Move the Stars (Something in the Way 3)

I stood across the room from him, waiting for his reaction. I wasn’t sure if he’d remember. He looked me over, his eyes lingering on the thin straps, the lacy edge of my pajama shorts. He took a drag and blew it right into the room.

“Manning.”

“Huh.”

“The smoke.”

Absentmindedly, he waved his hands, his eyes still on me. When he didn’t speak, I glanced down at the pink gingham pajama set I’d bought to wear on prom night. It was the same thin camisole and matching shorts I’d been wearing when Manning had set me on his kitchen counter and almost kissed me while Tiffany had slept in the next room. “It’s—”

“I know what it is.”

“I sewed the strap.”

“What was wrong with the strap?”

“You tore it that night,” I said.

A low grumble from his throat. I’d gotten the sense during our time together that Manning liked to be reminded of my younger self. Our gentle interactions from that time in our lives could be changed into the most forbidden kind of sex we could have. I would think of all the times I’d had to restrain myself and imagine acting on them. If we had access to that truck we’d gone out in the night on the lake, I’d fuck him in it.

But, even if it were true that our unspoken roleplay did it for both of us, perhaps there was a line. Now that I knew about Manning’s father, and what had driven Manning to such extremes in the past, it was possible he could use this as an opportunity to beat himself up. “Did I go too far?” I asked.

Skyscrapers rose behind him, lit windows dotting the darkness. He didn’t make a move, but the look in his eyes said come. Barefoot, I crossed the room. “Is it okay?” I asked. “I’ll change back.”

He took another hit of nicotine, adjusting his towel with one hand.

“Manning?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to say anything?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He put out his cigarette on the exterior windowsill and stood. With his hands on my shoulders, he walked me backward until the backs of my legs touched the bed.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He untied the string of my shorts. “I’m making love to you in your sweet pink pajamas, Birdy, that’s what I’m doing.”

17

Manning

I woke up with a pink-pajama-clad princess in my arms. After I’d made love to her well into the night, I’d had her put the pjs back on. Even now, as I opened my eyes and took in the outline of her breasts under the thin fabric, the sliver of skin under the hem of the top, my greedy dick twitched. I hadn’t been inside her for a few hours, and I wanted more.

Lake’s hair was tangled between us since she hadn’t brushed it after the shower and I’d had my hands in it all night. It also smelled fucking amazing. I buried my nose in it, and that led to nuzzling her neck, pressing kisses to her cheek. We’d only just gone to bed, but my time with her was limited. I had a flight to catch this afternoon.

I squeezed her close. Months of winter had made her pale, while my skin was brown and darkened with hair, like some kind of beast. I had a moment of panic that I wasn’t supposed to be in this hotel, that I’d actually sleepwalked into her bedroom, unable to help myself any longer, and taken her against her will.

She sighed and snuggled her ass into my crotch. “Manning?”

“Yeah, Birdy.”

Her cheeks went a little pink and she shook her head. “No, nothing. I just wanted to tell you how happy I am.”

“Hmm.” I didn’t buy it. There was something behind every sweet little “Manning?” and I wasn’t letting her get away with it. “You want something, but you have to tell me what,” I said. “I can’t read your mind.”

She was trying not to look giddy. After a moment, she repeated, “Manning?”

My chest rumbled with a chuckle. The sleepy, sated expression on her face made her seem even more adorable. Fuck, the obscene things I had done to her, and still planned to do . . . I really was a beast. “What is it?”

“You remember the other night how you made me, you know, with your mouth and hands?”

I kept laughing. “I remember.”

“Can you do that again?”

“I’ve corrupted you.”

“It’s just that it felt so good.”

“Aren’t you sore?” I asked.

“A little. That’s why your mouth feels nice.”

I’d gone overboard last night. I hadn’t meant to take her more times than I could count, but I wasn’t able to get enough. I’d come and be hard minutes later. I was so fucking scared of what would happen once I got on that plane. I wanted to stay and not deal with all the shit waiting for me at home.