A/N: This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
September 1. It was almost an hour before the doors would open for dinner service, and the Ambrosia's kitchen was in its usual state of controlled chaos. Saturday night was their busiest night of the week. While the chefs and line cooks manned the grill and the stove, shouting, arguing, laughing, and singing as they went about their work, Pacey stood in front of the massive basin where he was washing a sinkful of dirty dishes that had been waiting for him since the lunch service ended at two o'clock.
While he mechanically went through the monotonous work and drowned out the noise, his thoughts dwelt on something much more pleasant: Joey and her dorm and their plans for later tonight. He was smiling through a rather delicious daydream, involving his girlfriend and that twin bed in her room, and up to his elbows in soapy water when the double doors opened and he heard his name called.
"Pacey!"
He turned from the sink to see Olivia Pérez standing just inside the doors. "Yeah?"
"Your dad is on the phone for you."
He froze. His guts instantly twisted into knots, his nerves immediately set on edge at the very idea of speaking to his father again. When he didn't respond, the other kitchen staff began turning in his direction to look at him. His mouth had gone dry and he swallowed. "Tell him I died."
Olivia scoffed in disbelief. "No, I am not going to tell your father that you're dead."
Now everyone was really staring at him. He could feel their eyes on him like daggers in his skin. "Fine, tell him I quit and got a job somewhere else."
"I'm not going to lie to your father for you, Pacey."
"Yeah, Liv, you really don't wanna lie to a sheriff," laughed Charlie.
While his coworkers whistled and erupted in surprised laughter at this new piece of information— "Witter, your daddy's a sheriff?!" —he turned sharply to stare at Charotte. His eyes narrowed. She visibly gulped at the look on his face.
"Pacey!" Olivia repeated, calling his attention back to her. "Your dad. On the phone. In my office."
He stood there, silent. Just the thought of speaking to his father again brought back every negative thing his parents had made him feel about himself. It all came crashing down on him like a tsunami.
"Uh-oh," Sean Sullivan quipped sarcastically in his thick Boston accent. "Looks like Lace Curtain's idyllic life out there on the Cape might not have been so idyllic after all."
His left hand clenched into a fist. "What the hell is your problem, man?"
"You're my problem, golden boy."
He scowled, his fist clenching tighter.
"Hey, man," John Valenzuela murmured from the nearby prep station, and Pacey turned to look at him. "What if it's an emergency? You know, maybe you should talk to him."
Chef Tucci finally turned from the grill. "Olivia, just tell the man that Pacey isn't available right now and take a message."
Although he felt grateful to Dominic for stepping in, he found he couldn't ignore his father, no matter how much he wanted to. "No, it's okay. I'll talk to him. Thanks, anyway, Chef."
He followed Olivia through the double doors and into the back hallway. Inside the manager's office, he stared down at the phone. A knot tightened in his stomach. His father had betrayed him in that courtroom, and Pacey had felt something inside him rip asunder. He still hadn't sewn it back together. He didn't know if he ever would. And he ran from Capeside, vowing never to go back, so he would never have to face that kind of pain again.
Swallowing hard, he lifted the receiver from the desk and took a deep breath. "Hello?"
"Pacey." His father's voice sounded unemotional, flat.
"Hi, Pop."
"How are you, son?"
"Fine."
"How's the new job? You still like wearing an apron to work every day?" he goaded.
Pacey's eyes stung. He gritted his teeth against the pain that threatened to shred him anew. "Is there a particular reason you're calling, Dad?"
John Witter cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. As you know Monday is Labor Day, and your mother is planning our annual picnic. She wants you to come home and spend the day here at the house with all of us."
Ah, yes. The Labor Day Picnic. The one with all the sheriff's deputies and their families. The one where his dad felt the need to compete with the younger men who worked under him and proclaim himself champion beer drinker. The one where his dad always turned into a prickosaurus rex and found fault with everything Pacey did compared to his deputies' exemplary sons. The one where the rude, harsh words his father used, and the insults thrown at him hurt much more than the beating he'd sometimes get later after everyone else went home.
At the last picnic he had been forced to attend, just before the start of junior year, his dad got so drunk that he had to walk him inside the house and help him take a leak. Pacey was almost overcome by the sudden wave of anger and revulsion.
"You know what, Pop? It's tempting, but I think I'm gonna pass."
"And what do you expect me to say to your mother?"
"I don't care what you say."
His father sighed heavily. "Don't you think you're making too much of this, Pacey? It happened. It possibly shouldn't have, but it did. There's nothing I can do about that now."
"Is that supposed to be an apology?"
"Do you want an apology?"
"I don't want or need anything from you."
Bitterness seized him. He slammed the phone down and stared at it. His chest tightened as he ran his hands through his hair. Then he left the office.
