Hooked Read online

  Her features froze briefly as she seemed to struggle to keep an emotion from finding purchase on her face. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly and then scrunched her nose in an adorable way that didn’t really fit her personality, but was beautiful all the same.

  “That’s still one of those off-limit topics,” she finally said.

  “Right,” I replied, feigning nonchalance but feeling insulted in spite of the fact that I had no right to be. She barely knew me, why would she want to confide in me?

  “I’m really sorry I had to cancel on you last night. If it makes a difference, I would’ve much rather been with you.”

  I stared at her and cocked an eyebrow and my smile. She scooted closer to me.

  “Much rather,” she repeated huskily. “Do you want to go for a swim?” she asked tilting her head toward the water.

  “I didn’t bring a change of clothes. And you know my situation under these jeans,” I reminded her.

  She let her eyes drop to my lap shamelessly before looking at me again. “We’re definitely going for a swim then,” she promised. “When they go out front to set off fireworks, you’re mine.”

  “The city sets off fireworks for Labor Day?” I asked, surprised.

  She laughed. “Hell no. My idiot friends set off fireworks. Five years running and no one has lost any digits yet, or gotten arrested. Almost had an eye put out last year, but no such luck. We’re pretty pathetic when it comes to being successful delinquents.”

  “Well, it’s still early. Plenty of time to get into trouble.”

  “Very true. Which is why we should dance.” She ran her hand along my arm from shoulder to elbow, allowing her fingertips to spin gentle circles on the way down.

  “We should.”

  “Are you any good?” she asked.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  She grabbed my hand and led me through the crowd of people to the edge of the yard, under a tree where the shadows gathered and the glow from the strings of lights didn’t bother to venture. Fine Again by the band Seether was blaring through the speakers and even though it wasn’t a song that I would’ve picked to dance to, I couldn’t find a single reason to complain when Cat pressed her body up against mine and linked her hands behind my neck.

  “Talk to me, Huck.”

  “What should we talk about?” I asked, moving to the music as she matched the pace, allowing my thigh to slip between hers and press against her. Her groan was quiet, but with our chests touching, I felt her pleasure echo through my ribs.

  “I don’t really care as long as you keep doing that.” Her hands fell to my shoulders and then traced a seductive path down my arms with the tips of her fingers.

  The air was hot and sticky and the music was so loud I could feel the thump of every beat. I could also feel every small movement of Cat’s body. “What did you do today before the party?” I asked. My hands were at her waist, my fingers wrapped around her sides, resting on her back while my thumbs traced the muscular ridge of her flat stomach.

  Cat shrugged. “Dealt with emergencies,” she answered cryptically. “I don’t really want to talk about it. What did you do?”

  I unpacked. Again. And worked. But I wasn’t going to tell her that. “I don’t want to talk about my day either.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Well, since we can’t talk about our days and we can’t talk about normal boring stuff, we’ll just have to ask nonsense questions.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, if we shared bunk beds, would you want top or bottom?” Cat rolled her hips into me and I took in a deep, calming breath.

  “Bottom.”

  “Really?”

  I smiled. “Of course. That way when you’re climbing up the ladder to get into bed at night, I can see up your nightgown.”

  “I don’t wear a nightgown.”

  “Even better.” I imagined her climbing on top of me without a nightgown on and immediately decided I needed to start thinking about baseball stats before things got awkwardly messy. I cleared my throat. “If you could have one thing right now that you don’t have, what would it be?”

  Cat momentarily stopped dancing and I was caught off guard. Her smile slipped off her mouth and she struggled to get it back in place. “Pass. Next question.”

  “What? You can’t pass. You have to answer.”

  “Pass,” she said, pulling me in close so we could start dancing again. I couldn’t figure out why that question would bother her so much. “Fine,” I muttered, trying to think of a new question. “If I wanted to kiss you someplace you’ve never been kissed, where would it be?”

