SWNOVELS Pump Two: Chapter 8
asks, assessing the flat iron I gave her.
“Hm, curled,” I respond from my position on my bed, watching as she takes the scorching hair appliance and wraps a strand of her hair around it.
Freya focuses on curling her hair at record speed while I’m too busy overthinking Devon’s last visit. He caught me off guard with his willingness to show his face at our next meeting. Whilst a large part of me can’t wait, I’m going to miss the mask.
I don’t know why I’m acting like the mask is going to change anything, I was ready to risk it all yesterday. If Devon had told me to bend over in the utility closet last night, I would’ve done so without a second thought. Mask on and all.
Sighing, I roll onto my back. It’s my day off, and that means no thoughts of work. No work means no Devon. I have a party to be excited about instead.
“Freya, do you remember the last party I went to, and I caught my ex cheating?” I say, starting a conversation to distract myself.
“Oh my god! I almost forgot about that. That was the last party you went to? Was it at Micah’s too?” Freya gets up and walks over to a small purse where she throws in some lip gloss.
“Yep.” I nod. “That was the first time we met, too.” My ex was an ass. Looking back at it, I was way too good for him. Stupid high school romance.
Freya hastily slips into a pair of sandal heels and casually pops a piece of gum into her mouth, rushing toward the mirror to quickly assess her makeup.
“Yeah, now we are three years older, single, and going to a party where lots of hot guys will be. Not stupid eighteen-year-olds.” She makes a sound of disgust at the last part of her sentence and turns to face me. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
We drive to the address, and it surprisingly doesn’t take us long to arrive. Stepping out of the car, Freya exudes an air of familiarity as she leads the way. A delicate trace of sweet perfume lingers in the air, trailing after her as we traverse the front yard and move toward a large front porch that’s adorned with majestic marble pillars. She navigates us like she’s been here a million times before.
“Micah!” Freya calls to the back of a tall guy with curly hair and brown skin. He looks at both of us, and the way he holds himself makes me think he’s now a celebrity of some sort. Aside from going to one of his parties before, I don’t know anything about him.
Freya mentioned that he’s well-known amongst Hollywood cliques. It makes sense. He honestly looks like he should be in clubs, mingling with A-listers; not throwing a party back in his small hometown.
“Hey ladies! I don’t recognize you, thanks for coming. What are your names?” He speaks loudly, his voice fighting against the bass emanating from inside the house. He pulls out a phone with a lit up screen showing a list of names and looks up at us expectantly.
“It’s me, Freya,” she says. Her voice dulls, obviously disappointed that Micah hasn’t recognized her. His eyes widen, and he leans forward as if to get a better look at her.
“Freya?” he breathes. “You look…”
“Thanks for inviting us, we’re going to head inside. See you around.”
“Frey—” Micah doesn’t get a chance to finish whatever he was about to say because Freya barges past him.
“God what a fucking ass! I spoke to him so much when he visited the cafe I worked at during high school. I can’t believe he didn’t recognize me,” she rants. “I know I deleted social media, and he hasn’t seen what I look like nowadays because we reconnected through text.” She stops on the porch and steps to the side to allow some people to walk past us. “But I thought he’d at least recognize me…even with red hair.”
“You look a little different since you were eighteen, plus, he’s a social guy. You did tell me he was an event planner in LA. Lots of names and faces.” Freya seems a little reassured by my response.
She starts to reply, and whatever she is saying immediately turns into white noise. When I look back at Micah’s stunned face, my eyes scan the front of the house only to see a vehicle that’s lodged deep inside my memory. A red and black motorbike.
A motorbike that I’ve licked and been licked on.
Devon’s here.
He’s here, and he probably isn’t wearing a mask. What a fucking liar. I told him about the party, and he said he’d never heard of it. I start searching the front of the house from my spot next to Freya, my eyes darting around like a mad woman.
Devon doesn’t really stand out when it comes to clothing from what I can tell. I’ve already seen about five muscular guys in jeans and black tees.
