“Of course he doesn’t.”
She raises her eyebrows. “He does. And you have one for him, I’d say.”
“I do not." I shake my head. “Emphatically, absolutely no. He’s a disgusting pig who thinks women exist solely so he can go after them. Didn’t you see him eye-fucking you?”
Jo laughs and cocks her head to the side. “No,” she says. “I didn’t. But you were paying a lot of attention to where his eyes were.”
“I’m not talking about it,” I insist. “Caulter Sterling is a no. A huge no.”
“I'm just saying.” She walks toward her car, this total beater she’s had since we were sixteen. “I bet he’s great in the sack.”
“Jo!” My voice is sharp. We're standing in front of my house, where anyone could overhear. But she just grins and shrugs.
“Later, bitch,” she says.
Jo is not right about Caulter. Caulter Sterling certainly does not have a thing for me, unless that thing involves trying to irritate me as much as possible. Or get his dick in me again.
The image of Caulter Sterling's dick flashes into my head and I try to push it aside. Caulter was a one-time deal, I tell myself. That's the whole point of a one night stand -- you never have to see the person again.
Of course, most one night stands don't then show up on your front doorstep to live with you for the summer.
It was one time only.
One time that happened to be really fucking good. Like, mind-blowingly good. The kind of thing you read about in dirty books.
My breath quickens at the thought of Caulter inside me. I can put him out of my head. I don't need to think about that night with Caulter. But once my mind goes there, it can't stop. It doesn't want to stop.
Caulter is above me, his movement gentle. I told him I wasn't a virgin; we both knew I was lying. He's probably deflowered lots of virgins, I think; he's probably an expert in virginity-taking. The way he moves inside me, his tenderness afterward as he cleans me up, makes me think that's definitely the case. Caulter Sterling: Virginity Removal Specialist. I picture the words on a business card, and it makes me laugh.
An hour later, he's teased me to the brink again, until I'm dripping with the anticipation of him. He rolls me on top of him, and I squirm, self-conscious under the intensity of his gaze. But his grip on my waist is firm. “Ride me."
"Caulter, I don't know --"
"Do you feel how fucking hard I am?" he asked. "I want you again."
"We don't always get what we want, Caulter," I tease.
"I do," he says.
Heat rushes through me at the thought of the way I'd slipped back onto his cock, despite the aching between my legs. I rode him, tentative at first, until it started to feel so good that I lost my self-consciousness, eagerly leaning forward so Caulter could close his lips around my breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive area around my nipple.
I tell myself to stop fantasizing about Caulter. But I can't help it, even now, knowing that he's right downstairs talking to my father. The fact that he's downstairs makes it even more irresistible and thrilling.
Undoing the button on my jeans, I slip them over my hips and slide my hand between my legs. My finger presses against my clit, sending warmth radiating through my body. My nipples harden against the fabric of my bra, and I slide my other hand underneath my shirt, pushing my finger between the lace bra cup and my skin.
I masturbated before Caulter, but I swear that screwing him did something to my brain; I feel completely preoccupied with sex. It's like my hormones are in overdrive. I wonder if that's what happens when everyone loses their virginity, or if it's something about Caulter that's making me a sex-crazed lunatic. Maybe Jo was right -- maybe Caulter did have some kind of magic touch.
Caulter and his magic cock. The thought would make me laugh if I weren't so damn horny. I slide my hand under the pillow on the bed, reaching for the vibrator I'd tucked in the pillowcase this morning. Pushing my jeans further down my legs, I roll the vibrator over my clit until the emptiness between my legs is too impossible to resist.
I tease my entrance with the toy as the vibrations pulse through me. It slides easily inside, aided by my wetness, and I angle it to hit my g-spot, the place Caulter seemed to be such an expert at reaching. Ignoring the buzzing of the vibrator, I imagine that it's Caulter inside me, that Caulter's mouth is on my breast; that the tip of his cock is pressing up against the walls of my pussy.
I imagine that it's Caulter whispering in my ear: "Your pussy is so slick and warm, so damn tight, the way it squeezes my cock."
It's imagining his dirty talk that pushes me over the edge, and I come quickly, my muscles clenching down around the toy. I bite my lip, cutting off the cry of pleasure that escapes, and lying back with my head on the pillow as the fluttering of my muscles slowly subsides.
I'm still so wrapped up in my thoughts about Caulter that the knock on the door makes me jump. Shit, shit, shit. Sliding the vibrator from between my legs and stuffing it underneath the pillow, I yank my pants up. I already know it's not my father, who retreats to his office working late after dinner, regardless of what day it is. When I reach the door, my heart is still thumping loudly in my chest.
"Evening, sis." Caulter stands in front of the door with a smirk on his face, and my heart sinks. I immediately stick my foot out to prevent the door from swinging open further, and cross my arms in front of my chest.