Almost everyone turned to look at him the minute Pacey stepped through the double doors into the chaotic kitchen, and again, he felt their eyes on him. His gaze fell on Charlotte, standing at her station chopping strawberries, purposely keeping her back to him. He made a beeline for her, grabbed her by the arm, and directed her towards the gleaming silver door of the walk-in refrigerator. Startled as she was, she knew better than to resist; she opened the refrigerator door and stepped inside, Pacey right behind her.
"I haven't uttered a single word about my father to anyone here, and yet, somehow you know he's a sheriff," he said to her once the door shut.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
"You do know Gretchen. Don't you?"
She gulped. "Well…"
Her face had gone bright red, and realization began to dawn. "Charlie," he whispered to himself. "You're Charlie," he said to her. "Gretchen's Charlie. Right?"
"Um…"
"Are you dating my sister?" he asked incredulously.
Charlotte nodded, and her expression filled with anxiety.
"How could she not tell me about this?" But then he remembered just how long it had taken Gretchen to admit to her pregnancy and miscarriage. He frowned.
"She doesn't want people to know about it."
"I'm not people! I'm her brother!"
"Pacey, please don't say anything to Gretchen! She might freak out and…" Charlie was wringing her fingers. "Just let her tell you when she's ready to tell you, okay?"
"So, I'm just supposed to pretend my sister isn't currently fucking someone I work with."
Charlie's hazel eyes turned hard, and she glared. "Maybe this is why she doesn't want to tell you. This reaction. What exactly bothers you? Your sister being with a woman?" Her brow arched as she gave him a challenging look.
Pacey's anger immediately subsided. He took a deep breath and leaned back against a cooler. "No. No, of course not. I'm just… I don't know. I'm very protective of Gretchen."
She smiled, her posture relaxing for the first time since they walked into the fridge. "She told me that about you."
"Yeah? What else did she tell you about me?" he muttered, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Look, I just don't wanna see her get hurt. She's been through enough."
"I don't want to see her get hurt either, Pacey. I have no intention of hurting her."
Just then the door flew open, and there stood Armando, looking pissed, his bald head as red as a tomato. "It is four o'clock. If you two aren't out of there in the next three seconds, you're both fired!"
Without another word spoken, Pacey and Charlotte exited the walk-in refrigerator. They each took a stool at the large island, where they, along with the rest of the kitchen staff, sat for the daily team meeting. As usual, the dishwashers, Gary and Sheldon, and the waitstaff had also gathered inside the kitchen for the meeting. It had been Sean's responsibility to prepare the simple staff meal that night. The plates were served as Dominic began discussing the agenda, and then Pacey sunk his teeth into one of the most delicious burgers he'd ever eaten.
The doors opened at five. Dinner was incredibly busy. All through the service a stressed Armando screamed at practically everyone, but the cooks on the line just kept their heads down, making the food as fast as they could. Working alongside the dishwashers, Pacey emptied the sink as fast as he could, thankful that he'd been given no prep work tonight for Armando to manage. After the doors closed at ten, he walked out back to take a break.
Behind the restaurant, he leaned against the building next to Charlotte while John took a drag of his cigarette. "Who holds a newborn baby in their arms and names him Gary?" Pacey mused before taking a sip of coffee from the cup he held in his hand. "'This is my baby, Gary.'"
John started laughing, smoke curling out of his nostrils.
"And you're just not going to have great sex with a guy named Gary," Charlie added. "Someone named Gary is gonna renew your driver's license at the RMV. If you need someone to sell you insurance, or do your taxes, he's the guy to do it, but between the sheets is not where Gary does his best work."
Then John's voice went high as if imitating a girl. "'I want you, Gary. Oh, fuck me, Gary. You're making me come, Gary!'" He paused while Pacey and Charlie erupted in laughter. "Yeah, it just doesn't work."
"So, why are you drinking coffee after ten o'clock at night?" Charlie asked, gazing at Pacey with arched brows.
"Because I have plans with my girl after work and I need the caffeine." He was already on his second cup.
"You two going out somewhere?"
Pacey grinned. "Nope. We're staying in." There was a certain bed in a certain dorm room that needed christening, and Joey had promised to wait up for him. He smiled to himself and felt a rush of warmth in his cheeks as he remembered the voicemail that he'd listened to a couple hours ago when he'd taken a quick fifteen-minute break. They hadn't had sex since Monday night, and he was so horny, he was practically jumping out of his skin, counting down the minutes until he could leave work.
Minutes later, John put out his cigarette butt and went back inside the restaurant, leaving them alone in the alley. A silent tension sprung up between them. Charlotte expelled a heavy breath and turned to face him.
"So… do you wanna talk about that phone call you got earlier?"
His brows furrowed. "With you?"
She pursed her lips, and shrugged. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to talk to an unbiased third party. A wizened Boston city girl who didn't grow up sheltered like you Cape folk."
"You think I grew up sheltered, do ya?" he countered, his lips curving into a frown. "It was my father on the phone, as you know. We talked for a few minutes, and hopefully we won't have to talk again for a very long time."
