Closing Night High Ch. 02

I climb into my hand-me-down, cherry red Jeep, and by the time I get to school, it's already 9:30. Caleb's is the only other car in the lot, though, so I should get at least a few minutes of alone time with him. I'm giddy as I make my way into the auditorium, skipping through the aisles and down the steps. I figure I'll try the tech room and his office first, but I skid to a stop just as I reach the thick black curtain at the back of the stage.

I hear Caleb's voice on the other side of it, and he's talking to someone. Shoot. There goes that alone time. Although, he could just be on the phone. I listen harder to what he's saying.

"...old enough to make her own decisions," he says, sounding annoyed.

I'm guessing I'm the "her" he's talking about. Unless there's some other young woman whose choices he feels the need to defend. There'd better not be, though, if he values his balls.

Then another male voice joins in, killing my phone theory.

"Yeah, she's 'old enough' for that, but she's not old enough for you. No, fuck that. Let me rephrase—it's you who's too old for her," Eric argues.

Eric? What the hell is he doing here? I should probably be livid right now, but I'm too curious to bother with that. I inch closer to the curtain, even though their voices are already crystal clear.

"You don't think I know that? Her life hasn't even started yet, and I'm a thirty-seven-year-old, fresh out of a failed marriage."

"If you know it, then why couldn't you just leave her alone?"

"I did, Eric. For months, I did. I'm not delusional—she's graduating next month, and then she'll go to college. How the hell am I going to fit into her life then? My plan was to stay away until she was gone, then figure out how to move on with my life." Caleb sounds as depressed by that thought as I am. That really could have been our lives if fate and gravity hadn't stepped in.

"Sounds like a good plan to me. So, what changed?"

"Everything," Caleb replies, without hesitation. "Last night changed everything. Getting to know the real Emilie changed everything. Hearing that she wants me as much as I want her changed everything. I never thought she'd—" he cuts himself off and changes tack. "She'll realize soon enough that I'm not what she needs, and when she does, I'll let her go. It'll hurt like hell, but I'll do it."

I can hear defeat in his voice. He's already bracing himself for the end of our relationship, and we've barely even started it. There probably isn't anything I can say to reassure him. Only time will prove how wrong he is.

"You actually care about her, don't you?" Eric realizes, sounding genuinely surprised.

"How could I not? You know Emilie, much better than I do, so you know how impossible it is to not care about her."

"She definitely doesn't make it easy," Eric says with a laugh.

"So, as long as she wants me around, I'll be with her. And you're going to be a better friend and support her, right?"

"Why does that sound more like a threat than a question?"

"Because it is," Caleb tells him, straight up.

"Ok, ok. But if you fuck up—"

"If I fuck up, you have my full permission to kick my ass." he says, and I can't help barking out a laugh as I try to picture Eric beating up Caleb. Eric may be tall and leanly muscled, but he is no match for the mountain of muscle that is Caleb Turner.

Oh, wait. I totally just gave myself away, huh? Sounds like they're through with their little man-talk, anyway, so I may as well pull back the curtain—literally. I part it at the middle and step through to their side.

Eric's face goes white, and his eyebrows hit his hairline. "Em! Hey. What's up?" He fails miserably at acting casual.

"Oh, not much. I was in the mood for a little eavesdropping this morning, and I was lucky enough to stumble upon you two," I tease. "Very juicy stuff, guys."

I glance over at Caleb and wink, but he's too busy ogling my flat, naked stomach to notice. The look on his face is identical to the one he wore last night, when he got a good view of my tits under that wet dress. I clear my throat to get his attention where it needs to be.

When he looks up, there's lust in his eyes. His voice is deep and thick when he says, "Morning, babe," and yep, I'm now a hot puddle of mush on the floor. Eric breathes out an astonished "Jesus" next to me. I had the pretty much same reaction the first time I heard Caleb's sex voice.

"I know, right?" I agree, a grin lighting up my face, because all that sexy—that's mine. Then I turn to my best friend and take his hands in mine. "Are we ok now, Eric?"

"Of course, we're ok, Em. We were never not ok. I just needed to know that he's not out to take advantage of you. I care about you way too much to let that happen," he says and yanks me in for a tight hug.

All of a sudden, his hands are covering my butt, because— Ok, I have no idea why.

