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There's No Going Home (Sample)

By R.K. Knightly All Rights Reserved ©

Erotica / Romance

Blurb

"What do you need, baby?" I breath into her ear, tickling her with my breath. "You," she sighs. "I need you." and that was my undoing. I place my lips on hers and run my hands down to the back of her upper thighs. I heft her light frame up and she wraps her silky legs around my waist, unconsciously grinding on my shaft through my dress pants. "Ohhhh," I groan. "Not here baby. I want you in my bed." "Then hurry, love." she says in my ear, her hot breath tickling my ear. "I can't wait much longer for you."

Chapter 1. Fake It 'Til You Make It

Ethan’s POV

“Oh God! I’m coming!” She bucked and jerked her hips.

I sighed and mentally rolled my eyes, quickening my pace, trying to catch my own release.

Twenty minutes later I was no closer to completion. Trying different positions, different angles, it was all for naught. It seemed nothing would release me from the dull ache deep in my groin.

“Ethan!” she cried as I slammed balls deep into her, cutting her voice off abruptly with a sharp intake of breath. Was her voice always this high-pitched and breathy? It was damned irritating.

“Shhhhhh...” pretending to comfort her as she started whimpering softly.

What I really wanted to say was “Shut the fuck up and just take this dick.” Her thighs started to quiver again and she helplessly gyrated her hips, trying to generate as much friction as possible. I felt her sex clench around my length.

Christ-why was I even doing this?

The answer came when I closed my eyes, trying to block out sound and sight. I only wanted to feel, to touch, to taste. I sucked in a breath as I mentally replaced the girl beneath with another. I pictured the reddish-chestnut waves that haunted my dreams. The tresses that had brushed up against me so innocently, causing my hands to twitch with the longing to plunge my hands into the soft tangles.

My desperation caused my imagination to go into overdrive as I pictured my sweet, pouty lipped girl and I give in to my fantasy with a moan.

I could almost literally feel her tanned silky legs wrapped around my waist as I gaze longingly at her gentle curve of bosom, completely uninterrupted until the pink rosebud of a nipple appears. Fuck, I swear I can see the buds stiffening and puckering as I plow deeper with each thrust. The lovely angle of her neck to her jaw mesmerizing me as I watch her pant with need and the sight pushes me closer to the edge.

I drag my eyes up to the most luscious pink pouty lips. The lips are slightly parted and when I increase my speed they widen in a light gasp.

I follow the smooth line of her jaw with my eyes and rest my gaze on the gentle shell of her ear longing to suckle it, tease it, nibble on it. Her shadowy eyelids are hooded with desire and her raven lashes flutter.

Her hair is fanned out, framing her face. The low light accentuates her hint of auburn undertones. Hair that I have dreamt of plunging my hands into for years. My cock twitches and a slight ‘V’ forms above her brow as she concentrates on all the sensations she is feeling. I feel myself stiffening further and a low guttural growl escapes my own lips as I tilt my head back searching for my own summit. I look down just as she gazes up at me and the ‘V’ deepens as she breathes my name.

“Ethan,” she breathes in her sultry voice. It’s almost my undoing.

“Fuck, Callie,” I moaned as I feel the coming waves of pleasure I had been seeking surging toward me. I wanted that deadly undertow of pleasure to pull me in after her.

“Callie?”

FUCK.

My eyes sprang open as the soft, wet folds that enveloped me vanish and leave me frustrated-my body once again denied it’s release

My blond leggy ‘date’ had scooted back and disengaged from my shaft. “Who the fuck is Callie?” she exclaimed. “My name is Charlotte!”

I looked down on the curvy nymph I had taken home from the club tonight on a whim. Her hair was a tangled mess. A half inch of brown roots show under her platinum mop and the silicon injected lips which called my name with such abandon earlier are now parted in hurt. She doesn’t even bother to dress as she grabs her bra and panties and hobbles off on her too-high heels. She cursed a blue streak as she left and I can only assume the flimsy strips of fabric that she considered “clothing” had been peeled off somewhere outside my bedroom. There is no sign of them on the floor that I can see.

I was still rock hard and the ache in my groin had only deepened. I groaned, resigning myself to a world class case of blue balls. I collapsed back on my rumpled sheets and stare at the ceiling.

I looked to a framed photo on my bedside table and picked it up. The girl in the photo had her hair pulled back in a plait that trailed down to her waist. She was smiling brightly up at the dirty blonde boy whose hand was lightly placed chummily over her shoulder. I sighed and placed the frame face down on the bed.

Perhaps if I am lucky, I can rub one out before I expire from sexual frustration. However, if recent events were any indication, luck was not on my side.
I stood and stretched and went to turn on the water in the master bath. I set the water to cold.

Very cold.


“What the fuck is wrong with you, bro?” Emmett asked into his hands as he leaned forward, head between his knees, almost cackling his amusement.

I had just finished telling him about my encounter with Charlotte. I know he was biting back the majority of his amusement and it irritated the hell out of me.

I have omitted several facts about the woman behind my wet dreams. Calista Bormann, was not only my sexual fantasy, but also my best friend and next door neighbor growing up. After my parents’ somewhat amicable divorce and the departure of not only my mother, Evelyn Reznick, and closest confidante and twin, Emmett, I was lost.

A few months after my mother and brother had settled on the east coast, a large moving truck hauled ass up the road and parked in front of the two story house on the adjoining plot. The house itself had fallen into disrepair and the coat of paint, which looked to have been laquered on somewhere in the 1860′s, resembled the color of mildew and was chipping off in chunks the size of baseball mitts.

