Closing Night High Ch. 03

When I look back at the screen, he's palming his impressive erection, staring intently at my mouth.

"That," I tell him.  "That's what I want.  I want to watch you make yourself cum."  Then I add, "Pretty please?" and bat my lashes at him.

He busts out laughing, but he wraps his hand around himself and starts to really stroke his cock.

"With that popsicle in your mouth, you could have asked me to sever a limb, and I would've done it. This?" he says, as he rubs his thumb over the tip, then puts it in his mouth to suck off the pre-cum. "This, you couldn't stop me from doing." My mouth drops open, and I almost drop my frozen treat.

There's only about half the popsicle left on the stick, now, and I easily take all of it into my mouth. I pull it out and push it back in, over and over, until it's all gone. I make a show of licking the stick clean, so he can get a good look at my tongue doing to the tasteless piece of wood what it should be doing to his smooth, solid shaft.

The prop may be done, but that doesn't mean the show is over. I pause a moment to watch as he pumps his cock in his tight fist. On every downstroke, I see the the shiny purple head, and I want so badly to feel it spreading my pussy lips apart as it pushes its way inside me. My poor underwear is getting super soaked.

I get onto my knees, then scoot back to the head of my bed, so my entire body is in the shot. Caleb grunts directly into my ear, the sound of it heating my blood.

"What do you think?" I twist my body around to give him a good view of my half-covered ass.

"I think you know exactly what I think, Em," he answers.

"Do you want to see more?" I ask, looking at him over my shoulder, coquettishly. I take his heavy breathing as a yes.

Turning back around to face the camera, I reach up and slowly—very slowly—unzip my hoodie. It hangs open, but not enough to show my breasts, only a long strip of bare skin, from my neck to the top of my boy shorts.

"Take it off," Caleb orders. I spin to face away from him, again. Still on my knees, I spread my legs a bit more and tilt my head back, so that the end of my ponytail brushes the swell of my round, juicy ass. I slip off the hoodie and toss it to the side. Then, bending forward, I reach back to push my underwear over my cheeks and slide them down my spread thighs. I rest my forearms on the bed to present my pussy to him, making sure he gets a good look.

I'm rewarded with more heavy breathing and the loud, wet, unmistakable sound of Caleb jerking off.

"Turn around," he practically growls, and I obey. My underwear is still stretched out around my knees, and I go to remove them, but Caleb says, "Leave them."

He's getting full frontal Emilie, now, and I touch my body everywhere I'd want him to, if he were here—my hips, my stomach, my tits, my neck, and my inner thighs. I don't touch my pussy, because I want this to be about him. I need to make him cum, even if I can't touch him.

Caleb slows his hand, and I pout. "Don't give me that look, young lady. I'm not cumming until you do." Ok, fine. I guess it's going to be about me, too. "Lean back and spread your thighs as much as you can." I'm testing the limits of the cotton at my knees, and then I plant my hands behind me on the bed support my weight. At this angle, my little, pink nipples point at the ceiling. "Touch yourself, Em. Play with your sweet pussy. Let me watch you cum."

With his voice coming through the buds, it's like his mouth is right at my ear, whispering the words directly into it. I close my eyes to focus solely on that and start rubbing my clit with the pads of two fingers.

"Keep talking, Caleb. Your voice... I need to hear more," I plead, and he doesn't hesitate to give me what I want.

"You look so fucking tasty like that, babe. I want my face between your legs, right now... my tongue licking up all those sweet juices I see coating your pussy."

I slide my fingers down to wet them with those juices, then bring them back to my clit. It's throbbing under my touch, now.

"I want to feel your thighs spreading as my hips settle between them," he goes on. "Can you feel the tip of my cock at your entrance... feel it slowly pushing its way inside your tight, wet pussy, until you have every inch of me filling you up?"

I start rolling my hips, fucking the air the way I wish I could be fucking him. I'm so close... His dark, heated voice echoes in my mind, chasing out every thought and every worry.

