Authors: Megan Hart
He moved my panties aside with a finger and stroked. I shifted to let him pull the material down over my hips, and off. The table was big enough to hold all of me, and I stretched my arms over my head. Arched my back. I gave it up to him, right there, without question or worry about the size of my thighs, the thickness of my bush. Not a damn thing.
Alex leaned over me. He spread my legs, slid his hands beneath my ass, lifted me to his mouth. I was already wet. He made the sort of noise I make biting into a piece of double chocolate cheesecake…mmmm.
I gasped again when he sucked gently on my clit. Then he fluttered his tongue, oh so softly, before circling it. I rocked into his mouth, urging him on.
It was the fastest I’d ever come. With him. With anyone. With myself, even. I shot off hard. My hands slapped at the table’s slick, polished surface, squeaking. I shook and shuddered. It was over in half a minute, nothing drawn out about it.
With the aftershocks rippling through me, I opened my eyes and smiled up at him. “Mmmm.”
Alex slipped his hands from beneath me and stood up straight. I sat up to grab the front of his shirt and kiss him.
He laughed into my mouth. “That was unexpected.”
I nipped his bottom lip. “Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t that much of a surprise. Not for the hottest boy in every single freaking grade.”
His hand cupped the back of my neck. “Careful. You might have me thinking I’m pretty good at that.”
I pushed him to the side so I could hop off the table, and shook my nightgown down over my thighs. I picked up my panties and headed for the door, saying over my shoulder, “Oh, it was fine. But with a little practice, you could be
really
damn good…”
I started running when he growled and lunged.
I made it all the way to the front door of my apartment before he caught me. We didn’t get much farther than that.
“Y
ou were right. This was worth it.” I looked around the half-empty ballroom. The one other time I’d gone to Chocolate Fest the crowd had been cheek to cheek—not the ones on our faces. Today, people circulated freely to sample from the fifty or so booths lined up in aisles.
And it was good stuff, too. Not just cookies or cake, but homemade candies from local gourmet shops and bubbling fountains for chocolate-dipped fruit. The champagne was cheap, but cold, and the hors d’oeuvres fancy but unnecessary, as far as I could see.
“Nothing but the best for you,” Alex said gallantly.
I rolled my eyes, though his words were sweeter than any chocolate I’d tasted. He gave me an utterly satisfied smile and squeezed me closer as we walked, hand in hand. We both glowed with the radiance of the freshly fucked. I’d gone on my knees for him in the hall outside my door, taken him in
my mouth. Sucked him hard until he came. Chocolate couldn’t chase away the memory of his taste flooding me.
Not that I wanted it to.
I had Alex all over and up inside me. Smell, scent, all of it. He didn’t have to touch me for me to feel him.
We got looks, of course. Even after America elected a black man as president, people still saw skin color. Alex didn’t seem to notice. I’d lived with it my whole life and still I could never not notice the second glances.
We walked past the cakes decorated for the competition. People oohed and ahhed over the creations of sugar and almond paste and fondant. My favorite was the cake shaped like a lake, the ice made from melted hard candies, the snow of crystal sugar and marshmallows. Tiny fondant figures skated on top. It was a simple design compared to some of the more elaborate ones, but had been expertly crafted.
I was still looking at it as I moved on, not paying attention. I bumped into Alex. Stepped on his foot because he’d stopped all of a sudden.
“Ouch,” he said mildly, staring at the scene in front of him.
I burst into laughter I quickly hid behind my hand. “Wow.”
“There must’ve been a theme,” he said, nodding toward the next three cakes. “But damn if I don’t think it’s wrong to take a bite out of Jesus’s face.”
All three were life-size re-creations of Christ’s head, complete with the crown of thorns and agonized expression. Small pieces had been cut, I guessed for the judges to taste, and all I could think of was the phrase “this is my body, that shall be given up for you.”
“Why would anyone ever want a cake like that?” I studied it, wondering.
Alex laughed. “First Communion, maybe?”
I shuddered. “No, thanks.”
“Did you have one?” he asked as we moved away from the cakes and toward the center of the ballroom, where the raffle prizes and silent auctions were showcased.
“A Jesus-head cake?”
“A First Holy Communion.”
“No. Nor a Bat Mitzvah. You?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Good Catholic boy,” I teased. “When’s the last time you went to confession?”
“Long time ago. Hey, look at this one.” He pointed to a basket stuffed with picture frames and other photography goodies. “Want to bid on it?”
I looked at the basket, wrapped in crinkly, translucent paper, and then the card attached. “Oh, cool. I know Scott Church. I took a couple of his classes.”
Alex peeked at the basket’s contents, too. “Digital camera. Nice. I should get me one of those. Gift certificate for a full glamour photography session. Ha. Don’t need one of those.”
He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close for a kiss. “I’d rather have my picture taken by you.”
