The Girl of Sand & Fog (10 page)

I’m also worried he might expect me to return the
favor—it would be only fair—but I’m not sure I’m ready to have a guy’s dick in
my mouth. Not yet. Not even Bobby’s.

Fuck, a month ago I’d never even given a guy a
hand job.

I’ve gotten pretty good at that.

Scorching heat spreads across my body.

I love watching him moan and push into my touch,
fucking my mouth with his tongue as he comes into my hand, all shaky and sweaty
and breathless from his release.

I didn’t expect watching that would get me so
hot.

And his skin
does
taste so good. I bet he
tastes good everywhere—the muscles in my lower body clench.

I gnaw at my lip, nod, and then relax back against
his pillow. He eases off my skirt and panties. He lies there studying me,
lightly touching the tops of my thighs, dropping an occasional kiss here and
there except where the throbbing is painful right now.

He kisses the inside of my thigh and then turns
his nose to face my sex but not touch it. He breathes in deeply, then closes
his eyes as if he has to steady himself.

I wait, tense and urgent, wanting to push myself
into his mouth because just knowing he’s there, the anticipation is fucking
almost unbearable. He flicks his tongue against my clit, and a sharp exhale
bursts from me, revealing too much how out-of-nowhere ready I am for this. He
twirls around my bud as he enters me with a finger and his other hand moves to
tug and roll a nipple.

Every nerve in my body jolts at once.

I know he felt it because his tongue becomes more
insistent there.

The nerve-rackingly slow assault of his mouth and
hands, breaths, licks and sucks makes it clear he’s not unskilled at eating a
girl out. In fact, he knows just how to touch and change it up to make me crazy
and hover on the edge.

For a guy about limits he is pushing me to mine.
His thorough tending of my cunt is almost more than I can bear.

My back arches off the bed.

I’m panting hard.

My legs are trembling.

He closes his mouth over me, his tongue
penetrating and brushing some inner hot button I didn’t know existed, and that
sends sensation rocketing down my limbs.

I close my eyes, screaming out as my body is
consumed by a shuddering climax. I melt into the bed, limp, as Bobby makes his
way back up my body, kissing and caressing and blowing along the way.

He nuzzles my neck and then I feel his body
moving away from me. I open my eyes to find him lying on his side, propped on
an elbow, staring down at me. I can smell me on his breath—it’s a turn-on, but
I don’t know if I want him to kiss me on my lips.

Crap, how ridiculous I am. One second
contemplating his dick in my mouth and now worried he’ll kiss me with me on his
tongue.

Sheepishly, I smile at him. “I don’t know if I
should be happy or jealous that you are really good at that.”

He laughs, kissing me on each eyebrow. “Happy,”
he whispers, then groans and lies back on his pillow. He takes off his shorts
and his erection springs up at me. “You taste so good. I can’t imagine anything
tasting better than you. Touch me, Kaley. I’m in agony here.”

His eyes drift closed as his fingers start moving
in my hair, along my cheek, lightly brushing my lips. The taste of me on his
skin is tangy and makes me hot for him all over again.

My fingers close around his dick, and he groans
as my hand starts to move full length up and down him the way he likes. Slowly,
a squeeze at the base, up to the head, then a finger around the top, pausing to
tease that spot just below the tip.

I caress his balls and then give a light squeeze
before I run my fingers back up. A bead of white pushes out through the tip and
I think about taking it with my tongue. I start kissing my way across his jaw,
down his neck, his shoulder, his chest and to those perfect abs, lower and
lower to the base of his cock.

I start pumping as I lift my head, mouth open,
but before I can take him he stops me with his hand.

He tenses. “No, Kaley.”

I freeze.

Did he just tell me to stop?

Emotions overtake me—hurt, worry, disappointment,
and confusion.

My hand stops. “Why don’t you want me to do
that?”

His lids lift. The tenderness of his eyes
immediately calms me. “The first time I come in you, I don’t want it to be in
your mouth. I want it to be inside you, making love to you, and if you so much
as touch me there with your mouth, it’s a done deal. I’m going to come in about
two seconds.”

The way he says that makes me laugh.

My hand gloves his erection again, stroking him
slowly at first and then, as his face tenses, faster and faster.

He moans, pumping his cock into my hand, and I
claim his mouth in a deep, full tongue kiss.

He starts shaking.

I feel him swell.

His breathing is uneven.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

We both look toward the door.

“Stop what you’re doing. Get dressed. Get out
here and take Kaley back to school. Your mum says you have two minutes before
she’s coming in.”

“Oh fuck.” Bobby groans, falling back against the
bed, and covers his tense face with his forearm.

Bang. “Two minutes. Did you hear me?”

