A.N.: If you don't like reading smutty stuff, ignore the last half of this chapter and go onto the next. If not, feel free to enjoy! And please review!
Rose Amongst Thorns
Chapter Thirty
La Petite Mort
Friday afternoon at lunch, Rose and Miller approached the table they had been sitting at since the cleanup; Aimee's usual table. They had tried it yesterday for the first time; Rose didn't know how Miller would react to sitting with more than two new people for the first time, but he had just sat there, silently eating his lunch, listening, and everything had been fine. Today, Aimee, Ria, Pearl and Jenna were waiting there for Rose and Miller and they already had their food. Rose could tell something was up the moment they reached the table; they were all sitting quietly, hands folded, trying not to smile.
"What's going on?" Rose asked quietly, unnerved. If some extraterrestrial beings were zapping their brains for information, well, they weren't going to get their hands on her brain.
Miller broke into a wide grin and Rose finally understood. Every last one of her friends' trays had been arranged just the way Miller liked. Everything was in height order from left to right. Rose climbed into her seat, setting her tray down, and Miller sat down next to Aimee, across from her.
"Hi, Miller," Aimee said brightly.
"Hello, Aimee," Miller said shyly, blushing as he started to arrange his tray.
"Anyone sitting here?" Rose glanced up and smiled as Finn slid into the chair next to Miller's. He was wearing that pale-blue t-shirt that made his eyes turn a colour previously inconceivable by nature.
"Hi," Rose smiled warmly.
"Hi," he said softly, shooting her a smile; he nodded at the rest of the table. "Ladies."
"Gentleman," Ria said teasingly.
"What's up, Miller?" Finn asked, rumpling his little brother's hair.
"That doesn't go," Miller said, looking at Finn's tray.
"Oh, sorry," Finn replied, quickly rearranging his tray.
"God, Finn, we're all down with the technique. Where's your head at today?" Rose teased, smiling warmly at him.
"I know. I don't know what got into me," Finn said lightly. "Better?" he asked Miller.
"Yeah. This is Aimee," Miller replied, lifting a thumb in Aimee's direction. "She's my new friend." Rose smiled and reached for her Snapple raspberry iced-tea and shook the bottle before twisting the cap off with a little pop. Aimee was so surprised her mouth popped open into a little O.
"Hi," she said to Finn, even though they already knew each other well.
"Hi," Finn replied, smiling. "I didn't know you had a new friend, Miller; that's awesome."
"Rose is my new friend, too," Miller said. Finn beamed at her.
"Yeah, I know. That's pretty clear," he said warmly. "So, did Rose invite you to the party yet?"
"We're having a party?" Rose said, glancing up from her lunch. Finn chuckled.
"I'll take that as a 'no.'"
"What party?" Aimee asked.
"Our parents are going out of town this weekend," Finn said, grinning. "Sean's buying the booze, we're gonna have some food and good stuff, so if you wanna come, you're welcome to. It's just gonna be a small party, nothing to Christian Todd's, of course; just our friends."
"When was all this decided?" Rose asked, frowning bemusedly.
"Oh, last night," Finn shrugged.
"I don't remember you having a secret meeting," Rose said, frowning again.
"You were singing in the bath," Finn said.
"I wasn't singing in the bath!"
"Yes you were—you were singing Metallica!" Finn grinned. Rose blushed. Okay, so she had; she had taken a long bubble-bath, done some reading and, yes, she had been listening to Metallica on her iPod. Finn glanced back down the table. "Anyway, it's tonight, after the game, so if you guys wanna come, we might have a few beds or sofas for you to crash on if you can't drive home."
"I can't believe you organised a party without me!" Rose said, staring at Finn. She glanced at Miller. "Did you know anything about this, Mills?" Miller blushed and glanced up at her, smiling. Rose tutted and shook her head, and applied herself to her lunch.
"You got the curly-fries?" Finn said, sounding surprised. Rose glanced up, then down at her plate, where Finn was staring. She had indeed picked out the big tray of curly fries, which had been drenched in chunky chilli and nacho cheese. She had added jalapenos, sour cream, salsa and grated cheese.
"Yup. I thought anything that looks this disgusting, I had to try," Rose said, smiling. Finn reached out and tried to steal a fry; Rose poked his hand with her spork. "Nu-uh. Your mom told me I had to be in top cheering form tonight since she can't be at the game, so I'm stocking up on carbs."
"Cheering form, huh," Finn said slowly, and a tiny smile spread deliciously into a sly grin. "Would that be in a little cheerleading outfit, by any chance?"