An SUV had followed not long after and a man emerged from the front seat. He was followed by a girl around my age with reddish brown braids that traveled to her waist. I watched in fascination as the girl waved at me before climbing the wobbly stairs to the front veranda.

I eventually found her name to be Callie, or Calista as her father called her at the time.

One day as I was kicking rocks back and forth in the backyard, I heard a small angelic voice call out to me.

“What are you doing?” she inquired.

“Kicking rocks. What’s it look like, stupid?”

“But why?” she asked, as if she genuinely wanted to know. It had been a while since anyone of any age had shown an interest in me after my brother left. I shrugged my shoulders and went back to kicking rocks. The pretty little girl with the pouty lips tilted her head slightly and continued to watch me in fascination.

“Are you sad?”

I looked up sharply, but did not answer. Instead I asked a question of my own. “What are you doing out here anyways with your Barbie? Don’t’cha wanna play that in your house?” Maybe I could be friends with her.

She dropped the offending doll and walked over to me and stated, “My daddy says I have to play outside since they are working on the-” she pouts her lips again and wrinkles a brow. “Imperior of the house.”

I smiled for the first time in months at her verbal faux pas and decided I liked this new neighbor.

Over the years Callie and I grew closer and became inseparable best friends. Or so I thought. I realized my feelings went much deeper when I saw her with her first boyfriend, Dylan, a guy who had been asking her out for ages and she had snubbed for months. We were at a sweet 16 party for Callie’s best girlfriend, Alex, when I went to use the bathroom after snarfing a can of Dr. Pepper out my nose as a dare.

Callie had shown up holding hands with Dylan and a permanent scowl had accompanied my face for the night. I was walking towards the bathroom in the rear of the house and saw a light on in the study to my left. I saw Dylan kissing Callie in the shadowy corner of the room and stopped dead in my tracks. I felt all the air leave my chest as I watched quietly as they kissed. After a few moment, Dylan’s hand came up to Callie’s left breast and she pushed his hand away. He came back with more force and Callie once again pushed him away.

“Dylan, I said NO!”

That was all I needed to hear. “The lady said no, Dylan.”

I was stunned to hear the anger and wobble of my voice, as if I had been the offended party and not Callie.

“Stay out of this, Ethan,” he said and went back to assaulting Callie’s mouth.

I crossed the large room in about 4 strides and lifted the guy up by the collar, shoving him against the wall.

“Leave, asshole!” I tried to control my voice.

“Get the fuck off me, dude!” Dylan replied.

Although Dylan had a good 5 inches on me, he was going through a growth spurt and looked gangly in his white collared shirt and dockers, whereas I hadn’t yet hit my full height of 6 ft 3 but was one solid block of muscle from various sports. I knew I could take him any day.

And no one hurt Callie.

“If you don’t leave, I will make you leave.” I rumbled deep in my throat.

There must have been something in my eyes that told him I meant business, because he slumped and I pushed him out the door. I refrained from giving him a swift kick in the ass just barely.

I turned to Callie who was visibly shaking and one lone tear rolled down her cheek silently. I rushed over and pulled her into my arms. “Are you ok?” I felt a strange warmth in my solar plexus that seemed to stretch across my chest and down to the base of my spine.

She nodded a few times and then crumpled onto my chest letting loose a wave of tears that didn’t stop for 5 minutes.

We didn’t see Dylan for the rest of the party and I assumed he had crawled back into whatever slimy cave he called home.

Ever since that night of the party, I knew my feelings of friendship had been replaced by something new and foreign to me. Something I could never turn back from.


I was sitting on the sofa waiting for my brother’s laughter to die down with my head in my hands.

I was shaken. The enormity of my bedroom folly and the mortification of having told my brother, was weighing me down. Emmett, who recently moved back to help with my new business venture, knew all about obsession with Callie since my teen years. He knew I was disturbed and had come home early from a date when he had a feeling something wasn’t right with me.

Although my twin brother and I were physically separated from each other for 14 years, Emmett and I shared some sort of bond that no distance could sever. It was particularly evident when we were feeling any type of strong emotion, Love, hate, anger. It rolls through us both ways. After my father and mother separated, they decided instead of taking it to court, they would hash out an agreement about what to do with us kids.

After weeks of lawyers and foul-mouthed threats, it was decided that I would stay with my father and my brother would move with my mother to the East Coast.

3000 miles apart was not far enough to separate us. When Emmett broke his leg while climbing trees in the woods of upstate New York, I frantically urged my father to call my mother to inquire about him. When I found out my first girlfriend was cheating on me with the captain on the soccer team, he left football practice suddenly to call me to find out what I was upset about. It was a two way attachment and although we had lived on two separate sides of the country for so long, when Emmett came back, it was as if he had never left and we were closer than ever.

My mortification complete, I stood up from the sofa, stretched and headed into the bedroom to avoid any further jokes he might dole out.

“Hey where you going, Ethan?” he calls after me.

As I lay back on my bed, I wonder how could I explain the reasoning behind the misspeak. Ever since I heard Callie was coming back from abroad after 4 long years in Italy, I thought of no one else. I tried everything-or should I say everyone-to try to rid her from my mind. But the spell she cast on me was just as strong as ever-maybe more.

Her face was in grained in my head, from her silken chestnut curls to the tips of her tiny feet, she had a hold on me I couldn’t explain. It would be impossible to explain the hold she had on me to Emmett. He had never even met her.

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