Eternal Heat (Firework Girls #3) (8 page)

Our eyes meet and we smile at each other nervously. He comes closer to the bed, opening the package. I watch as he removes the condom and slides it down the length of his shaft. I wonder if I should be helping him. Is that the sexy thing to do? Maybe next time.

With his task completed, he climbs back onto the bed and gently settles himself on top of me. I love the way his weight feels on my body. “You still okay?” he asks, looking at me.

I nod. Holding his eyes, I give him a sensual kiss. This tips us both past some point we’ve never been before. He kisses me passionately. My body had cooled slightly while he’d taken care of the condom, but I’m hot everywhere again now. Every place he touches me, my skin feels on fire.

I pull up my feet and hook my ankles around his thighs. I’m exposed to him in a way I’ve never been before. He reaches down and I feel the tip of his penis against my folds. I hold my breath a moment, anticipating. He’s searching, but hasn’t quite found the right spot.

I reach down myself and take him in my hand. He lets me do the rest. I line up the tip with my entrance and whisper, “There.”

My opening stretches as he starts to come in. I pull my hand away, grabbing his waist. He comes inside me slowly, stretching and filling me.

I gasp and he freezes. “Did I hurt you?”

I briefly shake my head no.
God no.
He pulls out slightly then slides inside me again, deeper this time. I exhale forcefully.
Oh god.
I’m wet everywhere, apparently, and the friction of his penis along the inside of me feels so good I don’t even know what to do.

The next moment, things break down as we try and fail to coordinate our movements. For a second I feel truly awkward because I really have no idea what I’m doing, but then we find a rhythm that I know is right because suddenly everything’s clicking and I’m feeling a pleasure I can only describe as pure fire. He’s sliding in and out of my tight channel and it feels like it’s just getting tighter. My legs spread wider of their own accord. He rocks on top of me and I wrap my arms around his back, gripping his firm shoulders.

He’s panting hard and his arms are squeezing me harder. He almost seems to be in another world now. I’ve heard the first time goes quick for guys, so I’m kind of surprised he’s not done already. I’ve also heard it’s not always...
there...
for girls the first time, but as far as I can tell, everything’s there for me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting this.

We’re rocking together and his hard shaft feels so good inside me I’m almost out of my mind. I’m moaning and sucking on his shoulder and neck and rocking my hips to meet him. The pleasure in my crotch is high and spiking higher.

I realize I’m about to come. My nerves at having an orgasm with Erik on top of me brings me back down a bit. His movements, however, suddenly grow faster and more intense. The new speed of his hard shaft in my slick channel spikes me right back up there.

Before I have a chance to feel shy about anyone having an actual orgasm, he goes first. He groans deeply into the crook of my neck and his cock suddenly gets even harder. That pushes me over the edge so hard I couldn’t fight it if I wanted to. I bite back the sounds I want to make but I can’t stop my body from convulsing hard as I climax with him still thrusting me.

Bursts of pleasure spike inside me again and again. I realize I’ve cried out slightly without meaning to. I hang on to him firmly as everything comes to one last, sharp peak, then my body starts to slide back down.

Still pulsing with the after-effects, I come back to my senses and don’t know what to think. I’m stunned by how high that pleasure was—by how goddamned good it felt—and I’m giddy from finally crossing this barrier from childhood into adulthood. And I’m a tiny bit vulnerable and embarrassed.

Still panting, we look at one another shyly, then laugh a bit. I feel better then. He gently pulls out of me and holds me close to him. I hug him back. I’m smiling widely.

Oh, I do love him.

I do.

We hold and lightly kiss one another only for a moment longer. “I need to take care of this,” he says, lifting away from me. He gives me a wink as he gets to his knees and we both smile at each other. His expression changes, however, when he looks down at himself.

“Crap,” he says. “It broke.”

I get up on one elbow and look too. Sure enough. There he is in the raw, without the thin rubber sheath over the tip.

