At Risk Read Online Free PDF Page B

Eugenia had come out to watch—and to bring them lemonade and some things she’d baked. Pecan pie. Blueberry muffins. Even back then, she’d been a good cook.
    They’d started talking, and they’d been attracted.
    He wasn’t the kind of boy she usually met, and she certainly wasn’t the kind of girl who went to his downscale public school, but they’d gotten to talking. Her polished blond good looks had drawn him. And maybe she saw him as a dark and dangerous bad boy who could spice up her sedate society life.
    At any rate, she’d asked him if he could help her set up a “clubhouse” in the loft of the detached garage at the back of her parents’ property. He’d agreed, and they’d ended up spending a lot of time there together—in activities none of their parents would have approved of.
    He’d wondered if she’d back away if he tried to kiss her, but he’d taken the chance, and she’d responded to him.
    He had a lot of vivid memories of those days. Although he’d never gone all the way with her, they’d done just about everything else.
    Since coming back to town, he’d tried not to think about their close encounters. Now as he waited for her to emerge from the police station, he remembered the feel of her soft lips against his. The honey taste of her and all the steps they’d taken toward intimacy.
    He’d been a horny kid back then, but he’d been respectful of her, partly because she was Miss Beaumont and he was the handyman’s son. But as she’d accepted the things they were doing, he’d gotten bolder. He remembered the first time he’d unhooked her bra, then reached to the front of her, cupping his hands under her breasts, feeling their wonderful softness in his palms and the tightness of her nipples. He’d stroked his fingers across those wonderfully firm tips, feeling himself get so hard he could barely breathe.
    He remembered the first time he’d slipped his hand past the elastic waistband of her shorts and into her panties, touching the most intimate part of her body. She’d been hot and moist, and the feel of her had thrilled him. He remembered when she’d finally dared to close her hand around his cock and squeeze him.
    Both of them had been pushed to the limit by then, and he remembered the first time they’d made each other come—each of them—hesitantly at first—telling the other what was going to work for them.
    He was hard now as memories of those teenage intimacies assaulted him. He knew he had to think about something else. But he couldn’t stop himself, not yet. He’d lain on top of her, naked. His cock pressed to her silky underpants because putting it inside her was the one thing she wouldn’t do with him—which was probably a smart decision because getting her pregnant would have been a disaster. They’d come that way and just about every other damn way you could do it. He knew the taste of her clit. He knew what it was like to thrust a finger into her as he brought her to climax with his mouth. And he knew what it was like to almost reach climax in her mouth, because she’d always finished him with her hand.
    He hadn’t protested because he wasn’t going to press his luck. Which was considerable, as far as he was concerned. He’d taken everything she would give him and given her all the pleasure he could with his hands and mouth. In the process he’d learned a hell of a lot about pleasing a lover.
    But all good things had to come to an end. As spring of their senior year approached, he knew he had to make plans for the future.
    Dad had taught him most of the handyman skills by then. Rafe could replace the flushing mechanism in a toilet tank, spackle damaged drywall, get the leaves out of gutters, build and put up shelving, even take down or build interior walls. He could make money that way, and the work was satisfying because you saw the results of your labor immediately, but he’d seen his father scramble to get jobs and seen him work at cut rates and