Chapter 6
Clarke wasn't sure whether her mom had the day off or not—being a doctor meant that her hours weren't always regular—but she figured she'd swing by and spend some time at her house regardless of whether she was there or not. If Kane was there, she'd grill him about when he was going to pop the question to her mom and how he was going to do it. If neither one of them was there, she'd go float out in the pool in one of their inflatable chairs, kill a little time before her afternoon class.
When she pulled up in the driveway, her mother's white Range Rover was indeed there, and when she went inside, she smelled food. Her mom loved cooking on her days off, and cleaning, just doing the housewife stuff even though she was so not a housewife.
"Hey, Mom," she chirped as she joined her in the kitchen.
"Hi, honey." Her mom was in the middle of stirring some pasta, so she didn't give her a hug. "What brings you by?"
"Rent." Clarke reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small wad of twenties. "I'm working now, so I shouldn't have any late months." Except when it comes to my period, she thought bitterly. That thing was gonna be nine months late.
"Just set it on the counter," her mom said. "Where are you working?"
She was a little bit hesitant to answer as she put the money down. "Eligius."
Her mom made a face. "As a bartender? Oh, Clarke . . ."
"Well, a waitress," she clarified. "I mean, I do serve drinks, but there's nothing wrong with that." Hell, her mom and Kane went to that bar sometimes, so it really wasn't fair for her to be judgmental about it.
"No, I suppose there's not," her mom admitted with a sigh. She turned down the heat on the stove, then turned to face Clarke while the noodles continued to boil. "So how was your birthday?"
"It was good," she said. Sliding onto one of the chairs at the kitchen island, she muttered, "Dad called. Talked for about five minutes. He got me a card, put some money in it."
Her mom knew her well enough to know that such an impersonal gift was disappointing to say the least. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she said sympathetically.
She shrugged, trying not to dwell on it. "It's okay. At least he remembered. And my friends threw me a surprise party, so that was fun."
"Oh, I'll bet." Her mom leaned across the counter, asking, "So what was your favorite gift you got?"
She smiled, the answer obvious. "A sketchbook."
"Oh, yeah. That's a nice way to pass the time."
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes when her mom turned back around and went over to the stove to stir the pasta again. A way to pass the time? Like art was just some silly little hobby or something. She loved her mom dearly, she did, but the woman had never understood that art and music were actual true passions.
She must have been spacing off a bit, because when her mom glanced back over her shoulder, she asked, "Clarke? Is everything okay?"
No, everything wasn't, but she didn't want her mom to know that yet. "Yeah," she lied. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"I don't know. You just look . . ." Her mother trailed off, turning off the burner altogether as she brought the pot over to the sink and dumped its contents into a strainer. "I feel like there's something you're not telling me."
Oh, because there is, Clarke thought. In fact, there were a couple of somethings.
Her mom gave her a few seconds to say something, but when she didn't, she prompted, "What's going on?" as she bumped the strainer against the side of the sink to drain all the excess water out.
There wasn't a chance in hell she was dropping that pregnancy bomb, but she did feel like she owed it to her mom to tell her something. "Bellamy's back," she blurted, deciding that that was the lesser of two dramatic things.
"Bellamy Blake?"
"How many Bellamys do you know, Mom?" she joked. "Yes, Bellamy Blake."
Her mother was silent as she dumped all the noodles back into the pot. "Hmm," she said. "That's interesting." It almost seemed like she didn't want to look Clarke in the eye when she asked, "Is he visiting?" because she suddenly was just all focused on dumping that alfredo sauce onto the noodles and giving it a good stir.
"No, he moved back," Clarke informed her. "He wants to be around now that Octavia's in college."
Her mother nodded wordlessly, but even though she wasn't saying much, Clarke could tell that there were so many thoughts running through her mind. "Have you seen him?" she inquired.
"Yeah, we hung out a little bit last week," she answered vaguely, more than happy not to divulge that she'd seen him naked again, too. "And he was at the party last night."
"Hmm," her mother repeated. That one terse word said so damn much. "Well, I wouldn't recommend getting back together with him, obviously," she said, "because of the history. But maybe now the two of you can be . . . friends."
Maybe, Clarke thought. That wouldn't be easy, though. She and Bellamy had gone straight from being acquaintances to sleeping with each other on a very regular basis. They'd never actually just been friends. She wasn't sure it was possible.