“Hey, you good?” Freya asks, placing her hands on my shoulders and looking into my eyes. “You haven’t taken anything, have you?” she asks, a little panicked.
“Just nervous,” I say. I’m not lying, I really am nervous about potentially bumping into Devon. It’s a party, there’s no way he’d have his face covered.
I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear. I did not expect to meet him like this. Is this what he meant when the next time we would meet, he wouldn’t wear a mask?
Oh god, I’m spiraling.
“It’ll be fine! I’m not drinking, so just let me know when you want to leave,” Freya says, completely oblivious to the real reason I’m freaking out. I take a deep breath and force myself to forget Devon for now. Maybe if I forget he’s at the party I’ll just bump into him naturally.
It’d be like we met here and haven’t been having weird masked foreplay the entire time I’ve worked at the gas station.
I follow Freya into the house, semi-present as she gets talking to some old friends. We dance and socialize for a couple of hours until Freya pulls me to the side for some selfies and group photos.
“Oh my god, why do I look so oily?” I laugh, pinching the screen to zoom into my face.
“It’s the flash, everyone looks oily!” Freya snorts as I scroll through the multiple photos she’s taken of us with some partygoers photobombing in the back.
“Hey,” someone says from next to me. I pause for a moment, and Freya briefly glances at whoever it is. She nods at the guy before moving away after giving me one of those looks that scream, ‘I’m here if he does anything weird’.
I spin to face the guy who’s just addressed me. He’s kind of cute, actually.
“Hey…” I trail off. Is this Devon? He doesn’t sound like him and most definitely isn’t as tall as him. Damn it. Why isn’t Devon falling into my lap?
“Is your name Devon by any chance?” I ask, uncaring of how random my question seems.
“What?” He lets out an uncomfortable chuckle. “No, I’m Vince.” Yeah, the more he talks, the less he sounds like Devon—his voice is way too high. I don’t want to be rude, but I have no interest in Vince.
“Oh, well nice to meet you, Vince.”
Suddenly, a cold splash hits my leg. Vince’s glass has been knocked out of his hand, causing some of the liquid to dribble onto my jeans.
“Asshole!” Vince calls out to whoever knocked over his drink. I follow the direction of his shout and notice the backs of several people walking through the crowd. It’s a lot busier than when I first arrived, so it’s hard to pinpoint the culprit.
“It was nice meeting you Vince, but I think I’m going to clean up.” I give him a polite smile and leave our little conversation, knowing full well that the amount spilled on me isn’t necessary to wipe up. It landed on my jeans and is barely noticeable.
I make out that I’m leaving to find a bathroom, but circle around until I’m back with Freya.
Even though I’ve been socializing, my nerves are still high. I have barely been able to hold a decent conversation with Devon constantly swirling around my mind for the entire party.
After thirty minutes, my patience has worn thin. Fuck bumping into Devon naturally…I’m going to hunt him down.
I split from Freya and head upstairs to search for him, even though I don’t know what face I’m looking for. He doesn’t have any visible tattoos or facial piercings that I know of. He does have short hair, the color of it remains unknown to me, though.
Amidst the dancing guests, I roam aimlessly in search of Devon. My only means of identification being his voice and my intuition. My eyes snap to every ripped guy I see, which is pretty much everyone because it’s a post-fight party.
I spot one attractive guy with a huge bruise on his face watching me suspiciously from the top of the stairs. Based on his odd reaction, I would’ve considered him to be Devon if he wasn’t so lean. He looks more athletic than Devon, if that’s even possible.
“Hey, have you seen Devon?” I ask as I pass him. He stares at me, then briefly looks behind me. I raise my eyebrow and turn toward the stairs to find nobody there. It’s just us here.
“No.” He responds dismissively as if I’ve just inconvenienced him, then walks past me to descend the wide staircase. Clearly, my sleuthing skills need some work.
I walk further down the hallway and run my hand through my hair in frustration. I keep thinking every guy here is Devon. I’m probably imagining him being here at this point, waiting to eat me out again or something.