Charlie was quiet a moment. "To people who grow up here, this city is like family. The thing about family—about the city, about the church, about the people you grow up with—is that no matter how much they hurt you, no matter what the cost is, you still love them."
He heard the ring of truth in her words. He did love his father. Despite everything, he still did. He probably always would. Andie was right—that's why it hurt so much. All he'd ever wanted was for his dad to love him. When he finally accepted that would never happen, then all he'd wanted was to escape.
"Growing up, the most I thought about anything was what I wanted to do, who I wanted to be. To get out of Capeside. To rise where my father said I couldn't go, to succeed. To be a man."
"I don't see anything stopping you. You got out, right? You're here. You can do whatever you want, be whoever you want to be."
He looked at her, but said nothing.
She sucked on her bottom lip and crossed her arms. "Do you… not like me dating Gretchen? I mean, is it me? Do you not like me, or something?"
"I like you just fine," Pacey said. He sighed and turned away from her gaze. "I guess… I was kinda hoping that the kitchen would be like… a bubble where my life didn't encroach on it."
"What do you mean?"
He was quiet a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "When I cook, I feel… free. I'm free of my everyday thoughts, worries… anything weighing on my mind. You know, there's just me and the food, no rights, no wrongs. It clears my head of everything else. Anything I may be feeling—sad, angry, scared—disappears for a while. I don't have to feel anything, or think about anything other than the food in front of me.
"And so, I was hoping the kitchen would be, you know, a neutral zone where I could block out everything. And I kinda wanted to be anonymous in there. You know, I wanted a fresh start in Boston. I didn't want everyone in there to know about my father, or… you know, hey… my sister's sex life. I mean, they all know you're with somebody, but they don't know who. And I'm sure as soon as they get wind it's my sister…" He shook his head, rubbing his hand across his brow. "Good God."
The corners of her mouth twitched as she fought a smile. "Do you always rant like this?"
"When the situation calls for it. And I happen to think it does. Because now I have to come to work and see you—the person who's banging my sister. But it's a secret, and my sister can't know that I know, and so now I have to carry that stress around with me." He grimaced.
Charlie's brows knitted. "I thought you worked with Chef Mao this summer?"
Taken aback at her seemingly irrelevant response, he blinked. "Uh, I did…"
"Didn't he share with you his cooking philosophy?"
A calm, mild voice floated through his mind.
When you cook, it is a chance to draw out from yourself everything you are feeling. Yes? Add it to the food. Stir in a pinch of sadness and a spoonful of fear, and what do you think! Something magical happens.
Pacey felt one corner of his mouth kick up at the memory of Mao Jingchen's friendly, round face, his kind eyes and happy smile. In the ten weeks he had spent under his tutelage, Chef Mao had taught him a lot about cooking, but he'd done more than that. He'd taught Pacey a lot about the kind of person he wanted to become.
"You have to pour your feelings into your cooking," Charlotte told him as they heard the sound of the steel door opening behind them. "You can't be anonymous in the kitchen. First off, we're all up each other's ass in a tight, enclosed space six days a week, twelve to fourteen hours a day. Everyone knows everything about everyone—the good, the bad, and the ugly. But more than that, so much of cooking involves being open and sharing yourself, giving of yourself to others. If you suppress your feelings, block them out or bottle them up, you'll never become a great chef. You'll end up like Sean. Don't get me wrong, Sean is an excellent cook. But he'll never be a great chef."
"Hey, Charlie," called Jean-Claude Baptiste in his accented English. "The pit bull wants to speak to you."
"Great," she muttered. Throwing Pacey a small smile, she walked away.
The line cook joined him, and lit up a cigarette. "What she said about Sean is true, you know."
Pacey turned and glanced at him, taking in his flawlessly smooth dark skin and his brilliant white smile. He was big and tall—taller than Pacey—and had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled—and he smiled a lot. In 1980, violent repression and human-rights abuses had caused his parents to flee Haiti and settle the family in Boston's Mattapan Square. Jean-Claude was now thirty years old, had a wife and four kids, and he currently lived with them in the Boston suburb of Brockton. The smiling Haitian had more than once extended an invitation to Pacey to come down to the suburb sometime on one of his nights off and have supper with his family.
"The man will never be a great chef. He himself knows this."
Pacey shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, he sure doesn't like me. I don't know what his problem is. Did someone from the Cape burn his grandmother's house down, or something?"
Jean-Claude's mouth curved into a knowing smirk. "He is just jealous and threatened, my friend."
"Threatened?" His brows shot up in disbelief.
Sean Sullivan, with his blond hair and green eyes and good looks, stood five-feet-ten-inches tall, and had a tattoo of the 'Fighting Irish' leprechaun on the back of his neck. He was single, and appeared to be a favorite with the Ambrosia's waitresses. Born and raised in the Southie projects, he was twenty-five years old and had graduated from culinary school four years ago.
Pacey had no clue why the guy would feel intimidated by an eighteen-year-old kid from Cape Cod.