...
After class got out, Clarke headed to the grocery store. When she'd lived at home, she'd never had to shop for food, and when she'd lived in an apartment, there had been a convenience store right across the street. Groceries were just another weekly errand now. As tempting as it was to just roll her cart through the aisles quickly and grab whatever she wanted, she'd heard that organic food was best for a baby, especially in these early stages of development, so she was at least going to try to get some organic produce.
She held up an orange, inspecting it, not sure what she was looking for. A special label, maybe? A special symbol? But there was nothing, so she asked the stock-boy, "Is this organic?" But he just shrugged cluelessly.
Great, she thought, putting the orange in her cart anyway. Fruit of any kind couldn't be bad, right? She'd look up more info when she got home. If organic really was all it was cracked up to be, she'd have to get in the car and drive somewhere with a bigger store. The only two stores in Arkadia were pretty small.
"Clarke?"
She whirled around when she heard her name. "Hey, Aurora," she greeted, smiling at Bellamy's mom. "How are you?"
"Oh, busy," the gorgeous brunette replied. "You?"
"Yeah, I've been pretty busy, too." Busy screwing your son the other night, she thought, wondering if Aurora knew that. She probably did. Not only did she know her son very well, but she also had this very strong mom-sense and just knew things.
"I like this haircut," Aurora complimented. "It suits you."
"Thank you." She touched her shorter hair, thinking she'd keep it like this for a while. It was a hell of a lot easier to manage.
"So what do you think about my son's beard?"
Feels good in between my legs, she immediately thought, but of course she censored herself. "That suits him, too."
"Yeah, I think so," she agreed. "He told me it was your birthday yesterday. Happy birthday, by the way."
"Oh, thanks."
"Twenty . . . two?"
"Yep."
Aurora shook her head in amazement. "Gosh, seems like just yesterday you were the sixteen year old girl sneaking in and out of Bellamy's room."
Clarke blushed a bit.
"Sorry, I don't mean to embarrass you."
"It's okay. It's true. I did do that," she acknowledged. "You were a lot more lenient about it than my parents were."
Aurora laughed. "Well, I know he's really enjoyed getting to catch up with you. I'd love to catch up, too, if you've got a free evening sometime."
"Oh, really?" She sometimes ran into Aurora at places like this, but it was pretty much just a quick conversation, no more than a couple minutes, and then it was done. Now Aurora sounded like she wanted to make plans, though.
"Yeah. Come on by some night this week," she invited. "I'll make dinner."
Clarke just smiled, but she wasn't sure how to respond. Would that be awkward if Bellamy was there? Or would he even be there? Maybe not. Maybe he was going out every single night. Or maybe he was hooking up with other girls.
...
"So if Mason was so great," Bellamy said, plucking an especially gooey mozzarella stick out of his and Miller's shared appetizer basket, "why aren't you still with him?"
His friend shrugged. "We were just at different places in our lives. It's alright. It was for the best."
Bellamy nodded, interpreting that as a mutual break-up then. He had some experience with that type. "So how's your dad been about everything?" he asked, changing the topic.
"Pretty open-minded, actually," Miller replied. "The first year was an adjustment, but nowadays, he tries settin' me up with guys."
Bellamy chuckled. "Good. I'm glad he came around." How anyone had ever thought Miller was straight back in high school was a damn mystery to him. He'd always known, but he'd never mentioned it until Miller was outted by some jackass from Polis's football team.
The door of the bar opened, and in came Clarke, dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans. She noticed him and Miller sitting in that booth, and she smiled slightly at him. He smiled and gave her a small wave back.
"Uh-oh," his friend said, following his gaze. "I get the feeling I just became a lot less interesting."
Well . . . he had. Bellamy wrinkled his forehead as he watched her head into the back room. For employees.
"Clarke works here now?" Miller said, surprised.
"Looks like." All the more reason to come hang out at Eligius then, as far as he was concerned. He loved getting to see her.
"What about you? You find a job yet?" Miller asked.
"No. I haven't really started looking," he admitted. Somehow, all the jobs he'd had over the years had just sort of found him. He was hoping the same would happen here.
"Well, I got an ex-boyfriend who has a friend who works construction. I could ask about that for you," Miller offered.
"Construction?" He had no experience with that.
"Might not be as interesting as driving a gondola, but . . ."
