Closing Night High

All characters are 18+

I don't know what time it is, but judging by the light coming through Caleb's blinds, it's probably just after dinnertime. I can hear kids playing outside. Street hockey, I think. Their sticks keep slapping the pavement, and their rollerblades grate on my ears like really loud static. These kids are going at it hard. Good for them. Now, can't they just quit it and go inside? Don't they have video games they should be playing?

It's not that I hate kids. I mean, sure, I've never been a huge fan of them. And it's nothing personal against these kids, in particular, it's just... fuck sound. Fuck all sounds that aren't Caleb's even breathing and steady heartbeat. Especially fuck happy sounds.

Jesus christ, is that an ice cream truck? Fuck that sound over all others.

I just want everything outside of this bed to fade away, so I can pretend we're in our own little universe—one where obligations, other people, stupid societal rules and boundaries, sex tapes, and crazy, life-ruining fucktards don't exist. Ok, maybe that's a bit extreme, but I'm still not up for leaving the bed. Ever.

After Caleb found me sobbing on the floor, he carried me upstairs, leaving my phone in the living room, so I wouldn't be tempted to torture myself again... and again, and again. He changed out of his clothes and put on pair of sweatpants, before slipping into bed with me and wrapping me up in his warmth and strength. I needed it so badly. One hour later, I still need it, which is why I refuse to budge.

The other reason I'm not moving a single muscle is because, once I do, he'll think it's time to talk, and I really, really don't want to. I'd like to put off acknowledging the blackmail video that means the end of our relationship for as long as possible.

I almost wish I hadn't shown it to Caleb. I could have just kept it secret and broken his heart to protect him from the fallout. I've read lots of books where women in similar situations go that route. Problem is, I always end up hating them for being so amazingly stupid. Like, seriously, we could avoid forty pages of misery if they'd just show some common sense. Instead, they take it all on themselves, invariably making things worse.

Call me weak, but I don't want to deal with this alone. If I'd done that, I'd be falling apart in my room, miserable and curled up in a ball. Fine, I'm still miserable and curled up in a ball, but at least Caleb is curled around me, holding me tight and keeping me together. Those book chicks can shove their martyrdom up their asses.

I showed Caleb the email so we could work through this together, so I suppose it's time to get to the working-though-it part. I turn around in his arms to face him, and his stormy eyes immediately meet mine, as if he's been waiting for this for the past hour. I study his features—the high planes of his cheekbones, lips that are just full enough to be kissable, and a strong jaw that, just last night, I was running the tips of my fingers over. I feel the urge to do that again right now, so I do.

He leans into my touch, then takes my hand and kisses my palm before pressing it to his chest, right where it was last night. His heart is beating almost as quickly now as it was then.

"I'm ready," I lie. I will never be ready to discuss our impending, forced separation.

"I don't what this to let this affect us," he starts. "Not now. But..." he trails off, and I know exactly what he's going to say.

"But you're worried about me."

"Of course, I'm worried about you, Em. You shouldn't have to walk through school wondering who's seen that video... who's seen you naked and coming apart for me." His jaw twitches, and I press my lips to it.

"I wouldn't have to wonder, Caleb. If one person sees it, they all will," I tell him. "I'm jealous of you, you know."

"What could you possibly have to be jealous of?"

"Nobody had cell phones when you were in high school. Did they even have digital cameras back then?"

"Way to make me feel old, Em," he grumps. "That's what you're jealous about?

"Hell, yes! When you were in my age, something like this wouldn't have happened. Whoever this asshole is would've gotten an eyeful and spread the word—maybe even taken some pictures—but that would've been the extent of it. Now, this video can be emailed to everyone I've ever known or posted on some free porn site for millions of strangers to watch and jerk off to."

My stomach turns, and I want to cry, all of a sudden. The thought of people watching what was supposed to be just between me and Caleb—watching something so private—makes me want to vomit.

"I feel so... violated," I tell him, as tears well up in my eyes. I tuck my head under his chin, and he wraps his strong arms around me so tight, it feels like he's holding my sobs in. "Nobody can see that video. I don't think I could stand it. Not to mention, it could ruin your career." The tears spill over, thinking of this hurting Caleb in any way.