"Yes, threatened." Jean-Claude expelled a puff of smoke. "It's been no secret around here that the pit bull is thinking of moving with his family back home to Arizona. It's sort of been talked about off and on for the past couple years. The point is, Armando won't be here forever. Sean wants to be promoted into the sous chef position, but Mr. Moore will never go for it, and he knows it. What he really wants is to become Dominic, but he will never be Dominic. Sean doesn't have it in him—that brilliance."
"So… what does that have to do with me?" Pacey asked, feeling uneasy. Despite his question, he thought he knew where the guy was going with this.
Jean-Claude smirked again. "Back in the spring, Mr. Moore came to the restaurant and told us that he'd hired a new prep cook for the kitchen. He was very excited. It was you, of course. And earlier this week, on your first day here, while James and Dominic were speaking together, some of us may have overheard parts of the conversation. I know Sean did."
"A conversation about me?"
"Yes."
"What was said?"
The Haitian took another drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaled before he answered. "Mr. Moore told Chef that you are a genius in the making and you don't even know it. He obviously sees something in you… something he doesn't see in Sean."
Pacey had no idea what to say to that. "So, that's why the guy has such a chip on his shoulder?"
"Well, that's part of the reason. Sean has been working here since he was seventeen. He started as a dishwasher, moved up to prep cook, and then line cook. When he first applied to culinary school—you know, up at CINE—he applied for the fast-track program. Only a select few ever get accepted. Well, he wasn't."
Closing his eyes, Pacey hung his head and sighed. "Oh."
"Yes. Chef Dom and Mr. Moore talked about that, too." Jean-Claude studied him for a moment. "Do you realize exactly what you're turning down?"
"Well, maybe I don't. But I know what I'm not giving up. Besides, there's culinary programs right here in Boston. I can apply to Bunker Hill again next year, and maybe after I've got this experience under my belt, I'll be accepted."
"The community college?"
"Yeah. What's wrong with that?"
The man shrugged and then folded his arms. "Well, nothing. But why settle when you can have the best? You should want the best for yourself, yes?"
Joey's face swam in front of Pacey's eyes, and he nodded in agreement. "Yes."
As he opened the steel door to go back inside the restaurant, he turned. "How many of them know in there?"
Their eyes met and Jean-Claude held his stare. "They all do."
Joey spent the rest of her Saturday afternoon taking a tour of her residence hall. On the first floor, along with ten dormitories, there was a large common area called the Living Room as well as a classroom, computer lab, kitchen, laundry room, and some offices staffed by college administration. She went up to the second floor and found a library, where to the right and left of the large room extended a hallway with fifteen dorm rooms. The third and fourth floors held more dorms, thirty on each floor.
She was sitting at her desk looking over her class schedule and the Worthington campus map, plotting her class locations, when there was a knock on her door. A smile spread across her face, and she hurried to answer it. Although she knew it wasn't Pacey, who she couldn't wait to see later tonight, she was still excited. She opened the door, and her smile widened.
"We bring food!" Jack announced, holding up a big paper bag full of takeout.
"Hi, guys," Joey laughed.
"Hey, hey," Jen said, stepping inside the dorm room carrying three bottles of Snapple Iced Tea. "Apparently, there's a great Thai place between here and Grams' house."
"Great. I'm starving."
She shut the door and locked it. Sitting on her bed, Joey opened a container and took a bite of her Pad Thai noodles. "Oh, this is so good. Thank you for bringing me supper."
"You're welcome." Jen and Jack claimed the empty bed that would soon belong to her roommate, and opened their own containers of food.
Then the three friends sat around, eating, talking, and laughing.
"Jo, this room is seriously huge," Jen told her, glancing about the dorm with wide eyes and raised brows.
"Yeah," Jack agreed before drinking a sip from his glass bottle. "I thought dorms were cramped spaces and everyone on the floor had to share the same bathroom."
Joey shrugged. "Maybe it depends on the size of the school. Worthington is a small liberal arts college and only has like two thousand students. I guess they have the room to give us more personal space than say… a university with twenty thousand students on campus. You know, like BU."
"So, how many classes are you taking?" Jen asked as she picked up a spring roll.
"Five."
Her friends stared. "Five?" Jack said incredulously. "How many credits?"
"Yeah. Sixteen credits. Why? How many classes are you guys taking?"
"Four," they replied in unison.
"Well, they're pretty much all prerequisites," she said with a shrug. "But then I also decided to take an art class."
Jen smiled as she chewed her last bite. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised you'd be ambitious your very first semester."
Joey returned her smile. "So, how's your grandmother?"
"She's good. Oh, that reminds me. What are you doing on Monday?"
"There's a mandatory residents' meeting at ten o'clock down in the common room, but other than that…" She shrugged. "It's Pacey's day off, so we're probably just gonna hang out. Why? What did you have in mind?"
"You guys wanna come to Grams' house for a barbecue? Andie and Will are coming."
