Flirt: Bad Boy Romance (14 page)

Still feeling a little high from coming, I smiled as I tugged on zipper.

It was stuck.

I yanked and pulled and tried my hardest.

The zipper wouldn’t budge. At all!

There weren’t any scissors in my room, so I cracked open my door, made sure no one was in the hallway, and darted to the bathroom. The clippers there were too weak. No way could I risk going downstairs. The chances of someone seeing me were way too high. How would that look? My pajama bottoms were so short it probably looked like I was wearing the leather jacket and nothing else, and everyone in the house knew how much Wes loved his jacket.

I pulled on my hair. What could I do? The darn zipper refused to cooperate. I needed…help.

In a panic, I realized I would have to wait for Wes to come upstairs after he finished washing and hand drying the dishes.

It wouldn’t be that bad. He’d laugh, maybe tease me a little, but he’d figure out a way to get this darn jacket off.

And then I could crawl back into my room and curl into a ball, wanting to die.

Why had I put the stupid thing on in the first place? Yes, it had felt incredible against my skin, especially my nipples…and it still did.

Gah. I was so nervous and frustrated that I was bouncing on my toes. How long was it going to take him?

I paced around my room for almost a half hour then sat on my bed. Another ten minutes passed and found me lying on my bed. Finally, I heard footsteps on the stairs and then his door opening and closing.

Geez, he sure took his time.

Taking a deep breath, I screwed up my resolve and went to his room. It wasn’t easy to admit it, the words wouldn’t come at first, but I finally managed to spit it all out.

Well, not about the jacket helping me to orgasm.

Wes was kind enough not to laugh, but the look in his eyes…I saw that look one other time. It was how he looked at me at the party. Like I was beautiful, like I mattered. I could feel my pulse race, and my underwear dampened even more.

He walked over to me, and I held perfectly still as he tried to mess with the zipper.

“It never caught on anything for me,” he muttered. He jammed it up and down, but the zipper didn’t move in either direction. Hand to his chin, he took a step back then nodded. “Let’s try pulling it off of you.”

I nodded. I’d do anything to get it off.

Get him off.

Wow, I was tired. And horny yet.

I lifted my arms above my head, and Wes tried to pull it up and over me, but that didn’t work either. I was going to be trapped in this leather jacket forever, and all because I wanted to smell Wes, to pretend he was with me.

He sighed. “I don’t want to use scissors.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. I bit my lower lip. The last thing I wanted was for his jacket to be ruined because of my selfishness, because of giving into my darkest sexual desire.

“I’ll just tear it open.”

What? No!

But what other option was there?

Inside, I was freaking out, but on the outside, I was trying desperately to act casual. But he knew.

He smiled down at me. “I’ll close my eyes,” he offered.

No teasing. No judgment. No mockery.

“I don’t care if you look,” I whispered.

Wes stepped closer to me.

I stared at his broad chest. He was strong and muscular, but would he really be able to rip it open?

He gripped it in tight fists and on his second try tore it open successfully. Wes didn’t close his eyes, and he wasn’t looking way. The look in his eyes was back, and he was staring at me, at my half naked body. Wouldn’t quite call it gawking. More like he was appreciating me.

Then he shook his head and threw me his jacket to cover up with.

Whatever spell had been weaving around us was broken. I took a few steps backward then whirled around and rushed to my room. I didn’t realize he followed me until he said, “You really are so pretty,” in a low, soft tone.

My cheeks had to be burning. I tossed him the jacket. It landed on his face. “Thank you. I’m sorry. Good night.” I was rambling.

He didn’t seem to mind. “Good night, April.”

Wes left my room, and I went to bed, feeling good again, almost as good as I’d felt right after my orgasm.

Wes

April’s expression as I closed her bedroom door behind me made me even harder. There wasn’t anything sexual about it. She’d looked so…happy. And it made her look even more beautiful. And just because I’d told her the truth about how pretty she was.

And sexy and funny and smart.

She wasn’t perfect, but she was damn close.

I returned to my room and shut and locked the door. I lay on my bed and tried to calm myself down, but whenever I closed my eyes, all I could see was how amazing and hot April looked in my leather jacket.

My nose wrinkled, and I sneezed. What was that smell? It didn’t take me long to realize I was smelling my jacket, and it took me even less time to realize I was smelling April. But then again, I wasn’t smelling April. I was smelling her sex.

