Hopeless (Chestnut Springs Book 5)

Our silence carries us through the house. Somehow, the comfort between us has grown, and so has the tension.

She’s slipped into an oversized vintage Madonna T-shirt that hits her mid-thigh and casts curious glances my way through the mirror when I bring my toothbrush into her bathroom to brush my teeth next to her.

Did I take one look at my empty bathroom and then opt to brush my teeth in hers instead?

Yes.

I don’t want to be far away from her, and I’m too tired to fight it right now.

We spit our toothpaste simultaneously, and both of us awkwardly reach for the tap. Our hands bump, and we yank back like the brief touch electrocuted us.

Her eyes snag on my naked torso as I mumble, “Sorry.”

She clears her throat, blinking away. “Don’t be. What are you—”

“Where are you—”

Our words collide with each other clumsily. After a fun night spent yelling at each other over the blare of electronic music, the house is too quiet.

Too private.

We’re out of places to hide from each other.

“Can I stay with—” I start, right as she says,

“I need to masturbate.”

My earlier sentence dies on my lips. “Come again?”

“You told me I should offer it to you first.” She straightens with pride, staring at me through the mirror. “The next time I was planning on doing it.”

I stare back, hating myself for saying those words to her in a moment of weakness. Hating that I meant them, and she’s throwing them back at me when I’m already feeling so vulnerable around her.

“Listen, you can’t just maul me all night on the dance floor and expect me not to have needs. I’m not a robot like you, apparently.”

I keep staring, grappling for some semblance of control, but it’s slipping through my fingers like sand I have no hope of containing.

Bailey turns to look at me directly, forcing our gazes away from the reflective glass. Our eyes clash as the tension pulls taut between us. “I felt you hard against me, Beau. You gonna tell me that didn’t happen?” Her voice takes on a venomous tone, frustration humming at the back of her throat. “You got some big, mature, paternal words of wisdom for me about what I should and shouldn’t do with my body? Because so help me g—”

My hand shoots forward, fingers curling into her hair. Until I’m fisting it, tipping her face up to mine while I step up close, toe to toe with her, cutting her off. “Bailey, stop running your mouth or I’ll find another creative way to keep it busy.”

Her tongue darts out over her puffy rosebud lips. Her eyes are furious flames. “Good. Do it.”

My jaw pops as I squeeze a fistful of her thick, silky hair. I want to flip her over and take her hard and fast and wild. I know she’d rise to the challenge.

But I’d never forgive myself. It bothers me that what we’re doing here can be filed away as fake when it’s the most real thing I’ve felt in my life. And Bailey’s been picking up the scraps of what she can find for far too long.

No, when I take Bailey, there’s not going to be a single fake thing between us. She’s not going to need me to stay afloat to pay a bill—I won’t take advantage of her that way. I want her to need me for no other reason than she can’t stand the thought of not having me.

“Where’s that box of toys you’re always going on about?” I growl.

“Under my bed.” Her voice is breathier now, laced with nerves and anticipation.

“Good, now you’re going to show me.”

“Show you?”

I drop her hair, reach beneath her thighs, and hoist her into my arms. Her legs wrap around my waist as I march us out of the bathroom straight to her sprawling king-sized bed.

When I drop her down she steps back, the backs of her thighs butting up against the bed, breathing heavily, just like me.

“Who do you want to be?”

That question again. Like she can see straight into me through the confused haze.

Be selfish, she said. So I respond with the first thing that pops into my head. “The man who watches you come tonight.”

It’s true, but it’s also not enough. I want to be so much more than that.

Bailey’s eyes dance across my face, flitting from eye to eye as she rolls her lips together. Finally, she nods slowly as she lowers herself to sit on the edge of the mattress, the warm glow of the bedside lamp making her smooth skin shimmer.

“The box is under the bed, Beau.”

I crouch and reach, feeling the cool edge of a small plastic box. When I pull it out, it resembles something you might store old keepsakes in. I open it and find about ten different toys. Various colors, shapes, and sizes.

I swallow.

My fingers trail over the edge as my brain flips over into a place where I’m functioning only on instinct. Images of Bailey using these, squirming, moaning—in the room next to me or in her trailer just across the lawn—flash through my head.