"Um, I'll talk to Pacey, but yeah… I don't see why not. Sounds like fun."
Jack finished off his chili-garlic shrimp. "You think Pacey will agree to man the grill? Or is he sick of cooking already?"
Joey pursed her lips, and shook her head. "He hasn't been doing any cooking this week. Just a lot of dishwashing." Then her lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Do you just want Pacey to come to the barbecue so he'll cook the food for you?" she said, giggling.
"No!" Jack laughed. "Well, I mean, that's not the only reason."
"Yeah, we also enjoy his company," Jen added, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Still laughing, Joey rolled her eyes as she moved off the bed to throw her empty container in the paper bag.
"So, what are you doing tonight?" Jack asked.
"Pacey's coming over later when he gets out of work."
Jen grinned and shook her head. "First night on campus and she's already made a booty call."
"Hey, might as well take advantage of not having a roommate yet, right?" Jack said matter-of-factly.
She smiled, her cheeks blushing. "Exactly."
When the sky outside started to darken, her friends bid their goodbyes and left her dorm room.
The clock was now nearing midnight. After she'd taken a shower, she had gone about lighting candles around the room. Butterflies of anticipation were alive inside her stomach. It'd been too long since she'd felt his intimate touch. Just thinking of a naked Pacey made her feel weak-kneed. Her entire body flushed with warmth. The muscles of her stomach were tensing. He was big and hard, and just thinking of him made her squirm. She was achy and wet and ready, slick and welcoming, and she had to rub her thighs together for some friction. The wait was bordering on torture.
Just after midnight, Pacey walked out the back door to the alley behind the restaurant. John offered to give him a ride, and seven minutes after pulling out of the staff parking lot, he arrived at Worthington campus. He thanked John for the ride, and then made his way to Plymouth Hall. There he found his girlfriend waiting for him at the entrance.
"Aww, shucks, hon. You didn't have to meet me out here."
Joey grinned as he pulled her into a warm embrace, and she threw her arms around his neck. "How else were you going to get inside the building at this time of night?"
"Where there's a will, there's a way. You've got a first-floor dorm room." He waggled his eyebrows at her.
"There is no way you'd fit through those windows, Pacey," she said, laughing.
"But you couldn't blame a guy for trying, right?"
Smiling, her gaze turned seductive, and she pulled his head down for a kiss. "No, I couldn't," she murmured against his lips.
They barely made it through the door before Pacey's hands were on her body. The insistent tug of desire had her pressing her bottom against his fly. Joey felt the hard ridge of his cock as she wiggled her backside. A rush of heat pooled in her belly. Wetness pooled between her thighs. He kissed the side of her neck, using his tongue and teeth until her breath caught.
"Did you know that you make the sexiest sound deep in your throat when you want more?" he said in a husky whisper. His hands left her breasts and slid down her sides until his fingers lightly teased her thighs below the hem of her shorts.
She'd be lucky to remember her own name with him touching her like this. He turned her in his arms. They kissed passionately. Joey held him tight against her. Pacey's large hands slid down her body. He unzipped the fly on her jean shorts, and his fingers deftly slipped inside her underwear. She moaned into his mouth as he stroked her sensitive flesh, already slick and swollen.
"Damn, Jo. You're so wet. Did you start without me?"
She laughed against his lips. "I've been thinking about you for hours, Pacey."
He pulled her body flush against his and walked her backwards to her bed. "I got your message earlier. I believe you said something like… I could do whatever I wanted with you tonight."
Her pulse raced, her heartbeat hammering beneath her ribs. "Yes," she breathed, and her toes curled inside her sandals.
"I want to touch you all over," he whispered.
"So, do it," she demanded playfully, arching her brow.
The heat in Joey's eyes sent a rush of blood to his cock. He made quick work of her clothes, and soon she was lying naked on the bed. She rolled onto her stomach. "Touch me," she pleaded softly, lifting her backside and opening her legs, offering him the view of a lifetime.
His dick throbbed inside his boxers, pressing hard against the zipper on his jeans. When he stood staring at the glorious sight of her so open to him, so trusting, she lifted her ass a little higher. "Touch me, Pacey." The repeated demand was warm, husky, and too inviting for him to ignore.
Still fully clothed, Pacey dropped to his knees at the end of the bed and moved in to skim his hand over the tender flesh of her derrière. "You're so wet, so aroused. Because you want me," he told her, bending over to place a kiss on the tiny dimple at the base of her spine.
Her eyes rolled. "Yes," she breathed.
His fingers followed a path down the seam of her ass, and he smiled when he heard her suck in a breath. He stared at her anus and his mouth went dry. He licked his lips and swallowed hard as his cock throbbed painfully. When he moved his fingers away from her ass, she followed them with her body begging for more of his touch. He slid his fingers down the soft path to the slick seam of her warm pussy. Damn, she was so wet, and he was ready to come out of his skin.
"Fuck, you smell good," Pacey murmured, and she whimpered helplessly.
