Chapter 2 #2
Just as my finger goes to press the lock, the door swings further open. And while I expect it to be Brody or maybe Nora or Blaze, it’s instead someone I don’t anticipate at all. Someone I also don’t want near me anytime—let alone one like this.
Hendrix fucking Hunt.
“Not right now,” I hiss, attempting to shove him backward, but he’s a wall.
Shoving his way inside, he locks the door and stares down at me. “What are you doing in here?”
“None of your business!” I try to bark the words, but instead, my throat closes, turning them into a sob. “Please,” I croak. “Go away.”
With his back against the door, he cranes his neck as he looks at me. Once again, there’s no smirk on his lips or amusement in his eyes. I wait for it to come, but it never does.
“No.”
I’m spiraling. I can’t explain the sensation in my body right now, but I feel like I’m having a full-blown heart attack. Tugging at my shirt, I grip the fabric over my chest.
“Please, Hendrix,” I rasp, dragging in a breath. “I am begging you … please … leave.”
I can’t let this awful human watch me have a fucking panic attack. I just can’t.
I start to push past him—or try to—but he grips my shoulders and dips his head lower so we’re forehead to forehead. His eyes bore into mine, but I squeeze them shut, forcing tears to drip down my cheeks.
“Breathe, Isla.” His voice isn’t condescending, like I’m used to, but instead steady and deep. He keeps his hands on me but slides them to the sides of my upper arms. Pulling in a deep breath, he slowly lets it out. “Just like this.” He pulls in another. “Breathe with me, okay?”
I want to tell him to fuck off. Or maybe punch him in the dick and run away from him, but I can’t because I’m frozen in place. So, instead, I keep my eyes closed, and reluctantly, I do what he’s telling me to do.
I breathe. Each time matching his own.
“There you go,” he whispers after a few minutes, continuing to talk me through it. “Nice and easy.”
I drag in another long, shaky breath through my nose just as a few more tears run down my face. I’ve never felt so much and so little, all at the same time. My mind is numb, but my body still somehow aches.
I don’t know how long we stay like this until, finally, I open my eyes.
Hendrix isn’t staring down at me like he’s judging me, but instead the opposite.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I squeak the words out before sniffling.
It’s almost like the simple question I asked stuns him, and he shrugs.
“I don’t know,” he whispers. “I guess because in this moment … I can’t be a dick to you, Isla. I just … can’t.”
I don’t have a bitchy response for him, so instead, I stand here, with his face a mere few inches from my own and his strong hands pressing on my arms, keeping me grounded.
I drag in a long breath, filling my nose with his scent, and somehow, it calms me like a tranquilizer.
I’ve been close to him, but I’ve never allowed myself to breathe him in the way I am right now because I’m always trying to get away.
In this moment, I don’t want him to go away. I want him closer.
My eyes drop to his lips, and I’m suddenly wondering what they would feel like against my own. I’ve been the good girl my whole life. And when I’m upset, I usually keep it inside because my life is great, so why would I have the right to cry?
Everything inside of me hurts, but there’s one thing that’s slowly numbing me like Novocain.
And as fucked up as it is, it’s having Hendrix this close.
I don’t want to be the good girl right now. I don’t want to be the responsible one who shoves my feelings so far down, hoping they won’t resurface.
I want to be bad. I want to be irresponsible.
I want to use Hendrix Hunt to take away this agony inside of me.
My body still shudders, though my breathing has settled as I stare at him through tear-soaked lashes.
“I think it’s much simpler when you’re a dick to me,” I rasp before slowly lifting my hand to his abdomen and sliding my palm against his rock-hard stomach. “It makes it easier to hate you.”
A minty breath of air rushes from his lips, and his jaw tenses. “Isla, what are you doing?”
There are plenty of thoughts rushing through my head, but all are moving far too fast for me to actually pinpoint one. This isn’t me. I’m not the girl who hooks up with a guy in a dirty closet. Especially not someone she hates. But right now, I don’t feel like me.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I need …” Despite not even knowing what I’m feeling, my eyes fill with tears again, and a lump lodges itself in my throat. “I need a distraction.” My lip trembles, and I slide my hand to the waistband of his sweatpants. “Distract me, Hunt.”
His eyes darken, and his body tenses under my touch. “Isla,” he whispers, “I didn’t come in here for that. You’re not in the right headspace right now. You don’t even know what you’re saying.”