"Miller, slap your brother," Rose said, and without looking up from his lunch, Miller reached up a hand and smacked Finn around the back of the head.
"My, but you're sassy now that you've got a girlfriend, Mills," Finn teased, rumpling his brother's hair good-naturedly. "Or should I say two girlfriends."
"No," Ria spoke up. "Five girlfriends." Miller glanced up and smirked at Finn indulgently; Finn just laughed and turned to his burger.
Rose had done her math homework by the time her stomach started grumbling, and she went in search of the takeout menus. They'd all decided—well, she, Sean, Finn and Miller, had decided—that they'd order in from the Italian restaurant again; Doug and Finn would eat it whether they wanted it or not. They had already phoned in their order, and Rose went to grab Finn from the shed. He had to eat and get off to school to prep for the game, and so needed time for his dinner to go down before he went off.
Aimee had cornered her—well, not really; someone as sweet-natured as Aimee was incapable of cornering anyone—but she had asked what had happened at lunch; Finn had never come to sit with them before. The girls had been speculating, Rose found out—especially when she and Finn had gone off to get dessert from the lunch-line—that Finn liked her. She'd been blushing too much to give any sort of straight answer, but she knew Aimee had figured it out. She'd said Rose's smile was the same one Jenna gave Bobby, the same one she, Aimee, gave Miller.
Rose had admitted she and Finn had been kissing a little bit. At which point Aimee had promptly swooned, and had grinned, happy for her. Their entire conversation getting dressed after practice had revolved around Rose's clandestine 'affair' with Finn. Aimee had been swooning over how romantic it was, how they'd turned out to like each other romantically after they had had their first kisses together at the age of nine—Rose had told her about New Year's Eve.
She stopped short just as she exited the kitchen door onto the patio. The two people she least wanted to see were standing under the branches of the climbing-tree, deep in conversation; Evan and Hailey.
Rose blinked. How was it even possible that they were talking? Had Evan absorbed nothing from her little tirade on Saturday night? The whole house had heard her berating him; how had he not understood her? How could he possibly have forgiven her for having sex with his little-brother? They both turned to look at the noise and greeted her with cold, hard stares.
"I'm going inside," Hailey said, breaking away from Evan.
Rose stared her down as she walked right toward her, but Hailey never once looked at her. Evan started after the so-called love of his life, glaring at Rose. There was so much disgust in his eyes that her entire body riled with anger and indignation. How could he have forgiven Hailey for hurting him so badly, yet he still had yet to speak one word to her, Rose, because of something she hadn't even done.
"You can't even look me in the face, can you, Hailey?" Rose said coolly, turning around, crossing her arms over her chest loosely. "Not that I blame you. I wouldn't be able to look someone in the face if I'd spread nasty lies about someone all over school." Hailey paused at the door, but Evan whirled on Rose, his eyes flashing.
"Why don't you just leave her alone?" he hissed.
"Oh, good, are you ready for round three?" Rose hissed back, smiling. "I never did repay you for that backhanded slap you gave me. I see my shouting at you on Saturday night didn't do you any good at all; she's still got the hood over your eyes."
"Oh, please!" Hailey said.
"That's your rebuttal? 'Oh, please?'" Rose said, glancing at Hailey. "I expected more out of you, Hailey. Are you going to stand there and act like we both don't know exactly what's going on here? I never thought I'd meet anyone so wholly rotten in my whole life, but you really take the cake. You're going to stand there and lie to my face, aren't you?"
Hailey glared at Rose for only a split-second before she looked down at the ground. Rose sighed.
"Ask her," she said softly, glancing at Evan. "Ask her, ask her if I ever sought her out at the party and told her that you and I kissed. Ask her. I want to see how big a liar she is." Evan stared at Rose for a long moment, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Rose sighed, feeling weary, and shook her head.
"Well, you two truly deserve each other," she said sadly, glancing between them. She shook her head and made her way down to Finn's studio. She knocked on the door and let herself in.
"Hey," she said quietly, smiling, glad to see him.
"Hey. That Hailey I heard out there?" Finn asked; he had his tongue between his teeth in concentration, one curl wilted with palest-blue paint. He kept his eyes on his canvas, and Rose didn't want him to stop working; she liked watching him paint. His entire body was riveted, humming with creativity and intensity, his arms and hands working of their own volition. Watching was mesmerising; his concentration level was admirable.
"Yeah," Rose sighed heavily. "I hope she's not staying for dinner. It's on its way, by the way."