"I don't want you to waste your time worrying about me, babe. I'll find work, if I need to," he reassures me, "but you're right. The video cannot get out. You shouldn't have to suffer just because I couldn't keep my hands off you." I pull away from him a little and see that he looks truly disgusted with himself, which is just stupid.

"Oh, shut up," I say and smack him on the arm. Then I leave my hand there, because I really, really love his arms. "It's not like I could keep my hands off you, either. I still can't." I take a deep breath and shoot the elephant in the room. "Which is why we need to make the most of tonight, Caleb. It's the only one we're going to have for who knows how long."

He looks at me as if he wants to fight me on this, like he wants to convince me that nothing will keep us apart. But he's as realistic as I am. That email was no empty threat, and if we don't do as it says, there will be irreparable consequences.

"I'm going to find a way for us to be together," he vows. "And if I ever find out who this piece of shit is, I am going to murder him."

Yeesh. Caleb looks absolutely lethal right now. He should really threaten people's lives more often, because it's a crazy hot look on him.

"I'd rather not have to visit my man in prison," I joke, "and I don't think they even have conjugal visits in this state."

He chuckles under his breath and kisses the top of my head. "Ok. I'll try not to kill the guy. I'll just break all his fingers, so he can't send anymore emails."

"A fitting punishment," I agree and nod.

We fall into a loaded silence. Yes, we discussed it, but we haven't solved the problem. The video is a threat to us for as long as the blackmailer's obsession lasts. Who knows if that'll be when I graduate, when I leave for college, when I get old and fat... or if it will be never. But it doesn't matter if it's twenty years or twenty days, any amount of time apart from Caleb is going to be torture.

I watch my fingers as they trace over the lines of his tattoos. They're all nature-themed—a stag, a storm cloud, a flock of birds, a pine tree that takes up most of his forearm—and every one of them breathtakingly beautiful. Then I see what looks like song lyrics or a poem written on his bicep, just below his shoulder. I squint to read the pretty script.

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!

For so the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.

"Beautiful," I say on a breath. "So sad, though."

"It was. Sad, that is," he tells me, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "And I guess it is, again." In an instant, he's on top of me, his body covering mine. My legs instinctively part, and he settles between them, kissing his way up my neck. I feel his hardening cock right where I want it most. His soft lips tickle my ear, as he whispers, "But it's even worse, now that I've had a taste. How am I supposed to go back to just dreaming about you?"

My eyes go wide, and I'm pretty sure my heart just stopped, I'm so shocked. He can't mean...

"This..." I reach up and touch the words again, afraid they'll disappear at any second. "Are you saying this is for me?" I feel silly asking, because it's completely out of the realm of possible things. Like, cats rising up and taking over the world seems more plausible than Caleb Turner getting something permanently inked onto his skin that has anything to do with me.

"I'm saying it's for you, Emilie," he tells me, and I just stare at him in disbelief. "I got it done six months ago, when I realized that I felt," he pauses to grind his hips between my legs for emphasis, "this way about you. I thought I told you last night how much I've wanted you."

I look into his eyes, then at his powerful shoulders, arms, and chest, as he hovers above me. Yeah, he'd told me how he felt, but I guess I didn't understand just how much he felt it. Well, shit. Why couldn't we have gotten together back in December? That is such a waste of what could have been six mind-blowing, sex-filled months.

I graze the tattoo with my fingertips, again. "This is so fucking hot," I say, heat building inside me, and then I pull him down to attack his lips with mine. I claw at the back of his head in an effort to get our mouths closer, as if that were even possible. My legs wrap around him to get more pressure there, too. I have no control over what my body does, when it comes to him. There is no holding anything back—that is, unless Caleb is the one doing the holding.

He easily pulls away from me, breaking the kiss. He detaches my grasping hands from the back of his neck, one at a time, and pins them above my head. He can't do anything about my legs, though, so I keep them right where they are.

"Now, now, young lady," he chastises me and begins kissing my throat and along the neckline of the shirt I'm wearing. "I want to go slow, this time. I wanted to go slow our first time, but you were naked and so close... and touching yourself," he says and groans against my skin. The memory hits him below the belt, and his cock grows harder against my folds, with his sweatpants still separating us. Now, that just doesn't seem right. There shouldn't be anything keeping his flesh from meeting mine.