I open several doors: a bathroom, a storage room, and another closet with only towels. The next door I open is a bedroom, the light from the hallway illuminating it as I try to locate the light switch. My hand slaps the wall in search of it, which is the moment that someone pushes me in and wraps their arm around my waist.
“Hey!” I shout, kicking my legs and flailing my arms. I’m picked up and carried a short distance onto somebody’s lap. The door shuts behind us, and the room is covered in a thick darkness.
“Sweetness.” I stop struggling and sag at the sound of the voice, resting myself against the familiar hard body.
“Devon,” I mumble into his chest, blindly running my hands over his face. No helmet. No ski mask. My body lights up like a match.
With me currently on his lap, what was initially panic has turned into complete lust. I drag my hands all over his bare face. My fingers graze the sides of his head, and I feel the cold metal of a small hoop earring.
My hands slide over his hair and it’s short. So short, that it feels prickly on my palms. He did say that the next time he sees me, he wouldn’t wear a mask.
“You kept your promise…you asshole,” I whisper. He played me. He kept his promise knowing full well that he wasn’t going to show his face.
“But I didn’t lie,” he says. “No mask.”
“You’re an idiot.” He lets out a rumbling laugh.
“Cute that you were looking for me all night, though.”
“It wasn’t all night,” I argue, trying to squint and see Devon. It’s too dark, as usual.
“You nearly passed out when you spotted my bike. I thought I’d have to run in and catch you before you fell.”
How long was he watching me for?
“Stalker,” I mumble. It’s the only comeback my brain can think of, and I shuffle on his lap, gasping when I feel an obvious hardness between his legs.
I think I’ve been subconsciously conditioned to get turned on by both darkness and Devon, that being the stimulus and my arousal the response.
“I can’t tell if that’s an insult or not. Last time you called me a name, you came all over my face.” I’m almost shaking with arousal on his lap, the chance of potentially seeing him tonight has me all riled up. I lean in and swipe my tongue up the side of his neck. “Violet…” he warns. I drag my lips over his face, brushing them over his stubbled jaw to locate his mouth and kiss him.
I rock my hips, and Devon lets out a low hum. He breaks the kiss by gripping my chin and forcefully detaches his lips from mine.
“Violet, if you don’t plan on doing anything more than kissing, you should leave this room.” He pulls my face back to his and nips along my bottom lip.
“I want more.” I roll my hips over him. The anticipation of bumping into him tonight has acted like my very own foreplay. “Please,” I beg.
My skin sizzles under his touch, and I feel like I’m about to detonate. I’ve given up fighting my body or trying to think what the safest course of action is. All I know is that I want Devon, and I want him now. Even more so after he left me high and dry in the utility closet.
Devon hisses like he’s in pain. “If you don’t touch my dick in the next few seconds, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.” I can feel him throb underneath me. I slide off Devon’s lap to kneel in front of him, then I feel my way to his belt.
Just as I locate it, Devon grips my hand and rubs it over his hardness.
“Too slow,” he breathes.
Movement ensues, and I hear the telltale sound of a zipper. When I rest my hands on his now bare legs, I lean forward so that my lips meet his dick. I press them lightly against his cock in chaste kisses and my tongue follows. I tease him until he flinches in his seat.
I’m no stranger to giving oral sex, but I never enjoyed it with my ex. With Devon, I have this strange urge to mimic the way he made me feel when he pleased me on the back of his bike. I want to make him lose control in my mouth, and then kiss him so he can savor his own release on my tongue.
I intend to do every filthy, hell-binding act with him. Wherever and whenever.
“You’re a fucking dream,” he growls. “I don’t know if I want your mouth or your pussy first.” Those words on his lips…I don’t think I need him to touch me. All he needs to do is whisper everything he wants to do to me in his gravelly voice, and I might just explode on the spot.
“First, my mouth.” I punctuate my reply with a light suck to the head of his cock, tasting his pre-cum. Devon lets out a hiss, which turns into a moan when I lower my mouth onto him completely. In one quick movement, he pushes my head down.
His cock is on the larger side, my jaw opening wide at the intrusion. I let out a loud gag and lift my head off him.
