Starlee's Hope (The Wayward Sons 4)

I cross the room and stand between him and the screen. His focus shifts from the game, sliding over to me. That’s when he looks at me for the first time, eyes widening slightly. The gallery is upscale and I’d worn a black dress. The front is a little more low-cut than I normally like, but the boys definitely gave it their approval when I walked out of my dorm room. Now that I have Charlie’s attention, I can see he likes it as well.

“Hi,” he says, lowering the device to the floor. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.” I sweep my eyes over him. “You look not very ready.”

He leans back in his seat, blue towel wrapped around his waist. His skin is pale, but his chest and shoulders developed. George, worried about his twin’s sedentary life, makes him work out with him at the school fitness center. Personally, I think it’s just a way for George to see his brother every day. It’s pretty cute.

Charlie’s also cute, with his damp, disheveled hair and square-framed glasses. His bottom lip is red from where he worried it while playing and I lean forward, hovering my mouth over his. He licks his lips, eyes flicking from my chest, to my mouth back up to my eyes.

“We have a few minutes before anyone expects us at the gallery. Which means you can keep playing that game or, you know, we could spend it doing other things.”

“Other things” is open ended. The last few months have been about building trust, adjusting to changes, exploring one another. Distance has allowed us a different way to communicate. Text, emails, even a few letters. We’ll talk at night on the phone, and there’s something that helps him by not having to face me directly as he lowers his guard. When we’re together, things are good. Progressing. Although, we still haven’t had sex, which in this situation is not a detriment at all. Charlie may drive me crazy with his focus on gaming, but he parlays that intensity into our intimacy. He studies me, learning how to play me as well as his favorite games. My body became his playground and his dexterous fingers the instruments to provide me pleasure. Great, earth-shattering pleasure. At this point I’m not even sure what’s holding us back, but I’m starting to think that’s a game in and of itself. How much can we drive each other crazy before going all the way.

Frankly, I’m tipping over the edge of insanity.

Standing over him, I tease him for a moment longer, our breath lingering over one another’s lips, but he finally caves first, sitting up and kissing me. It’s a welcome. A hello. The kind I feel in every fiber of my being. His hands skim the back of my legs, until he reaches the hem of my skirt, then he pushes that up, up, up.

I tug away the towel, unsurprised he’s already hard and ready. It’s a familiar sight when you have four boyfriends in their prime. They’re always ready and Charlie is no different, although bigger. I reach for the velvet of his skin as cool air greets my backside and he uses those slender, quick fingers to discard my panties. I crawl into his lap, warm and wet between us. Hard and soft. For the first time I don’t want his fingers on me. I want his cock in me.

I tell him so.

“Yeah?” he asks, but there’s not an ounce of hesitation in his eyes. I kiss him in response and he lifts me by the waist, lowering me slowly onto him. My body aches from the size of him, but it’s like the final, missing piece of the puzzle snaps into place.

We do it this way, in the chair, where we can see one another’s faces. Where I can kiss his mouth and his hands hold onto me like a lifeline. I grip the back of the seat and when the build-up is too much, and the sensations are overwhelming, our eyes hold, our souls connected. My teeth clamp down on his bottom lip when I finally shatter, barely coherent as the ripples roll down my spine. My movements have barely slowed when his breathing grows erratic and I swallo

w his grunts, the deep guttural groan as he follows me down the bath of bliss.

“That,” he says, pressing his sticky forehead to mine, “was worth the wait.”

I laugh, kissing him again. “I love you, Charlie Evans.”

“I love you, too, Starlee Jones.”

Spring, Sophomore Year

“Do you have your passport?”

“Yes.”

“Your I.D.?”

“Yep.”

“Your money, phone, and the contact information for when you get there.”

“Yes, babe, I’ve got it all together.” George kisses my forehead in an attempt to soothe me.

“Oh,” I say, unsoothed. I reach into my purse and pull out a plastic baggie. “This is a mini first-aid kit. Band-Aids, ointment, some of those suture kits. I added some allergy and pain meds and stuff.”

He blinks but takes it, stashing it in his backpack. There’s a small grin on his lips. “Anything else, Mom?”

I push him. “I’m not trying to be your mom, I’m just…I can’t believe you’re leaving for three months to go to Spain.”

George’s fingers thrum against the chair. We’re at the airport, just outside security. He has five minutes until he has to walk through and I feel like I may throw up. He must sense it because he tosses his arms around my body and pulls me into this chest. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know. I just already don’t see you as much as I want to, and,” I sniff, trying not to wipe my nose on his shirt, “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, but this opportunity…it’s a good one, Star.”