I consider my options. Slender with a second arm. Hot pink. Another that looks like—

“Listen, if you’re going to back out, why don’t you just—”

My hand wraps around the one that looks like a real dick, thick and heavily veined. I push to stand and cup her cheek with my other hand, running my thumb over her plush lips. Pushing them to the side and watching them pop back into place. “Bailey, what did I tell you about running your mouth?”

A demure smile curves her lips as she says, “That you’d find something creative to do with it.”

Her smile may not be so demure after all.

I lean down and whisper, “Brat,” just before I press my lips to hers. When I swipe my tongue into her mouth, she makes this happy little humming noise and tips her head back. Tangling her tongue with mine, her hands go from gripping the edge of the bed to wrapped around my neck. Pulling me closer. Kissing me deeper.

I let her. And for several seconds, I kiss her back. Taking pleasure in the feeling of being so wanted. So needed.

So alive.

When I eventually pull back, she drops her arms from around my neck, and I chuckle, deep and raspy. “Is that what you thought I meant by creative, sugar?” Her eyes widen when I trail the head of the silicon cock over her lips. “Open, Bailey.”

She does.

“Tongue out. Nice and flat. Like you’re begging for it.”

Her fingers dig into the mattress as her thighs squeeze together. Then her mouth opens wide, and she sticks her tongue out, just like I instructed.

I feel like I’m going to burst right through my fucking boxers as I slide the toy over her extended tongue while she stares up at me. Ready. Nipples pointed against thin cotton.

I push it back, watching the fake cock fill her mouth, lips thinning as she wraps them around its girth.

Fuck, I wish it were me.

It will be me.

I drag it back out, her saliva coating it, and then glide it in again. Further this time, but not too far. I’ll save that for another day.

“Can I go further?” I ask, working it in and out.

She nods, and I pump it into her again.

“Suck, Bailey. Move your tongue. But no teeth. Open wide for me.”

I watch her adapt. Her cheeks hollow out, and I almost blow in my fucking shorts.

Saliva coats her lips, a string of it stretching between the toy and her mouth when I pull it all the way out and go back for more. Easing back in. I watch her lips part around it again.

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” I look her in the eye when I say it.

A little whimper lodges in her throat, and she reaches for my hips, bracing herself. Bracketing my cock. My palm on her hair gently paces her motion.

“You’re doing so well, Bailey,” I murmur in the quiet room, easing back out just a bit.

And then she does it. Mouth stuffed full, she moves one hand and lets it roam over my rock-hard dick.

“Fuck,” I groan. Eyes fluttering shut.

She adds a second hand, tugging my shorts down and gripping me. Soft, tentative hands roam my body.

There’s an innocence to it. It’s exploratory. And I let her go on the adventure. My hips buck forward without even meaning to.

Her eyes flit to mine as one hand moves down to cup my balls while the other works up and down my length.

“Careful, Bailey.”

She draws back, the rubber cock leaving her lips with a wet popping sound. “Why?”

“Because my control is shot, and it’s been a long fucking time since anyone other than me has touched my cock.”

“So, you’re going to come on me?” I swear to god her lashes flutter as she asks me that.

This girl. Her questions. I can hardly keep up. It doesn’t help that her hands haven’t stopped working me. I tip my head back and groan.

“I’m fine with that. I think I might like it.”

My body coils tight, muscles bunching beneath her touch. “Bailey.”

She hums in response, and there’s almost a laugh to the noise. She knows she drives me insane and gets off on it.

“What? I’m on birth control. You can come wherever you want, and it would probably be—”

“Jesus,” I bite out and reach down for her. With my hands gripped around her ribs, I lift her easily and toss her back against the pile of pillows that protect her from the headboard as I scramble up on my knees.

“You’re a little cock tease. You know that?”

Her eyes are like saucers, wild and sparkling, and this girl … this girl fucking smirks at me.

Her shirt has lifted high enough that I have an easy view of the red lace shorts she’s wearing. The sight of her—legs splayed, cheeks flushed—makes me feral.

“Lose the shirt. I’m not staring at Madonna while I watch you fuck this toy.”

Her mouth pops open, and I consider shoving my dick in to watch her try to keep up with the real thing. But she’s never done this before, so I can’t do it all at once. I have to pace myself. I have to go slow with her.

She deserves every one of the bases. She deserves all the angsty almosts.