  “In that pool,” she said, glancing back at the smooth, clear surface. “I hope they set off those freaking fireworks soon because I need to get you as wet as I am right now.”

  Jesus. Every time she spoke, it was something unexpected. “Maybe the question wasn’t clear,” I said. “If I wanted to kiss you someplace on your body you’ve never been kissed, where would it be?”

  Cat locked her gaze on mine. “The back of my knee.”

  “Really? The knee?”

  “Please.”

  I filed that tidbit away in my mental folder. “Later then,” I promised.

  Cat closed her eyes and I leaned in to kiss her, our bodies still moving in time with the music. I reached down and grabbed her ass, lifting her up against me as I kissed her harder. I let her body slide back down mine, but moved my hand along the back of her thigh, lifting her leg to hold it against my side as we continued to dance. I ran my fingers along the back of her knee and even though she was wearing pants, I felt her body shudder at the touch. The knee had superpowers for her. Good to know.

  The song ended and the deejay picked up the microphone. “Time for fireworks boys and girls. Let’s see if Tony can lose any fingers this year.”

  People began to cheer and shout as they made their way back through the house. With the absence of the loud music, the backyard was suddenly filled with the rambunctious easy laughter of people who had several drinks under their belts. We stayed under the tree, Cat’s leg still wrapped around my waist, until the last person left.

  When we were finally alone, I released her leg and she reached down to grip the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head without breaking eye contact with me. Her pants followed and she stepped out of them before turning around and taking a running dive into the pool. Her body was a golden streak of muscles as she sliced through the water with hardly any splash. When her head broke the surface, she raised her hand and bent her pointer finger, beckoning me.

  “Pants or no pants, you’re getting in. I’m not picky either way,” she taunted.

  I didn’t hesitate, I started to unbutton my pants and her smile was almost blinding as I stripped off my shirt and jeans. I dove in the pool and she backed up as I swam toward her. When I came up for air, she was against the wall and my hands were gripping the edge of the pool on either side of her waist. I bent over to kiss her and I felt her arms and legs snake around my body, clinging to me like a second skin. She was still wearing her bra and panties, but I was naked and wet and barely keeping my composure. There wasn’t much fabric between us and even less willpower as she started to move against me.

  “Huck, your hands,” she begged.

  She didn’t have to ask twice. My fingers found the edge of her panties and slipped inside, touching her as she continued to circle her hips against me.

  “I think you’re right,” she moaned as my fingers slid back and forth. “Your hands might be my favorite part of your body, too.”

  My other hand was cupping her ass and she threw her head back as I lifted her up and against me, teasing her by pushing the tip of my erection against the thin fabric of her underwear. A shudder rippled through her body and she unwrapped her legs from my waist, lowering herself back down into the water.

  “Sit on the edge, Huck.”

  I think I would’ve done anything she asked just to hear my name said l
ike that again. I moved around her and hoisted myself up onto the wall, water splashing across the pool deck around me. I watched hungrily as she approached—wet golden skin, slick dark red hair, and bright blue eyes. She licked her lips and placed her palms on my knees. Her hands slid up my thighs as she bent over and wrapped her mouth around me. The first firework whistled and exploded in the dark sky above us as she took me fully in her mouth.

  I could hear the cheers of the partygoers on the other side of the house as another firework rocketed into the sky, breaking into loud, glittering bits and lighting up the water in the pool. Cat’s head moved up and down and her hand followed, squeezing and stroking. I tried to keep my hips from bucking up to meet the warmth of her mouth, but I couldn’t stop myself. My fingers were buried in her hair as her speed increased and I could feel my release building steadily. Her tongue twirled around the tip once before she plunged back down on me.

  “Cat! I’m gonna—“

  I tried to move her head away, but she only pulled away far enough to say, “I want it, Huck,” before her mouth and hands were beyond my control. My name. Her lips. My pleasure ricocheting through me as more fireworks exploded above us.

  One last shudder from me, a swallow from her, and then she was looking at me.