Bobby lifts his arm. “Two minutes,” he repeats,
damn near shouting. He stares at me in disbelief. “You’ve got to be fucking
kidding me. What the hell is Len doing back?”

He scrambles from the bed, searching for
something to cover his body with. 

Oh shit. It didn’t sound like Len Rowan. The
voice was too—crap, I don’t know how to describe it.

I watch Bobby move around the room. “That was
your dad?”

He nods. “Yep. Get dressed. If Linda says she’s
coming in in two minutes she means it.”

My brows hitch up. “And how would you know that?
Prior experience?”

He gives me a heavily exasperated look. “Don’t
give me crap. Not now. And no, they’ve never busted in before. I know it
because if Linda says it, she’s doing it.”

He sits back down on the bed, cradling his head
in his hands. He looks like he’s suffering. He was really hard. Swelling.
Almost there. This can’t be good for him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and edge forward to kiss
his back.

His face snaps up and he looks over his shoulder
at me. “Don’t touch me. Don’t kiss me. He won’t go down if you do and I need to
get out there in two minutes.”

I pout and move away from him.

“Can you put on some clothes, please? Having your
tits popping out in front of me doesn’t help the current situation.”

Stifling a laugh, I take my shirt from the bed,
pull it on and then find and put on my panties.

He looks so miserable and embarrassed.

I search for something to say to lighten the
mood. “We should have done it today. Len beating down the door in the middle
would have made that milestone moment one neither of us would ever forget.”

He grimaces. “Not funny. Why do you think I
planned the Santa Cruz thing? I wanted it to be a memory you would want to
remember always. To be a part of both of our histories in a good way that we
won’t ever regret. Not with Len or Linda busting in and ruining it.”

He grabs a pair of rumpled sweatpants from the
clothes piled beside his door, pulls them on, and adjusts his dick and the
fabric covering his not completely deflated erection.

“Today was memorable for me, Bobby. I’m pretty
sure I’ll remember it always.”

He looks at me.

I bite back a smile.

He shakes his head. “Don’t say anything. Not one
more word. Do you have any idea how fucking awkward it’s going to be to get
bitched out by Dad while having a boner?”

CHAPTER 10

I
stare at the closed door. Bobby left without saying whether I should stay in
his bedroom until he’s done dealing with his dad or if it’s expected for me to
come out.

We all know I’m in here.

I’m pretty sure they know what we were doing in
here.

What am I supposed to do?

In spite of my anxiety, I momentarily lose my
train of thought in the slide show flashing in my head of me and Bobby not five
minutes ago on his bed. Holy crap. He definitely knows how to treat a girl’s
body. He may not have ever “officially” fucked a girl but I haven’t any doubts
he’s going to be amazing at that as well.

Yep, I’m going to Santa Cruz even if I have to
lie to Chrissie to get there. That problem: manageable; this problem:
no
bueno
.

What the hell are they arguing about out there?

I go from the bed, grabbing the remainder of my
discarded clothes. As I finish dressing, I try to pick out words from the
muffled, rapid exchange penetrating the walls of the pool house.

Wow. They sound really angry. Even Bobby, and he
is never anything but respectful with Linda and even-tempered in all moments.
But then Zoe did say he has a contentious relationship with Len. Still, I
didn’t anticipate this. The yelling. And never from both of them, and
definitely never from Bobby.

Maybe his dad
is
really bitching him out.
Strange. Why would Len do that, since leaving a Costco-sized box of condoms in
a kid’s bedroom is pretty much a green light to use them?

The voices grow louder. Fine. I’m going out
there.

I dash into the bathroom and do a quick check of
myself. My eye makeup is smudged, my cheeks are flushed and my hair is a mess.
I wonder if I smell like sex. Can you smell like sex without having had sex?
Crap, I’m lame and a mess.

I take Bobby’s comb from the vanity and try to do
something with my curls. Crud, I’m just turning them into frizz. That will just
have to do. I make my way to the bedroom door, open it and peek out.

“It’s none of your business what I do,” Bobby
says calmly, succinctly. 

The no-longer-muffled voices hold me back in the
room as my eyes lock on father and son standing toe-to-toe arguing.

“You can date Kaley,” Len Rowan shouts, “but you
draw the line there. She’s not some piece of ass you give a toss to. You treat
that girl with respect. Always. If you can’t keep it zipped, you stay away from
her.”

My cheeks burn.

“You haven’t a clue about anything,” Bobby
counters in a surprisingly controlled voice. “You never have, but this is a new
low even from you. Advice from Len Rowan on how to treat a girl. Excuse me if I
don’t rush off to write that one down, Pop.”