"You don't drive a gondola; you paddle one," Bellamy corrected. "And yeah, sure, I'll take you up on that." He was strong and had always been decent at work that involved his hands. He'd built a birdhouse back in shop class, and that'd turned out alright, so maybe construction would come naturally.
When Clarke came out of the back room, she had an apron around her waist and an order pad tucked into the pocket. She headed behind the bar, and he heard her ask, "Hi, what can I get you?" to a man who had just sat down.
Bellamy couldn't take his eyes off her.
"Just go talk to her," Miller urged him. "You know you want to."
Of course he wanted to. And of course that was obvious. He knew Miller would be more than content to just sit there by himself for a bit and gobble up what was left of their food, so he slid out of the booth and headed up to the counter. Even though he probably wasn't supposed to be behind it, he walked right up next to Clarke and asked, "Hey. What's up with this?"
"Oh, I work here now," she told him.
"Since when?"
"A couple days ago." She gave the man at the counter his drink, told him to enjoy, and then motioned Bellamy to follow her down the bar. "So guess what?" she said.
"What?"
"I ran into your mom in the store today. Not the first time that's happened, but this time, she invited me over for dinner this week."
"Dinner?" he echoed.
"Yeah."
Well, that was . . . sneaky of her. Not that he minded or anything, but he hadn't had a clue she was going to do that. "What'd you say?" he asked.
"I-I didn't really know what to say," she stuttered, "so I just told her I'd have to check my work schedule. I mean . . . I don't wanna be rude and turn her down, but if you don't want me to be over there . . ."
"No, it's fine," he assured her. "You can come." Hopefully Octavia wouldn't stop by, though, because she didn't have a filter like his mom did. His mom had enough common sense not to be too obvious with the hints she was dropping, but Octavia would just drop an anvil.
"Are you sure?" Clarke cringed. "Because if it's too weird . . ."
"No, not at all." She was welcome over there anytime as far as he was concerned. "I'll tell her to plan on it. Tomorrow night maybe?"
She thought about it for a moment, then said, "Sure."
"Alright." He would have loved to keep talking to her, but a couple college kids sat down at one of the tables. "Miss?" one of the said, impatiently waving her over.
"I gotta get to work," she said, stepping out past the bar to go serve them.
It was weird as fuck seeing Clarke as a waitress, but between rent, the expenses of daily life, and now a baby on the way . . . she had to make money somehow.
When he returned to his booth, Miller asked, "What was that all about?"
"Oh, nothing," he said, grabbing the last few French fires before his friend could. "Clarke just has a date with my mom now."
Miller made an utterly confused face, but he just went with it and didn't ask questions.
Even though Bellamy had all the time in the world to hang out longer, Miller had things to do, so he had to leave, and Bellamy felt like he might distract Clarke too much if he stayed. So he left her a tip, even though she hadn't been his server, and headed out. When he was only a few feet away from his car, however, an all too familiar shrill screech rang out.
"Bellamy!"
Oh, fuck, he thought, coming to a stop on the sidewalk. Slowly, he turned around.
Bree bounded toward him like an excited puppy and practically flung herself at him. "Why didn't you tell me you were back in town?" she said. "God, look at you. You look so good." She rubbed her hands all over his chest, not even bothering to disguise her desire. "What about me? Do you like my boobs?"
"They're . . . new," he said, not sure what other word to use for them.
"They feel natural," she boasted. "Here, feel." Before he could even protest, she grabbed his hand and placed it on one of her breasts and held it there, and he just pressed his lips together tightly, trying not to say anything rude. But he was unimpressed to say the least. They didn't feel real, and they were way too big to look natural, and honestly . . . Clarke's boobs were just a lot better.
His hand still on Bree, he looked back inside the bar and met Clarke's eyes for just a second. She was at the counter, clearly able to see everything that was going on out there. She tried to avert her eyes quickly, but he saw a flash of . . . something in her eyes. Not jealousy, because she'd never been jealous of Bree. But maybe it was disappointment? Like she was disappointed in him for feeling another girl up right out there in public, even though that hadn't been his intention.
He pulled his hand away, sighing heavily, feeling guilty even though he really had no reason to. Clarke wasn't his girlfriend. But in a way . . . she still felt like his girl.
...
"Fuck, my grades are in the shitter, man," Bellamy grumbled as he took a look at the mid-quarter report his coach had inconspicuously given him at their meeting this morning.
