Page 53 of Finding Fate
Riggan smiles behind the rim of his beer bottle. “He’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Yep. The girl that makes you fall fucks you if you do and fucks you if you don’t. Either way is miserable until you give in. Konnor walks up and sits in the middle, the smell of weed lingering. He went to smoke away from everyone. He has his little weed spot since their girls are pregnant. “Why is Landon all pissy? He’s been in a decent mood today. He was conversing with me. Do you know how rare that is?”
A laugh slips. Minutes after and she had the boy talking. I look at Riggan, who’s slightly shaking his head. Yeah, probably not best to tell him our band mate is screwing his seventeen-year-old virgin sister-in-law. “A girl back home sent him a Snap of her snatch. Not much he can do about it all the way in Miami. He’ll whack it one good time and be fine.”
“Damn. That sucks,” Konnor says, completely serious, making the shit even funnier. The only thing he’s going to whack it with is the young piece in the jacuzzi over there that’s barely covered. I don’t know what it is about that teenage pussy—it hooks you for life.
Thirty-One
Landon
Iopen my eyes again to the dark room, getting more pissed with every sleepless minute that passes. I’ve laid here staring at the ceiling. I’ve closed my eyes and gone over music in my head, trying to clean up Riggan’s sheet music for the new song he’s been working on, which usually tires me out when I’m wired. Didn’t work this time.
I even scrolled through the black hole that is Instagram, only to end up on Paxtyn’s fucking account, which did nothing but piss me off more seeing some of the shit she posts on a public profile. Her follower number is insane. She can’t possibly know that many people. Half of them are probably following her to see her fine ass posting slutty photos. Where the hell are her parents? If my niece ever gets brave enough to post shit like that when she gets older, I’m going to wear her ass out with a belt.
I made the mistake of reading the never-ending comments—well into the hundreds—on the one she took in front of a long mirror wearing a white tee shirt and panties with her nipples showing through the fabric. After about the thirtieth sexual male comment describing, in great detail, what he’d do to her, I couldn’t stomach any more. If my hand had clamped shut a second later my phone would have hit the wall. How the hell she was still a virgin is beyond me.
Still, I can’t sleep. There is a hot girl in my bed. I don’t sleep with girls except on the rare occasion when my sister needs a night out when she’s off and my mom the night off, meaning my niece and nephew come stay overnight with me. My dad is gone working too much for her to worry him with it. They have their own room in my trailer, but it never fails. They migrate from their room to my bed in the middle of the night.
Not only is a hot girl in my bed, but she’s in thecenterof my bed, like she doesn’t know what ‘your side of the bed’ means. Two grown-ass people don’t split a half. If I haven’t felt her ass against me once I’ve felt it a hundred times. To top it off, I’m sexually frustrated. I’ve watched her drink and dance to music on a Bluetooth party speaker all night with Gabby in a swimsuit that shows more tit than it covers, which led me to drinking more to drown out my thoughts, and when we came down here around three a.m. she grabbed a change of clothes and went straight to the shower.
After the conversation with Riggan and Maddox earlier, I pretended I was passed out when she came back. I have nothing but sexual feelings for her. The second she leaves I’ll forget about her. She’ll be that high school chick I banged one time. I just met her for fuck’s sake. I don’t like people assuming shit about me. Yeah, okay, I’ll admit there’s a certain turn-on factor in knowing that you’re plowing through clean, untouched pussy, but most guys experience it once in a lifetime. It’s not as big of a deal as they make it out to be. It’s no different than buying a new truck. It’s only new until you drive it off the lot, but just because you’re the only owner doesn’t mean you like it any more than every other used truck.
I sit up and throw my legs off the edge of the bed, agitated. I could just go sleep on the air mattress, which was the original plan. Just because I choose not to respect most girls, doesn’t mean I don’t know how. I was taught better than to let a girl sleep on the floor while I take the bed. Respect is earned for me. It’s not a gender-given right. I walk around to the foot of the bed and stop.
Go get on the damn mattress.
She rolls over and kicks the cover off, making a noise, her body now in the direct line of moonlight coming from the narrow high window that serves as the emergency exit for the basement. Panties and a tight tank top showing the full shape of her rack. The girl couldn’t have a more perfect pair of big tits without them being fake.