Maybe I should be panicking more, but I’m not. I’m too busy being confused. “How did it break?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t put it on right?”

Is there a wrong way to put it on?
“Maybe we should’ve Googled it,” I say.

We look at each other helplessly for a moment. I’m trying to remember when I had my last period and when women are supposed to be fertile. Hell if I know. Well, there’s nothing to be done now.

“Well,” I say, kind of shrugging.

“God, I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay.”

And that’s the end of it. We quietly get dressed and he helps me do up my hair and we go back to the piano just like we always do. We only have time for a few more songs, then I head home. I greet my parents, wondering if they can see it on my face. But they say hi just like normal and we go about our evening. We have mom’s famous stacked enchiladas with green sauce and I retire to my room and get started on my physics homework.

It’s almost like I’m the same girl I was when I woke up this morning, even though I’m not. I’ll never be that girl again, but that’s okay. I like this new person I am now. She feels good.

I keep waiting to feel more scared about the broken condom, but it doesn’t happen. Maybe because I figure the odds are with us. Maybe because I really am a stupid teenager, even though I hate it when adults use that phrase. I don’t know what it is, but I have no desire to make myself more nervous than I am.

Eight days later, Erik has mastered the fine art of condom wearing, and we’re forced to take a break from our new favorite activity because my period—blessedly—has finally started.

By the time I’ve applied to colleges and am waiting for my letters—four months later—Erik and I are in so deep, the outcome of our applications carries a different weight than it did in the fall.

He’s already received
five
acceptance letters, including one from Hartman, while I’ve only heard back from BSU. As expected, they let me in, so my safety school is in the bag. Come fall, at least I know I’ll have
somewhere
to go. But Erik didn’t apply to BSU and I wouldn’t want him to go there even if he did. It’s a good program but not of the same caliber as Juilliard, and not in New York, where someone of his talent really needs to be.

My parents agreed to pay for application fees to three schools. Erik may have considered Hartman a safety, but I didn’t. While I didn’t worry about getting in on the academic side, I wouldn’t have access to the music program if I wasn’t accepted into their conservatory. At least at BSU I can participate in their music program, which isn’t bad. But even I know that’s not ideal, so in addition to coughing up the dough for Juilliard, we added Hartman College to the list. It’s still a top ten school, so it feels like a long shot too. But, like Erik says, two shots are better than one. (I don’t think he’s counting BSU any more than I am.)

My dad is hoping for Hartman. Being in central California, it’s not exactly close to Boise, but it’s a lot closer than New York. My mom, who understands how badly Erik and I want to be together and how likely it is he’ll be at Juilliard come fall whether I’m there or not, is pulling for that one just like I am.

I still don’t know if she knows we’re sexually active. As open as my mom can be about things, she’s never brought it up and I haven’t either. I’ve thought about asking her to take me to the doctor so I can get on some birth control, but I can’t bring myself to do it. The issue of the pill is exactly what makes me think my mom is ignorant to the whole thing: I think she’d suggest the pill herself if she suspected. Do I really want to tell her that her little girl isn’t so little anymore? And how would my dad react? Yeah. For now, Erik and I are sticking with condoms.

I’m almost certain his parents don’t know we’re having sex. I’m sure we’d hear all about it if they did. They’re not too happy we’re dating. His dad hasn’t come out and
said
he thinks I’m beneath his son, but he’s made it clear enough. Recently his mom told Erik she thinks I’m a distraction. If she only knew how much we
really
see of one another. She once told me not to get serious with Erik because his music career always comes first and after all, he’ll be off to Juilliard in the fall. Neither one of us have heard from Juilliard yet, but she’s made it obvious how she thinks it’s all going to go down.

Juilliard has always been their top choice, but his parents have even more reason to want it now. His dad is up for a promotion that would mean relocating to New York City. Nothing’s official yet, but it’s looking good and they’re making plans as if it were a done deal. If his dad gets it, he’ll be off to New York in a few weeks, temporarily living in a condo provided by the company. Meanwhile, Erik and his mom would stay behind so he can finish the last couple months of school. She’s already picked which movers will load everything up a few days after graduation and haul it across the country. Imagine paying people to pack up an entire house!