Trying again, I hold my breath and suck him. I just gag when I try to breathe, so I keep holding my breath. I continue with my unconventional method of depriving myself of oxygen for the sake of giving Devon the best head of his life.
“Breathe out through your nose,” he grunts.
“I know, I just don’t want to,” I reply, enjoying the constriction and dizziness that I feel each time my head throbs, desperate for oxygen.
“Vi—” Devon is interrupted by his own guttural moan. The next time I cover him with my mouth, he holds me there. I let out a strained moan and feel my core ache. My body loves this roughness. I scratch my nails over his legs as I choke on him, reciprocating his aggressiveness. He responds by tensing his thighs, the muscles rippling under my fingers.
This is so fucking hot.
“Love it when you choke on me, Sweetness.” I exhale a long breath from my nose. Devon holds my head still as he thrusts between my lips, his cock knocking on the back of my throat. He moves slowly at first, and then he’s relentless as he fucks my mouth.
With a flick of his wrist, his hand seizes my hair and fists it into what feels like a tight ponytail. Saliva drips down my chin, my face aching. I don’t stop sucking. I use my hands to fondle his balls, running my finger up the seam in the center until it reaches the base of his cock.
“Violet,” he grits. Devon’s hand flexes in my hair as if he’s restraining himself, his tightening hold causing my scalp to burn. A deep whimper emits from his mouth, and I squeeze my thighs together. I imagine his head tipped back, throat working as he moans my name.
Erotic, wet noises emanate from where we are joined together, and I hold my breath. I suck until my vision blurs from the lack of oxygen again—the breath play is taking me to new heights of arousal.
I pull off him and suck in air, then lean forward to take him in my mouth again until his legs shake.
“Fuck!” he bellows and rips me off him. He stands quickly, and I fall back onto my ass. I’m not on the floor for long because I suddenly feel his hands on me as he picks me up and places me on what feels like a soft bed.
“If I cum, it’s going to be inside of you,” he pants, his hands skating up my legs. I feel him reach for my jeans, and I help him pull them off.
In just my panties, he rubs a finger over my center. It causes me to lift my hips and allow Devon to slip the lace material off. He shoves two fingers inside of me—I’m so wet that they slide in effortlessly.
“Ready for me, aren’t you?” I nod, though he can’t see me.
He replaces his fingers with something large that rubs against my entrance. I can only assume it’s his cock. I stiffen slightly, and Devon must notice because he pauses too.
“We don’t have to do this—” he starts.
“I want this,” I whisper. “I’m just nervous, I don’t want it to be bad.”
Sex with my ex wasn’t mind-blowing by any means, so what’s to say Devon would be better if my long-term boyfriend wasn’t? I nibble at my lip, not out of fear, but out of concern. All this build-up for it to not be amazing has premature disappointment festering in my stomach.
“Do you know how much I want you? There is no alternate universe where it wouldn’t be good. I can promise you that, Sweetness.” This man is crazy. I squeeze his shoulders in response, and he pushes his tip inside of me. “If you don’t want to do this here, we don’t have to.” He languidly thrusts in and out with just the end of his length.
“I want it here,” I grit through my teeth, trying to force my words out over the pleasure that washes over me. He’s not even fucking me properly yet. How can he ask me that when teasing me? I let out a rough breath through my nose, and he pulls his cock away from my entrance.
“I’ll make this perfect for you.”
With those words, he impales me in a motion that’s gentle yet firm. I release a loud moan, and he cuts me off by clamping his hand over my mouth. Instead of stopping and letting me get used to his size, he thrusts in and out at a steady pace. He glides into me painlessly, helping me adjust to his size.
“Wouldn’t want someone to come and investigate the scream, would we?” he grunts, hand tightening over my mouth. I completely forgot we were in a bedroom at a party, another place someone could easily walk in. I clench around Devon at the thought of being caught. He must feel me tighten around him because he drops forward, his forehead touching mine.