“I think we could manage that.”
“Liv?”
I looked up at the sound of my name, just as a tiny figure tackled my knees with a squeal. Laughing, I peeled her away before she could knock me over. “Pippa, hi. Watch out. Devon, hi.”
Devon gave Alex a curious glance, then stuck out his hand. “Hi. Devon Jackson.”
“And I’m Pippa.” Today she wore a ruffled gown, her curls tied back with a matching bow. “I have a pretty dress.”
“Yes, you sure do.” Alex bent a little to admire it, then straightened. “Alex Kennedy.”
“Where’s Steven?”
“Home with a cold. Told me to get out of the damn house,” Devon said with a grin. “I have friends who work for the New Horizons Adoption Agency. They told me to come on by, man the booth for a little while today.”
“You can make a Valentine’s Day card,” Pippa said. “With glitter, and lace and glue!”
“We’ll have to stop by and check it out,” I told her.
She tipped her head back to give Alex a sly once-over. “You could make one for Olivia. If she’s your valentine. Is she?”
Alex put his arm around my waist again. “She sure is.”
Pippa laughed and danced. “Do you guys kiss? Do you? Ha-ha! That’s funny!”
Devon laughed, too, and shook his head at her. “Pippa, you run back to the booth and take charge over there.”
Giggling, she launched herself into my arms for a hug and a kiss, then darted off through the crowd.
Devon’s once-over of Alex wasn’t quite as blatant as Pippa’s, but I saw it.
He looked over the basket display. “You bidding?”
“It’s for a good cause. Yeah, I think so.” Alex’s fingers tightened on my hip before he withdrew. “Olivia, I’m going to go get some tickets, okay? I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.” I watched him go, the crowd parting. Heads turned to look at him even when I wasn’t on his arm. I looked back at Devon, whose mouth was still pursed, brow furrowed. “What?”
He laughed and rubbed my shoulder for a second. “Girl, don’t get your panties twisted on me, now. Man owned up to being your valentine, that’s all. And he’s looking at you like he thinks you’re tastier than any of this candy in here. And you…”
“Me, what?” I gave him an icy look that didn’t intimidate him.
“We got ties, don’t we?” Devon’s broad shoulders blocked out the sight of anything behind him, but he wasn’t being aggressive or scary. He looked concerned. “We’re family.”
“We’re dating, that’s all. I met him a couple months ago. He’s been living downstairs.”
“At your place?” Devon’s brows rose, wrinkling his bald head.
“Yes.”
He let out a low whistle. “Huh. So things are serious.”
“I don’t know about that.”
He glanced over his shoulder to the ticket booth, where Alex was now charming the volunteer in charge. “He looks like he does.”
Before I could answer, Alex came back with a string of tickets. “They were selling them in arm’s lengths,” he explained. “I got one for each of us.”
Devon laughed. “I need to get back to the booth before Princess Pippa makes all the valentines and doesn’t leave any for anyone else. See you all later. Liv, you call me, hear?”
“I will.”
We both watched him go, and Alex handed me a strand of tickets. “What are you going to try to win?”
I ended up putting my tickets in all the baskets, while Alex put all of his in the photography basket.
“I don’t have a camera,” he said when I laughed at his choice. “I need one.”
“You could just buy yourself one, Alex. I can’t believe you don’t have a camera.”
He shrugged, his tickets gone. The session was ending, and we were going to have to leave to make room for the next wave. “I had a camera, but not a digital one, and it broke a long time ago. I just never got another.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and win that one, then.”
He grinned. Took my hand. “I have a better idea.”
When he looked like that I wanted to pounce on him, but I restrained myself since we were out in public. “What’s that?”
“You can tell me what kind to buy. I bet you’ll give me good advice.”
I laughed. “Uh-huh. Okay, sure. When do you want to buy it?”
He shrugged as we waited in line to pick up our coats from the coat check. “Whenever.”
He helped me into my jacket and shrugged into his navy peacoat, looking wickedly delicious. I watched him wrap his long, striped scarf around his neck. He had an effortless style the straight men I’d dated had lacked. It might be stereotyping, but it was true.
“Today?” I asked, thinking of a visit to Cullen’s Cameras. I hadn’t been in ages, and there was always something there I wanted to buy.
“Sure. Let’s go.”
“So…what sort of camera are you looking for? Point-and-shoot or something more expensive?” I eased the car into a
spot in the parking lot at the camera shop and turned off the ignition.
“Whatever you recommend.” Alex leaned back in the seat and shot me a sideways grin. “You’re the expert.”
“How much money are you looking to spend?”
“Money isn’t an issue.”
“Must be nice,” I said.
Alex’s smile didn’t fade, didn’t wither, didn’t move. His eyes, though, went a little shuttered. “It is.”
“Come on, then. You ready?”
“Always.”