I grab my quickly growing dick through my boxer briefs, trying to make it stop, but it’s too far gone. A breath of frustration blows through my nostrils. I wonder what she tastes like. I haven’t done that in a long damn time. At least a few years. I think I was twenty-one, give or take. I used to like it, but I’m not shoving my tongue between the legs of every girl I sleep with. With a stock in condoms I don’t ask enough questions to know where she’s been before me or how recent. It’s gross if you stop and think about it, and when I do is usually the time I find a steady fuck for a little while until I can’t stand her anymore. They always grate my nerves within three months, and I work off two weeks of every one. They always want more than sex. The question of ‘when can I meet your family’ is always asked. I always dump them when they do.
She’s clean. Hell, she’s cleaner than any of them. If I want to go down on a girl now is my chance. You know what? Fuck it. I’ll be going back to work soon where the only attention my dick will get is my hand if I want it that bad. I grab her ankle and jerk her to the middle of the bed. She gasps for air as she jerks upright, waking up. I shove my boxer briefs down my legs and step out as she rubs at her eyes. “Landon? What are you doing? You scared the hell out of me.”
A tingle runs down my spine at the sound of my name rolling off her tongue. It sounds different somehow. I don’t know why I like it. Maybe because it sounds much more innocent when she’s half asleep than the girl on that Instagram account should sound or the smart-ass bitchy version when she’s fully awake. I hop on the bed, grabbing the back of her thighs and coming between them, standing on my knees. I look down at her as I pull off her tank top, her long hair slipping through and spilling over her shoulders and back. “Couldn’t sleep. You’re hogging the bed. If I can’t sleep, you’re not sleeping.”
One side of her mouth pulls up. “Sorry. I’m not used to sharing a bed.”
I lean forward, pushing her back until her head hits the mattress. “No you’re not.”
“You’re right. I was being nice. I was sleeping good.” She blinks at me from behind long, dark lashes, and the way the moonlight cascades across her face, it dawns on me that she’s not wearing makeup, and I can’t help but stare. I’ll be damned. I didn’t think I’d ever meet a girl that looked equally as hot without makeup as she is with it. I guess when you get used to seeing so many cake that shit on you learn to like it. “What? Do I have something on my face?” She feels around it with her hands. “Oh . . . I don’t sleep in makeup. Breakouts are gross. Consider yourself lucky. No one sees me like this outside of who I live with.”
“Why do you even wear it? You don’t need it.”
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Because I like it. Not everyone needs deodorant but that doesn’t mean they should go without it. Wait, did you just compliment me?”
I sit up, already pulling her panties down her legs, ignoring the question. I let the string of fabric dangle from my finger. “Do you only own whoring panties?”
She snatches them and tosses them aside. “I thought we established this. Whores are people who have sex with lots of other people, especially in a short amount of time. I have had sex with you . . . once. If anyone is the whore here, it’s you.”
“I don’t deny those accusations. Why do you need to sleep in see-through underwear if no one is going to see them? Do you not believe in white? Or cotton?”
“White is for brides or Jesus. After so long it gets hideously dingy. I save it for rare wear. Cotton is for comfort, reserved for lazy days or period week. What the hell is your deal with my waxed vagina and sexy underwear? Do you give all your booty calls the third degree, or is this just a hick thing? You’re giving off not sexy controlling vibes. Where I come from girls that take care of themselves are appreciated.”
“My booty calls have long shed their v-cards. There is no confusion as to what we’re going to be doing. Sexy underwear and a clean-shaven or trimmed to the skin pussy are expected when I’m going to be in it and around it. Girls have an underlying motive for everything.”
She lightly slaps my cheek, making my dick twitch. “Quit it, you little country psycho. You don’t have pubes. I don’t have pubes. Based on the fact that you don’t wear unflattering boxers or man-panties, you wear what the general female population prefers. I wear panties that I like and make me feel sexy, while also serving a double purpose. Should I choose to let someone graze in my field, I’ll also be prepared. Get the fuck over it.”
I come over her, capturing her lips with mine. She moans into my mouth, just before her tongue pushes inside, and then her hands become mobile. That mouth of hers makes my dick ache with need and throb for heat. I don’t fucking understand it. Normally I’m the asshole with a sensitive female. It’s boring to be around someone that can’t take a little heat.