It’s not that Erik necessarily
has
to go with them. In theory, he can go anywhere. But his family is one of those where the parents, in my opinion, have way too much say over stuff that should be his decision. Not that he wouldn’t choose Juilliard anyway. Who wouldn’t?

Erik doesn’t seem to care whether his dad transfers to New York or not, because in his mind we’re both already going to Juilliard. I don’t know where he gets his confidence in me. I haven’t heard from Juilliard
or
Hartman. What if I don’t get into either one? For the few weeks I’ve been working with Mr. Lamont, which has been freaking
incredible,
I’ve learned a lot. I keep wishing I could re-do my audition tapes, but it’s too late for that. All I can do is hope for the best and wait, and wait, and wait.

It’s Friday afternoon and I’m walking home from school, approaching my house. Erik’s picking me up in a few minutes for our date. I’m looking forward to it, but at this precise moment, my mind is focused on one thing and one thing only. I hitch my school bag higher on my shoulder and head straight to our mailbox, just as I have every day for weeks. And just like every other day, I get a swoop of anticipation in my stomach when I pull out the daily stack of mail.

Flipping through, I freeze when I see a cream-colored envelope from Hartman College. My heart starts banging around in my chest.

Something! Finally!

But I just stand there gawking at it. The maroon crest is embossed on the upper left-hand corner. It’s a thick envelope. That has to be a good sign, right? I got all kinds of paperwork with my acceptance letter to BSU and Erik’s have been the same way. But if Hartman were going to tell me to take a hike, how many pages would they really need? I walk up the sidewalk, still studying the envelope. I unlock the front door, drop my bag on the floor, head for the kitchen, and toss the remaining mail on the counter.

Missy, our cat, is lounging on the bench under the kitchen window. She looks nice and toasty in her little spot of sunshine and blinks at me languidly.

I squeeze the envelope, trying to guess how many pages are inside. Five maybe? I think about waiting for Erik for moral support—he should be here any time now—but I have a feeling I know what this is going to say. All of a sudden, I can’t wait another second to find out for sure.

Holding my breath, I rip into the envelope and pull out a stack of neatly folded pages.

Three seconds later, I’m screaming and jumping around in the kitchen, and Missy is bolting down the hallway in terror.

The doorbell rings and I run for the front door, knowing who it is. I fling it open to see Erik’s startled face, then say, “I got into Hartman! I got into Hartman!”

He whoops and hangs onto me as I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms and legs around him. “I got in! I got in! I got in!”

He laughs and spins me around. “I knew you would, baby!”

I drop to my feet and show him the letter. “Look! Look at it!”

He puts his arm around me and squeezes my shoulders. I lean against his chest, grinning at the letter. Then I start flipping through the other pages. It’s all there: the admissions form and information about deadlines and fees. The fees scare the hell out of me, frankly, but I’ve applied for scholarships and aid at all three schools and can only hope for the best. If I have to, I’ll work part-time to help pay for things and take out loans for the rest.

“God, I can’t believe it,” I say, exhaling sharply. “
Hartman.
I can’t believe I got in.”

“See?” Erik says, with his trademark confidence. I already know what he’s going to say next. “I told you you’re good enough. Now Juilliard doesn’t seem like such a stretch, does it?”

I look up at him. He’s grinning down at me. I smile broadly. God, he’s right. For the first time, Juilliard really, truly feels like it could happen. If I could get into Hartman...

“I love you,” I say.

He smiles. “I love you too, sweetheart.” He wags his eyebrows at me. “Time to celebrate?”

“My parents will be home soon,” I say, laughing lightly and returning my attention to the letter. I hold it to my chest. I can’t believe I got in to freaking
Hartman.

“Well, how long does it take?” he says, pinching my ass.