As they headed down the hall, Miller said, "Let me see," and grabbed the paper from him. He actually winced as though the grades were painful to look at. "Yeah, they're not great," he agreed. "I don't get it. Isn't Monty tutoring you?"
"Yeah, but I still bombed a couple tests." He shook his head, disappointed with himself. Chemistry was killing him right now. He knew everything about the only kind of chemistry that mattered, the kind you had with chicks. But this science shit wasn't his thing, and every test involved so much damn reading.
"Hey, look you got an A in P.E., though," Miller pointed out before handing his grades sheet back to him.
"Yeah." Typical. His body worked a lot better than his brain did. He crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the trashcan.
"Hey, Bellamy," some girl said to him cheerily as she walked by.
"Hey," he said back.
Miller snorted. "Who was that?"
"I don't know, some freshman who wants to bang me." Whoever it was, she wore too much makeup. He wasn't interested.
"You gonna go for it?" Miller asked him. "Or are you all attached now?"
He stopped walking and stood in front of his friend to block his progress. "To who?"
"Oh, you know who."
"Clarke?" A couple of guys on the team had been asking him about her. At this point, it was pretty obvious that they'd slept together, and they wanted details. He wasn't giving any, though. No need to publicize or boast about anything they'd done together. She probably wouldn't want that.
"You guys have been gettin' kind of cozy," Miller noted. "Out in the parking lot last week, you were all over each other. What's goin' on?"
"Nothing," he said, not at all into the pressure of putting labels on relationships. "She's cute. She likes me."
"Do you like her?"
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean she's my girlfriend or anything." Right after he said that, he watched Miller's facial expression just shift, drastically, and he looked at someone over Bellamy's shoulder.
Oh, no, he thought, pretty sure he smelled her perfume. He turned around, hoping he was wrong and that Clarke hadn't just overheard all that, but there she was, right behind him, clutching her books to her chest. Just walking through the hallway like he and Miller were. And of course she'd had to be walking right here right at this moment.
She looked hurt, no doubt about that. But she didn't say anything. Instead, she just lowered her head and didn't say anything to him as she hurried right on past. He watched her walk away, feeling like such a jerk. He didn't really date girls, but that didn't mean he set out to make them feel bad about anything. Especially not sweet girls like Clarke Griffin. But now, he'd gone and done just that. Hurt her feelings with his words.
It wasn't a good feeling for him, either.
...
Bree looked utterly perplexed as to why Bellamy wasn't acting more interested in her. But was it really that surprising? Senior year's homecoming dance was the last time they'd really hooked up at all, and after that, he'd made it pretty clear he wasn't interested anymore.
"You wanna hang out later?" she asked.
'Hang out' was pretty much just a euphemism for sex. Normally, that was his favorite way to pass the time, and he'd passed plenty of time that way with plenty of women all over the world. But Bree just wasn't someone he was interested in sleeping with anymore. "No," he decided, stepping down off the sidewalk to get in his car. No, he didn't wanna hang out with her.
...
Clarke did end up coming over for dinner that next night, and Bellamy sort of . . . planned out what he was gonna wear in advance like a fuckin' moron. Just a nicer pair of jeans and black t-shirt that accentuated his muscles. She looked just as nice, even better, in a white casual dress with a floral design on it. He made sure to tell her she looked nice, too, just so she knew he'd noticed.
His mom was a good cook—having a strict grocery budget over the years had taught her to do a lot with a little—so she made a really good casserole and a fruit salad, and they heated up some rolls, too. Bellamy definitely noticed that Clarke was already onto her third roll before he'd even finished his first, eating for two and all, but he wasn't about to mention it.
"I'm so glad we could do this," his mom said as she scooped some more casserole onto her own plate. And Bellamy had to agree. The conversation hadn't been awkward or stilted. His mom and Clarke had always gotten along pretty well, and they still did.
"It's really nice of you," Clarke said.
"Oh, it's no problem."
Bellamy reached to the center of their small kitchen table for the butter, needing more for his roll. "Food's good, Mom," he complimented.
"Thanks, I'm glad you like it."
"Yeah, it's way better than anything I could cook," Clarke added.
"Do you eat Ramen noodles?" he teased her.
"No, that's such a college stereotype."