“You like the sound of that? You like the thought of someone walking in and seeing us like this? My dirty fucking Violet.” I don’t respond and instead, anchor my nails into his back.
He yanks the neckline of my top down so my breasts are freed. The way Devon sucks and worships them makes me feel like a goddess, it’s like he can’t get enough of me.
He takes full advantage of covering every inch of my chest in wet kisses, the rough surface of his tongue causing delicious friction over my nipples.
“Devon,” I breathe. I take his wrist and guide it to my throat, his hand slithers around my neck in a gentle choke. Pleasure blankets itself over me. Each rock of his hips causes an intermittent burst of pleasure to shoot straight to my clit.
“Too slow,” I moan, using his words from earlier. He speeds up his pace, but I need more.
I place my hand over his one that’s resting on my throat and squeeze, signaling for him to choke me harder.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he growls and tightens his grip, pumping into me harder. “I can’t get enough of you.” With his other hand, he places each of my legs over his shoulders and kisses me hard. This angle practically folds me in half. It allows him to hit deeper, causing a louder moan to escape my lips.
After several more thrusts, he slides out of me, and I mewl when he flips me onto my front. He buries my face into the bed, shoving himself inside of me from behind to maintain his rough pounding. The sound of wet slaps and my incoherent, muted babbles bounce around the room as he ruins me.
“So fucking perfect,” he groans. I feel so full and clench around him again, a pleasurable sob ripping from my throat. “So good that you’re sobbing. You’ve waited so long for me to fuck you. Next time, I want to see my cum leaking out of you.”
My back arches as he lifts my head by my hair. His mouth sits against the side of my face, tongue brushing along my cheekbone as he tastes my tears.
He then reaches under me and rubs my clit, my stomach tightening before I nosedive into my release. An animalistic wail forces itself out of me, and Devon silences me by pushing my face into the bed.
My thighs shake as I thrash around him whilst he still hammers into me. He then freezes momentarily before burying his face into the back of my neck, sluggishly thrusting inside of me until we are nothing but a panting, sweaty mess.
“Christ, Violet,” he breathes, resting for several seconds before pulling out of me. I say nothing. My mind is static and my brain is refusing to tune in.
I’m sure if I could see Devon’s face, he’d be looking at me with a heated gaze. The only reason I know is because I can feel it. The way he looks at me is so intense that even in the darkest of rooms, his eyes sear every inch of the flesh he’s touched, kissed, and sucked.
Devon must be feeling the same as me because he doesn’t say a word as we both get dressed to the best of our ability in the pitch-black room. I hear him move toward me, the rough material of my pants grazing my arm when he hands them over.
“Why is your pant leg wet?” he asks as I put them on—the task more difficult than it should be in the dark.
“Some asshole bumped into a guy that I was talking to earlier, it knocked his drink on me.”
“What an asshole,” Devon drawls. Based on his tone, I have a feeling that he seems satisfied about Vince spilling his drink.
I begin to leave, stopping when I reach the door. I realize I can just turn on the light. My hand finds the switch and hovers over it.
“Violet,” Devon calls. “I’ll see you at work.” I pull my hand away, choosing to leave the room as it was when I entered—dark.
Without looking back, I run straight into the nearest bathroom and try and make myself look like I haven’t almost been choked and fucked to death. When I think I look okay, I head downstairs to find Freya.
I pass dancing bodies and couples who look as if they’re about to engage in activities like Devon and I just have. I finally spot Freya in the foyer, only she seems to be arguing with Micah. Her body is tense with her finger pointing at him, but she appears…sad?
Micah reaches out with a comforting touch and pulls her into a friendly embrace. I hover a short distance away, unsure whether to approach. Micah looks up and spots me. He leans down to whisper something in Freya’s ear and she turns. Following his gaze, she gives me a weak smile before walking toward me.
“I want to go home,” she whispers, and I nod.
“Me too,” I agree. I’m more than ready to throw myself into my bed. Micah escorts us outside, and the loud bass booming from a car coming down the street makes my bones vibrate.
