by J Bree
I’m not leaving this room until she’s mine.
Her chest starts heaving like she’s been running a marathon, and her hands shake so bad that I start to worry she’s about to talk herself out of this before I get the chance to show her just how fucking badly I want her, just how good I’m going to make this, so I taunt some of that signature fire of hers back into her.
“Are you just going to stare, Mounty, or are you gonna do something?”
A shiver runs down her spine and she licks her bottom lip, just a little movement but enough to have my dick joining the fucking party.
It almost takes me to my knees when she finally grabs the bottom of her shirt and yanks it over her head, unbuttoning her jeans and shoving them down her legs like she has something to prove until she’s standing there in just her bra and panties, tiny little scraps of lace that barely cover anything. I swallow roughly and fight to keep my eyes on her, but it’s hard when there’s so much I want to finally look at, touch, taste, and fucking worship on display.
She’s too fucking hot.
If she’s not in uniform she’s always wearing these big, ugly sweaters that look like they’re swallowing her whole, so I hadn’t noticed how much she’s changed since we found her at the docks in the Bay.
Fuck.
I wonder if she has that outfit lying around somewhere?
I force myself to just stand there for a second, to give her every opportunity to back out or talk some more shit at me, but when her breathing just gets heavier, I finally break and just fucking lunge at her. I grab her by the backs of her thighs and lift her into my arms, pressing her into my chest like I can fucking keep her there forever if I get her close enough. She doesn’t hesitate to wrap her legs around my waist, her arms looping around my neck as I finally get my lips on hers again.
This time, I’m not going to stop.
She groans into the kiss, that fucking sound that’s going to rattle around in my head for the rest of my goddamn life, and bites my lips as I finally get my hands on that ass of hers, squeezing and pulling her in even closer to my chest. She’s fucking squirming in my arms, rubbing against me, and if I don’t get her on the bed now, I’m just going to end up fucking her against the wall.
She pulls away from me to take a breath and I mumble against her lips, “Bed?”
She doesn’t hesitate to nod and kiss me again so I get my ass moving, stretching out on her bed with my back against her pillows and only pausing for as long as it takes her to get comfortable.
Then she looks up at me, her eyes a little unfocused as she pants slightly, and it hits me in the chest again just how fucking perfect she is. She wasn’t lying when she tore Blaise and me down on the first day back, she is a broken little Mounty, but she’s so much more than the shit from her past. I don’t need to know all of the details to know that she’s fucking it for me. She’s everything I want and now I have her, I’m not going to fuck this shit up.
I cup her face in my hands, gently because she’s fucking tiny in my arms, and when her breath hitches a little in her throat, I pull her back into my lips.
She kisses me like she’s with me in this worship and, fuck, I’m done for. This is it. This is the only girl I’m ever going to fucking want.
Fuck. I can smell how badly she wants me back—she’s fucking drenched, dripping down her panties and onto my cock. I want her so fucking bad; I’m at the point of begging. I’ve never begged for a goddamn thing in my life, never lowered myself like that and yet this girl has taken me to my knees.
Her hips start to move, grinding down onto me, and I have to break away from her lips to catch my breath before I finish too fucking fast. It feels too good, too much and not nearly enough all at once, and I try to distract myself by kissing and sucking at the skin just below her ear but that just makes her hips rock even more, every grunt and moan that I gasp out like fuel to her fire.
Her hands thread into my hair and she tugs a little, pulling and moaning until I feel lightheaded.
Fuck.
How much did we have to drink?
I don’t want to forget any of this and, fuck, if she tries to play this off later as being just a drunk hookup, I’ll fucking break something. Fuck, I’ll call her out on it too because I’ve never had a girl fucking drip for me like this before and there’s no way she can say she doesn’t really want me.
She fucking can’t.
“Fuck,” I mumble as I drag my lips away from her shoulder. “This isn’t how I wanted to do this. You’ve had too much to drink.”
Her freakout is immediate and so fucking obvious that I react to it instantly, for once doing the right thing around her and not royally fucking this up, so when she pulls away from me sharply, snatching her arms back from where they’re pressed into my chest, I keep my hands circling her waist as I pull my knees up to push her back into my chest where she belongs. I reach out to gently stroke the hair away from her face.
My voice is nothing more than a rasp. “Don’t freak out. I’m just saying I don’t think we should be doing anything more than making out when we’ve finished a bottle of whiskey between us.”
She blows out a breath and I know I’m doing the right thing, even if I feel like I’m going to fucking die, when her eyes slide around a little like she can’t focus on shit.
“You’re right. We should stop.”
Right.
That’s what I need her to say, but hearing it doesn’t exactly feel great.
One last kiss won’t hurt.
Except, the moment our lips touch again, her hips move and I can’t keep holding myself back like this. It’s the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, but I pull away.
“Nope. No. We’ll stop. If you can’t kiss me without grinding on my dick like that, we have to stop,” I ramble on and she groans at me as she slides away, collapsing on the bed. Fuck. Her tits look like they’re going to spill out of her bra and I didn’t even get the chance to taste them.
Fuck.