If her eating habits were still the same, he was pretty sure she had a whole shelf full of Kraft mac and cheese, though, and probably lots of frozen food, too.
"So how has college been for you?" his mom asked. "Octavia's not liking it so far."
"Oh, I've enjoyed it," Clarke said. "It gets busy, but it's worth it."
His mother tilted her head to the side and inquired curiously, "What're you studying?"
"Biology."
Bellamy frowned, wishing it was something else.
"The plan is to go to med school," she explained, "become a doctor like my mom."
Bellamy grunted. "When did that become the plan?"
"What do you mean?" she said. "It's always been the plan."
"No, it didn't used to be," he argued. "I remember talking to you about it. You said you wanted to study art or music."
"Or medicine."
There was some revisionist history going on, because he recalled many conversations where she'd lamented the fact that her parents seemed to have her whole future planned out for her. "No, your mom and dad wanted you to study medicine. You felt pressured to do that," he claimed.
She didn't exactly disagree, but she gave him almost sharp look and said, "Well, things change."
He frowned again, confused. Yeah, things changed, but . . . not everything. It seemed to him like she'd just gone the safe route instead of pursuing what she was really passionate about. And he didn't blame her for that, but still . . . it just kind of sucked that she wasn't really exploring her talents.
"Artist, singer, doctor . . ." his mom recapped. "You can't go wrong with any of those careers if you ask me."
Clarke smiled sheepishly, then shot Bellamy a quick look out of the corner of her eye. He felt kind of bad for being argumentative. Whatever she wanted to study was up to her. He hadn't been around for years, so maybe she really truly had changed her mind and become passionate about the medical career field, too. And regardless of what she ended up doing with her life, at least she had more of a plan than he did. So who was he to judge?
They sat around and talked a little longer after they were done eating—his mom was interested in what Clarke's classes were like, because she revealed, much to Bellamy's surprise, that she was thinking about enrolling and taking a class or two herself. She wasn't sure what she wanted to study, she said, but she just wanted to get her feet wet and see if college was the right fit for her. Clarke gave her all sorts of advice on which intro classes to take, but she'd seemed to talk herself out of it by the end of it. She said that Octavia's student loans were already enormous, and the last thing she needed was to add on to that. Bellamy hoped she'd reconsider, though. Right now his mom was working part-time as a seamstress and full-time as a maid at the hotel on the outside of town. She'd sacrificed a lot of her opportunities for her future when she'd had him at seventeen.
Around 9:00, Clarke decided that it was probably time to leave, but she made sure to give his mom a hug and express her gratitude when she said, "Thank you, Aurora. Everything was great."
"Thanks for coming," his mom said, her arm around Clarke's shoulders as she led her to the door. "Good to see you." She slinked away then, however, and retreated into the kitchen, but not before giving Bellamy a pointed look. He felt like maybe she wanted him to walk her out to her car or something, maybe even kiss her goodnight.
"Well, this was fun," Clarke said as they stood at the door.
"Yeah," he agreed. Truthfully, he wouldn't mind doing it again sometime. "Mind if I come with you?" he asked, motioning outside.
She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a look. "Are you gonna grill me about my major some more?"
"Sorry about that," he apologized. A moment of assholery. He had those from time to time.
She thought about it—or more than likely pretended to think about it for a moment—then allowed a slow smile to spread onto her face. "Come hang out for a while, if you want," she invited.
Yeah, he definitely wanted to hang out with Clarke.
Instead of following her to her house, he hopped right in the passenger's seat of her car and rode there with her. They listened to some music from high school, enjoying the throwback, and he sang along badly while she sang beautifully.
When they got to her place and walked inside, she turned on the living room lamps on either side of the longest couch, and he was once again reminded how amazing this place was. Most girls her age didn't live in houses like this. And the view . . . it looked better in the daytime, but even at night, it was still pretty incredible.
"You don't have to worry about driving me home," he told her.
She set her purse and kegs down on the couch and said, "What, you're just gonna walk?"
"No, I'm gonna run," he decided. "I gotta get back in shape."
"You're out of shape?"
"I don't know." He didn't really feel out of shape, but he'd seen a lot of former teammates since he'd been back, and almost all of them had beer bellies an dad bods now, and he didn't want to end up like them. "All I've done since I've been back is sleep in and go to the bar. I need to work out."