“You’re right; I’m not.” My voice is stronger now. “And that’s why I need this.” I graze my fingertips under the band of his briefs before stepping closer. “What’s the matter, Hunt? You’ll fuck anyone, but you can’t fuck me?”
His cock jumps, grazing my pelvic bone, and he sucks in a breath.
Knowing I did that somehow calms me while also exciting me at the same time, making me feel things I’ve never felt before.
I’ve never been with anyone—but I’m not about to tell Hendrix that.
He’d never agree to this if he knew he was my first. I’m sure he’d automatically assume it would mean something to me when, really, it won’t mean a thing.
“Don’t pretend you’re some martyr,” I hiss, desperate for him to take the next step. “You came in here to be nice …” I stop, swallowing thickly. “You can be nice by fucking me. That way, when I leave this closet, I can be stuck regretting this decision instead of thinking about other things.”
One hand lifts, and he grips my chin. “You really want this, Isla?” Each word is slow and deliberate. “You really want me to fuck you in this closet right now? Instead of a bed with pretty bedding and expensive sheets?” His lips are almost grazing mine now. “The way I’m sure you’re used to?”
“Yes.” I try to force the word on a growl, but it comes out weak. Just like me. “Right now, Hunt.” I grit my teeth. “And if you don’t want to fuck me, I’ll find someone else who will.”
I know without a doubt that I’ll regret hooking up.
That’s exactly why I’m going to do it, even though I know that’s severely screwed up.
But when I leave this camp tomorrow, if the ache inside of me is because I’m ashamed that I lost my virginity to a man who spent the past week being a dick to me …
well, that’ll keep my mind off remembering how stupid I must have looked when Nick—aka my sperm donor—was walking toward me and still didn’t care that I was there.
“You’re a good girl, Isla,” he says, gripping my chin tighter. “You’re not the type of girl I take in a utility closet to fuck.”
“You don’t know me,” I say bitterly, sliding my hand lower, forcing his dick to press into my body, “or what kind of girl I am.”
“Oh, I think I do,” he tosses back instantly, tilting his head up slightly as he reaches between us, running his hand between my skin and the waistband of my leggings.
“But if this is what you need, I’ll give it to you.
” His hand slides lower, bringing my leggings down slightly with it. “Even if I think it’s a mistake.”
“That’s the point,” I sass. “So, let’s hurry the hell up and make it already.”
When his hand moves lower and he strokes his fingers against my heat, his eyes darken. “I’ll give you something to regret, Nineteen,” he drawls lowly. “But I’m not going to fuck you.”
HENDRIX
“Why not?” she barks angrily. “What’s wrong with me?”
I know what she wants from me, but I also know that what she wants isn’t what she needs. Not right now and not from me.
Girls like her don’t do this shit. She’s a fucking princess. She lives in a mansion, kept away from boys like me, and yet … here I am, with my hand down her pants, feeling the heat pump from between her legs. Standing in front of her as she basically begs me to fuck her.
“Nothing is wrong with you,” I say, looking her right in the eye.
Everything inside of me wants to be a dick and taunt her because she’s probably had it easy her entire life—besides the one thing that’s upsetting her.
But still, I can’t fucking force myself to be an ass because when she stares at me with those broken eyes and trembling lips? I fall the fuck apart.
Moving both of us so that it’s her back that’s pressed against the door, I drag her leggings and panties lower.
Dropping to my knees, I push the Birkenstock sandals or whatever the hell they’re called off one by one before removing her leggings.
I’m not a good guy. I never have been either.
But something inside me says not to take my dick out and slide it straight into her pussy—even though that’s what I’m aching to do.
It’s what I’ve been aching to do since the first time I fucking saw her.
But when I followed her into this closet, she was damn near about to break.
And now, she’s using me to get her mind off it.
I stare up at her, resting my palm against her leg and slowly running it upward.
I knew why she bolted before even talking to any of the guests who were brought in.
I was on Nick Pelletier’s team my freshman year of high school.
I heard him talking to the assistant coach about Isla Hardy and how she never should have even been born, much less making a name in the hockey nation.
I learned enough from that conversation to understand that Isla was Nick’s kid, though even I feel bad about that because he’s fucking poison.
I’m not going to tell Isla that I know her deep, dark secret. I have enough of my own that I keep locked away, and I don’t need to get wrapped up in anyone else’s.
