Chapter 17 #2
He’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, but he smells fresh—soap and cologne—as if he just woke up, showered, and came over.
“Don’t kick me out.” His nose brushes mine as he stares at my mouth. “I’m thirsty.”
He dives down, and I plant my hands on his arms out of reflex, but once his mouth touches my neck, the fucking butterflies swarm my goddamn stomach. I love having my throat kissed.
“Fuck.” My eyes dart over to the next bed. “My brother is right there.”
“Is there another room?” Callum asks.
His lips trail down to my pec, biting and kissing. “No,” I reply.
“My car?”
My dick rises. “It’s too small.”
We did it in there yesterday. I want more room with him.
He climbs down, kissing and pulling down the sheet. He sucks me into his mouth, pleasure and heat washing over me, the hair on my head feeling like it’s being pulled from the inside. “Oh, my God,” I groan. “Don’t stop.”
He sucks long and slow, taking me as I grow, his wet mouth sucking, licking, and the tip of his tongue dragging slowly up my shaft. I cover my eyes, laughing a little, because I need to let something out. All the energy in my body gathers on the insides of my thighs, and I fist his hair.
“Y’all, get in the fucking shower,” Iron barks. “Jesus.”
Jerking my head, I see he’s still facing the window as Callum shakes with laughter he doesn’t let out.
“Sorry, man,” I gasp, jumping out of bed.
I wrap the sheet around me and push Callum out the door.
Once inside the bathroom, I lock the door and back him up against it. “What if I hadn’t been alone?” I ask him.
“Don’t threaten me.” He pulls his shirt over his head and comes for my mouth again. “I’m all you can handle.”
Sliding down my body, he takes me into his mouth again and I damn near fall into the damn door, trying to keep my legs under me.
“Yeah, you are,” I say, sliding my fingers through his hair.
But the locks feel different—longer. I blink, realizing my eyes were closed, and look down, seeing a red head bobbing up and down on my cock.
What the fuck?
“What?” I tilt her chin up. “Who are you?”
I blink, trying to clear the memory from my vision. It’s just dawn outside, the orange light glimmering through the trees.
“It’s me,” she says.
Who?
I stare at her, but it’s dark, and the freckles and green eyes are kind of ringing a bell, I guess?
She cocks her head to the side. “Seriously?”
And that did it. She’s the waitress at Mariette’s who says “seriously” and “definitely” all the time.
“Jessica,” I finally say, collapsing back into bed.
She smiles, returning to my cock, and I lock my hands over my eyes while she blows me. His voice lingers in my ear, though, and I don’t like the feel of her. The cold creeps in, her perfume distracting me.
She sucks and slurps, and my ire rises. I’ve slept with plenty of people in the past five years, but he’s on my mind again, and unfortunately, I liked it the other night just as much as I did five years ago.
God, I fucking hope I can keep my distance. Friday night was a fluke. We were both turned on after the Wolfe Room, and Anna-Katherine had been devastated. I was moved to…have sympathy for him. That’s all.
Jessica lifts her head. “Well, it was working,” she says, letting my soft dick go. “Come on, I’m horny.”
She nibbles at my stomach, but her saliva’s too slippery. I’m not into it. “Just go to Iron’s room or something.”
I’m still not sure if he’s slept with anyone since he’s been back, but she’s hot enough.
“Seriously?” she pouts. “Is it me?”
Yes. I was hard until you showed up.
“Don’t wake me up again,” I gripe, pulling the sheet back up. “I don’t have this summer off.”
I need sleep. This weekend was awful, the rain keeping us all drunk, and three of our people got arrested for breaking curfew Saturday night.
Macon’s on the warpath, and Army is still refusing to speak to me.
Fine, motherfucker. You can pick up your own kid from karate class when September rolls around.
She leaves, and I throw off the sheet. Rising, I pull my towel off my desk chair, wrapping myself in it.
My pants from Friday night still lie on the floor, and I sigh. It was hard enough for Krisjen to get us all fitted for suits for a “just in case” situation, and now I have to replace the shirt and jacket.
I wonder how many items of clothing get left at the Wolfe Room. Lifting the pants to my nose, I inhale—and it only makes things worse that the entire fabric smells like his bed. Not the Wolfe Room or the rain or the sweat after running around…
After that memory this morning, I wish I’d had him next to me when I woke up. I love fucking in the morning, before we even open our mouths to speak.
And I hate those thoughts, too.
I punch the parentheses on the wall twice and head out to the hall, walking to the bathroom.
“Oh, Clay,” my sister moans.