"My cock would swell inside you... Can you feel it getting bigger? Harder?" God, yes! "Can you tell that I'm about to cum so deep in you that not one drop will spill out?"

Fuck! I fall back on the bed and shove a pillow over my face to mute my cries, as my fingers work my clit hard and fast.

"My cum is so hot inside you, coating your walls and—"

My muffled scream cuts him off, letting him know that his words did the trick. Thank fuck for the pillow, or my parents would be kicking my locked door down to try and save me.

It's like he knew exactly what I wanted to hear—like he's fully aware that feeling him spill his seed into me makes my brain stupid and pushes my body over the edge. Apparently, just hearing him talk about it does the same thing. My fingers slow as I come down from my climax, and when my hand stops and cups my sex, I can feel all the slippery cum that's leaking out of me. I lift the pillow off my face, so I can take full breaths of air.

Once I've recovered, I slide my underwear the rest of the way off, before lying back down on my stomach to get a closer look at Caleb finishing himself off. His fist is a blur as he jacks off, and his chest and abs, shiny with his sweat, rise and fall with his rapid breathing. Then, he's shouting, and I watch as ropes of thick, white jizz shoot from the tip of his cock, landing in globs on his chest, neck, and even as far up as his chin.

I don't think I've ever seen him look this beautiful.

"God, I want to lick all that cum off you... or maybe press my chest against yours and get myself all messy with it," I say, wistfully. He's still gripping his half-hard dick as he waits for his breathing to slow. Finally, he opens his eyes to see me propped up on my elbows, my arms pressing my tits together.

He looks at me in wonder and asks, "How the hell did I get you? How did I get this lucky?"

Right now, he should be holding my face in his rough, warm hands and kissing me senseless, but that isn't possible to do through the internet. Part of me thinks that teasing ourselves like this was a terrible idea. It's a stupid part, tough, so I don't listen to it.

"I could tell you exactly how you got me. But it doesn't matter, now, because I'm yours, and you're never getting rid of me."

"Thank fuck for that," he says and smiles. "Get to sleep, babe. It's a school night." He laughs at his own cheesy joke, and I giggle deliriously, right along with him.

"I love you, Caleb," I tell him, then I kiss my fingertips and press them over his mouth on the screen.

"I love you, too, Em. Sleep tight."

I slip on a t-shirt, get under my covers, and put my laptop in its usual position, so Caleb can watch me while I sleep.

* * * * *

There are a lot of things I should do in life. I should visit my grandmom more than twice a year. I should learn to cook, so I don't end up living on Easy Mac and oatmeal once I move out. I should fill up my gas tank before it hits empty and I'm stranded on the highway, calling my daddy for help—you'd think I'd have learned after the first time! I should donate that stupid dollar when I check out at the grocery store.

I should tell Caleb I'm about to use him as bait.

He needs to play his part, though, and it has to look believable. I don't know if he's got the acting chops for that, and I can't be all, "Have you ever done improv? Were you any good?" What if he says no? I can't take the risk of tipping him off that I'm up to something, if he can't fake the reaction I need from him. Nope. He's got to stay in the dark to make this work. And we really, really need it to work.

So, that's why I've been hanging out in the courtyard since school let out an hour ago. Unless there's a rehearsal for something, I'm usually bouncing out the door as soon as the bell rings, so this is suspicious behavior for me. At least, I hope it is.

Every five minutes or so, I check my phone, bite my lip, and scan the courtyard, all paranoid-like. It's not my most subtle performance, but that's precisely the point.

Caleb gets done work at four o'clock, so at 3:55, I grab my bag, look around one last time, and quickly make my way to the theater. I find him working in the tech room, wrapping up some cables. I take a brief—hopefully, undetectable—moment to shift into the right gear, then carefully place my bag on the table and silently move in behind him. As soon as my hands touch his back, he spins to confront his molester with a scary rage-face.

"What the— Em?" He's justifiably confused, and he squints, as if not believing his own eyes.

At this point, I realize that I won't have to do much acting. With the threat of viral, buck-naked exposure the stalker's been dangling over our heads, I've had to bottle up my physical cravings for Caleb in order to get through each day. With one touch, it's come uncorked, shooting all over the place and making things all wet and sticky.