  “Come back to my place. Now,” she ordered.

  I didn’t have to be told twice.

  — CAT —

  11. NEW NAMES

  I could barely get the key in the door. Huck was behind me, his excitement pressing into my ass, which was surprising since I’d just taken care of that not twenty minutes ago. His arms were wrapped around my waist and his fingers were stroking along the inside of my legs. I finally got the door open and he followed me inside the apartment, slamming the door behind us. He had me pressed up against the wall within seconds, my body lifted into the air, and my legs wrapped around his waist like they’d been in the pool, only this time we were both fully dressed. Our lips and tongues were tangled together in a knot of moans and scattered breaths.

  Spooky took that moment to come inspect who had just arrived home. He wove in between Huck’s ankles, rubbing against them and purring. Damn traitor cat. Still hated me, but was best friends with a total stranger.

  “Your pussy really seems to like me,” Huck said, pressing my back harder into the wall while he ran his hands under my thighs, stopping at the backs of my knees to massage the sensitive skin there. I was so glad I told him about that special spot and my body jerked in response.

  “My room,” I managed to mumble. “Don’t want Jay . . .” Huck’s hands were now inside my shirt, unhooking my bra and then cupping my breasts, stroking the centers with his thumbs. “. . . to walk in,” I continued.

  He moved his hands underneath me so he could support my weight and then he carried me to my room, kicking that door shut behind us, too.

  “Ugly chair?” he asked.

  “Ugly chair,” I agreed. He set me down on my feet and we continued to kiss as our hands eagerly moved across each other’s bodies as if not sure how to stay in one place. I finally managed to convince my hands to pull his shirt over his head and my shirt and bra quickly followed, tossed into the far corner of the room. As he stepped out of his pants, I went to my nightstand and got a condom, bringing it back to him. I heard the foil rip as I made quick work of my remaining clothes. My pants and panties dropped to the floor and I stepped out of them, kicking them to the side.

  Huck’s gaze took a leisurely path across my naked skin and when he licked his bottom lip, I pushed him down to sit on the chair and then moved forward to straddle him.

  “Guess we should finish what we started on Saturday,” I said.

  “Guess we should,” he agreed.

  “I’m going to make you take back what you said about this chair.”

  With his fingers on my waist and my hands on the back of the chair, I lowered down on him, low moans escaping both of us.

  “You feel so good,” he said as I circled my hips, creating a delicious friction that had my breath coming quicker with every movement. We slowly rocked out a cadence that had sweat coating our skin and the ugly chair squeaking out a whiny song.

  “I think I fucking love this chair,” Huck said as our pace increased. He looked down at where our bodies met more frantically with every passing second and groaned.

  “I think I fucking love this chair, too,” I said, using the leverage I had to slam my hips down on him a little more forcefully.

  “Oh God, Cat. You don’t know what you do to me.” His hips pushed up with just as much force as mine were forcing down on him and I worried that the ugly chair just might not survive the night as we moved in a delirious pace against one another. Huck leaned forward and his tongue and lips were on my breast, teasing me with tight pulls of his mouth that caused tiny stings of pleasure to echo in my belly.

  “Huck,” I begged.

  He knew what I wanted and his answer was to move his fingers between us, a slippery stroke where I needed it most. For the second time that night there were fireworks, only these were inside of me, forcing out the words “yes” and “oh God” and “Huck” over and over as his body crashed feverishly into mine. Suddenly both of his hands were on my waist, holding me down as his hips pushed up into me with a final hard thrust that left both of us panting and loose in each other’s arms.

  “Don’t ever get rid of this ugly ass chair,” he said.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  ***

  I glanced at the clock. It was 2 o’clock in the morning on Tuesday. Huck had fallen asleep and his limbs were possessively draped over me as I lay nestled against him, reflecting on the last twenty four hours. For the most part, it’d been the worst day of my life. Yesterday morning had started out about as badly as a day could start out. I still hadn’t really dealt with all of my emotions over the news of my mother’s illness, but I felt the urge to get back as much normal in my life as possible so that I could figure out how to come to terms with, and survive, the difficulties and challenges I knew we would be facing in the next few months.