A trickle of wet desire rolled from the slickness between her thighs. He caught it with a fingertip, and brought it to his mouth. "Mmm. You taste good, too."
"Oh, God," Joey groaned, pressing her face into the pillow. Her entire body was engulfed in heat. The tension coiling tight at her core was almost intolerable.
He eased two fingers deep inside her tight sheath. She eased out a hiss of breath and pushed back against his hand. He withdrew to tease her, then circled a fingertip over her swollen clit. "Yes," she whimpered. A soft moan rose up from inside her when he thrust three fingers deep inside her this time.
"You're so soft, so tight. I love the way you feel around me," he said again, retreating and entering her again and again until her moans coalesced into deep pleasure-filled pleas. She lifted her hips higher and opened wider. The need to taste her overpowered him, but they had all night and Pacey wasn't about to rush their lovemaking now that he finally had her where he'd been imagining her for days. He planned to make her crazy with wanting him.
"You want me." He thrust his fingers deep inside her, and her back arched as she cried out with a long, wild moan of pleasure. He bent over her to nip and kiss her shoulder. "Say it," he demanded.
She tossed her head back, her long dark hair loose and wavy against her skin. "I want you to make me come," she said teasingly, then rocked hard against his hand.
He slowly eased his fingers back inside her until Joey responded with a sharp, desire-filled groan. Her back bowed again and she pushed her ass high and up, giving him full access to her deep, wet core. His own breath came in short, hard pants as he brought her pleasure. He slightly twisted his hand as he pulled out, over and over. She spread her thighs wider for him, taking him inside her wet heat as far as her body would allow. The roll of her hips became more demanding. Her cries grew louder and more insistent.
"More," she whimpered desperately. Her pussy contracted around his fingers, and she rode him harder, faster, taking him fully. He slid his other hand around her to tease her nipples. She let go of the pillow she was gripping and pushed his hand down her body into her soft, dewy curls. "More," she demanded again, her voice as tight and strained as her body. "Give me more, Pacey. Please."
He gently circled her swollen clit with his deft fingertips. Her hips bucked wildly beneath his hands, her bottom rising and falling, brushing erotically against his erection still trapped painfully within the confines of his jeans. Her inner muscles clenched tight around him, and she called out his name as she came in a rush. Her hair floated down her slender back in shimmering waves as she uttered the throatiest, sexiest sound of intense pleasure he'd ever heard while spasm after spasm rolled through her still-trembling body.
"I thought I was supposed to be in charge here, Potter." He withdrew his fingers and pressed her labia open to tease her throbbing clit with the lightest of touches.
She giggled around another soft groan. She stretched like a languid, contented cat with an accompanying purr of satisfaction. He gently gripped her hips and guided her onto her back, then carefully pulled her toward the edge of the mattress. Her brown eyes were half-lidded and a satisfied smile curved her mouth. Holding her gaze, he set her feet on the mattress and pressed her thighs wide.
"I want to taste your lips," he said, inching his fingers slowly toward her slick core.
One of her eyebrows lifted lazily. "Good idea." She opened her arms and reached for him. Instead of leaning over her to taste her mouth as she'd mistakenly believed, he dropped to his knees again and laved her deeply with his tongue. Her scent and her sweet-salty tartness on his tongue made his cock pulse enthusiastically.
"Oh, my." He heard her arms flop onto the mattress and felt her back coming off the bed.
She sighed. He took his time, exploring with his tongue and fingers, tasting and stroking, thrusting and suckling the very heat of her until her legs trembled and her entire body was strung tight once again. The release her body craved, he withheld, building the pressure and carrying her closer to the brink with every lap of his tongue, every stroke of his fingers, every graze of his teeth over her ultrasensitive clit. Her hips bucked. Her hands sank into his curls, but she didn't even bother to try to change his course.
"I want you in my mouth, Pacey." The sexy demand came out a harsh, strained whisper. "I need to taste you."
He debated for about half a second before he left her to remove his clothes. Joey sat up and held out her hand, her breathing as ragged as his own. Gripping the front of his T-shirt, with one good yank she discarded the soft cotton material by tossing it impatiently to the floor. He made short work of his shoes and socks by the time she had his jeans unfastened. Pacey shucked off his boxers and joined her on the bed. His erection pulsed and throbbed painfully. In wanting to drive her past the point of caring, she'd driven him there and beyond with her uninhibited response to their lovemaking.
"I want to look at you," Joey whispered, her gaze zeroing in on his erection, huge and shuddering, as it bobbed in front of her. She whined a little in her throat, wanting it. It was perfect, thick and long, and she loved how it felt in her hands, in her mouth, and deep inside her body.
The swollen tip was wet and leaking with pre-cum. The needy vulnerability of his cock lit a fire in her belly. She liked giving Pacey head. She liked knowing that even if she was the one on her knees, it was Pacey who was at her mercy. But even more than that, she liked the sensation—the heavy weight of his cock on her tongue, the brush at the back of her throat, the solidity of his desire between her lips, the taste of his release as she brought him to ecstasy. It was many things she liked best about sex, in a single act.
