Okay, so he was dead serious this was just sex. Not even any postcoital talk.
Whatever.
I smirk at Van as I roll out of his bed, snagging my towel off the ground. As I stroll past him, I pause just a moment to pat him on the cheek. "But it makes it a little more exciting, doesn't it?"
Van glares at me.
But he'd be lying if he denied it.
I also know I'll be back in this room, possibly with Lucas right across the hall again. Now that Van's given in to my charms, we're going to be playing with all kinds of fire going forward.
Chapter 11
Van
Despite the fact I didn't get more than four hours of sleep after Simone left my room last night, I find myself oddly energized. We still have four more days until game one of the conference finals. We've got skate practices for two of those days, and past that we're all trying to rest our bodies while keeping our minds in play-off mode.
For me this would mean some light workouts, healthy eating, and maybe watching some game films. The only thing wrong with that plan is that it leaves far too much free time for my head to get caught up in Simone.
I fucking gave in to her.
Sue me.
When a naked woman walks in your room, and you already know she's the hottest fuck you'll ever have, there's just no turning her away.
So I put aside any foreboding I had about messing with a nice girl like her and I let her ride my face, then my cock. It was risky with Lucas across the hall, but until I came down off my orgasm, I just didn't give a fuck about that.
What I did give a fuck about, and still do, is letting someone like Simone get close to me. I've never done it before, not only because I was being cautious given my familial history, but because I've just never met anyone who intrigued me the way she has. Her fierce determination, snarky attitude, and weirdly sweet disposition makes her beyond intriguing to me. Add on the "hottest fuck ever" thing, and it's no wonder I'm letting some of my barriers down.
But they can't go all the way down. I still have to exercise caution with her. Because while I deep down know that my father was fucking with me yesterday at the prison, I can't seem to displace the foreboding sense that I could have something dark inside of me just waiting to spring free.
My father is a mystery that will never be solved. He had so many people fooled. The double life he led was what was shocking about his crimes. He was a hardworking man who came home to eat dinner with his family. He took us to church on Sundays. Gave my mom compliments and brought her flowers. Helped the neighbors whenever he could. He was a regular fucking Joe, and no one had a clue.
If he's telling me the truth, and he didn't start killing until after he met and married my mom, then did that mean she was a trigger? Did having the security of a wife and a family give him the balls to give in to his sickness?
What if I'm just waiting for my trigger to come along?
I know that would probably sound completely ridiculous to any competent psychiatrist. Hell, it even sounds ridiculous to me, but I've spent my entire life worrying about just such a thing. My dad called my mom a cow yesterday, which was absolutely shocking to me. He'd always treated her with reverence and care in front of me. A motherfucking chameleon is what he was, and it just proves to me that you can never truly know a person. While the logical side of me knows it's absurd to think this way, I can't help but wonder if my genetics are completely fucked by my dad.
That there could be a monster inside of me, perhaps only visible on a cellular level at this point, is what really plagues me. What if it breaks free and then my life is doomed? While I can truthfully say the thought of raping or killing a woman is so disgusting to me and I want to throw up at the thought, I'm still a dark man. When it comes to sex, my thoughts are usually filthy half the time, perverted the other times. I'm angry much of the time, tiny frustrations or annoyances having the ability to make me explode. My rage is always best channeled out on the ice where I can beat the fuck out of an opponent, but I've gotten in plenty of bar fights in my life if I've been pissed off.
Would I ever hurt Simone if she angered me enough? Do I have that in me?
I've never cared about anyone in my life other than myself and Etta. I'm not sure if I really care about Simone, but I'd have to say I must, or I wouldn't be letting these things wig me out. I'd fuck her and not give her a second thought, but here I am obsessing about it.
Which is why I'm in the small garden shed that sits just off the house. There's an old push mower and a gas lawn mower, but both Lucas and I have been too busy--or lazy--to hire someone to do the yard. The grass is getting ridiculously high, and I could stand to burn some energy.
So I'm going to cut the grass, and I don't give a fuck that it's 7:30 A.M. on a Wednesday. I figure the neighbors are probably up to go to work, but I can't say for sure, as I don't know a damn thing about them. Lucas's door was still shut when I walked out here, and Simone was sound asleep on the couch. If it wakes them up, what the fuck ever. I need something constructive to do, and pulling Simone into my room with the chance Lucas could be walking by is not a good idea.