It’s a sports car that pulls up, and four people hop out. The guy in the passenger seat is oddly familiar…Isaac. I smile when I spot him wearing a huge bandage over his nose, only to feel a little disappointed when I realize that Mari isn’t here. Micah angrily storms up to the car.
“Get the fuck off my property. If you’re planning on selling shit, go somewhere else,” he says to the tall, lean guy getting out of the driver’s seat.
“Ah, come on, we’re all adults here. I thought we were past the high school stuff.” The slim guy opens his arms wide in mock friendliness.
“Shut the fuck up, Connor. Several people here, including myself, have a problem with you and your fucking group. Shit’s different now,” Micah snarls.
“No shit,” Isaac hisses, his gaze unwavering as he looks directly at me.
“Leave my house right fucking now,” Micah threatens. Two people in the group look at Connor for their next command, except for Isaac, who is still glaring at me.
“Fine, I just wanted to see you, old friend,” Connor says, smirking. “But we’ll leave if it’ll stop you from getting your panties in a twist.” His group kisses their teeth. Dirty looks are thrown at Micah, some at Freya too. “Oh, and Micah, just because you’re some LA big shot now, it doesn’t mean the past can’t come back to haunt you.” This Connor guy appears to have no effect on Micah, his threats falling on deaf ears.
I look at Freya who is still uncharacteristically quiet and observing the interaction. Her face has paled, eyes following Micah closely as he watches Connor and Isaac drive off with their friends.
Once the sports car is nothing but distant headlights, Micah shakes his head and walks up to us with his attention mainly on Freya.
“We will keep in touch this time, alright Frey? I fly back to LA next week, and I want to see you before I leave.” His voice is gentle compared to the tone he used to tell Connor to leave. Freya nods and smiles softly at him, her keys jingling as she takes them out of her purse. She seems instantly happier now that Connor’s posse has gone.
Micah makes sure we get into the car safely and watches us drive off. Though, as we exit the driveway, I can feel another pair of eyes on me.
“What was that about?” I question several minutes into our drive home. Freya’s turn signal clicks for a few beats before she answers.
“Connor and Micah have some history. Micah isn’t part of that life now, though. Connor also caused some trouble for me when I was eighteen.”
“Seems like nobody is a fan of that crew. I know a couple of people who don’t get on with Isaac.” I’m speaking in relation to Devon and Mari.
“Vi, how the fuck do you know people who don’t get on with them?” Freya releases a laugh, the information obviously catching her off guard.
“I’m not a loser, okay? He got into a fight with one of my friends for no reason. He’s just a terrible person. He also treats his girlfriend like trash.”
“I never thought you were a loser! I’m trying so hard not to ask how you ended up knowing these people, but damn. His girlfriend is that sweet girl who usually wears super long braids.” I nod.
“Yeah, Mari.”
“They’re still together? I saw them at a few parties in high school. Isaac is well known in the area.” I don’t know what Freya means by that, but judging by her tone, Isaac being known doesn’t sound too positive.
“Small world,” I mumble.
“Small world, indeed,” Freya agrees as we continue to drive back home in silence.
“You okay though Freya? Seriously,” I say after several minutes. I’m worried about her. I don’t know what was going on between her and Micah.
“Yeah, I’m good Vi, just some bad memories that came back. You disappeared for a bit at the party, are you okay?” She gives a small smile and circles her face with her pointer finger. I flash her a look of confusion and pull down the sun visor above the passenger seat.
My reflection in the mirror shows some makeup that’s smudged around my eyes, and my lipstick touch-up has done nothing to hide the stains around my mouth.
Despite my best efforts to clean up in the bathroom, my makeup is mostly worn off. I smash my lips together to conceal my own smile and turn to Freya.
“More than good, Frey,” I say. She squeals, my words causing her to do a small jig in her seat. I give a quick thanks to her for giving me a ride and head inside, trying to avoid starting a conversation about what I got up to at the party. When I unlock the front door, I spot Ash knocked out on the couch. I toss a blanket over him before heading upstairs, exhausted and feeling nothing but the dull ache of Devon inside of me.