Closing Night High Ch. 02

"You really are mine."

"Yes, Caleb. I'm really yours," I reassure him. "Now, we need to get the fuck out there. I'm surprised this place isn't swarming with theater rats already."

Instead, he walks to me, then grabs my hand and hides us behind a large tool cabinet. With a finger under my chin, he tilts my head up and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to my lips. Stepping back, he smiles and winks at me before leaving me to gawk at him. And ogle his fantastic ass.

Looking at Caleb, there's only one thought running through my head.

"Mine."

* * * * *

As soon as I step onto the stage, I'm bombarded with friends asking how I'm feeling. If I wanted to answer honestly, I'd tell them I'm feeling dazed and horny and happier than I've ever been in my life. But I get the impression those aren't the answers they're looking for. Playing it safe, because I have no clue why they're all asking me this, I keep my mouth shut and just nod.

Eric comes up to me, then, and saves my baffled ass.

"There you are, Em. I told everyone about how you threw up in the tech room," he says, giving me a meaningful look, "and that Caleb wanted everyone to stay out until he got the floor cleaned up. You're definitely looking less green, so that's a good sign."

Best. Friend. Ever.

That explains why Caleb and I weren't interrupted back there. That's it—I'm taking Eric to the diner after this and buying him the entire menu. The guy has earned it and then some.

I smile at our friends and tell them the absolute truth. "I'm great. Feeling much better." Because orgasms can cure pretty much anything.

Once everyone is satisfied that I'm not going to hurl again, we get to work. When I walk up to Caleb for my assignment—playing the part of a regular high school girl who doesn't get to play with his dick—I hold out my hand and beam at him, expecting to get my drill back. Instead, he completely disappoints me by handing me a stupid hammer. I give him my best what the fuck face, but he just shakes his head. I'm pretty sure that's his covert way of saying "you're in too fragile a state to be trusted with such a dangerous weapon." Shows how much he knows. With as suspicious as I am of everyone in this theater right now, a hammer is just as lethal.

After an hour or so, Lacey Hunter joins me at what's left of Rapunzel's tower and starts removing screws with her power drill. Seriously? Ok, maybe my state is a tad fragile, because I really want to bitch slap her and steal her toy. Lacey may throw the world's best house parties, but she can also be a tad obnoxious, so this isn't the first time I've fantasized about the bitch slap part.

She gets unnecessarily close to me, her big, red curls tickling my arm, and starts chatting with me about my absolute favorite topic.

"Is it just me, or does Caleb look less scowly today?" she asks. This irritates me, because who the hell is she to be observing my boyfriend?

"I hadn't really noticed," I lie—convincingly, I hope. Then I look over at him, pretending that I'm checking him out for the first time. "Yeah, I think you're right. Maybe cleaning up puke is what gets his rocks off?"

Lacey laughs more than my joke deserves. She's still staring at Caleb, and I want to scratch her stupid, slutty eyes out. Then steal her power drill, because I'm still not over that.

"I've had the biggest crush on him since forever," she confesses, adding fuel to my irritation fire. "Probably just like every other girl who's ever seen him, though, right?"

Oh my god, when is this conversation going to end? It's like she's begging me to kick her bony ass.

"I heard his wife left him," she goes on, testing the limits of my patience. "I'm thinking of asking him out after graduation. He'll probably say no, but what could it hurt, right?"

Oh, no you didn't, you freckled cunt.

"He'll definitely say no," I spit back at her, wishing my words were daggers that could stab her in her freakishly tiny ears. Then I remember that I need to play it cool, and by the look on her face, I'm totally failing at that. Time to backtrack. "I heard a rumor that his wife divorced him because she caught him in bed with someone else... a guy someone else."

There. That ought to shut her whore mouth up.

"Oh, wow. Do you think that's true?" she asks, as if I have access to that kind of intel. I mean, sure, I do, but Lacey doesn't know that.

"Of course, I do," I tell her, amazed at how easily the lies are coming now. "Just look at him. It's like he was created for the sole purpose of torturing every heterosexual female by preferring cock." I'm starting to have fun with this, but not enough that I'd want it to go on any longer.

"You are so right. Damn shame," she says and walks away. Good call, bitch. She was bringing out my territorial side, which is, apparently, pretty damn violent.

Once she's gone, I look at my hammer and contemplate its uselessness before tossing it aside. I pull my cell out of my pocket, and—oh, look, there's a text! From Caleb! I fumble with my phone, nearly dropping it in my rush to check the message.