Without giving him any warning, I go up on my tiptoes to grab him by the back of his neck and force his resistant lips to meet mine. Fuck, I missed this. Fifteen days of not this was torture enough. I'm done. On top of fueling my lust, this kiss is igniting my desire for vengeance. That soulless piece of shit has no clue who he's fucked with.

I don't care, anymore, if I have to go down—so long as I take him down with me.

Caleb kisses me back for a few seconds, letting his lips part and his tongue graze mine. He's probably as intoxicated by our stolen kiss as I am, but when I suddenly crush my body to his, he snaps out of it. Grabbing my bare shoulders, he tries to shove me back, but that innocent contact of his skin on mine makes my body lose its shit. I become, like, a Sex Avenger, imbued with superhuman strength and enhanced wantonness. My forearms shoot up between his, and I use them to knock his hands off my shoulders. I'll have to thank mom for those self-defense classes.

Before he has time to react, my body forces his into the wall behind him. My hands slip under his untucked shirt, feeling every inch of skin on their way up to his chest. On their return trip, I scratch my nails over his nipples, then dig in deeper the rest of the way down. I can feel goosebumps under my palms and his dick stiffening against my stomach. He throws his head back, banging it against the wall, and closes his eyes so tight, I worry he's going to pop a blood vessel.

The heat of his chest burns my lips, even through his shirt, as I press them to every part of him they can reach. His balled fists stay at his sides. He's not touching me, but he's not trying to push me away, either. I'll take that as a sign of progress. My hands are making the most of this moment, unwilling to waste a single second of our borrowed time.

At this point, I've completely thrown out my script. The plan was just to kiss Caleb. He, being the more levelheaded half of our whole, would protect me by not giving in to desire. The scene unfolded exactly the way I wanted it to... until I lost total control.

Oops. Well, too late now—may as well go with it.

"Caleb..." I say on a groan, "I don't want to do this, anymore. I'm so fucking fed up with keeping my distance."

He lifts his head from the wall and looks down at me. His steel-blue eyes are filled with unshed tears. It breaks my heart, because I think I'm breaking his.

"Don't make me do this, Em. I can't keep resisting you. Please... just walk away," he pleads, his voice catching on the last word.

"I don't care anymore, Caleb!" I shout in response, not giving a single shit who can hear me. "Let him post the video. Let him show it to my fucking parents, for all I care. This"—I point between him and me—"is the only thing I care about. Being with you is the only thing I care about." To my surprise, I mean every word.

"I care, Em!" he shouts back, just as loudly. It's the first time he's raised his voice to me since I surprised him in the men's room that first night, and I flinch and back away a few steps. "Shit, babe. I'm sorry," he says, looking truly regretful. "But I meant what I said—I care. Call me a selfish, possessive prick, but I can't stand the thought of other people seeing you like that. You're mine, and there is no way I'm sharing you with the whole fucking world."

"I get it. I really do. I just... I miss you," I say, before I turn and run away from him.

* * * * *

I text Eric as soon as I get into my car, still emotionally and physically wrung out from my encounter with Caleb.

ok. it's done. you guys in place?

Eric: yep. got a great view of the comps

Me: now remember—no actual studying, and no making eyes or playing footsie under the table. you guys are on a mission!

E: duh. can't make the no-footsies promise tho

Me: whatever. just make mama proud.

E: ur weird

And damn proud of it. I don't text that part, but it's worth mentioning.

Eric and Parker are camped out at Sellers Library, being diligent students and spending hours with their noses in their books. Or maybe just twenty minutes, for all we know at this point. It all depends on how quickly my stalker—a.k.a. my future homicide victim—shows up. It's got to be someone they'll recognize. If they suspect someone, Parker is going to casually stroll by to check out that person's screen. We're all high school kids from decent neighborhoods, so why would one of our classmates need to use a public library computer?