Len’s jaw clenches. “I expect you to burn it into
your memory, new low or not, boy. That girl doesn’t have a father to look out
for her. Your mum called me and I hopped a plane home for the holidays to get
things back in line around here. I’m stepping in, whether you like it or not.
Chrissie is a dear friend. She doesn’t need more to manage, especially not from
you pissing in her pond.”

Bobby makes a frustrated growl, shaking his head,
and now looking like his anger is only loosely contained. “Fuck, that’s not why
you’re here. You’re not here for Mom or Chrissie or even Kaley. You’re here
because you’ve spent your entire life covering Alan Manzone’s ass and cleaning
up his messes. You wouldn’t give a fuck what I do with Kaley if that girl
wasn’t Alan’s daughter. Even if the bastard won’t admit that she is his
daughter.”

Len raises a hand, but stops it mid-swing.

Bobby doesn’t flinch, not even a hair.

Their eyes burn into each other.

“Go ahead,” Bobby taunts. “I’ll let you have one
punch, Pop. I know I’m not supposed to talk shit about him and that Alan
Manzone is sacred to you.”

Len’s arm relaxes at his side and he steps back.
He takes several ragged deep breaths to compose himself. “It’s not smart,
Bobby, to think you know more than you do. Alan is the most loyal man I’ve ever
known. The most generous, dependable, and honest friend a man can have. My
friend since I was your age, when another man would have left me at the curb
when his star started to rise with the money pouring in. And I’m loyal to him.
That is friendship.”

Bobby shakes his head. “Covering up each other’s
lies and mistakes for thirty years is not a friendship. It’s a cult. You’ve
carried Alan’s water so long you can’t see the difference. Tell me, Pop, when
does that girl in my bedroom start to matter more to you people than your lies
and revolting web of friendship? A real friend would knock Alan upside the head
and tell him to get here and take care of his daughter.”

“Like I said, it’s not smart to talk about things
you don’t know anything about. I suggest you don’t do it again.” Len grabs his
drink off the table and drops heavily onto the foot of a chaise. “Discussion
done. You leave that girl alone. Get your dick wet somewhere else. She’s
off-limits. We would have nothing if not for Manny and I’ll cut off the
money—don’t think I won’t—if you blow me off on this one.”

Bobby’s laughter sends shivers up my spine. He
collapses down in a loose-limbed way onto a patio chair. “I don’t want your
money. I’ve already told you that. I’m here until I graduate in May, for
Linda’s sake, then I’m getting the hell out of here and not coming back.”

Len rolls his eyes. “Ah, that’s right. Not going
to college, even though your mum wants you to. Breaking her heart so you can
live
poor and live real
or
some such nonsense like that. Fuck, that’s
only something a kid raised with money would say. I’ve been poor, kid. Trust
me, you won’t like it, but since you don’t want my money, would you mind
signing back over to me on your twenty-fifth birthday that trust your mother
made me set up for you?”

“Consider it signed over.”

“Good.”

Their postures change in that
argument over
kind of way.

“How long are you here for?” Bobby asks.

Len shrugs. “I fly out on Saturday. Your mum says
you’re leaving on Wednesday. Off to surf somewhere. She’s not happy about
that.”

“It’s better for everyone if I’m not here,” Bobby
states calmly. “You only really fly in from the road to see Madison and Mom.”

A look of having been stung by that comment
flashes across Len’s face, but he doesn’t say anything. I can tell Bobby
doesn’t pick up on it.

I wait to see if Bobby comes back to his room for
me, but after several minutes, I suck in some air and decide to go out there.

I make my way across the patio to the pool area.

Len’s eyes shift to me. “Kaley Stanton, there’s my
girl.” He stands from where he’s sitting on the lounger.

His expression is warm and friendly and such an
abrupt change from what it was with Bobby I do a double-take. He beams at me
from a face of very British features half-hidden by an unruly cloud of reddish-blond
hair.

I stop behind Bobby’s chair. “Hello, Mr. Rowan.”

Len laughs; a pleasant, easy-flowing humor not at
all like the man he’d been a few moments ago.

“Mr. Rowan, huh? Stop that nonsense now. You’re
too old to call me Uncle Len like you did when you were this high”—he lowers
his hand to knee level—“but we’re still friends, aren’t we, love? So it’s ‘Len’
for you and me.”

The weirdness of this on the heels of everything
else renders me mute, so I smile and wait for Bobby to rescue me from this
extremely awkward moment.

Bobby exhales loudly and then stands. “We’re out
of here, Pop.”

Bobby does a fast inspection of me—I can see that
he can tell I heard everything—and a flash of embarrassment and concern is
followed by a silently asked
are you all right?

