Chapter 7 #3
I sigh, throwing a nod to Liv, who I’d forgotten was even here. My jaw hurts, and I taste the blood in my mouth from my cut lip, but it was worth it. Dallas matches my steps, stalking me as I back away, and I don’t want to go home.
I kind of want to know what he’d do if the cops weren’t here. How far would this go?
But another thought floods me. What would he do if we were alone?
“Callum!” Milo shouts. “Let’s go!”
I jog up the steps, turning and backing into the dining room. Staring at Dallas, I rip open the last two buttons of my $385 shirt and toss it at his feet on the patio.
Maybe he’ll want to bring it back to me.
Stepping over it, he tries to close the distance, but I’m backing up into the house.
As he enters, I spin around and bolt with Milo, Vincent, and Cameron out of the house. A St. Carmen cop car sits in the street, Grady and Officer Chavez noticing us. I nod at them as Milo jumps up and snatches the Seminole flag off the Jaegers’ garage.
“Ah, shit,” Chavez hisses.
Dallas steps out of the house, descending the steps with Iron and Trace behind him.
Rain glides down my chest, my heart hammering as he zeroes in on me.
“Milo,” Officer Grady warns.
But I tug the flag away from my friend, seeing the corner of Dallas’s mouth curl, and for the first time in my life, I don’t wish I was anywhere else.
I nudge Milo and jerk my chin at the other two. “Split up.”
And we run, all of us bolting in different directions.
“Callum!” Grady shouts.
Digging in my heels, I pound through the dirt, skirting the Jaegers’ pool area and yard and sinking farther into the forest.
My friends are nowhere in sight, and I don’t have a plan, because—
Hands slam into my back, pushing me to the ground.
Flipping over, I scurry backward as Dallas Jaeger hovers over me.
I don’t have a plan, because I wanted him to catch me, I finish in my head.
It takes everything I have not to smile.
Descending on me, he grabs for the flag, but I wrap it around my arm, clutching it in my hand.
His shirt is gone, too, his body soaked and his fucking mouth inches from mine as he fights me.
“Give me the fucking flag,” he grits through his teeth.
“What will you do when I give it back?”
He keeps yanking at the fabric, their totem. “I’ll get back to my party.”
“Yeah?” I play. “So bite me.”
He digs his shoes against the soil, using them as leverage, but all I feel is his dick grinding between my legs.
“Punch me,” I tell him. “Strangle me, break an arm…”
But I falter, tilting my head up so I can look down and see us pressed together. His black pants brushing my jeans. His stomach touching mine.
He won’t do what it takes, because he loves this and doesn’t want it to stop.
Letting the flag go, he squeezes my neck, and I think he’s going to punch me, but instead, he thrusts.
I gasp, damn near grabbing his ass and keeping him there.
Oh, fuck.
I feel so fucking good.
He rises above me, arm steel-rod straight as he clutches my neck. Did he do that on purpose?
Growling, I knock him over and scramble for him, dirt caking under my fingernails as he tries to climb to his feet and I crash onto his back.
My blood runs hot, sweat and dirt coating my face and my body, the cool rain soothing my burning skin.
He presses his forehead into the dirt, breathing hard and spent.
I drop my head onto his shoulder.
This is what I wanted when I came over here. To be exhausted and alive and far away from everything that makes me feel nothing.
This is what I wanted to do to him when he got in my face today at my house.
“Everyone out!” someone shouts from the house.
I lift my head, seeing the lights of his place through the trees. He stays on the ground, his chest rising and falling under me.
“They never come over here without a plan,” a voice I can only assume is Macon Jaeger bellows. “But you don’t listen! They had those cops waiting!”
I drop my eyes to Dallas, seeing he hasn’t moved.
“I’m dying for the day you all become a little less useless!”
Dallas lies there as his oldest brother rages thirty yards away, and I guess it’s not a party at home for him, either.
“I got one of those at my house, too,” I tell him, calming.
He turns his head, and I see his left eye. “Mine doesn’t leer at my sister,” he snaps. “He’s a hundred times the man your father is.”
I lean into his ear. “And yet,” I whisper, “mine pays yours.”
He turns over underneath me and rolls us over, his eyes on fire like he’s ready to hit me.
But he settles between my legs.
With his hands at each side of my head as he stares down at me, neither of us hurts each other or hurries away.
My lips burn, like fighting the tug of a hook. “What other services do you sell?” I whisper.
He opens his mouth, and I catch it as it comes for me, groaning as he presses his body to mine and kisses me.
“Fuck,” I grunt.
Goddammit.
He thrusts, and I tilt my head back as he bites and sucks on my neck.
My cock is as hard as a rock. “You fucking little prick,” he pants, unfastening my jeans.
And before I can even remember where we are or how I should stop this, I’m in his mouth and gripping his hair in my fist.