Selena Kitt: Grace

“Was that… did you…?”

“Yes.” She wiggled out of her panties, adding them to the growing mass of clothes on the floor. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Whoa. Wait… I… really?” he squeaked, blinking in surprise when Erica rolled him onto his back, reaching around to unhook her bra. His reluctance disappeared the moment he saw her sitting on him topless, lust overtaking his hesitation, hands reaching for her breasts, cupping them in wonder.

“Let’s see what we have here…” Erica slid his boxers down, allowing him to spring free, satisfyingly hard. “Mmm. Nice.”

“Erica…” Clay bit his lip when she began to stroke him, his face pained. “I didn’t bring you here for… I mean…”

“I know. It’s okay. I want to.” She shifted in her straddle, sliding him between her labia. They were swollen from her orgasm, her juices flowing, more than ready for him. “Did you think, when you invited me to meet you at two in the morning, that I was going to be a good girl?”

“But you’re… I really like you, Erica.”

“I like you too.” She was guiding him, nice and easy. “That’s why we’re doing this.”

“Wow.” Clay’s hands gripped her breasts as she began to slide down on him. “Wow. Oh wowwwwww. You’re something else!”

She pressed a finger to his lips, settling into the saddle of his hips, feeling him fully inside of her. “Shhh. No more talking.”

Erica rocked her pelvis back and forth, up and back, watching his expression change from astonishment to pleasure, from fascination to lust. It was his first time, but it was far from hers, so she took complete control, enjoying her power, feeding on it. It was intoxicating, and Erica was fearless, unashamed, using her body to force him to the brink.

She knew she was bad, she knew it, and she enjoyed it. The flirting they’d been doing for the past few weeks had culminated in this moment, but for her, it was more than that. She’d been holding back her feelings for Father Michael so long, she couldn’t help the floodgates when the dam burst. Poor Clay had just been standing in the way and was in danger of drowning. It wasn’t this poor boy’s fault that she was imagining a certain handsome priest, but Clay didn’t look like he minded. He probably still wouldn’t have minded if she’d told him the truth, but she wasn’t going to do that.

“Oh. God. Ohhh! God!” Clay’s hands crushed her breasts together, hips bucking her up so hard she nearly hit the roof of the car.

Erica leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Go ahead. You can come inside of me. I want you to.”

He shuddered, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying himself completely inside of her, his final cry of release making her smile in triumph as she felt the tell-tale surge of white hot liquid deep in her belly. She kissed his sweaty cheek, slowly shifting her weight, feeling him slide out of her, both of them crying out at the sensation.

“Oh God.” Clay threw an arm over his eyes as Erica began to dress, feeling around for her underwear. “What if you get pregnant? Oh no. Oh God. This isn’t happening.”

“I can’t get pregnant,” she assured him, putting on her bra.

He peeked out at her, watching as she pulled her sweatshirt over her head. “You’re a girl, aren’t you? Girls can get pregnant. Trust me, I paid attention in science class, remember?”

“I can’t get pregnant.” Erica tossed his boxers to him, starting to wiggle into her dungarees. “Really, it’s true. I’m not making it up. See this?”

She twisted her hips toward him, zipper still down, and showed him the scar on her belly.

“What is that?”

“I had an operation.” She yanked up her pants, zipping and buttoning them. “I can’t have babies. Ever.”

“Oh. Wow.” Clay sat, pulling on his boxers, looking over at her. He clearly didn’t know what to say. Not that she could blame him. “Oh wow. Erica, I’m so sorry.”

“No sense crying over spilled milk.” She rubbed her hand over the steam on the window, peering outside. “You think the light show is over?”

“Probably.” Clay was dressing, pulling on his jeans, slipping on his t-shirt. “Sorry we missed it?”

“A little.” Erica drew a face on the glass, a round face, two eyes and a sardonic squiggly smile.

Clay scooted closer, putting his arms around her waist. “I’m not.”

“What time is it?”

He sighed, looking at his watch. “Time to take you home. You’re sure no one will notice you snuck out?”

“I told you, my father is oblivious.” Erica grabbed her boots, starting to pull them on. She didn’t want to think about her father-and Leah. She had thought having her best friend back would make things right again, but since Leah had come home from Magdalene House, she had been withdrawn and moody and prone to fits of either anger or tears over the littlest things.

Erica couldn’t really blame her. Even though Leah had gone away to a maternity home to have her baby-most girls who found themselves with a bun in the oven ended up at places like Magdalene House-she’d changed her mind once Grace had been born. Even back when Leah had actually believed her mother’s lie-that Robert Nolan was Leah’s biological father-Leah had decided to run off to New York and start a new life with her baby in tow.

Leah had sworn up and down that she’d been tricked into signing the adoption papers by the social worker, and while Erica’s father had hired a private investigator to find her and had talked to several lawyers, apparently Leah’s signature on the document made things legally tricky. Erica didn’t really know all the details-she just knew she and Father Michael had almost caught the adoption worker taking off in the car that had carried baby Grace away from the hospital where Leah had given birth to her.

If they’d just gotten to her a few minutes sooner!

Erica felt guilty about that. She felt guilty about a lot of things, including not figuring out the mystery of Leah’s disappearance sooner-how had she not connected the dots?

It made sense now, in hindsight of course. The only thing that would have made Leah disappear like that, without a trace or even a word of goodbye, was something as scandalous as an unwed pregnancy. She would have been kicked out of their strict Catholic college the instant she began showing, and Leah’s mother, Patty, wouldn’t have been able to hold her head up in the grocery store once tongues started wagging about “the Wendt girl” who “got herself in trouble.” Funny how it was always “got herself in trouble,” as if no boy was involved in the whole mess.

Of course, in this case, there was no boy. There was a man, and that man was Erica’s father, Robert Nolan.

He’s not your father.

The revelation that Robert Nolan wasn’t Leah’s father, like Patty Wendt falsely claimed, had come along with the shocking news that Erica wasn’t his daughter either. She’d been adopted, because Robert’s first wife, Susan, hadn’t been able to have children either. Erica shivered, even in the steamy heat of Clay’s backseat, touching her belly at the site of her scar, the same one her mother had.

Erica shoved that train of thought away, derailing it completely by turning to Clay and kissing him deeply, cutting off his words. She hadn’t been listening to him anyway. He gasped in surprise-she rather liked shocking him-but soon caught on to her mood, his hands less reticent now, roaming those places he’d formerly touched so hesitantly.

“What were you saying?” she whispered into his ear, reaching down to cup the growing bulge in his jeans, wondering if they had enough time for one more. It would likely take him longer a second time, and be more fun for her, but it was getting late.