I stop, glancing at the closed door of her bedroom.
“Oh, God,” she cries out. “Right there.”
I blink long and hard, pushing away the images of my sister getting head from her fiancée. They’re still renovating the lighthouse, so they sleep here more often than not, and I can’t wait till they’re doing it at their own house.
Continuing to the bathroom, I hear a headboard hitting a wall, and I jerk my head up again, this time to the left.
“Fuck, baby,” Macon groans behind his closed bedroom door. “I love you so much. Goddamn.”
The knocking continues, increasing in speed, and the sounds of my siblings fucking their Saints is like two walls closing in on both sides of my brain.
Liv and Krisjen pant a steady stream of moans, and I charge into the bathroom and slam the door.
Starting the shower, I climb in, the water still cold, but the sound shuts out my family’s vomitous ecstasy.
I can’t help the irritation that spills over.
I slam the wall as I bow my head under the spray.
I’m not jealous.
I could’ve had my own fun this morning with what’s-her-name.
I can have anyone I want.
But the little voice in my head knows that I don’t want just anyone.
Not at this particular second.
I see myself in my head, waking up in my bed and reaching over. Finding his stomach with my mouth, his cock with my hand. Blood starts to pool low in my belly, and I let it play in my head. My brother and sister happy in their rooms, and me getting it on, happy in mine, too.
He’s so smooth. So hot. He always smells good.
Quickly, I pump conditioner into my hand and grab myself, stroking as I think about what I’d be doing to him in my bedroom right now if I could.
“Fuck…” I gasp.
He’s such a piece of shit. What he did to Liv, the curfew, trying to take what’s ours…
Because my heart was in every touch, he says in my head.
He loved kissing me.
He’s still good at it.
And he’s mature, his taunt from Friday slams into me again. Knows how to take his time in bed.
I fucking know how to take my time. “No one else is touching you.” I spit out water as I stroke. “Not until I’m done.”
I’ll show the whole fucking Wolfe Room how hard he gets for me.
Squeezing my cock, I’m spilling before I even know the orgasm is coming, my fingers digging into the wall.
I grunt. “Oh, God.”
Cum coats my hand, and I lean into the tile, suddenly feeling completely exhausted.
I breathe out, trying to calm my heart.
Why the hell couldn’t I do that with the girl in my bed minutes ago?
Wringing out my hand, I rinse it under the water, pushing it all away. I have to sleep with someone else. Soon.
I finish my shower and get ready for work. After shaving and throwing on some clothes, I grab my bag and my keys and pour some coffee into a mug, then run out of the house.
Rain sprinkles my hair, fucking up the style, but thankfully, Macon had the driveaway paved, so I’m not traipsing through puddles to get to my car.
I keep the music off on the way to Marymount.
I need to calm down and keep myself in check.
I might fuck him the next time I see him; I might punch him.
Either way, I can’t do it at the school, and nothing changes.
I’m going to get some real leverage in the Wolfe Room and make the Bay—and Tryst Six—safe.
He’s a tool. That’s it. He’s a means to an end.
I park and run inside, quickly slipping past a few students in the still-quiet hallway.
I head to my classroom, turn on the light, and dump my stuff on my desk, powering on my computer.
Sprinkles hit the windowpanes, and I look over, studying Anna-Katherine’s beautiful colors and how they shade the clouds and rainfall outside.
I’m not sure what the administration will say about how I’ve let her paint the glass, but I should probably let them know before they confront me in front of her.
I was warned by her mother about her panic attacks.
Friday night was the first time I saw one.
Picking up my phone, I tap the search bar. “Horses prance through a silver storm.”
“Once Upon a December” appears on the screen, taking me to a video of an animated film.
But before I have a chance to play it, a figure sweeps through the door.
“Morning.” Anna-Katherine beams at me.
I set my phone facedown. “Hey.”
She drops her backpack on the little makeshift desk she made herself by the reading nook, removing her sketch pad, the next Percy Jackson book she’s reading, and her lunch.
Lifting my chin, I button my collar and start fixing my tie.
“Did you fall down, too?” she asks, peering over at me.
Fall?
Oh, right. Turning around, I study myself in the broken mirror next to my whiteboard. The bruise around my eye is deep purple now, and the cut on my lip is crusted with blood. I must’ve opened it again at some point this morning.
I swallow and finish fixing my clothes. “Yeah.”
“My brother looks the same.”
Nah, he looks worse, I’m sure. I hide my smile.
She says “my brother,” while he refers to her as his stepsister.
“How was your weekend?” I ask, turning around.