She must have masturbated with my leather jacket or while wearing it. Just the thought made me instantly rock hard again. All of my lust came to a peak as the realization of just how badly I wanted her overwhelmed me. I could just go to her room, and she’d be wet already, wet for me.

Should I, though? Risk it? Risk everything? If Walter found out, he’d kick me out or maybe try to get me arrested, calling it rape. What if her mom found out? April seemed close with her mom. I wouldn’t want to come between them. I had no idea what it was like to be close to a parent.

And April…well, while she might want me, I wasn’t sure if she’d have me. So, yeah, it would probably be in my best interest to not return to her room tonight.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t think about her…daydream about her…pretend to be fucking her.

I smelled the jacket. Yes, definitely her juices. It was heady enough to get my own juices flowing.

Within seconds, I stripped bare ass naked. My hands gripped my cock, and I stroked myself slowly. I could just picture her on her bed, squirming around, wearing my jacket, touching her breasts, fingering herself, bringing herself close to the edge, and closer and closer. I didn’t hear her at all so this time she’d hadn’t shouted my name. Maybe she mumbled it instead. With surprising clarity, I could just imagine how it would feel to kiss April, to push my tongue against her lips to part them, to invade her mouth.

The thought of it—of having April, of us going all the way—was too much for me, and I came. It was good, very good, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. I wanted her. I wanted more of her. No good. Not good at all.

Frustrated, I forced myself to think about anything else. I thought about my mother and how she ended up here. How her life had seemed so perfect at first, but there were so many cracks in it that threatened to tear it away from her. If she thought her happiness was tied to Walter’s, she was going to end up very unhappy one day.

I thought about Yvonne and how it seemed like she was Walter’s wife. Considering that he almost divorced Jacqueline because she couldn’t have any more kids made that understandable. Yvonne just gave birth to a baby for him.

The baby. Penelope. I was almost as worried about her as I was April. The boys seemed to be handling things all right, but Penelope was too innocent to be brought up in this mess. At least April was going to be free soon.

April and her mom. Roslyn. She sure was nice to me, a lot nicer than my own mother. Why? What did she want from me? Or had April talked to her? About us?

Was there an us? Not really. Did I want that to change? Yeah. But how could that happen? I had a feeling April would stop me if I ever tried to put a move on her. She was too stuck under her father’s thumb.

Well, none of this mattered. I would be leaving soon, and I was never going to see any of them again. The thought of working on motorcycles for the rest of my life was calming, and I fell asleep thinking of April riding to school with me on my bike.

April

The next morning, I woke up in a great mood. I looked around for my favorite blue top, the one that matched my eyes, wanting to wear it to school, but I couldn’t find it. Maybe Mom knew where it was.

I left my room and opened her door. I never knocked on hers. But maybe I should have. Because she was holding Penelope. Breastfeeding her.

“Mom…” I closed the door behind me.

Mom shifted Penelope in her arms. “Go ahead and ask,” she said quietly.

“But you…you lost your baby…” My mind was curiously blank. I sat beside her on the bed.

“I didn’t. Penelope is mine. She’s your sister, not a half-sister.” She sat Penelope on her lap and dressed, covering herself.

“But why? Why have everyone think Penelope is Yvonne’s?” It made zero sense to me.

Penelope kicked her foot, and I grabbed it, giving it a gentle squeeze. She giggled. Half-sister or real sister, either way, I loved her.

“You know Yvonne and I got pregnant at almost the same time.” Mom took a deep breath. “Yvonne was the one to miscarry. She was so distraught when I had a successful birth. It was such a difficult time for her, and Walter insisted I was being selfish.”

“So Yvonne gets everything. She gets the baby and Walter’s love and devotion.” I sounded so incredibly bitter. How could Mom stand to be in the same room as her?

“Don’t call your father by his name,” Mom scolded gently.

“Sorry,” I muttered. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d been devastated when Dad told me Mom had lost the baby. How could he have lied to me about something so huge? And Yvonne…what a farce.

A few times I’d seen Mom with Penelope when Yvonne had been come home from work, and the look on her face…I hadn’t thought much of it before, but Yvonne had looked, well, like a fire-breathing dragon. She looked almost murderous. I knew she hated her job, so I just figured she’d had a rough day, but what if work had nothing to do with it? What if she resented Mom even though Mom wasn’t even raising one of her daughters as her own?

If Yvonne were to ever catch Mom breastfeeding Penelope, it would be pure hell. Just look at the grief Yvonne gave Wes for no good reason.