  To make matters worse, my mother was insistent that she start planning out her funeral ahead of time. I was still trying to cope with the cancer diagnosis and wasn’t at all prepared to talk about funerals. She told me not to worry, that she’d plan everything. She said it was to save me the agony of having to do it myself while I was grief stricken. I could see her point, but I also figured she wanted to make sure I didn’t screw it up and end up stuffing her in a wooden crate. She didn’t trust me to plan anything, even a funeral she wouldn’t be around to see.

  My throat started to close up with the threat of tears as I remembered our conversation about her funeral and I had to bite the inside of my lip.

  Without even taking time to consider alternative options, my mom signed the papers to enroll in the clinical trial that Dr. Schuman suggested. Her first chemo appointment was set up for next Wednesday, which was only a little over a week away. Everything felt surreal, like it was someone else’s life. I was angry that she didn’t want to get a second opinion or take time to consider other options. I still held out hope that there might be something else out there that could offer her a miracle, but she trusted Dr. Schuman’s judgment. She believed that gaining a few extra months of life, no matter the quality of it, was worth the aggravation of the treatment plans in the clinical trial. She didn’t want to waste any time researching possibly inferior alternatives or risking the success of the treatments by putting them off. In the end, it was her choice and her life (as short as it might be) and I had no right to be mad at her for her choices.

  That’s why when we arrived back at her house after the appointment, I was eager for an escape. I needed the safety and familiarity of my computer, pixels, and colors. I needed the mindless, numbing power that only work could bring. On any other day, I would’ve been pissed to have to go into work on my day off. But yesterday, I felt nothing but relief for the emotional escape. I thin
k my mom was relieved to see me go, too. I could tell she wanted to grieve in private and she couldn’t do that with me lounging around the house and invading her personal space while she planned her fucking funeral.

  I was still at work at six o’clock last night when Jay called to remind me about Tony’s party. I considered skipping the party to work late until he mentioned that he’d invited Huck to come along. Just the hope of seeing Huck again quelled a bit of the darkness that had settled over me since my mom first told me she had cancer. I needed a diversion. I needed some fun. I needed Huck for the night.

  I rolled over in his arms so that I was facing him and touched a chunk of wayward hair, pushing it off his face. Huck looked completely out of place in my colorfully offbeat room, but it felt like the spot he had found not only in my bed, but in my life, had been carved out specifically for him. I wasn’t stupid enough to actually believe that, but it was fun to pretend for a night at least. I carefully leaned forward and pressed my lips to his and then closed my eyes to try to get some sleep.

  “Again?” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

  “No,” I whispered. “I have to get up early for work tomorrow.”

  “Where do you work again?” he asked. “I don’t remember.”

  “That’s because I didn’t tell you,” I reminded him. “Off-limits info. Go back to sleep, Pretty Boy.”

  He obeyed.

  ***

  I was up and ready to leave early the next morning. I’d only gotten three hours of sleep but I had a feeling that was a pattern I might be repeating for quite some time. My brain just didn’t want to rest and my fears wouldn’t let it even when it tried.

  “Where are you going?” Huck groaned as he heard me moving about the room. He opened his eyes sleepily and then rubbed his face to get a better look at me. He inspected my outfit and hair through his sleep heavy eyes and his eyebrows creased in confusion. I was wearing black dress pants, heels, and a silver top that criss-crossed over my chest. My hair was pulled back in a low, sleek ponytail. He had never seen me dressed in one of my work outfits. If it wasn’t a requirement to dress professionally for the sake of our clients, I wouldn’t bother. The work “uniform” was probably the only other part of my job that I disliked as much as Shitstick, aka. Will Stone, the east coast Art Director.