"Eyes off her ass, old man," he snaps at Caleb. Ohh... That explains it. How unnecessarily chivalrous of him.

"Hands off my girl, little boy," Caleb shoots back.

I spin around and stand between my guys, ready to defend one or both of them. But then they're laughing. With each other. Huh.

"That must have been a pretty productive conversation. Now, if you're done talking about me, I need a moment alone with my geriatric love slave," I say, grabbing Caleb by the hem his t-shirt and tugging him along with me, leaving an amused Eric behind us.

He laughs and lets me pull him down the hall, like one of those cute little dogs dragging its human around by the leash. "Whatever Mistress wants."

I tap a fingertip to my lips a few times, briefly considering it, before I decide, "Nope. That does nothing for me. But while we're on the subject of titles..."

"Mine," Caleb says definitively, before scooping me up in his arms, bridal style. I'm beginning to think he doesn't like me walking on my own two feet. "You're mine, and I'm yours, and those are the only titles I care about." When he sees my pout, he smiles and goes on, "But if you need something more traditional, then I guess you can call me your boyfriend." He uses the word so reluctantly, I can't help laughing at him.

"Don't worry—I can't imagine that I'll actually get to say that word very often for a while. Definitely not around other people and before graduation. I do kinda love it, though," I confess as he sets me down on the small, ancient drafting table he uses as his desk and turns to shut the hammered glass door.

Caleb's office is a tiny space off the back of the tech room, only big enough for the desk, a chair, and a mini fridge. It smells like sawdust and grease and metal tools, and I love it. As soon as he turns back to me, he forces my thighs apart and positions himself between them. He quickly pulls off his t-shirt, then reaches for mine. I lift my arms straight up for him to remove it and meet his eyes, silently challenging him to stop me as my fingers pop open the top button of his jeans and pull down the zipper. This time, he doesn't dare.

This is nothing like last night, when we had time to explore every mouthwatering inch of each other, touching and kissing and making love with our mouths. This is frenzied and hurried, because in about fifteen minutes, this theater will be crawling with nosy teenagers. I am one hundred percent sure that we shouldn't be doing this right now, but I'm not going to be the one to stop us. Apparently, neither is Caleb.

He doesn't waste another second before yanking my shorts down and over my work boots, along with my hot pink thong. While he's doing that, I peel off the matching bra—yes, of course my outfit was planned all the way down to my lacy underthings—and then I'm wearing nothing but my shoes and socks. Caleb steps out of his own boots, then pushes his jeans and boxer briefs down and kicks them to the side. This all happens in the span of a few breaths.

We're both naked now, but we haven't kissed once—haven't even really touched, except for to get each other's clothes off. Our lips are nearly touching now, and I try to close the distance, craving that contact, but he doesn't let me. He wraps his hand loosely around my throat and eases me down until my back is flat on the desk. The surface is angled a little, so my ass is slightly higher than my head.

Caleb crouches down in front of me and throws my legs over his shoulders. In my current position, I can't see anything but the top of the wall behind me, so I cry out in surprise as he presses his tongue between my drenched folds. I reach down—up?—and grip the edge of the table when his tongue begins to dip in and out of my pussy in shallow thrusts. Then he moves to my clit, circling it with the kind of skill a guy my age can't even imagine, before pressing his lips around it sucking hard. It feels like every drop of my blood is pumping painfully between my legs, but I want more—I need more. I'm trying so hard to keep from moaning and crying out, but that was a losing battle before it even started.

"You have to stay quiet, babe," he says between pressing kisses to my inner thigh, his strong hands grasping my hips to hold my petite body in place.

"You have to stop getting me so fucking hot, babe," I tease, not in the least bit serious. His mouth leaves my pussy, though, and he stands up with my ankles still resting on his shoulders. "Wait! I didn't really mean that. Please keep getting me hot. I promise I'll be quiet," I beg in the direction of the ceiling, desperate for more of him.

"Just remember," he warns me, "you promised."

I can't tell what he's planning, until his hips are right up against my ass and the length of his thick cock is nestled against my folds. His hips start moving in torturously slow thrusts, and there's no way I can stay quiet through sheer willpower alone—I lost that shit the moment I saw Caleb naked. I fumble around with one hand to grab his t-shirt from where it's dangling off a corner of the table, and I hold it to my mouth to smother my cries of pleasure. Fingers crossed that no one notices the bite marks and drool on it when he goes back out there.

