whole time—which is why I know that I can’t trust myself.

“You tell me I have good instincts,” she says, loosening the grip I still have on her wrist, “that I know what you need. I think you’re scared of this. Being this close to me, and I think it’s time to let go. To trust me.” I’m frozen as she slides her hand back under my shirt, fingers playing with the hair below my belly button. I shiver and fight a groan, stifling it by pressing her mouth to mine.

Starlee’s tongue tastes like fruit punch and I lick her lips as the bed sways gently beneath us. She lies beside me, the mattress big enough for the both of us, and I’m overly aware of her fingers dipping beneath my waistband before deftly unbuttoning my jeans. My stomach caves, trembles, and I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t falling apart at her touch.

She’s right. I’ve been scared to let go—waiting for some perfect moment, when life seems less crazy and I feel more under control, but I realize as the zipper is lowered and she frees me from my boxers, there is no control with this moment—or maybe ever when it comes to Starlee.

I should be paranoid that we’re at a party or that my brothers could be looking for us, but all I feel is the heat of her hands and mouth. She’s pushed up my shirt and blazes a trail down my stomach while her hand strokes up and down my length. My jaw clenches when her fingertips graze against my balls.

“You’re big,” she says, suddenly. “Like…big.”

Barbaric, antiquated, chauvinistic…whatever, hearing that makes a man feel good. Hearing it from Starlee--because of the others--makes me feel confident.

I don’t know what to do with my hands, but I see the strain of her nipples against the fabric of her tank, both from the cool air and arousal. I run my thumb over one, feeling the hard pebble, then circle around it slowly, eliciting a moan of her own as she writhes against my side. That moan, god, it’s the kind of thing a guy dreams about. Something you want but never really think will happen. But it is and then she looks up at me with flushed cheeks and a red mouth and scoots to the opposite end of the bench.

I’m completely and utterly both ready and not ready for the smile she gives me before leaning into me, or heat of her tongue on my cock. The sheer bliss that overwhelms me as she takes me in her mouth. My hands push into her hair as the dynamic shifts; my hips, my desire, my longing propelling me to lead. Another guy may get jealous wondering where she got so good at this, how she knows exactly what to do, but I know who. I know how, and I simply reap the benefits of a partner with experience.

I’m too consumed to feel awkward as my balls tighten and my cock grows ridiculously, overwhelmingly hard. I’m too in love with the way Starlee handles me, sucks me, licks me. I want her mouth everywhere. I want my dick inside her. Those fears from before subside, as my breathing grows deep—guttural—and little pants come from her mouth.

Up on that little screen porch, above our drunk and frolicking classmates, I come fully and harshly into Starlee’s mouth. I want to roar as the cum spills from me, but in that manner, I do hold back, but that’s the only way. I give her everything, my seed, my trust, my hope. I don’t know if she wanted it that way, if it’s okay, but she does it, willingly, and from the smirk on her lips, happily. Spent, I fall back into the pillows, the soft fabric engulfing me.

“Holy shit, Star.”

“I told you that you’d like slow.”

I laugh and try to catch my breath, regain my senses.

“Jasper’s mother probably never thought such depravity would happen up here,” I say, refastening my pants and then pulling her to me. “You were right. I was holding back. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she snuggles into my side. “It was perfect.”

“Perfect will be when you and I make love for the first time,” I tell her, brushing her hair off her neck and kissing her softly.

“Thank you for helping me understand what I’m good at—” I raise my eyebrows and she pinches me and laughs. “No. Not just that, although I think I am getting pretty proficient, right?”

“Uh, definitely.” I kiss her again. “I know what you mean. You’re going to find your passion, Starlee, I have no doubt about that.”

She looks up at me with those emerald green eyes and I see hope glinting back. I’m learning life is a balance of risk and reward. There’s no way the girl next to me won’t be amazing at whatever it is she decides to do. She just has to have a little faith in herself.

19

Starlee

I feel better after the party than before, and not just because I blew off some steam singing with the girls or finally got Charlie to let down his guard (and his pants), but because he’d showed me something I’d been missing. I come in the house quietly, not wanting to wake LeeLee, and change and brush my teeth. I spot my computer when I get in my bedroom and stare at it.