Bad for You by Weston Parker
12
BRITTANY
Bubbles came up to my neck in my bathtub. The lights were off, but I’d lit the few candles I had positioned around the edge and on my vanity.
Candlelit baths always made me think about Tristin and the very first time I’d had one. It had been the same night I’d also had my very first time with something else, and I remembered how taken care of I’d felt when he’d gone to run us a bath after.
His entire room and bathroom had been covered in candles and rose petals. I’d been so touched that he’d gone through so much effort despite the fact that he’d known I was a sure thing. We’d talked about it a lot and had made the decision together to do it that night.
Tristin had kept checking in with me before, making sure that I knew he wouldn’t pressure me if I decided not to go ahead with it after all. It had been beyond sweet of him, but I’d been more than ready by then.
In fact, I’d only barely been keeping myself from jumping his bones for months at that point. The only thing that had kept me sane was knowing that our night together would be happening soon.
And what a night it was.
After having waited for so long, we hadn’t been able to get enough of each other. I’d been sore after the first time, but then he’d led me to his bath and had washed me with such attention to detail that he’d started fanning the fire all over again.
In all my research beforehand, I’d learned that I might feel too tender to have him touching me again for a few days after. It hadn’t happened that way for me, not that night. I had ended up being sore for days after, but not from just the one time.
Tristin might not have been that much more experienced than me at the time, but he’d made sure I was so ready that I’d been practically incoherent before he’d finally taken me. Afterward, I’d read up more about it, and it turned out that made him a very good lover—especially for a teenage boy.
As I thought back to the way he’d touched me in the tub that night, my fingertips started stroking my thighs underneath the mountain of bubbles. I felt my face heating, resting my head back as the warm water wet the back of my hair when I lay down.
He’d started by soaping up his hands, massaging my shoulders, neck, and arms before moving his fingers to my chest. My nipples had beaded under his touch, just like they did now at the mere memory of the soft pads on them.
One of my hands came up to hold my breast, my breath quickening when I let my thumbs hover without brushing them across my nipples just yet. My other hand crept higher on my thigh, but I held off, waiting to be immersed by the memory completely before I really touched myself.
It was always better that way, even if it still didn’t ever come close to what the real thing had felt like. Maybe it was just because he’d been the first person except for myself who’d ever given me an orgasm, but I still hadn’t experienced any quite as mind-blowing as the ones he used to give me since.
I hadn’t even really done anything yet, but my hips were already rocking in little circles under the water as I strained for some kind of friction. It was exactly what had happened that night.
Tristin hadn’t wanted to hurt me by touching me again so soon. His hands had been featherlight on my skin, but that had only served to ramp up my need for him by another ten thousand notches.
He had been sitting behind me. I’d felt his rock-hard length against my butt. Felt his heart hammering against my back. But he hadn’t acted on his own desire until I’d practically begged him to.
Even then, he’d been so darn gentle. His fingers had caressed me just as softly as mine were now, and when I finally let my hand brush against my clit, I moaned his name.
He’d sucked in a sharp breath when the same thing had happened that night. His hips had given this involuntary little jerk. I’d reached behind me, wrapping my fist around his velvety length as I turned my head to nuzzle his jaw.
When I’d looked up at him, his eyes had been closed and his lips parted, his head angled back ever so slightly. Seeing him like that had been one of the most erotic sights I’d ever seen, if only because it had felt so much more intimate to behold that beautiful agony on his expression after we’d finally been together.
My core clenched around nothing now, my clit swollen and achy with the need to be touched. Soft slickness that had nothing to do with the bubbles or the water made my upper thighs glide against each other when I pressed them together.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I closed one hand over my breast and let my fingertip dance around my clit as I thought back to the way he’d looked that night. The sounds of his pleasure as I stroked him were in my ears when I started drawing circles around my hard nub.
It didn’t take long before my ears were ringing from the strength of my orgasm, and water ended up sloshing out of the bath as I bucked my way through it. It was a darn good thing I didn’t have a roommate, because I could never keep myself completely silent while riding out those waves of exquisite pleasure.
Afterward, when I’d finally cleaned up the bathroom and was in my pajamas, I paced around my room and debated calling him. I wanted to tell him that we should give things a chance. Maybe even admit that I was excited to see if we could work out as adults.
But as I sat cross-legged on my cream-colored bedspread, staring at my reflection in the bay window across from my bed, my phone buzzed in my hand. I jumped at first, my heart in my throat since my immediate thought was that it might be him.
It wasn’t. Shelley’s name was on my screen, and I could tell from her tone that something was wrong as soon as I picked up the call.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she said, “but I thought you should see this. I’m sending you a link now.”
Sure enough, there was a beep in my ear as her message came through. “What is it? What’s going on?”
She sighed. “Tristin Ramsey was spotted on a romantic lunch date earlier today. The photos are up online. I’m sorry, Brit. I wanted to let you know before you got blindsided with gossip at school tomorrow.”
“Thank you for telling me,” I said after pausing for a long minute. “How did you find out about it?”
“I put a new alert out for Tristin after the library fundraiser,” she admitted in a soft voice. “From the way you’ve been acting, I could tell something might happen between the two of you again. I looked him up and found out his family was a pretty big deal around here, so I set up the alert in case our local press took an interest in his being back.”
“Wow,” I breathed when I pulled the phone away from my ear and clicked the link she’d sent me, putting the phone on speaker as I looked at the article. “The girl he’s with is stunning.”
“I know. I’m so jealous of her, and it’s not even my man she’s with.”
Envy spread through me along with bitter disappointment that I’d missed my second chance with him already. “Same, but he’s not my man either. Not anymore, and by the looks of things, not ever again.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, her tone gentle and truly remorseful. “I’ll let you go so you can stare at the pictures in peace. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay? Don’t stay up too late. It’s his loss.”
I didn’t agree with it being his loss, but I thanked her and promised I’d get some sleep soon. It turned out to have been a blatant lie because my brain refused to allow me the reprieve of sleep.
All night, I lay there tossing and turning, thinking about the kiss we’d shared just the other day and wondering if maybe I’d imagined the connection between us. I must have imagined it, because it couldn’t have been real. Not if he was already seeing someone else and especially not if that someone looked like her.