"Oh, cool," Finn said, tossing his head, trying to get a wayward curl out of his eyes. Rose reached out and smoothed her fingers through his hair, combing the curl out of the way. Finn tore his eyes from the painting, but they still had that burning, almost feverish intensity as when he was painting, when he looked at her. Her breath caught in her throat; she felt like her heart was on overdrive, and she couldn't have looked away from Finn if Van Cleef and Arpels were offering her all their jewellery for free.
"Hi," she whispered. And then he was kissing her mercilessly. It was different from the other times. There was no nervousness, just…just all-consuming passion. Rose clutched him to her as he kissed her with a ferocity she wouldn't have believed of him. That intensity he had when painting had transferred to her, and if he hadn't been holding her up with an arm banded around her waist, she wouldn't have been able to stand. Rose didn't think, just kissed back, fighting him and caressing him, running her fingers through his hair and dragging her nails down his back, grasping his butt. When he slipped his hand under the hem of her top, trailing his hot fingers up her stomach, to the obstacle of her bra, he grasped a hand over one breast and then forced his hand beneath her bra; she gasped and moaned, her knees going weaker, as he grasped and flicked his thumb over her nipple. She took his head in her hands and angled him for another deep, excruciating kiss, stumbling backwards onto the bench. She reached down and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head; he paused only a second and then kissed her, taking the hem of her top, as they manoeuvred onto the bench, so that Rose was half-lying, her legs spread so he could kneel between them, taking her top off. Rose reached round, furious with her bra for being so hot and awkward on her throbbing breasts, and unclasped it, hurriedly dropping it onto the pile of their t-shirts. For a second, Finn froze; then he reached out a tentative hand, licking his lips, his gaze mesmerised, and gently cupped each breast then the other; he leaned down and brushed a tiny kiss on each, and then worked a trail up her throat to her lips, which he recaptured in a frenzy, falling into her lap, propping himself over her on taut arms.
Their bare skin brushing, pained nipples grazing, Rose panted and shook as they kissed, hips thrusting, brushing her hands over his taut arms, his shoulders, his back, under his jeans and underwear to his bare butt-cheeks, caressing them, working her hands around, gasping slightly at what she found. She could feel him shuddering, both with exertion at keeping himself propped over her and anticipation. Her skin sizzled every time his brushed against her, and she thought she could live solely off the torturous expectation of him cupping and squeezing her breasts, trailing a hand down her stomach, giving her a deep tongue kiss as he fumbled with the button of her jeans.
Being with him, it was different; there was no self-consciousness; she was meant to be doing this with him. It felt so earth-shattering because it was him, it was Finn; being with him felt like she was on another planet, on some higher plane of existence where everything made her heart feel like it was too big for her body to possibly contain, where her only thought was Finn and him alone, where every smile was like balm on a heart that was slowly healing, where every glance of those exquisite blue eyes made her think dirty, naughty things she'd never thought about a boy before. Where she wanted to execute them; she wanted to live out her fantasies, the delicate, sensual dreams she had in the dead of night when everything else slept, dreams that made her body throb with aching and longing.
Now every part of her body was weeping for his touch, his caress, the gentleness of his large, skilled hands, the sweetness and intensity of his kisses, for release. She wanted Finn to touch her, where no boy had ever really touched her before, where she only went in the dead of night when everything else slept and those delicious dreams swept over her, filling her with an aching longing that only seeing him could mollify.
As she grasped him in her hand, amazed at the size and straining rigidity of him, his heat, pumping him shyly, he unzipped her jeans and pushed a hand into them, under her panties. Her breath hitched as he touched her for the first time. Now his hands were acting for hers, and as she fumbled inside his jeans, he moaned with abandon, his breath hitching as she pumped him up and down, and they kissed so passionately Rose felt like her soul was flying somewhere up in the heavens, breathless and aching, wanting more of everything. She was being selfish, and greedy, but so was he, touching her and kissing her and caressing every part of her body he could.
As she worked him, going by his moans and choked breaths, he explored beneath her panties, touching everywhere, there, going by her hitched breath and arching back, the way her legs trembled when he reached the spot he was searching for, pressing a finger deep inside her as well; her eyes burst open as he explored tentatively, still circling and teasing her gently. Her toes curled, and she had to focus on continuing to pump her hand up and down him, while her body started losing all control over itself; she curled a hand around Finn's neck and brought him down to her for another kiss; then he pressed a second finger into her and she groaned, feeling the slight pain of the tight, burning stretch, the way she closed greedily around him; she grabbed hold of the back of the bench and panted, temporarily stunned, unable to do anything but feel what Finn was doing to her.