I'm surprised to find some gas in the lawn mower, although I can't tell how old it is. It can't be too old, as it starts up after a few hard pulls on the cord, and then I'm off cutting strips of grass.
Coming into mid-May in the Carolinas can be hit or miss on the weather, but it was already seventy-two degrees when I came out, which means it's going to be unusually hot today. This is confirmed when I'm forced to take my T-shirt off when I finish the front yard.
By the time I'm halfway through the backyard, the door that leads from the kitchen to the deck opens, and Simone saunters out. I can tell I didn't just wake her up, as her face looks fresh and bright. She's got her long hair piled on top of her head, and the little minx is wearing a pair of short fucking shorts and a bikini top.
She does nothing more than sit down on the deck steps to watch me as she sips coffee. I don't cast her a second glance, but damn if I can't feel the weight of her stare. I find myself contracting my abs the entire time, which pisses me off, yet I don't stop.
But I don't give her the benefit of my attention, focusing only on mowing the grass in perfectly straight rows.
When I'm finished, which doesn't take all that long because this property can't be more than a quarter of an acre with the house and all, I shut off the mower and push it into the garden shed. I loiter, hoping Simone will go back into the house, because I'm not quite sure how to deal with her in the bright light of day.
When it's just us--naked and writhing in the dark, our only communication through grunts and moans--she's easy to deal with. When conversation is required, I feel out of my element.
"Hey, stud." Her soft voice floats across my sweaty skin and I tense up. Thankfully, she leaves the shed's door open.
Turning to face her, I pull my shirt, which I'd tucked into the back waistband of my shorts, and wipe my face with it. "What's up?"
Real cool, Van.
Real cool.
"I have to say you look mighty fine, Mr. Turner, out there cutting grass with no shirt on. Made me squirmy."
Her tone is playful but sensuous, and my dick reacts to just her voice.
"Not fucking you in the shed," I mutter as I lean back against one of the work counters built into the wall. It's littered with rusted gardening equipment and covered in spider webs. Still, I feel the space between us is needed and worth a spider bite.
"Don't have a condom on me anyway," she says with a pout. "More's the pity."
I shoot her a narrowed look. "What is it with you?"
"What do you mean?" she asks coyly as she juts out a hip and shoves one hand down into the pocket of her shorts. It pulls them down far enough I can tell there are no panties underneath.
My dick starts to react mightily but I ignore it. "How does a girl like you--seemingly from a really nice family, going to a prestigious college--become so sexually aggressive? Were you i
gnored as a child? Your first true love fuck around on you and you're trying to prove to the world that you're desirable?"
I know my words will sting, but I ask them because I'm genuinely curious as well as needing to make sure she understands the barrier between us. I've had countless women come on to me, but what Simone is doing isn't that. It's a focused seduction done with words and without them, actions and no actions. She offers herself to me so willingly, with such lewd words, that she could easily come off as whorish, but she doesn't at all. What she does come across as is just a woman who seems to be very in touch with her sensuality, and, fuck me, that's refreshing.
As expected, Simone doesn't let my abrasiveness score her ego and she smirks at me. "I can assure you as the only daughter and sister in the Fournier house, I was not ignored. On the contrary, I was a little stifled. So when I got to college, I partied and experimented."
"Experimented?" I ask, about a million dirty images flashing through my mind.
She grins. "Let's just say my curiosities about sex with women have been satisfied."
"Jesus fuck," I mutter, and I know I'll jack off to that fantasy. Simone getting devoured by another woman.
Dick now almost fully hard.
"Does it turn you off I'm so forward?" she asks.
"No," I tell her truthfully. "Just annoys the fuck out of me, but definitely doesn't turn me off."
"I can see you're turned on now," she says huskily, and crosses the shed to stand before me.
"Not fucking you here," I tell her again, lest she forget.
"No condom on me," she retorts as a reminder, but then her hand drops to my cock and she palms it through my shorts. "But I don't need a condom for what I'd like to do to you."
Christ. Jesus. Fuck.
"Your brother," I rasp out.
"Was still sleeping when I came out, but if you can watch the house through that window," she says as she jerks her chin over her shoulder. "If he comes out, tap me on my head."