“How could you agree—”

“April.” Mom hung her head. “Sometimes you have to make sacrifices and—”

“You call this a sacrifice? I call it—”

“April, please.” Mom’s expression twisted with despair. “I’m making the best of a terrible, awkward situation. I can’t imagine what Yvonne went through. Losing a child…”

“You have lost a child,” I muttered under my breath.

She handed me Penelope, and any sorrow vanished from her face. “I have the both of you in my life. What more do I need?” Mom wrapped her arm around me for a one-armed hug.

I laid my head on her shoulder. I’d never understand this. I’d never accept this. If that was the kind of sacrifice a poly marriage required, I wasn’t so sure it was right for me. Mom was either incredibly strong or…

Or nothing. She was strong. Stronger than I could ever be.

“Please,” Mom begged. “Don’t breathe a word of this to your father. He thought it would be easier for you if you didn’t know.”

“Easier?” I snorted, hugging Penelope so tight she squirmed and pushed me away as much as she could. All those times I’d cried both alone and with Mom. Only Mom had been crying for losing a baby in a different way. No less heartbreaking though.

Mom just shook her head. “Promise me you won’t talk to him about this.”

“I…” I wanted to seek him out, to give him a piece of my mind, to tell him exactly what I thought about his favoritism. How could he dare put Mom through this? Yvonne paraded Penelope in front of Mom all the time. It had to be a dagger to Mom’s heart.

Did Dad even care about Mom at all?

Or me for that matter?

“Hush now,” Mom said gently. “I love you, and I love Penelope, and we’re together.”

After a moment, I nodded.

Mom leaned close. “Walter has been making other plans,” she told me quietly, her voice strained. “Please be on your best behavior.”

I pulled back so I could look into her eyes. She seemed to be pleading. I didn’t understand what was going on—and I had a feeling I didn’t want to know, but that I would be finding out soon enough anyhow—and I felt so sorry for Mom. If there was any way I could make things easier on her, I would.

“I will,” I promised. “You be careful too. Now I have to get going.” I handed her back Penelope.

“Why did you come by in the first place?” Mom kissed my forehead and then Penelope’s.

“Nothing important.” I hugged them and rushed back to my room. I changed into the first shirt I touched in my drawer and ran downstairs.

Walter stood by the front door, and I winced. I wasn’t an actress. He’d know something was up.

“April.”

I jumped. “Yeah, Dad?”

He grimaced, and I winced again. Dad always hated when I said “yeah” instead of “yes.”

“I have to get going.” I pointed to the front door. “Don’t want to be late!”

“I need to talk to you. It’ll only take a minute.”

I nodded, not making eye contact with him.
Best behavior, April.
“Sure.”

“I was wondering what you think of Wesley, since the two of you spend so much time together because of school.”

It shouldn’t surprise me that he wanted to talk about Wes, but my mind is still on the deceit he and Yvonne were pulling. P and P loved their little sister. Would they one day blame her if they ever learned about the trickery? I hoped not. Man, this was so messed up!

While I was glad he didn’t bring up Penelope, or Yvonne, I couldn’t help starting to panic. Why was he asking me about Wes? There was no way Dad might know what’s been going on? Right?

My mind had just about short-circuited, but I managed to say evenly, “He’s all right.” Maybe I’d delayed too long in answering, but there was nothing he could read into
that
. All right meant nothing special. All right meant nothing important. All right meant…whatever.

But his kisses had been special and important.

At least to me.

Although the look on his face last night…maybe I meant something to him too.

My cheeks were burning. So glad I was staring at Dad’s shoes.

“Gotta—”

“You think he’s all right? What else?” Dad pressed.

I didn’t say anything. Maybe silence would be better.

“Why are you being so quiet? I would’ve thought you’d hate Wesley by now. He’s such a disappointing and unscrupulous sinner after all.”

I was fuming mad. Like, foaming at the mouth mad. I doubted I ever felt this furious ever before. How could Dad dare to judge Wes after the con he was pulling, and the pain he was forcing Mom to endure?

“Actually, Dad, Wes has been perfectly nice to me, and he does well in school.”

Too late. Too much.

I glanced up to see Dad staring down at me. I could practically see the gears turning in his mind, especially him processing my calling Wesley Wes.

“But you’re right,” I said in a desperate attempt to backpedal. “He does need a lot of work,” I finished with a smile.

Dad gazed at me, his expression unreadable. “You should get going before you’re late.”

So much for being careful. So much for keeping my mouth shut.

So much for Dad being the man I thought he was.