I unwrap my legs from his hips and place my feet at the waistline of his pants. Slowly, I push my feet down, taking the offending article of clothing with me. Caleb growls as if he's frustrated with me, but that doesn't stop him from lifting his hips, so I can keep sliding them down—over his ass, his thighs, and his calves, until they're around his feet and he's kicking out of them. I try my best to look innocent, like it was just a happy accident, but I'm way too proud of myself to pull it off right now.

"What the hell am I going to do with you, Em?" he asks. He's still keeping his weight on his knees, holding himself away from me and not letting his guy part touch my girl part. They're maddeningly close, though.

"Everything, please," I reply with a big grin, because I know I'm about to get just that.

"I should restrain you," he says and tightens his hold on my wrists, "since you can't seem to restrain yourself." My eyes light up, and I start tingling below the waist. My body apparently likes the idea of being tied up and ravished by him. He smirks, clearly enjoying my reaction. "Another time," he promises, even though neither one of us knows when that other time might come. "Right now, I want your hands on me too much for that."

He releases his grip on me and sits up. At first, I'm too distracted by the very sexy, very naked older man kneeling over me to remember that I'm now free to move about the Caleb. My eyes follow the faint trail of dark hair that cuts a path down the middle of his stomach, all the way to where his thick cock is jutting out and pointing right at me. He wants me to touch him, huh? I definitely don't have to be told twice.

I sit up with him, his thighs still trapped between my legs, and strip off my shirt. In this position, my mouth is right in front of the tip of his dick. I wonder if he'll mind that it's not my hands that'll be doing the touching. Looking up at him to watch his face, I stick out my tongue and tease the underside of the head with it. His cock twitches, and he closes his eyes.

"Emilie, you don't have to—"

"Quiet," I say, cutting him off. Before he can protest again, I take the whole head in my mouth to suck on it like a popsicle. The awkward position I'm in feels too much like an extended sit up, so I let him slip from my mouth for a second and bring my legs back, until I'm sitting on my heels, with one hand grabbing the base of his cock to help guide it back between my lips. My other hand travels over his hard body and comes to rest on his perfect ass.

He reaches down and collects my hair to hold it in place, and he grips my shoulder, using me to steady himself. His rough callouses scrape my skin, giving me goosebumps all over and making my nipples tighten up. His dick is so stiff that I can remove my hand from it and still keep working it with my hot mouth. My clit is begging for attention, and I reach down to dip my fingers in my pussy to get them wet, then begin circling my needy little pleasure center. My own touch makes me moan around the head of his cock, causing it to throb in my mouth.

Caleb sits back, taking his cock from my hungry mouth. I try to follow it, dropping the hand not playing with my clit to the mattress. I really want to keep sucking, but he strengthens his grip on my hair to hold me back. I pout at him for taking away my toy, but the sadistic bastard just smiles at me.

My mouth is all sloppy, so I take my hand from my pussy to wipe off my saliva, but he intercepts it. He leans in, tantalizingly close, and I close my eyes, expecting to feel his soft lips on mine. Instead, they close around the two fingers that are coated with my juices and sucks them into his mouth. I can feel the muscles of his tongue working, his soft, wet lips clamped around my digits, and the odd, surprising sensation of suction.

If I'm getting this turned on from having my fingers sucked, I can't even imagine how good it must feel for him when I'm doing the same thing his dick. For the first time in my life, I wish I had a penis—a penis that comes equipped with a wet mouth worshiping it.

Once he's cleaned me off—which takes longer than necessary, but I'm not complaining—he shifts back and onto the floor. When he crouches down at the foot of the bed, I crawl toward him, desperately seeking his kiss. For a split second, I get my wish, but way too quickly, he's standing up again. He puts his strong hand between my shoulder blades and forces my chest to the bed.

"Stay," he commands, and I giggle, loving bossy Caleb. He walks around the side of the bed, and the mattress dips behind me. Both of his hands grab my lush cheeks, pulling them apart to expose my ass and pussy to him. For just a second, the tip of his cock touches my slick opening, eliciting a whimper from me. I bite my lip. My pussy lips try to grab onto him and keep his cock where it belongs. No such luck.