Her eyes roamed up and down him for a few seconds, and then she swayed towards him with a little gleam in her eyes. "Well, just my opinion," she said, tilting her head to the side as she looked up at him flirtatiously, "but I think you got a pretty good workout the other night."
Oh, Clarke . . . He loved it when she talked like that. His princess had one beautiful, dirty mind. "Yeah, I did," he agreed, thinking about how fast his heart got to racing when they were together. It was better than any regular cardio workout, that was for sure.
For a second, it seemed like she wanted to keep flirting with him, maybe press herself against him and kiss or something. But she sort of blinked, dropped her gaze from his, and then took a few steps back. "So do you wanna see what's on TV?" she asked, reaching for the remote control on the coffee table.
He grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "Do you?" he questioned back.
"What do you mean?"
Oh, she knew exactly what he meant, but it was cute that she was trying to be coy. "Never mind," he said, trying not to push his luck. Dinner tonight had been nice. The car ride here had been nice. Sitting down and watching some pointless program with her would be nice, too. Not as nice as sex, but . . .
"What?" she kept on, not bothering to shake her wrist free of his grasp.
Don't do it, he thought as his eyes fixated on her soft, perfect lips. She had a lot going on in her life right now, and there was no need to complicate it.
Even as he told himself not to, he felt his hand sliding up her arm, pulling her closer to him. He lowered his head and found her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, unable to resist. It just felt so damn good, so familiar, almost like five years hadn't passed.
She kissed him back, of course, probably because it felt so familiar to her, too. But she was the one who eventually pulled away and put a premature end to it. "Bellamy . . ." She sounded so frustrated and reluctant to stop. "We shouldn't," she said.
Who the hell out there in the universe was deciding what they should or should not do, though? If they both still liked each other and were attracted to each other, then what was wrong with acting on that attraction? "Why not?" he challenged.
"You know why," she mumbled.
Yeah, yeah, he knew she was pregnant. But did that have to matter so much? At least for tonight, it really didn't matter to him.
"Alright, tell me to leave then," he urged her. If she did that, then he'd respect her wishes and walk out right now, start off on his run towards home. But if she didn't, then maybe he could just stay and get another good workout in with her.
He could practically see her mind racing as she thought about what she should do and what she actually wanted to do. Clearly her id and her superego weren't quite on the same page. Finally, she just said, "Oh, what the hell?" and gave in and flung herself into his arms. They kissed passionately, almost frenetically this time, with a reckless abandon that just completely overtook both of them She hopped up on him, coiling her legs around his waist, and he held her up easily as he stumbled around the living room, trying to decide whether to lay her down on the couch or bend her right over her kitchen counter. Hiking her dress right up, he splayed his hands against the gorgeous round globes of her ass, very appreciative of the fact that she'd worn a thong. Damn, her skin felt good beneath his hands.
"Upstairs," she murmured in between kisses. "Upstairs." Of course that wasn't as easy as doing it right down here, but if she wanted to be fucked in her bed, he'd fuck her in her bed. He didn't have a problem with it. The thing was a queen-size, so he could just sprawl her out and appreciate every single inch of her.
Since his pants weren't down to his knees yet, he was able to carry her up the stairs pretty easily. But she'd already started unfastening his jeans at the top of the staircase and was struggling to yank his zipper down. She must have gotten fed up with that, because she groaned, fumbled around with her dress, and managed to rid herself of it, dropping it right outside her bedroom door as they tumbled inside.
He barely made it to the bed and ended up kind of dropping her on the mattress and falling on top of her. He wasn't on top for long, though, as she quickly reversed their positions and straddled him. It was sexy as fuck seeing her take charge like that. The girl he'd first fucked back in high school had been an eager learner, but over the course of their relationship, she'd become so fucking good in bed, better than any other girl he'd ever been with before. Sometimes, it'd felt like he'd been the one trying to keep up with her.
Clarke liked to grind her pussy on his crotch when she was on top of him, so she quickly pulled down on his jeans and his underwear to release his cock. He lifted his hips a bit to assist her in taking those two pieces of clothing off and then lay there pants-less, completely under her control as she rubbed and circled her groin against his. Her panties were wet, and he wondered how long they'd been that way. Since they'd started kissing? Since they'd gotten in the car? What if they'd been wet all through dinner tonight? What if she'd been sitting there thinking about doing this with him.
Fuck, he was so turned on.