Bailey rips off her shirt, tossing it carelessly to the side. I move forward and kneel between her legs, using my eyes to trace every curve.

I want to memorize exactly how she looks right now. Dusky nipples, heaving chest, goddamn triangle tan lines from that bathing suit she’s always laying out in.

My fingers trail the scalloped top edge of her red lace underwear, hooking under but not pulling yet.

“Can I take these off?”

She nods, eyes now fixed on where my hands are. She looks so tiny beneath them. I peel the fabric away, inch by delicious inch, bending her knee to free one side.

I decide I like the look of them haphazardly still stuck on one leg, wrapped around one thigh, like we didn’t care enough to take them off completely.

It makes her look a little disheveled. A little undone.

I smirk at the sight, glancing up at her. “You okay, Bailey? Gonna need you to keep talking to me.”

She nods, an edge of panic in the movement.

“Sugar.” I move forward, leaning over her sprawled body, the one I had my hands on in the middle of a stupid dance floor mere hours ago. I grasp her chin gently between my thumb and forefinger. “Any time you want to stop, we stop. You got that?”

“Oh my god. Please don’t stop.” The words come out on a sharp exhale. “Just ignore me. I’m having an out-of-body experience.”

“Bailey. I’m not ignoring you.”

She licks her lips. “You should.”

“Impossible. I’m memorizing you,” I reply softly before kissing her again and feeling her naked body bow up into mine as I settle down over her.

Her hands tangle in my hair before running over my shoulders, trailing down my spine. I lose track of how long we spend like this. My body draped over her. Her lips fused with mine. My fingers pinching her nipples. Her hips rocking desperately against mine.

I don’t stop her when she reaches for the waistband of my partially removed boxers. “These are driving me crazy,” she mumbles against my lips as she tugs at them frantically. “I want them off. I want to feel you.”

I pant against the crook of her neck as she leans up just far enough to shove them away. And then her hands are back on my cock, gripping me. Her touch is clumsy and unfettered. Warm and firm.

“Beau,” she moans my name and my hips flex toward her, into her grip. Her legs wrap around me, her heels digging into the backs of my calves. “More.”

She draws me close.

“Bailey … ” My swollen head bumps against her inner thigh. “Careful.”

I dig my teeth into her shoulder, wanting to leave another mark on her.

“I … ” She breathes that one syllable, and it’s so full of longing that I almost lose it. “I don’t want to be careful.”

I bite her neck. Her skin is hot, a match for mine as we slide against one another. It’s intoxicating. Her smell. Her feel. Her words.

We’re both impulsive right now.

I rear up above her, eyes catching on the red mark I left behind.

Her legs are splayed over my thighs. Pussy on full display. Pink and wet as her hands draw me closer.

“Bailey,” I grit out as she lines us up.

A pearl of pre-cum glistens at the tip of my cock. She fucking wipes it against herself, right through her wetness. Her eyes shut and her tits tilt up at that first contact.

“Bailey,” I say again, reaching forward to fist my base, pushing her hands away in the process. They end up on her tits, pinching, squeezing—that big diamond flashing at me like a warning light to slow the fuck down.

She’s mindless right now, for me.

And me? I’m mindless for her.

But she’s depending on me. Depending on me to take care of her. To not be too impulsive.

“Beau.” Her eyes flip open, searing me with the heat dancing in their depths. “I want it.”

“I know, baby. But we’re not rushing this.”

I swipe myself through her folds again, because I am a glutton for punishment. “I want to make it so good for you, Bailey.”

She squirms and moans. “It already is.”

“Not yet.” I barely rasp the words out, seeing the head of my cock come away all wet with her.

She whines, actually whines, and spreads her legs further. “When?”

Fist around my dick, I press it against her pussy again. “When I say so, Bailey. Didn’t I tell you this pussy is mine now?”

She moans in response.

And god, I’m so fucking weak. My hips defy me. They edge forward, and one inch of my cock disappears inside her.

We both freeze.

“Fuck.” I groan, feeling her pulse around me.

Her head rocks slowly from side to side on the pillow as she chants my name.

I’m standing at the edge of a cliff. One half of me says jump. The other says maybe grab a parachute first.

I pull out and press that same inch back in, watching her spread for me.