She pouts up at me but her eyes are already fluttering shut. “You’re the one that stripped off.”
I scoff at her as I slide out of the bed to get some space before I change my mind, mumbling under my breath, “I had to get your attention somehow.”
I rummage around until I find a blanket to pull over her, smirking at the little frown on her face because I stupidly think that she’s just as fucking gutted about stopping as I am.
In the morning we’ll be sober.
In the morning we can finish what we’ve started.
I’m telling myself that right until I move to tuck the blankets up around her chest and she whispers, right in my fucking face, “I can’t fuck a Hannaford boy.”
Chapter Twelve
Ash
Avery dances in the ballet like a dream, all of her hard work paying off, and she stands out as the star of the entire show.
Senior doesn’t show up, for the first time ever he misses an opportunity to see us both and do his usual brand of terrorizing us, because he beats me to get to Avery, and he reminds me of all of the things he could do to her to fuck with my head. It’s not exactly original but it’s fucking effective thanks to all of the times he’s forced me to be involved in the sick games he and Joey play.
I can’t help but wonder if this is what the Mounty did for us both, but there’s no way some girl from the slums of the Bay could have arranged that.
We arrive back with Blaise and we walk Avery to her room together, helping to carry all of her dance gear. Blaise is looking hungover as fuck, thanks to his night of trying to escape his fucked-up family dynamic by finding the bottom of a bottle of bourbon, but he still manages to carry a bag and grunt along with our conversation.
The smell of whiskey hits us the second Avery gets the door of her room open.
Blaise’s eyebrows shoot up, looking alive for the first time today, and Avery startles a little before slipping her shoes off and creeping into the room.
The Mounty drank a
t Joey’s party last night.
Fucking typical.
Fury pools in my gut, but Avery knows me better than she knows herself and turns to give me a savage glare as my mouth opens to wake the Mounty the fuck up and chew her out. Blaise rocks on his heels for a second before he drops Avery’s bag to the ground, with just enough care that it doesn’t make any noise, and then he leaves without a word. I get a look at his face as he leaves, even as he ducks his head to attempt to hide the gutted look he’s now wearing.
Fucking Mounty.
I turn back just as Avery steps over a pair of jeans that are definitely not hers or the Mounty’s, and I almost bite my fucking tongue off to stop myself from unleashing a slew of vitriol.
Then Harley staggers out of the bathroom in nothing but a pair of black boxers and a queasy, pissed off look on his face, and I’m glad Blaise got the hell out of here. Fuck, the fight we’d be dealing with if he’d gotten an eyeful of this walk of shame… it would be catastrophic, and it’s the entire fucking reason I didn’t want the Mounty anywhere near any of us.
She’s fucking poison.
Avery’s eyes narrow at him and it’s only when she points one perfectly manicured finger at her bed that I notice it’s unmade.
“What the hell are you doing sleeping in my bed, dressed like that?” Even whispered her words drip with acid.
Harley shrugs and walks over to the walk-in, flicking open one of the drawers and grabbing out one of my shirts to pull over his head. “What the fuck else am I supposed to wear while I sleep? Even Ash’s pompous ass doesn’t wear silk to bed like you, Floss.”
She huffs and props her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed like she can smell the bullshit wafting off of him. “Why the fuck were you sleeping in my bed to begin with, Arbour? You had a room to yourself for the night, you could’ve found some slut to bend over.”
She’s baiting him and we all know it, but it slides right off of him without so much as a clenched fist or gritted teeth as a reaction.
He steps into his jeans and pulls them up, ignoring Avery’s huffs of indignation. “What, you think I should’ve left Lips up here by herself, drunk and passed out after we’d seen Joey and pissed him off? I had her back while you were gone, just like you asked. She’s going to be hungover as fuck, you should let her sleep it off.”
Huh.
I share a look with Avery because that’s not at all what either of us were expecting.
He doesn’t stick around for any more questions either, just grabs his jacket and shoves his feet in his shoes as he hightails it out of there. I kiss Avery’s cheek and then follow him out, determined to not make this whole thing worse than it has to be, mostly because I’ve enjoyed the time away with my sister and I miss the hell out of her thanks to our arguing this year so far.
I head back to our rooms to unpack and grab a shower before dinner. Harley spends the time studying, looking worse and worse as the time goes on. I ignore it because hangovers will do that but when we make our way down to the dining hall for dinner, Blaise still nowhere to be seen, he knocks my arm with his to grab my attention.
“Who do you think is still giving Lips shit? Other than you.”
My eyes narrow at him but his own are steady staring back at me. “Why? Who the fuck cares?”
There’s a tick in his jaw as he clenches his teeth. “Me, obviously. Someone is still giving her shit and I want to know about it.”
I roll my eyes but I’m saved from trying to rein in my vicious answer by finding Avery waiting for us at the bottom of the staircase. She brushes me off when I remind her that it’s not safe to be walking around alone and tucks her arm into mine with a grin.
“Lips is still out cold. I’ve messaged her to get her ass down here for food though, she needs to get out more.”
Harley’s face shuts down and when we get to the dining hall doors, he stops and says, “I need to talk to her about last night, go ahead.”