He rested on his knees and fisted his hands at his sides as her hands swept across his flat stomach and down to his groin. Her fingers whispered over his rock hard cock and farther down to the underside of his balls. "Poor sweetheart," she cooed, testing the weight of his sac in her soft hand. "They're so swollen."
The smile curving her mouth was sexy as hell as she raked him lightly with her nails. He eased out a harsh breath and took hold of her shoulders to draw her close. "I haven't come since Monday night. You're playing with fire, Jo."
She hummed with carnal delight, continuing to stroke him with soft caresses.
Pacey dipped his head and kissed her long and hard. Wrapping his arms around her, he hauled her up against him. Still on their knees atop the comforter, he slid his hands down her back and pressed his fingers into the flesh of her ass urging her even closer. With her soft curves plastered against him, he struggled hard for control. She ended the deep, exploring kiss long before he wanted it to be over, but the moment the tip of her tongue traced his flattened nipple, he lost track of everything but the ends of her damp feminine hair tickling his erection, and her hot, moist mouth sliding down his torso, kissing, nipping, laving.
He stopped her before she could take him into her mouth, but not before her warm breath fanned the tip of his cock, the sensation so erotic his eyes rolled. She looked up at him quizzically. "I have a better idea," Pacey told her.
If the wicked smile on Joey's face wasn't enough to test his control, the way her tongue slid across that plump bottom lip definitely pushed him that much closer to his limits. He settled back on the bed. Taking hold of her hips, he guided her over him, urging her legs open so she straddled his shoulders.
Her breath caught, then expelled in a whoosh when he spread her swollen folds with his fingers. She was wet and pink all over, and wide open for him. Then he thrust his tongue inside her hot core. Her sweet taste almost made him come. Her soft hair brushed his belly, then teased his thighs as she kissed his navel, then snaked her tongue in a heated path down his body and finally along the length of his cock. She gripped him in her hand and slowly pumped while he tongued and suckled her perfect clit. He moaned his pleasure at the dual sensations, and her legs began to tremble.
The heat of her mouth circled his sensitive head as her lips clamped over his length as she took him deep inside with agonizing slowness. Pacey gripped her hips and licked her, slowly lapping up the juices of her need. She released her hold on him and used only her incredible mouth, freeing her hands to press his thighs wide so she had access to every part of him. He trailed fingers coated in her wetness along the cleft of her ass and Joey moaned with him still in her mouth. The vibration of sound pushed him closer to losing control.
Deliberately relaxing her throat muscles, Joey breathed calm and steady through her nose and savored Pacey's heady, masculine scent. She memorized the musk of the skin at the crease of his thigh and the delicious saltiness of his cock. She felt his hands cradling her bottom, rocking her hips as he ran his tongue over her wet, swollen center.
He concentrated on bringing her more pleasure in an attempt to distract himself from the feel of her hands and mouth on his body. Need raked his gut. His heart pounded. His cock throbbed inside her mouth as Joey pushed him toward fulfillment. He pushed back, and took her gently into an exploration of wicked, erotic delights.
Joey closed her eyes and moaned at the pleasure Pacey was giving her. He knew just where to touch her to drive her wild, knew when to be firm or gentle. When he adjusted her hips, moving her clit away from his mouth, she groaned.
Filling with excitement, Pacey's breathing became shallow and he felt his pulse race as he licked his way up from the wet seam of her pussy to her tight rosebud.
When Joey felt the first touch of his tongue against her anus, she gasped around his cock. It was carnal and wicked. She'd never thought Pacey would put ever his tongue there. He licked over the taut ring of muscle, a gentle, soft caress, and she moaned at the exquisite delight. Well, this was new.
Then his fingers once again thrust into her pussy at the same time that she felt his warm, flat tongue against her anus. With a shudder of need passing through her like a tornado, she bucked again. Her eyes and mouth opened wide in response. Her hand clenched tight around his erection as flames of lust burned through her body.
"Oh, my God." Could he really be doing that… licking her there as his fingers fucked in and out of her pussy? And why did it have to feel so good? Who knew she had so many nerve endings down there?
Her response made Pacey's blood boil. He felt his cock swell and harden and pulse excitedly. His body went rigid and he gritted his teeth to stay in control of himself. He didn't want to come yet. He still wanted her to hold him in her arms while he came deep inside her.
She was gasping, her body tightening. Her clit throbbed, aching to be touched again. The heat of his tongue, the warm puffs of breath against her skin, the firm strokes of his fingers against the sweet spots inside her, created a pleasure so intense it blurred the edges of her vision.
Her lids grew heavy, and she moaned around his cock. Pacey didn't hold back, and the potent nature of their joining flowed between them. It was always present, but this felt like something more. He could sense the beginning of her orgasm, feel her clenching around his fingers. The tension was about to burst. He shifted her hips, and as his wet fingers rubbed against that tight ring of muscle, he brought her needy clit back to his lips, and suckled hard.