Then she felt it. Skyrocketing through her body, intense muscle contractions, great rolls of tingling, burning heat, her entire body throbbing, tensing, fireworks exploding where Finn's fingers still caressed, bucking her hips against his fingers, biting her lip so she didn't shout, her eyes clamped shut so tight all she could see was fireworks.
When the tiny explosions lulled and drifted off, her entire body relaxed more than it ever had, a feeling of complete and utter fulfilment drugging her. She couldn't have moved if she wanted to—but she did. She did want to; she did want to move, because she wanted Finn to feel this, this incredible pleasure. Slowly, she opened her eyes, feeling as if she had been slipped E or something; her body was attuned to everything, Finn's ragged pants, the heat of his skin, the throbbing of her own body, the rigid shudders of his. She curled her hand around his neck again, drawing him down to her; he propped himself up on shaking arms as she drew him in for a kiss, curling her other hand around his throbbing penis, and resumed pumping him, until he was panting into their kiss, trying to control his moans and thrusting his hips into her hand. He came, his entire body going rigid, warm, sticky stuff spurting into her hand, his arms quaked, and he collapsed on top of her.
Panting, Rose withdrew her hand, closing her arms around him, as he panted and shuddered, sweat glistening on his skin, his eyes like brilliant blue flames. He nestled his head in the crook of her neck, their chests pressed together, their hips cradled, their bodies exhausted and sated.
"La petite mort," Rose whispered breathlessly. That described it perfectly. Finn panted and gave a tiny chuckle in agreement. He raised himself off her, leaning on his elbows, to graze tiny, sweet kisses over her face, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her mouth.
"Did you… You felt it too?" he murmured, blushing. Rose, still riding the wave, smiled, her cheeks warming; she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, so their skin brushed again. She licked her lips.
"Where did you… I mean, have you ever…?" Rose asked quietly, peeking a glance up at Finn as he trailed the tiniest, most loving kisses along her jaw-line. He paused, and looked down at her, nuzzling his nose affectionately before giving her a tiny kiss that told her everything. He told her in words, too.
"No, I've never…I've never done that with a girl," he whispered, and then he blushed again. "I've never had a girl…do that to me, either."
Rose reached up and traced his lips with her fingertip. She licked her lips, watching her finger trace their shape. She flicked her eyes to his, her chest rising and falling quickly.
"I have the funniest feeling in my stomach every time I see you," she whispered.
"Me too," Finn panted, sweeping his eyes over her and leaning in for a kiss. She pressed her hand against his chest, to feel his heart, that great, magnificent part of him.
"Your heart is beating so fast," Rose whispered, kissing his cheeks; Finn pressed a hand to her chest, between her breasts; she closed her eyes at the feeling, her skin sizzling at the contact.
"Yours too," Finn whispered breathily. Rose swallowed with difficulty and wrapped her arms languorously around his neck, caressing his shoulders, his hair, for a few more minutes.
Then Finn climbed off her, his hands shaking, and he turned his back to her when he stooped to search for his t-shirt. He picked up her clothes and handed them to her. Rose blinked and stared up at him, suddenly a little self-conscious. He swooped down and gave her another kiss, and that kiss eased the sudden rush of stunned disbelief, that they had actually just made each other climax here, in Finn's dirty, paint-saturated little garden-shed.
"I…I think we should go into the house now," Finn whispered.
"You—you're right," Rose said, her heart on overdrive as her hands trembled and she tried to fasten her bra. She managed it, and pulled her top on, checking it was the right way out and not back-to-front.
Finn caught her at the doorway, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're so pretty and flushed," he said, achieving a little more control in his voice than Rosalie. But only a little. She pressed her palms to her cheeks.
"Am I really red?" she asked, wondering if she didn't need the letter A; her cheeks would tell everyone everything anyway.
"Only to me," Finn smiled, his eyes licking her body. "Because I know why." Rose's heart hammered away.
"Naughty boy," she whispered, and his eyes crackled as he grinned, and swooped in for a kiss, cradling her face in his hands. It was a casual, utterly tender kiss, and Rose skipped away with her heart flying higher than the clouds. She slipped into the house, successfully avoiding everyone. She showered and took a lot of time choosing an outfit to wear to the game; she picked out a deep V-neck black sleeveless top to wear underneath her dad's leather jacket, a pair of skinny jeans and silver-toed black leather cowboy boots that had once belonged to a Texan aunt; she did her hair up, working a teased French braid into a bun, put on minimal makeup, including fresh 'Sugar Plum' tinted SPF lip-balm, stuffed everything into her purse and skipped downstairs.