Avery’s eyes narrow at him but she finally shrugs and leans into me. We grab food and take our usual seats, Avery distracted by her phone the entire time. It’s probably fucking Atticus on the other end and I might have to talk Blaise into skipping class tomorrow so we can drive over to the asshole’s place in the Bay and beat the life right out of him so I never have to see his smug, bullshit face again.
I completely miss Harley and the Mounty arriving until they both slide into their seats. Harley looks like he might flip the table at any second just so he can destroy something.
And here I was thinking he’d been pissed when we found him hungover in Avery’s bed.
I turn to the Mounty to see if she’s looking just as pissed off, but the sight of her bruised lips and the hickey on her neck smacks me in the fucking face.
She didn’t just drink at that party.
She hooked up with someone.
She fucked someone at Joey’s goddamn party.
I’m out. I stand up and leave before I can even really think about it, stalking out of the room and away on legs that can’t move fast enough.
I don’t want to think about whoever the fuck she was making out with at that party. I don’t want to think about who won the bet, who’s tasted her, who she finally decided was good enough at this school to mess around with.
I don’t want to think about any of it.
I go straight to the track to try to run out the churning feeling in my gut but even when my legs are shaking and my chest is heaving I can’t stop fucking thinking about the Mounty.
I hate her.
I hate her more now than I did when Joey called all of his social-climber asshole friends off of her, because Avery is fucking obsessed with her, Harley is in love with her, Blaise is doing everything in his power to stay away from her, and me?
I can’t stop fucking thinking about her.
When I get back up to my room to shower, Harley is already there, getting dressed for fight club. Whatever happened in the dining hall after I left, it wasn’t fucking good, because he looks like he’s heading in there for more than just a fight, he’s going there to take one of the guys out.
I drop my bag on my bed and head to the shower. “So the Mounty told you who she fucked, then? Are you going to kill every guy who touches her in a jealous rage or just when she does it under your nose?”
He doesn’t say a word so I scoff at him as I shut the bathroom door behind me. I should stay in tonight and finish up my homework but, fuck, if running didn’t get her out of my head maybe breaking some asshole’s face will do the job.
When I come out of the bathroom after my shower, Harley is still standing in our kitchen, pulling a jacket on with that blank look on his face that says he’s locking his shit down tight. Jesus.
Someone might die tonight.
“You coming? Morrison is MIA.”
Of course he is.
I don’t know if he’s out there sneaking around with Annabelle in an attempt to forget about his little crush, or if he’s found some new pussy to chase. I send him a text but he brushes me off with some bullshit answer that I’m going to call him out for later.
I glance up and Harley is scowling at me. “Are you coming or not?”
I smirk at him slowly, the type I know pisses him off the most. “Do you really think I’m going to go and watch you make a fool of yourself, fighting some asshole over some Mounty trash? You should really just get over your obsession. If she wanted you, she’d fuck you.”
His jaw clenches and he gets this look on his face that I haven’t seen directed at me since Joey took his mom’s necklace, like he’s actually thinking about taking a swing at me for real. We’ve always been good about keeping that shit in the boxing ring, mostly because Avery would chew us all out if we didn’t, but he has taken a swing at me twice before.
I should’ve guessed insulting the Mounty like this would trigger his response but I can’t help but push him, test him, poke at him to see just how far he’d go for her because I’ve never seen him like this a
bout a girl. Fuck, of course he’d fall for the same girl as Blaise and of course she’d be the the bane of my existence.
Nothing is ever simple in our family. Nothing.
“Listen, I get you fucking hate her, and that shit is on you, but I don’t and neither does Aves. If she finds out you’re talking about Lips like that she’ll fucking cut you out again. Do you really wanna spend the whole year fighting with her?” Harley grits out, the words squeezing through his clenched teeth.
Fuck.
He’s really trying to convince me, which means he actually gives a fuck about keeping us all together. Avery would be so goddamn proud.
I pour myself a bourbon and salute him with the glass, sarcasm dripping from me because I can’t fucking believe it’s come to this. “Fine. But you didn’t answer my question, are you going to fight every guy who fucks Lips?”
I down the glass and listen as he grinds his teeth some more, hating me and the air I’m breathing right now because even if I stop calling her Mounty trash, I’m not going to back down about her.
Finally, he grabs one of Morrison’s leather jackets and walks over to me, a smirk back on his face. “She didn’t fuck anyone at the party. She stayed with me the whole time. Someone is threatening her and making her fucking jumpy as hell. When I find out who it is, he’s fucking dead. You in or not?”
He fucked her. He fucked the Mounty, or at the very least got off with her.
There goes the churning in my gut again. I set my glass down and take the jacket he’s holding out to me.
We’re fucked.
We’re all fucked.
Chapter Thirteen
Blaise
Lying to Ash about where I am is getting harder and harder.
I don’t want to break Lips’ trust but, fuck, Ash and I have been close since grade school and I’m fucking shit at keeping anything from him. He sees through it all and even if I can avoid him for a few days, after weeks of disappearing three nights a week he catches on to the fact that it’s girl related.