Caleb: Stay behind after this. We're going back to my place.

Gulp. I drop my butt down on one of the wooden beams and cross my legs, trying to stop my clit from throbbing to death. He wants me at his place... where there's a bed. Last night, he told me that he wouldn't have sex with me without a bed and lots of time. If I go to his place, we'll have access to both those things.

Holy shit. Sex with Caleb Turner. How awesome would it be if I could rub that in Lacey Hunter's face. At least I can tell—oh, shit.

Me: i'm kicking myself for this, but... i can't. i promised eric we'd have dinner together after we're done here.

Caleb is about twenty feet away from me, and I watch him pull out his phone and smile. Then I watch that smile turn into a frown as he reads my message. I text him again.

Me: you have a really cute man-pout ;)

C: You're killing me, babe. Can't you and Eric go to dinner another night?

If I didn't have such a devoted best friend, the answer would be an easy yes.

Me: did you know that he made up a lie to keep everyone out of the tech room while we were in there? he's earned an hour or two of my time :P

C: Ok. I like him a little more now. Good man.

I giggle and start typing a response, when another message comes through from Caleb.

C: How about after your dinner?

He looks over at me, giving me puppy dog eyes and sticking out his bottom lip. He looks absolutely ridiculous, which is just crazy. Caleb Turner is capable of looking ridiculous—on purpose. For that sad face alone, I need to make tonight happen. The promise of sex with him is also a deciding factor.

Me: give me five minutes, k?

C: Whatever you need, babe.

Then I remember something.

Me: just fyi—i may or may not have started a rumor that you're gay. turns out, i'm a tad bit territorial.

C: That's my girl.

Ok, time to seek out Eric. I spot him sitting in the front row, chatting up a cute guy he insists will be coming out any day now. I hate to cock block him, but I need a favor.

I walk up to them and smile at the cute junior, "I need to steal Eric for a sec, but I promise to bring him right back."

"You'd better," Cutie says with a flirtatious smile.

Eric follows me to the back row, and we sit in the squeaky seats. I twist to face him, a goofy grin on my face. My best friend is into Cutie, and Cutie is definitely interested right back.

"My, my, Eric. That guy may not be out yet, but he's not all that in, either," I say and watch Eric's cheeks turn bright red. "So, when are you asking him out?"

"Actually..." he trails off.

"Oh my god!" I scream. Cutie looks back at us, and Eric shushes me, waving his hand frantically. "Sorry," I whisper. "Now, start talkin', mister."

"Well, we were just sitting there, talking and stuff. Then his fingers grazed my arm, and he was looking right in my eyes, like he knew exactly what he was doing." I'm bouncing in my seat as he tells the story. "I knew that if I thought about it too much, I'd talk myself out of it, so I just—"

"You asked him out! And now you're going on a date—your very first gay date. Eric, this is huge!" He just smiles back at me. I have no idea how he's playing it so cool, but it's ok—I'm wigging out enough for the both of us. "When's the date? Where are you taking him? What are you going to wear?"

"Well... Would you be pissed if I skipped our dinner tonight?" he asks, apologetically.

"Tonight? Hell no, I wouldn't be pissed! Just don't make a habit of ditching me for hot guys, k? And no kissing on the first date."

"Says the girl who plowed through three bases in one night," he points out.

"Do as I say, not as I do? Anyway, I was only kidding. He's got amazing lips—kiss the shit out of them."

"That's the plan. Now, why did you need to talk to me?"

"Well, about tonight. Can I tell my parents I'm sleeping at your place?" I ask, fully knowing that Eric isn't going to let that go without an explanation. "Caleb invited me over. He didn't say anything about me spending the night, but I'd like it to be an option, just in case." Luckily, there's no school tomorrow, since it's an in-service day for the teachers.

"You filthy little slut!" he says with mock contempt. "You're totally going to fuck him tonight, aren't you?"

"Possibly."

"You should warn the poor guy that I ruined you for all other men. Also, you should record the sex and send the video to me."

"How about no and hell no." He laughs, and I kiss his cheek before standing up. "Love you, Eric. I can't wait to hear all about your date. Just, um, don't call tonight, k?"

"Oh, now who's ditching who for a hot guy?" Touché. "Be safe, Em. I love you, too, you know."

I text Caleb as I head back down the steps to the stage.