My head snaps up when his teeth sink into the flesh of my round ass. Before I can fire off a snarky comment, he slips one of his fingers into my wet hole, and all that comes out of my mouth is an appreciative moan. After he slides in a second one, I feel a brand new sensation—the tip of Caleb's tongue rimming my asshole. No, wait—what is it that the book chicks call it? Rosebud? Ok, yeah, that does sound prettier.

So, Caleb's licking my

rosebud

, and my first thought is, "I hope I taste ok down there." My next thought is, "Holy shit, that feels good!" I choose focus on the second one. Still driving his fingers in and out of me, making my already wet pussy even wetter, I feel his tongue trying to pry its way into my tighter hole. The intrusion is foreign, yet phenomenal and exciting, but I don't think I'm quite ready for it tonight, so I squeeze my rosebud shut, barring him entry. Puffs of his breath hit my ass repeatedly, and I just know he's laughing silently at my body's response.

"Yeah, it's real funny, jackass," I grumble, as he removes his fingers and sits back so he's no longer touching me at all. Thirty seconds of no contact is about all I can stand, so I part my thighs wider and wiggle my ass, doing my best to tempt him. It totally works, too, because the next thing I feel is his cock entering my cunt in one long, slow thrust, until every inch of him is stretching my walls. "You are so forgiven," I manage to get out between little moans, as he holds himself inside me.

Caleb's hands caress my arched back, then snake around and grab onto my tits. He pinches my nipples and starts planting soft kisses along my spine. My pussy quivers around him, letting him know it's ready and begging him to start moving. His cock, to my utter frustration, does not comply. Between kisses, I feel his warm breath on my back as he says sexy things.

"I have your taste on my tongue..."—my pussy clenches around him—"My cock is buried deep inside you..."—clench—"and someday, the tight grip of your ass is going to milk the cum from my balls..."—holy fuck, clench—"You are going to be so fucking dirty for me, babe, but you will always,

always

be my angel." And with that, he starts sliding his thick, rigid shaft in and out of me.

I'd participate or talk or even move, but melty piles of mush can't do any of those things. If his hands weren't on my hips right now, holding me in place, I'd be a puddle on his sheets. Sure, there will definitely be one of those by the time we're done here, but you know what I mean.

Once I'm back to my usual, less liquidy state, I tell him the only thing that matters—the thing I said for the first time, just a couple hours ago.

"I love you so much, Caleb."

And then he's pulling out of me and flipping me onto my back, before plowing right back in to pick up where he left off, not missing a beat. I cry out in pleasure as he enters me at this new angle.

"Say it again," he orders me, sweeping back the strands of white-blonde hair that fell over my eyes.

"I love you," I repeat, happy to tell him as many times as he wants, and then some.

"I needed to see your face when you said those words," he explains and kisses my lips, before resting his forehead on mine. "I love you, Emilie. There will never be a time when that isn't true, no matter who or what tries to keep us apart."

I shut my eyes and shake my head. "I don't want to think about that right now. Please, just make love to me."

And he does, slowly and deeply. He takes his time, letting us feel each other in ways we couldn't when he was pile-driving me in the shower. This is a whole different form of sex. I loved the wild, unstoppable passion we shared earlier, but this is raw and thrilling in its own way. We're more connected now than we've been this entire weekend.

With that feeling—and his dick—swelling inside me, I scream out with the force of my orgasm. His cock exploding inside me only intensifies my climax. He pushes deeper, hitting a spot that hurts, but in a way that feels really good. Once again, I'm filled with his cum. Once again, I feel fiercely guilty for not warning him of the consequences of it. When it shoots out into me, flooding my core, it's nothing short of euphoric. It's a drug, and I ache for the high it gives me.

He holds himself at that pleasure/pain spot until his cock stops pulsing and my pussy stops spasming. Then he holds himself there a little longer. Eventually, he pulls out, and our cum spills from my between my swollen lips and onto the sheets, creating that puddle I mentioned earlier. It's like I'm psychic, or something.

His head drops onto my chest, and I wrap my arms around him, cradling him there. He rests a warm hand on my belly, stroking his thumb back and forth over my soft skin, and fuck if my womb doesn't flutter at his touch.