‘Can’t wait.’
I mean I can’t wait to see him again, but I decide to let him think I’m clamoring to have his dick in my ass. If he wants to do it, I’ll end up letting him, so might as well have the added satisfaction of seeing him all eager for it.
I sigh and clench my pussy. I’m so wet. I’m pulsing all through class.
Art instruction techniques, my next class, includes a lecture on sculpting. I can’t quit picturing my hands over Kellan’s naked body. God, he’s hot. Soft, so
ft skin... The hardness underneath.
I can’t believe things have taken a turn this way. Kellan the asshole, Kellan the kinky bastard, is someone I like. Like... really like.
I’m not sure I can sit through class, I want to see him so badly. I want to touch him. Want to suck his dick. I really do. I want to cup his balls and stroke my finger over his taint and feel his cock pulse in my mouth. I want to hear those hoarse sounds he makes.
I want to swallow. And then after he’s satiated, when he’s gone all sleepy and soft, I want to curl around him and whisper funny things into his ear.
It’s strange to have these feelings. They’re so big and... engulfing. But I feel happy to lay myself at his feet. Why? Because he’s giving me something no one has in... ever, maybe. It’s... this sense of peace. In my counseling classes, my professors go on and on about a happy place. It’s like... this little mental cubby you create for yourself, a little bit of fantasy where you can just relax. It’s a conceptual thing—something to tell clients in therapy; they think of something traumatic, you’re supposed to steer them to a happy place when they’re done—but with Kellan, life feels like that. Cozy.
I slip out of art class a few minutes early and go wait for him behind the building. Mmm. I’m going to stroke his dick while he drives us back to his house. When we get there... God, it’s crazy to say, but I kind of hope he does put it inside me. Back there.
I smirk as I stand on the curb, watching the cars that flow in and out of the U-shaped lot.
I hope his uncle’s still doing okay. I wonder if he’ll talk about that sometime, and I hope he will. I think of how upset he was, and all I want is to make him feel good. The way he made me feel when we drove down to Albany.
I stand there for what seems like an entire day, feeling soft and raw and wanting and... exposed, in such a weird way. Like everyone who drives and walks by can see my longing for Kellan.
Maybe they can.
Geez, where is he? I check my phone, and find it’s ten after five.
That’s kind of strange. Maybe he got stuck in traffic. I don’t know where he parked, after all.
By 5:20, I haven’t seen him, and I can’t get an answer on his phone. I’m stuck between annoyed and concerned—until I remember my car is here on campus.
I rush to his house and find him sleeping in the windowed room. His shirt is unbuttoned, and he’s curled over with his palm pressed to his throat. I see a half a Xanax—it’s got jagged edges, like he bit it—on the bedside table and feel a curl of sympathy. Concern.
Something’s bugging him. My thoughts of sex fly out the window. Later, I think to myself.
I climb up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. I press my cheek against the firm plane of his back. In his sleep, Kellan sighs gently.
WHEN YOU ADD IT ALL UP, it’s never enough. It wasn’t enough with any of the others, and it’s fuck sure not with Cleo.
I watch her sleep. I stroke my dick and dream of sliding it inside her.
I’m not going to.
She doesn’t know it, but our time is up.
When I wake up in the canopied bed, I have no idea what time or even what day it is. Wasn’t Kellan in here with me? He was... I remember, but he’s not now. I’m alone. The window wall in front of me is dark, which makes it easy to see the flashing of my cell phone.
I hope for him until I see the number: (800) 627-7692.
Ugh. I quickly debate answering, and decide I will because I think it may be the Albany power company. One of the last times I went home, I dropped by the office and changed the phone number on my house’s account from Grans’ to mine. This way if they’re late on the bill, I can pay off some of it, so when Grans or Mom gets the money to pay it, it’s less than they expected.
I swallow, clearing the sleep from my throat. “Hello?”
“May I speak with Autumn Whatley?”
I slide off the bed, eager to go in search of Kellan. “This is Autumn—otherwise known as Cleo.”