Me: i'm all yours.

I get a reply almost immediately.

Caleb: Fucking right, you are.

* * * * *

A few hours later, the set is struck, and everyone is clearing out. Ever since texting Caleb that I'm in for tonight, I've been too distracted to work. I've just been staring at him, watching the artwork covering his arms dance as his muscles flex, his skin get all sweaty, and his general display of manly strength. At one point, he lifted the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, giving me a good look at his perfectly sculpted abs and those yummy muscles that outline his hips and direct the eye downward. Mine better have been the only eyes that were directed there, though.

As I watch the others exit, I can't help looking at each of them and wondering which one opened Caleb's office door. It had to be someone from the show, since no one else was in the building all day. Whoever it was, what are they planning on doing? Are they going to tell people, or will they keep quiet? Will I have to worry about this for the next month, until I graduate?

For a split second, I consider that it might've been Eric. But he would have told me, and he definitely would have made sure to shut the door again. No, it was someone else.

I can think about that tomorrow, though. Tonight, I need to focus on being with Caleb. We're going to have an entire night together—alone and uninterrupted—and I plan to enjoy every hot, sticky second of it.

When there are only a few people left in the theater, and after wishing Eric luck on his date, I duck into the bathroom. I'm feeling flushed, so I splash cold water on my face and check myself out in the mirror. I look as excited and nervous as I feel—eyes bright and pupils dilated, cheeks and neck red and splotchy, hairline damp with sweat. Fantastic. I'm a hot fucking mess.

I hear the door swing open, so I bend over the sink and splash more water on my face. When I look back up, I'm not alone in the reflection. Caleb is standing directly behind me, staring at me with an intensity that takes my breath away. He grabs my hips and pulls me back to him. One hand leaves my hip and spreads out over my bare stomach. I can feel its heat from just beneath my breasts to the top of my shorts. His pinky sneaks under the denim to tease the skin there, making my knees week. I lean back against him, but I don't take my eyes off the mirror. This gorgeous, older man is playing with my young body. Why would I ever want to look away?

He slides his hand further into my shorts, until two fingertips reach my clit and start stroking it. At the same time, he leans down to kiss and bite from my jaw to my shoulder and back again. I'm mewling and grinding my ass on the hard bulge in his jeans, and I know that if he would just pick up speed a little or slip a finger inside me, I would cum immediately. Instead, he stops kissing my neck, removes his hand from my shorts, and takes a few steps back to lean against the end of the row of stalls, all calm and collected.

I shriek and spin around, fisting my hands and giving him a death glare. He's palming his stiff cock over his jeans with an infuriatingly smug look on his face.

"What the fuck, Caleb?" I yell at him. "I was so close!"

"You want more?" I refuse to answer and just glare even harder at him. "Get in your car and follow me. Then I'll give you anything you want." And with that, he turns and exits the bathroom. Bastard.

When I walk back out to the stage, its dark in the theater, the bright sun coming in from the lobby providing the only light. Caleb is standing by the exit at the top of the stairs, and I take them two at a time. Without a word, he leads me out to the parking lot and makes sure I'm safely in my car before climbing into his truck and heading out.

It's a fifteen minute drive to his house. My hands shake on the steering wheel the entire time, and when we pull into his driveway, my brain can't seem to talk my body into exiting the car. It's not that I don't want to be here with him—it's just, this feels so... significant. Like, sex with Caleb will be life-changing.

All this anxiety could be for nothing, though. How depressing would it be if he only invited me over to have dinner, or something?

I'm in the middle of taking deep, calming breaths when my car door opens, and Caleb's strong hands pry mine off the steering wheel as he helps me out of the car.

"Are you ok, babe?" he asks, still holding onto my clammy hands. "We don't have to do anything you don't want. You know that, right? We can watch movies all night, for all I care. I'm just happy I get you all to myself."

How sweet—but, no.

"I want, Caleb. I want very much." I smile at the relief on his face. "This," I motion between us, "just feels so overwhelming. I don't know, maybe it's just me."

"It's not just you, Em," he assures me and leads me into the house.

What I see when I walk in shocks the shit out of me. I expected Caleb's place to be all black, wood, and steel—masculinity in the form of home décor. The man dresses only in greyscale, for crying out loud. But his walls are a golden yellow color, his throw pillows are red and royal blue, and the rug has all those colors and then some. It's like Crayola threw up in here, but, like, really pretty vomit. This adds yet another layer to a man who seemed completely one-dimensional before this weekend. I turn to Caleb, who's still standing by the front door, with an amused smile on my face.