Once his cock is slick with my juices, he maneuvers my right leg to cross over my left, so both of my ankles rest on one of his shoulders. His hands grab on to my small waist for leverage, and to keep me from sliding down the table. In this position, my thighs are locked together, squeezing him tight as he slides his shaft back and forth between them. Every time the head passes over my clit, I whimper into his shirt.

He quickly picks up speed and intensity. With as rapidly and savagely as he's thrusting against me now, it must look just like how it would if he were really fucking me. I close my eyes and pretend that he is—that he's driving every thick, hard inch of himself inside of me, again and again. His cock is blazing hot as it throbs between my inner thighs and against the wet, sensitive flesh at my opening. I imagine feeling that hardness with my walls surrounding it, clutching it like a fist. I imagine what it would feel like to have his cock exploding and emptying inside me. That thought—of him flooding me with his cum—triggers a blinding, deafening orgasm. And I mean that literally; I think I lose my sight and hearing for a full ten seconds. My own cum leaks from my spasming cunt, lubricating Caleb's cock even more.

As I use both of my hands and his t-shirt to mute my screams, Caleb straightens up, swings my right leg back over to his other shoulder, and glides his cock wildly between my swollen lips, before throwing his head back as his orgasm slams through him. He grabs his cock, and just like last night, he aims at my pussy. Unlike last night, the tip is close enough to graze my skin, and I can feel the powerful jets of his semen as they shoot out of him and onto my lips and drip down my ass. For a split second, I feel the tip line up with my opening, just as more of his cum spurts out of him. Some of it had to have gotten inside of me, and my first orgasm rolls right into a second at the feel of it. While he's still stroking himself, draining every last drop, I unconsciously reach down to my pussy, easily slipping two fingers inside and pushing in more of his cum.

I did the same thing the last time he came on me, but now I understand better that this is some new, fucked up kink of mine. I can't believe I'm allowing myself to take this risk. I'm not on any kind of birth control, so I know that something as stupid as fingering his jizz into me is enough to get me pregnant. So why can't I stop? Why don't I want to stop?

When his cock is spent, he lowers my legs and wraps them around his waist. Cradling my head with one hand and supporting my back with the other, he slowly brings me up to a sitting position. No longer upside down, all the blood rushes from my head, making my brain all spinny and everything below my neck tingly. The extra blood flow between my legs causes my core to contract a few more times. I throw my limp arms loosely around him and rest my cheek against his sweaty chest.

"You're all wet," I kindly inform him.

"Hate to break it to you, Em, but so are you.," he says. To prove his point, he reaches down between us to scoop up some of our mixed fluids from my pussy. He holds his dripping finger up to show me. "See?"

Hell yeah, I see. It kinda looks like doughnut glaze coating his finger. I'll bet it's just as tasty, too.

With the sultriest look I can possibly manage, I capture his eyes as I lick the entire finger, from knuckle to tip and all around, before taking it into my mouth and sucking off every last, salty drop of us. Then I tell him, honestly, "I don't see a thing."

I giggle and smile triumphantly when my little show makes his dick twitch against me.

"Oh, no—no more fun for you, slugger," I say to his still-rigid cock before pushing Caleb back and hopping off the table. As soon as I'm up, a few globs of our cum hit the floor.

"Ok, so maybe I'm a little wet, too," I concede.

He grabs me by my waist, yanks me to him, and kisses me for the first time since he left me last night. It doesn't last long—we really need to get out here, if we don't want kids knocking on his door any second now. Caleb sweeps my damp hair from my forehead and presses a soft kiss there.

"You deserve better than a quickie in my office, Em. I should be giving you more." He sounds truly regretful.

"Don't worry. I'll be demanding more, and soon," I assure him with a smile. "I needed this as much as you did, Caleb. Maybe more. Do you realize that I have been horny every fucking second since I saw you pull your dick out in the bathroom last night? You've made me cum four—no, five times, if we're separating out multiple orgasms—but I still want more of you. It's so frustrating!" I huff, stomping my foot in a mini tantrum and causing more cum to leak out. The smug bastard just chuckles at me.