Reaching out, he pushed one of the cups of her bra aside, committedly palming her breast, giving the heavy mound a good squeeze as she tossed her head back and moaned at the stimulation. If she hadn't had her hands on his chest, holding him down, he would have tried to sit up and suck on her tits for a bit. Clarke had the most amazing rack he'd ever seen, and he always loved paying it the attention it deserved.
Her ass, too, though . . . her ass was also a thing of beauty, something he'd had the privilege of fucking once. He didn't wanna neglect that part of her, so he snaked his free hand up her thigh and around her the back of her to give her a good squeeze. Again, she made sounds in response, even louder ones this time, and when he tried to press her down even harder onto him, she really starting grinding herself against him. It was just the underside of his cock that she was feeling now, as he was so hard that it was pressed flat up to his stomach. He wanted to get inside her so bad, but he was willing to let her do this her way. Clarke wasn't the type of girl he tended to dominate. With her, there had always been more of a give and take.
She slid her hands up underneath his shirt, massaging his chest, his abs and his pectorals, and he groaned, frustrated to still be wearing anything at all. His whole body felt hot and charged, and he just wanted it out of the way, so he sat up a bit, scrambled out of it, and tossed it aside. That must have inspired her to reach behind her back and unhook her bra, too, because that flew to the floor next.
Gotta feel 'em, he thought as both his hands shot out to squeeze her breasts and tweak her nipples. They were pert and pebbled beneath his fingertips, and had it not been for her absolutely drenched thong continuing to slide all over his cock, he may have flipped her back over so he could suck on them for a while.
The foreplay had been quick, but it'd been enough. They were both horny as hell and ready to cut to the chase, so he wasn't surprised when she reached down, pushed her underwear aside, and cleared the way for him. When she grabbed his cock to hold it steady, it dawned on him that he'd get to fuck her without a condom this time. No risk of getting her pregnant or anything. When she slid down onto him, he felt like his eyes rolled back into his head. Because that feeling . . . that was so fucking good.
"Oh . . ." she moaned, the long and drawn-out kind of moan that told him it was feeling just as amazing to her as it was to him. He watched in amazement as his cock slowly disappeared into her, so worked up by the sight of it. He loved seeing his cock in her, loved seeing her make room for him, because he wasn't a small guy.
Like a fucking pro, she got right to work rolling and undulating her hips into him. As much as he enjoyed just jack-hammering his hips up into her when they did it like this, it felt even better to just lie beneath her and watch her ride him, watch her find the pace and rhythm she liked. She knew what she was doing. He'd taught her well.
"Fuck," she swore, leaning forward a bit so her breasts were on his chest. "Feels so good."
"Yeah," he agreed, his voice even lower and throatier than it normally was. He rubbed his hands up and down her back, appreciating the gentle slope around her waist, the curve of her ass, and the softness of her thighs. If it was actually possible, she looked even better than she had in high school. And he hadn't thought that was possible.
As much as he liked it when she leaned back so he could watch her tits bounce while she rode him, he loved it when she was plastered against him like this, too. Because he could kiss her, and he could whisper his praise into her ear, telling her how good she was, urging her to keep going. He was getting close.
She picked up her pace when he told her to cum for him, no longer rolling her hips then as much as she was just grinding feverishly. The little whimpers she kept letting out and the way she squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lower lip . . . little things like that almost made him shoot his load, but he managed to hold off, wanting her to get there first.
It didn't take much longer for her whole body to start convulsing a bit as a huge orgasm came over her. Her felt her stomach muscles shuddering against his own, felt her pussy spasming around his cock. Her breath came in labored pants as she slumped against him, letting the feeling wash over her body. Her gorgeous body. The body he was still inside of.
He didn't want to overdo it or anything, not when she'd just gotten rocked like this, but he needed to cum, too. So he thrust his hips up into her in the waning moments of her orgasm, just a few more times, and that was all it took for him to find his own release. His balls tightened up, and he groaned as he came straight up into her, no condom in the way this time, and he wondered if she could feel that. He felt her arousal coating every square inch of his cock, so could she feel his load inside her?
Neither one of them made any effort to move as they both came back down to earth. She rested on top of him, completely spent from her exertion, like she was barely able to move; so he just lay there with her and held her, lightly grazing his fingers up and down her spine as his breathing slowly returned to normal.
Coming home to Arkadia had definitely been worth it.