When my hand gets as high as it can, my fingers graze her heat, and I fight back a moan. “I need you to tell me that this is okay, Isla.” I press a finger slightly inside of her, and instantly, her pussy is begging to pull it deeper. “I need to hear you say that you want me to touch you.”
“Yes,” she whispers, resting her back harder against the door as her eyes grow hooded. “Please, Hendrix. Touch me.”
My cock stands tall underneath my sweatpants, blood pumping straight to it, making it grow harder and harder the deeper my finger gets inside of her.
I don’t need to spit on her; she’s wet enough all on her own, but I want to know how she tastes, so I bring my fingers to my mouth and run my tongue down the length of them.
“So fucking sweet,” I growl before sliding them back inside of her heat.
“And so goddamn tight.” I practically whimper like an absolute loser before I add a second finger and gently work it in and out because even two fingers seem to be too fucking much, though she appears to be enjoying herself.
“I’m about to drive my tongue straight inside of your pussy, so tell me, Nineteen, would you regret riding my face? ”
“Yes.” She nods. “I would.”
I pump my fingers in and out of her harder, loving the way her lips part and her brows pull together in both agony and pleasure. Pulling my fingers from her, I lift my hand up, stretching my arm so that my fingers graze her lips. “Have a sample of what I’m about to feast on, Nineteen.”
Shock registers all over her face, and her eyes widen, but before she can pull back, I thrust my fingers between her pretty, plump lips, forcing her to have a taste.
“Just like sugar. Exactly how I knew a sweet thing like you would be.”
Dropping my hand from her face, I smirk. “You’d better be ready to ride, baby.”
And without warning, I lean forward, wrapping my hands around her legs and pulling her pussy right against my mouth.
A yelp escapes her lips, and she struggles to find balance before, finally, she succumbs to my tongue and tangles one hand in my hair with the other next to her to level herself, using the door.
As I flick my tongue right against her clit, a loud moan rolls from her lips. My dick is so fucking hard that I swear it may explode right in my pants. A fucking first—that’s for sure.
“Mmm,” I mumble right against her heat. “Can’t wait to taste you all over my tongue when you come on my face.”
I angle my face upward more, driving my tongue straight inside of her, and suddenly, she’s rocking her hips back and forth, using my hair as leverage and damn near pulling it the fuck out. My scalp stings, but I fucking like it too much for her to stop.
“Hen—drix …” She moans, now bouncing her pussy right on my tongue. “Fuck … I’m …”
I feel her begin to quiver, and she squeezes me roughly, greedily pulling me deeper. I don’t need to lick her because she’s doing all the fucking work and taking exactly what she needs from me. So, I let her because, goddamn, it’s fucking sexy.
As she tries to silence her loud moans, rocking harder against my mouth, my balls begin to tingle, but I try to relax because there’s no fucking way I’m about to come in my pants simply from eating Isla Hardy’s pussy.
I’m proven wrong, and my vision grows blurry as my cock erupts, shooting hot cum right into my boxers, dripping down my dick. A loud groan, mixed with a whimper, erupts from my throat, but thank fuck, she’s still riding my face so hard that it’s silenced.
I’ve hooked up with my fair share of girls, yet I’ve never fucking come in my pants without even having my dick stroked.
All I know is, I’m appreciative as hell that my sweatpants are black because if not, how the fuck would I sneak out of the field house today and not have everyone see a huge wet spot on my crotch?
Isla’s movements slow, and while holding her legs, I feel her body grow more rigid by the second. She scurries off me, blinking a few times while staring down. And just like I knew she would, she’s slowly coming back to reality—instantly regretting what just happened between us.
Because in reality … Isla Hardy doesn’t ride the faces of bad boys like me.
“I …” she breathes out. “I need to go.”
Swallowing thickly, she reaches down and grabs her panties and leggings before yanking them back on and stepping into her sandals faster than I’ve ever seen anyone dress before. I stand up, wanting nothing more than to change my fucking sweats.
She looks at me, but her eyes dart away from mine as soon as they meet.
“I need to go,” she repeats, quickly smoothing her wild, curly hair out with her fingers and pulling it into a low ponytail. “Thank you for … whatever. But … I can’t be in here … with you.”
I open my mouth to say something to make her feel better, but before any words come out, she’s gone. And the only sound I hear is her sandals against the hallway as she runs. She fucking runs away.
I told her I’d give her something to regret, and I guess I did.