Back at home, I sit at the dinner table with my parents, not eating, just bouncing my knees under the table and trying to get a handle on my nervous energy. When my phone whistles, I nearly have a heart attack. I immediately stand up, almost knocking my chair over. My eyes dart between my mom and dad, who are looking at me like I've lost my ever-loving mind. Play it cool, Em.

I give my mom a meaningful look, complete with psychotic wink. "It's that person we were talking about," I tell her. When I see the light bulb go on, I quickly add, "Thanks for dinner!" and full-out run to my bedroom. Yep. Definitely cool.

I'm not exactly sure why, but I don't want to sit on my bed. I think I'd just feel too exposed up there, and I need a safe space to read what can only be a new email from my stalker. I bring my laptop down to the floor with me and sit cross-legged with it in my lap. Staring at the black screen, I bite at my cuticles, deciding that is the priority right now. Facing what could possibly be a disaster of epic proportions is way at the bottom of my list.

Time to man up. The sooner I check this email, the sooner I can call Eric and grill him about what he and Parker saw. Let's take this one step at a time.

Type in my log in password. Check.

Take a deep breath. Check.

Open up email. Check.

Freak the fuck out at seeing the creepy anon@yourescrewed.com address. Superfucking check.

Open the email.

No, seriously, grow a pair and open the email. Check.

Cinderella,

Did you think I wouldn't notice? Did you think I wouldn't laugh at your attempt to seduce him?

You're a very lucky girl. If he hadn't behaved himself today, everyone would be finding out what a little whore you are, right now.

Disobey me again, and I will ruin you.

And remember—

MINE

Hold up. ...Huh?

So... I'm not the object of this whacked-out obsession? Not that I'm complaining, but that means Caleb is the one the delusional freak is after. That frightens me even more. It also wipes out our list of suspects, which, granted, only included Jeff. He was a such a strong candidate, though! Until now, that is.

Fuck.

After rereading the crazy-person words about ten more times, I pick up the phone and call Eric. He answers on the first ring.

"You got an email?" he asks, not bothering with a normal greeting. There's no time for that.

"Yes, and it was insane! Turns out, whoever's been sending me these doesn't want me—they want Caleb. Can you believe it?" I ask, still reeling from the shock of it.

"Yeah, actually, I can believe it," Eric says, cryptically.

"You saw something there, didn't you?" I jump up from my spot on the floor, no longer feeling the need to hide. "Stop holding back, asshole. Just tell me."

"Jeez, lady. Calm yourself. I'm not sure how helpful this is going to end up being." I respond with silence, because he really needs to get on with it. "Ok, so, after I got your text, we watched the computers like hawks. There were only two people on them the whole time—a homeless guy and some elderly lady who smelled like she sleeps in her own piss. Which is really sad when you—"

"Gah!" I scream, cutting off his tangent. "Stick to the point."

"Fine. So, about an hour after you texted, a woman walked in and sat at one of the desktops. We were close, but not enough to see what she was working on, so Parker pretended to look through some books on a cart right behind her."

I'm pacing my room, at this point. The anticipation is making my heart race at dangerous speeds.

"It was her, Em. Parker saw what she was typing. He saw 'Cinderella' at the top of the email," he says, and I can hear barely controlled fury in his voice. "You have no idea—it took all the strength we had not to strangle her skinny neck right there."

"I kinda wish you would have... but I guess it's good you didn't. So, tell me what she looks like. Maybe I've seen her around, or something." Probably not, but I still need to know.

"Oh, I can do better than tell you, Em."

A second later, a picture shows up in the chat window on my laptop. It's a small pic, but I can see that she has shoulder-length brown hair. I open up the image to get a better look. They managed to get a great shot of the woman as she was turned toward them. The batshit chick is gorgeous. Fantastic. She looks like she's in her early thirties, she's got a slammin' body, and her outfit must have cost at least $800. As if I didn't hate her enough, already.

I look at the picture, again, and back at her email. Then I remember I still have Eric on the phone.

Seriously, though... "Who the fuck is this?"

*

*Caleb's poem tattoo is from "Longing" by Matthew Arnold