"Color? You?" I ask in complete disbelief.

He shrugs and simply says, "It makes me happy."

Good enough for me. I love a happy Caleb. No—like, not love. I like a happy Caleb.

He's smiling mischievously as he saunters backward to the staircase and says, "I need a shower." Then, just as he reaches the landing, he stops to peel off his t-shirt in slow motion, revealing soft, tan skin over hard muscle, inch by blessed inch. Once he tosses it over the banister, he undoes the button and zipper of his low slung jeans, letting them slip off his hips as he heads upstairs.

I'm stunned—frozen in place. Caleb needs a shower... where he'll be naked... and wet... and, what the fuck am I doing still standing here? I untie my Tims and slip them off, along with my frilly socks, then scurry after him.

I follow the sound of running water to the bathroom. When I reach the doorway, I get a stellar view of Caleb's naked ass as he steps into the shower, shutting the glass door behind him and cutting off my eye candy. Apparently, he's not done being a bastard. He did say I can have anything I want, though, and I want to watch my man in the shower.

The privacy glass hides little more than his finer details. I walk up to the door and run a finger through the condensation, tracing the outline of his sculpted body. He says nothing as I swing the door wide open and back up a few feet to take in the mouthwatering sight—water hitting his skin and trickling through the grooves between his muscles, his arms raised and flexing as he massages shampoo into his scalp, and his cock, impossibly hard and jutting out in front of him.

He doesn't look at me, but he obviously knows I'm watching, so he starts putting on a show for me. He pours body wash onto a washcloth and begins lathering himself up, starting at his neck and shoulders and working his way down. Thick, creamy suds cling to the skin on his chest, arms, abs, hips... until he has the washcloth wrapped around his cock, gripping it tight in his hand, and begins washing there.

"Drop the washcloth," I say, before I realize I'm even thinking it. He still doesn't look my way, but he obeys my order. Caleb turns and leans against the tiled wall, facing me, and spreads his legs shoulder-width apart. His balls hang heavy between his powerful thighs, as he starts stroking himself faster and harder. All of a sudden, my clothes feel too hot—too clingy in the steamy bathroom—so I strip them off, until I'm as naked as he is.

That's when Caleb opens his eyes, and it's my turn to put on the show. Walking to the shower door, I reach my hands up to caress my tits, pinching and twisting the little, pink nipples, before sliding down over my stomach and cupping my sex. Then, supporting myself with one hand on the frame, the other plays with my pussy, dipping a finger inside to get it wet and pulling it out to work my clit. I close my eyes for just a moment to focus on the rush of pleasure, and when I open them I see Caleb pumping his cock furiously, his eyes locked on what my hand is doing.

That's when his restraint shatters. He reaches out and pulls me into the shower with him. He isn't fisting his cock anymore, but I can feel it throbbing between us as he kisses me senseless.

"Emilie..." he groans into my mouth, "I need you. Now."

There's no way I can deny him, not when I need him just as badly.

I look into his eyes as I nod my head yes.

He understands that I'm giving him permission to take as much of me as he needs, because I need it, too. He grabs my ass with both hands, spins us around, and pins me between his fevered body and the cold, hard tile. I wrap my legs around his waist and clutch at his shoulders. His solid shaft pulses between my folds, and I rock my hips against it, impatient to have him inside of me.

Cradling my ass and supporting my weight with one hand, he uses the other to guide the himself to my eager entrance. We're both looking down, and the anticipation of what's about to happen is overpowering every other thought and emotion. Finally, he begins pressing the tip into me, his pre-cum and my flowing juices easing his way in. I throw my head back against the tile as high-pitched moans escape with every one of my quick breaths. Feeling his agonizingly slow invasion, I want more, and I want it now.

"Caleb, please... Please, more," I beg, as he licks up the length of my neck and grazes my jaw with his teeth. I can't take anymore—can't go at his torturous pace—and I start grinding against him, taking more and more of his cock with each thrust of my hips. It's so thick, though, that I'm struggling to get him fully inside me. Finally, he takes pity on me and forces it all the way in, stretching me more than what I thought was possible. I'm so deliciously full and so connected with him in every way possible. The feeling is overwhelming, and my eyes well up and spill over with happy tears. Caleb takes them to mean something else, though.