God. It would be so easy to just—

No. I don’t want to be careless with her. It’s not just her body. Her first time. It’s her heart.

It’s my heart. It’s my hang-up on faking it. It’s my control in question.

Which is why I pull out and reach for the toy that’s lying forgotten on the mattress beside us.

I replace myself with it and watch her writhe.

“Fuck!” she cries out as I work it into her.

It’s not as large as I am, but she still shakes when I push it all the way in.

My fist is painfully tight around my girth, like I can somehow cut the blood flow off and keep myself together by squeezing tighter.

“Bailey, baby, use your hands. Show me what you do.”

Eyes on me, she trails her hands down her torso until she’s holding the silicon base.

She presses somewhere, and the thing hums and vibrates. Wetness leaks out from where her body grips the skin-toned toy as she cries out instantly.

“You like that?”

She nods in response, and I use my free hand to graze a finger over her lips, stretched tight around the vibrator.

“You look so fucking pretty like this.” I wrap my hand around my cock and pump once, and she moves in time with me, easing the toy out and back in.

It’s the worst tease in the world, watching her fuck herself and wishing it were me. My body aches with it. Low on my back. Behind my hip bones.

“What do you think about while you do it?”

“You.” Fuck. She doesn’t even hesitate. Lips parted, both hands working between her legs.

I swipe a thumb over her clit. Her legs shake, and she moves the toy in a more even tempo.

“You pretending I’m fucking you right now, Bailey?” I can’t look away. We’re a jumble of limbs and wetness.

“Yes,” she whispers and licks her lips.

I keep at her clit, palm sliding over my dick as I imagine what it will be like to fuck her how I want to. Rough and messy. Claiming her.

“I don’t know, Bailey. I’m bigger than that toy. You think this tight little cunt can take me?”

She gasps as she shoves the toy in harder. “Yes, Beau. Fuck. Give it to me.”

“Give what to you?” Our words are choppy. Breathless. So is every movement. Every muscle and tendon strung up tight. Everything about this moment is ready to snap and crumble down around us.

“Your c-cock,” she stutters slightly, doing her best to keep up.

I don’t miss the deep blush on her cheeks. Listening to her say things she probably never has makes me harder. I’m the lucky fucker who gets to hear her try them all out.

“What about my cum, Bailey? Would you settle for that tonight?”

A strangled groan catches in her throat as she shuts her eyes for a beat. Then her lashes lift lazily, and she takes a quick bite on her full bottom lip before she says, “Yes, sir.”

That’s all it takes. I blow.

One hard jerk and I’m coming, hand now braced on her inner thigh, spreading her open. The first rope lands on her toy, the one she doesn’t stop fucking herself with even as I mark her. The next on her clit, dripping down onto her lips.

She works my cum into her pussy with the vibrator. And I watch her do it.

“Oh god,” I groan, losing it over how fucking good she looks. Another rope hits the freshly trimmed triangle, the next her hand.

She doesn’t stop thrusting her toy. She watches, lips parted, legs shaking against mine, as I make a mess of her in the basest way possible.

She’s hot and pink and trembling. All it takes is me wiping the slick of my cum off her hand and pressing it against her hard clit, rubbing it in one firm circle, for her to fall apart right before my eyes.

Bailey screams my name as her head falls back, exposing the elegant column of her throat.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she repeats. Her body goes impossibly taut, then impossibly slack.

She tosses the toy away before slinging an arm over her face, but otherwise doesn’t move to cover herself.

I press her clit once more before my hands explore more of her exquisite body. Palms over her inner thighs. Her stomach. I shape her waist. Gently cup her breasts. Then kiss each one.

And she lies there, letting me. A stillness rolls over us. A peace.

“You’re perfect,” I murmur as I kiss my way down the valley between her breasts. “Every inch. Every look. Every word.”

Her hands move to my hair, fingers trailing over the shell of my ear. The back of my skull.

“I’m so fucking hung up on you, it’s not even funny,” I confess quietly, and then press a kiss to her belly button. She shivers, fingers gliding down the back of my neck.

I don’t expect her to say anything. Or to feel the same way. I’m too old. She’s too young. Too good for me when it comes down to it.

Which is why it sends me reeling when she whispers, “Wherever you’re hanging from … I think I’m on the same hook.”