It’s tempting, I have to admit. But I settle for giving him an enthusiastic kiss. We hold each other tightly. I think he’s as excited about this new development as I am.

New York. Come fall Erik and I could really be together in New York, studying at one of the best music conservatories in the country.

“Ready for the fair?” he asks, when we finally come up for air.

I smile. I’m ready for anything with him.

We should’ve just gone back to his place to get things out of our system, but we’d probably still be groping each other on the Ferris wheel and ducking into nooks to steal a kiss. We can’t ever seem to get enough of each other. No matter what else we’re doing—playing, talking, watching movies, or spinning around on wild rides at the fair—it never seems to be too long before we’re going at it to one degree or another.

After hitting our favorite rides (we went on the drop tower five times), we climb into his car and head home.

Well, kind of home. The roundabout way to home. The way that includes a stop at a secluded park we discovered a couple months ago. It’s since become “our spot” during those times when the privacy of his home is unavailable. All it takes is for us to pull into the darkened parking lot and I start to get wet. Expecting this was probably where we’d end up tonight, I even wore a denim skirt for the occasion.

Erik loves it when I wear skirts.

He kills the engine and looks over at me with a delicious grin. “Hello future Juilliard student,” he says in a sultry voice.

“Don’t curse it,” I say, grinning.

He leans over and puts his hand on my bare knee, gently cupping the inside of my leg. I lean in too, his hand sliding up my inner thigh as we come together for a sensual kiss. God, can he kiss. His lips lure me in and raise my body temperature as much as anything he does with his hands.

Not that I overlook what he does with his hands. His fingers trail softly up the gap in my thighs. I spread my legs slightly, anticipating his touch.

I glance around the park to make sure we’re still alone, even though we always are. Still, we tend to move quick here, just in case. Not that my body needs it. It seems I’m always ready for him, whether he spends the time on foreplay or not.

As he works his way up my inner thighs, I reach for him too. Two can play this game. When I find him, I squeeze his hard shaft under the thick fabric of his jeans and make him groan.

His fingertips reach the top of my thigh, making the tender skin there tremble. He expertly tucks his fingers underneath the fabric of my panties and dips into me to get my moisture. I exhale shakily and his mouth starts moving down my neck, suckling on my skin along the way. His wet fingertips slide over my clit and I moan.

Rubbing his slick fingers over me, he leaves my neck and bends down toward my pussy. Taking one last glance around, I lean back the seat and rearrange to give him better access. Head between my legs, he pulls back the crotch of my panties and starts to lick me. No longer able to reach his cock, I settle for grabbing his hair and rocking my hips.

His hands firmly rub up my inner thighs, spreading me further and gently pressing my knees open. My clit swells against his tongue as he laps against me. I’m panting and trying not to make any noise. Even though I find the risk of the park exciting, I’m not going to tempt fate by being loud. But the way he’s licking my pussy is sending me into that place that isn’t as cautious as it should be.

“Erik,” I whisper, pushing his head harder into me and arching my hips up more. “God, yes.”

He slides one hand under my shirt and pulls my bra aside so he can fondle my bare nipple.

I spread myself as much as I can. The restrictive space in the car only seems to heighten my pleasure as I long to open wider but am hemmed in. I’m so wet I can feel the juices coming out of me. He dips his tongue down to lap it up and I tremble with the unexpected pleasure of it. He returns to my engorged clit, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

Still squeezing my breast with one hand, he slides a finger inside me and bends it against my wall. That gives me a shock of ecstasy so sharp, my whole body curls hard inward and I’m forced to stifle a cry.

Then another. And another as he works now two fingers inside me. My legs begin to tremble as he eats me firmer and faster.

My body bursts into an orgasm. I let out an extended, muffled whimper as I climax again and again. I gasp for breath, still contracting against him. Pleasure bursts outward from my pussy in powerful waves. I throw my head back against the seat and arch my back. Even though I’m thrashing a bit, his mouth stays right with me, his tongue showing no mercy.