She was feeling good!
And, even better; Hailey hadn't stuck around for dinner.
"Why are your cheeks so flushed?" Miller asked. He loved instigating conversation with her now that he could. Rose smiled, blushing a little hotter; she knew why she was flushed; so did Finn, but neither of them were going to say anything.
"Apparently, that's what sugar face-polish does to you," Rose smiled, sitting down at the table and helping herself to warm spinach and mushroom dip with warm pizza-base bread, several stuffed and baked mushrooms with garlic sauce, chicken Caesar salad, several slices of every-topping pizza, and swooped in on the tubs of creamy spaghetti carbonara and penne Bolognese before the boys could demolish it all between them; she had learned quickly that if she didn't jump in and fight for what she wanted, she'd go hungry. Finn strode into the kitchen, wearing the shirt and tie he'd been wearing all day at school due to the rules of the football coach on game-day, grabbed a plate and mounded it over with food, casting a grin at Rose as he sat down beside her, snapping open a soda.
After brushing his teeth and getting ready, making sure he had all his stuff, Finn departed in his friend's car; they all waited around until a little later, then all piled into Evan's Saab; he drove them to school, and they all grabbed tickets, snacks and drinks and Sean, Rose and Miller found seats in the bleachers when Evan and Doug had walked off to find their 'people.' Aimee caught Rose's attention, and climbed up to sit with her and Miller; Rose didn't know who was more pleased; Aimee, that she was sitting with her crush, or Miller, that he was talking to a new friend.
It was another spectacular game. The end-score wasn't as dramatic as last week's clear victory, but the opposing team challenged the Baker Wildcats in a way the last one hadn't even dared; Finn took so many hits Rose was sure he was brain-damaged, but he just got back up and bulldozed some people in retaliation. It was a common thing for the McGowans, she had learned, that they never stayed down for long after a hit. Doug was over with his buddies, pointedly ignoring the game and being obnoxious, ogling the cheerleaders. Most of Evan's friends were on the team, but a few of them from the ice-hockey and lacrosse teams were there; Hailey was there, and no matter how many times Rose glanced at the little cluster, Hailey never once turned to glare at her. She stood with her shoulders tense, halfway ignoring Evan unless he was talking to her directly. During a lull in the commentary, when Aimee and Miller had gone to get more snacks, Rose heard it; the catcalling, the taunting voices of girls who had nothing better to do than pick on someone they knew nothing about.
"Hey, slut!"
"Evan's over there."
"Evan's that way."
Rose glanced over her shoulder, and gave a very disdainful look to the small cluster of girls too flawed to become cheerleaders, too mean to be popular, and bitter about it. They were all smirking exultantly at each other, glad they had the opportunity to bother her. She turned back to the game, and clapped when Baker Wildcats scored another eight points from a touchdown and two-point conversion—at least, that's what Sean said.
Something cold splashed over her head, and Rose jumped, passing a hand over her hair; Sean swiped at the back of his neck and frowned; the girls up above their seats were smirking, holding half-empty water-bottles.
"Aw, what're you gonna do?" one of them simpered.
"What're you gonna do, huh?" another laughed, knowing Rose couldn't retaliate without making a scene. Rose wouldn't give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
"How was Evan; we heard about it!" another girl called, in another last-ditch attempt to rile her.
"Hey Rosalie, does Evan prefer boxers or briefs?" another called. Sean heaved a sigh and turned in his seat.
"Hey, whores! Why don't you go work another corner?" he said savagely, glaring. Rose blinked, taken aback. Sean knew swears! He could string more than five words together at once! Rose glanced over her shoulder, trying not to smile; they looked stunned, insulted, and scuttled off. Rose glanced at Sean, as he settled back in his seat with his nachos.
"Thanks," she said quietly; Sean glanced up at her.
"Yeah."
Even though he didn't say anything else almost the entire game, Rose knew he had said everything he wanted to, and that he had spoken up in her defence made it more touching. When Miller and Aimee returned, they were both smiling shyly, and Miller handed Rose a small soda and some Tootsie Roll candies.
The Wildcats won; Evan hurried over to them when the game ended, set on getting home to prep for the party before anyone could get there. They managed to round up Doug, who was protesting, and Aimee promised she'd be at the party, if only for a little while because she could not have another hangover during cross-country training.
Rose agreed entirely.
A.N.: Please review! If you haven't already, please vote on which name you like for Megan Meade's older, brunette sister for my rewrite of my 'Little Women' Megan Meade's Guide fanfiction.