I shifted him a glance as I opened my door. “No kidding.”
His laugh rang out and hung, frozen in the winter air, on the steam of his breath, almost like a physical thing I could reach out and touch. Like ice that would break if tapped. He shook his head as he closed the car door.
“You have a dirty mind, Olivia.”
I scoffed. “Oh, that’s a good one, coming from you.”
I led the way to Cullen’s Cameras, a tiny shop tucked among the houses of a residential neighborhood. I never knew how Lyle Cullen stayed in business, since he never advertised and the shop wasn’t anyplace anyone would ever look for if they didn’t already know it was there. But the business had been in his family for years and I guessed it had become more of a beloved obsession than a moneymaker.
I reached for the door, but Alex was there before me, holding it open. Gentlemanly. Inside I breathed the smell of dust and the hot air spilling from the old iron radiators. Underneath it the faint smell of chemicals from the darkroom. Alex sneezed.
I got my first camera for my birthday when I was three. It
was big and clunky, with a plastic view screen that showed pictures of farm animals when you pushed the “flash” button. Nobody told me it wasn’t real.
It didn’t really matter. The pictures I made when looking through the small plastic hole didn’t have to exist for me to see them. I remember talking to my grandpa about the lady in the long dress in the corner. I asked him if she was an angel. Angels, to me at the time, were always ladies with wings and halos of tinsel, or babies in diapers who shot arrows to make people fall in love. That woman had no wings, but it was clear to me that viewing her through the lens and no other way meant she was special.
Grandpa only saw the barnyard when he looked. So did Grandma, and my parents, and everyone else I asked. After a while, when there were other toys to play with, I stopped asking about her. I didn’t forget about her. I just moved on.
Cameras with removable, disposable flashbulbs that came in packs of six. Cameras I had to load and wind by hand, and later, when my parents saw how serious I was about photography, cameras with better lenses. My dad gave me his old Nikon, complete with the original neck strap in a 1970s hash mark pattern of orange and brown, and I discovered bulk packs of film stuffed into the toe of my Christmas stockings.
The best camera I got, the one I still used, was a Nikon D80 I’d bought for myself with my first check from Foto Folks. It had seemed a fitting use of the money, even though I’d had to cancel cable television for a few months. I hadn’t missed the TV shows, and I used my camera almost every day. I considered it a good trade-off.
“Olivia. Hello.” Lyle Cullen beamed at me as he came out of the back room. He rested his chubby hands on the glass
case displaying several cameras resting on soft blue velvet. “Who’s your friend?”
“Alex Kennedy.” Alex held out his hand and the men shook.
“Here for a camera, Alex?”
“Yes, sir. I am.”
Lyle’s broad grin widened. “Good, good. Let me show you some lovely models. Tell me a little bit about what you want to do with it, and we’ll see what we can do for you.”
Alex followed him to the case along the far wall, and I listened with half an ear while Lyle asked what he was looking for. The rest of my attention focused on the Nikon D3 seducing me from a narrow glass case where it sat like a jewel in a crown. Which, in my opinion, it was. It might as well have been a diamond or a ruby for the price, and for how unlikely it was I’d ever be able to afford it. I stared at it longingly as I tried to convince myself it wouldn’t really take better pictures, and I’d be so afraid of breaking or losing it I’d never take it out of the box.
I wasn’t convinced, but then I’d never been very good at making myself believe I didn’t want something when I knew I did.
“Olivia? What do you think of this one?” Alex held up a simple point-and-shoot digital camera. “It’s waterproof. And takes video.”
If Lyle had suggested it, that meant the camera was a good choice for the buyer. Lyle never tried to upsell just because he could. I nodded and crossed to take a closer look.
“It’s great.”
“Mr. Cullen says it’s good for taking to the beach or skiing,”
Alex said, and held the camera up to look at the view screen. “Smile.”
I’m used to being on the other side of the lens, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to strike a pose. I flashed him a grin, a finger beneath my chin. He laughed at the picture he took and showed me. It wasn’t half-bad.
“I’ll take it.”
“Very good, very good. Let me get you one from the back,” Lyle said. “And for you, Olivia? Anything today? The D3 maybe?”
He knew of my lust for the D3, knew I couldn’t possibly afford it, but he never failed to ask.
“You’re tempting me, Lyle. But not today.”
“What’s the D3?” Alex asked when Lyle ducked into the back room to get his purchase.
“C’mere.” I showed him. “It’s gorgeous, huh?”
He left a beat of silence, proving he didn’t see the difference between my dream camera and any other, before answering. “Sure.”
I laughed. “It’s a nice camera. Top of the line. Too rich for my bank account, though.”
“Ah. It’s a sell-your-firstborn sort of thing, huh?”
I hesitated, thinking of my firstborn. “No. Not that. Maybe I could sell a kidney, though.”