westward grove

fourteen

I sped down the open road, a cigarette held firmly between my middle and index fingers. It was 3:00 am, but my mind and body were going nonstop. I took short, deep hits, practically swallowing the smoke. My thoughts were erratic, but clear. If someone asked me to explain quantum physics, I probably could.

My phone had been ringing fairly frequently for the past five hours. I completely ignored a shift at both of my jobs, opting to get hopped up and go for a drive instead. Lauren was going to be pissed. She was going to be unbelievably pissed. That didn't matter to me right now, though. I was living for the second, not the consequences of my actions.

A song I'd never heard before played on the radio, blasting through the speakers of my Land Rover, a car I'd been able to purchase with my inheritance and some help from Lauren's line of credit. After acquiring the car, the first order of business was to tweak the sound system. If I couldn't bump, what was the point?

My phone began to vibrate in my pocket again, but I didn't even consider ansbwering it. I knew that when I disappeared, people worried about where I was. Even though I had a tendency to vanish, everyone acted like it was a big deal. So what if I blew off work here and there? For the most part, I did my job. If I wanted to take a night for myself, I'd do just that.

Time passed alarmingly fast, and before I knew it, I was pulling into Lauren's driveway. I lived here, but I didn't really consider it my house. After everything that went down with Normani, I had no choice but to move in with Lauren. It wasn't that I minded living with her, but I wished that we would have moved in together on different terms.

I quietly made my way to the front door. The neighborhood was silent, as was I. Lauren was sat on the couch, doing something on her laptop. As soon as I shut the door, she turned around. Her eyes were a dull shade of green and droopy, which led me to assume that she'd been smoking.

"Where the fuck were you all night? You can't just blow off shifts, Camila. If you're not going to come in, you at least need to call." Her words went in one ear and out the other as I was overtaken by a certain burst of lust.

I shrugged as a reply to whatever she said and walked over to the couch, hopping over it. Before Lauren even saw it coming, I was straddling her. "Why are you up so late? It's past your bedtime." I breathed into her ear.

Lauren stared into my eyes, and I immediately felt intimidated. It seemed as though she could see through me. After making eye contact for what felt like hours, Lauren asked, "how high are you?"

I wasn't sure what gave it away. Perhaps it was my pupils, or maybe how twitchy I was. Either way, the look on Lauren's face didn't sit right with me. There was only a hint of disappointment, as though she'd been expecting me to come home fucked up. "How high are you?" I asked, attempting to turn the conversation around.

Lauren sighed, shook her head, then connected our lips in a slow and passionate kiss. As much as I appreciated the subtle contact, I needed more, and much quicker. I immediately took the lead, speeding up the kiss to an almost impossibly fast pace.

I slipped Lauren's shirt over her head, and just as quickly, disposed of her bra. I groped both of her boobs, admittedly rougher than I usually would. Lauren let out a loud moan, not even attempting to swallow it.

She tried to flip her body so she was on top and in control, but I pinned her down with all my strength. Lauren was the opposite of submissive, and if she had any say on this matter, our positions would be reversed. I had to take the lead, though. Lying down and getting fucked simply wouldn't work for me right now. It had to be the other way around.

Lauren took her shorts off as best she could with me firmly on top of her, and I took the liberty to throw them across the living room. Next were her underwear, which I slipped off and tossed elsewhere. There was no time for foreplay, so I just dove right in. Lauren was already dripping wet as I began to furiously flick my fingers against her center.