I stare at the ground, and inside I die a little,
because a lot happened here today, striking at all those old wounds in me and,
fuck, Len Rowan gave me a few new ones to ponder.

The part about me being off-limits for Bobby.
It’s been roiling inside me enough so that I’m wondering if that’s my appeal to
Bobby. He did latch on to me pretty quickly. Zoe is right; he is the most
popular guy at school. And for the first time, I’m starting to wonder if Zoe
was wrong; maybe I didn’t land the hottest guy on campus in two days by being a
total bitch.

There is as much going on in Bobby’s universe as
there is in mine. Subtext and undercurrents I’ve somehow missed before today,
but I need to figure them out quickly. Have I read Bobby’s interest in me
wrong?

Am I just a
fuck you
to his dad?

A thing he’s not supposed to do, but does because
contentious relationship isn’t even in the realm of what I witnessed today?

I hate that I’m doubting Bobby.

I hate that today made me feel this way.

And I really hate it because I know I love him…

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand. I look up,
startled. “I just need to grab a shirt, my shoes and my keys.”

“See you soon, dear,” Len says.

I nod, and Bobby starts pulling me with him
toward his room. I can feel Len watching.

Inside the pool house, Bobby releases my hand and
reaches for a shirt. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. Are you OK?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Bobby stops what he’s doing and looks at me. His
eyes glow with insight. “Don’t do that, Kaley. Talk to me.”

“It’s just—” I break off, unable to articulate
the things in my head with those penetrating and soulful green eyes watching
me. “Forget it. I don’t want to talk about it. Drive me back to school so I can
get my car. That’s what I want.”

His mouth presses in a hard line and he runs a
hand several times through his hair. “Just what? You’ve never held back on
speaking your mind. Don’t start now.”

“I’m not afraid to speak my mind. Not ever,
Bobby. I was trying to be considerate of you by not saying anything about what
went down between you and your dad.”

“That’s big of you. It’s also a load of crap.”

Knee-jerk temper kicks in. “Fine. You want to
know what I’m wondering?” I step into him until we’re practically nose to nose.
“Why you’re really with me. When did your parents start giving you shit and
saying I’m off-limits?”

His eyes widen, surprised. Not the question he
expected.

“The first day I brought you home with me. Right
after I got back from picking up my motorcycle from school. I guess I was gone
too long, and Linda was up my ass the second I stepped through the door—and I
quote—wanting to know if I’m such a jerk that I popped your cherry in a school
parking lot before I came home.
Made it very clear if it’s not popped,
don’t pop it. It was fucking humiliating. They’re always giving me shit about
something. Them telling me ‘no’ about you isn’t about you. It’s about me.”

My knees go weak, I sink down on the bed, and
drop my face into my hands. “Oh gross. Pop my cherry? Did Linda really say
that? How can you say that isn’t about me?”

“Because it isn’t. Everything is not about you,
Kaley. You only think it is. I get it, why you feel that way, but it’s not
true. Everything is not about you.” 

My face snaps up.

“Not about me, huh? It sounded like it was a few
minutes ago when your dad told you to stay clear of me. That sounded pretty
fucking about me, Bobby. Are you only interested in me because your parents
don’t want you to date me? Is that what we’re doing here? Hooking up because
it’s part of this strange war you have with your dad?”

He stares at me like I’m nuts.

“You can’t honestly believe that.”

I lift my chin. “Tell me it’s not true and I
won’t.”

“I shouldn’t have to.” He starts moving around
the room in an agitated, frustrated way. “Fuck, you are paranoid in the extreme
at times. Do you know that? None of any of this is about you. Linda and her
revolting cherry comment is just her reverse psychology bullshit. She’s so
obvious at times that if I didn’t love her I’d fucking hate her. She likes you
and is still not completely certain that I’m not gay—”

A disobedient laugh escapes me, since two minutes
with Bobby should make that a preposterous concern for anyone. I could tell he wasn’t
gay
even before he put his mouth on my clit—
oh shit, my face is on
fire again
—since he’s as all-male as guys get.

“—I’ve never brought a girl home before you,
other than Zoe. And before you ask, it’s because I’ve never cared for any girl
enough to bring her home.”

Pausing, he stands above me silently waiting for
me to digest all that. It’s a lot to digest and he’s had a pretty rotten
afternoon since his dad pounded on the door, so I shrug and lamely say, “Oh.”

He sits down on the bed close to me and collapses
back in total frustration. “My wanting to be with you,” he continues in a
breathy, ragged voice, “has nothing to do with anything but me and you. That
shit you heard from Len, that isn’t about you and me, and has nothing to do
with any sort of ‘war’—as you put it—between me and my dad. That’s about
him.
”