It was like a bomb went off. Her response was wild as she flew apart and came hard in his mouth. She muffled her scream with her arm. "Yes, Pacey…!" she groaned, riding the waves of throbbing pleasure at her core. He finger-fucked her through it, dirty talking just to make it worse… or better.
Joey's lusty cries from the volcanic force of her orgasm pushed him too far and too fast for him to regain control. "Oh, I'm gonna come," he moaned helplessly.
His body strained, and Pacey attempted to urge her away when she returned to his cock, but once the heat of her mouth engulfed him, he was unable to resist. She expertly brought him pleasure with her lips, tongue, and the suction of her mouth until his body shook and he came hard in a hot, molten rush, crying out her name in ecstasy.
When he had nothing left to give her, she twisted around and slid her body along the length of his, stopping when she cupped his face in her soft, delicate palms. "That was some fire," she said, sounding sleepy and satisfied. He chuckled, and she ducked her head and nibbled his chin, then suckled the base of his throat.
He felt dazed, his mind completely blown. His breathing was just as labored as hers, and nothing more was said for some minutes. After they returned from the bathroom, Joey pulled on a tank top and a fresh pair of underwear and then snuggled up in bed with Pacey beneath the covers.
Joey looked at his blissed-out expression and smiled sheepishly. "So, um… what was that?"
"What?" he replied innocently.
"Don't 'what,' me, Pacey. You know what I'm talking about."
He grinned. "Well, how did it feel?"
"It felt weird."
"But you liked it."
"I—" Her face blushed crimson at the self-satisfied smirk on his face, and she had to avert her eyes from his gaze.
"You didn't tell me to stop."
"I know."
"Did you want to tell me to stop? Do you wish I had stopped?"
She hesitated, not wanting to admit it. "…No."
He laughed.
"But… it's, you know…" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Dirty."
His brows furrowed. "Did it make you feel good?"
"Well, yeah, but…"
"Then what's dirty about it? I mean, it's pretty vanilla."
"Pacey, there is nothing vanilla about… what you just did."
Jesus, she couldn't even say it out loud. His chest shook with breathless laughter. Her aroused mortification was so working for him. "Jo, forget about what you think is proper or not, and just let your body tell you what it likes."
She kissed his neck, and moaned quietly against his skin, arousal trying to rekindle despite her exhaustion. "My body likes you," she purred.
"Careful, Potter. There could still be embers smoldering."
With a lazy smile on her lips, Joey wiggled purposefully against him.
"They can flare up without notice and cause all sorts of trouble, you know."
He hugged her close and she sighed with contentment before lowering her head to his chest. "Sounds dangerous, Pace."
"Don't worry, Jo," he murmured. "I'll protect you."
Oh, she loved him so much. Loved him even more when he held her close and kissed her eyelids as she dozed off, warm and safe in his arms.
"Joey? Joooooooeeeeeeeeyyyyy! Wake up!"
Her eyelids opened just enough to see a strange smiling face directly in front of her. Startled, she shot upright in bed and yelped, throwing her arms up.
"Whoa, whoa! It's me, Audrey!" she said as she backed away. She giggled and sat on the edge of the other bed. "Sorry, I've been trying to wake you up for the last five minutes. And um… you might wanna cover him up."
Eyes going wide, she turned and saw she'd shifted the covers when she sat up, throwing them off Pacey's hips. She quickly covered him back up. Joey's face was burning, and she nudged him to wake up as she looked at the digital clock. It was almost eight-fifteen. "I thought your flight didn't get in until this evening?"
Her new roommate shrugged. "I decided to take the red-eye last night. I couldn't stand my mother anymore and wanted to get the hell out of there."
Joey nudged him again, forcefully this time. "Wake up!"
Pacey's eyes flew open. He turned his sleepy, confused gaze from his girlfriend to see a blonde sitting with her legs crossed on the other bed, smiling widely.
"Hey there, big boy."
He panicked and fell off the twin bed in the hurry to get out of it. He cursed as he slipped onto the floor on his side, taking the sheets with him. Joey's hand flew to cover her mouth while the blonde girl laughed. Wrapping the sheet around his waist, Pacey frantically collected his clothes.
"Who… who are you?" he asked. "Do you usually just burst in on people this early in the morning?"
"Audrey Liddell, the roommate from Los Angeles. You're the boyfriend, I presume. And yes, I burst in here because I live here, dummy." She chuckled and looked at Joey. "Why didn't you put something on the doorknob? I mean, hello! It's like college dorm rule number one."
Pacey laughed nervously, threw a wide-eyed, furrowed-brow stare at Joey, and then disappeared inside the bathroom.
She watched as Audrey's gaze had followed him until he was no longer in sight, and then her roommate turned to her, pursing her lips and nodding in approval while giving her two thumbs up.
Embarrassed, Joey buried her face in her hands.