"My girl is hungry, is she?" he teases, as he grabs my round ass and grinds his slippery erection against my bare stomach.

"Your girl is starving," I say, my voice thick with desperation, before sticking my tongue out to lick up the center of his chest, tasting the saltiness of his sweat. His cock jerks between us, and I wrap my small hand around it. "But I want a different kind of power drill to play with, now. K?" I release my grip and go about gathering my scattered clothes and putting them on. Luckily, most of it's pink and easy to find in his super drab office.

His booming laugh fills the small space and probably spills out into the hallway, too. I smile, loving that he found my corny joke so funny.

As soon as he's dressed, he turns to me, and his serious face is back on.

"How am I supposed to go out there and pretend that you don't mean everything to me?" he asks, searching my face for an answer I don't have. My heart skips several beats at his words. I mean everything to him? That's, like, all the things.

I take several deep breaths, needing to get my body's reaction to him under control before we leave his office, or pretending isn't gonna cut it.

"I don't know, boyfriend," I smile, testing out his new title for the first time, "but if you figure it out, let me know."

"Yes, Mistress," Caleb jokes.

"Ugh. Just, no," I say with a laugh. That laugh dies quickly, though, when I see that his office door is open a crack.

Did my heart just stop? Should I be worried about that?

"Um... Caleb?" I say, unable to take my eyes off the door.

"Yeah, babe?"

"You did shut the door when we came in here, right? I could swear I heard it click."

"Yeah, why—" he stops mid-sentence, and I look over as blood drains from his face when he sees what I'm seeing. "Fuck!

* * * * *

Caleb leaves his office first, checking the area for spies. Once he gives the ok, I walk out, too. We're both quiet—too quiet—as we enter the tech room. It's awkward, and I can't stand it. Not once since the wet dress/bathroom floor incident has there been any uneasiness or nonsexual tension between us. Needing a distraction, I walk to the power drills and grab one off the wall, holding it in front of me to test its weight. I can't stand still—I'm way too keyed up for that. I mean, someone had to have opened that door. It was closed, and closed doors don't just open themselves. Ergo, there was a person there, close enough to see, hear, and smell exactly what Caleb and I were doing.

Pacing back and forth, the drill in constant danger of slipping from my trembling hand, I try to think up scenarios where we aren't completely fucked. Caleb watches my freakout, leaving an appropriate amount of space between us. We're not hidden behind closed doors anymore, so— No, wait. We weren't really hidden before, either, were we? I bark out a bitter, unattractive laugh.

Caleb must fear for the power tool's life, because he steps closer to me and wraps a hand around my wrist and takes the drill from me with the other. Once it's out of my shaky grasp, I flinch back and look around the room to make sure no one saw that brief moment of contact.

"Em, don't," Caleb pleads. "Don't do this to yourself. Even if someone did see us, which we don't know for sure, you'll be ok. You graduate in a month, and then you'll be out of here, and high school bullshit won't matter anymore." He reaches out to tuck a few wayward strands of hair behind my ear, but I dodge his touch.

"You think I give a shit about my reputation? Hell, I'd hold an assembly to let the whole school know you're mine, if I could. But you—" I break off, not wanting to even voice the thought. "This could ruin you, Caleb. It doesn't matter if it can't be proven. Rumor is enough to cost you your job. It'd even cost you future jobs. It's your reputation I care about, you idiot."

Despite the scary possible reality I just laid out, Caleb's lips turn up in a warm smile. I don't think I'll ever get enough of these smiles that are just for me.

He leans back against the work table we thoroughly defiled last night, his hands gripping the edge. "This thing between us—it's actually real," he says, as if just realizing this for the first time. My brows knit in totally justified confusion. "Even after everything we've said and done since last night, I still wasn't able let myself believe you could have genuine feelings for me. It was too impossible." He sounds truly amazed. "But what you just said, Em..."

I know he hadn't meant for them to, but his words sting. "I may be eighteen, but I'm not flaky or cruel, Caleb. Ok, maybe I'm a little flaky, but not when it comes to people's emotions. And especially not when it comes to yours." I have to take a few more steps away from him. I'm having trouble fighting the urge to wrap my arms around his big, strong body to comfort and reassure him.