by Anna Todd
“Landon, Tess will have to call you back,” he says into the small speaker. His free hand grips my wrist, and he pulls me close to him, my back to his chest. Seconds pass before he says, “She’s otherwise occupied.”
He pulls me with him as he walks into our bedroom. His lips brush my neck, and I shudder. Oh.
“Stop being annoying, you two need medication,” Hardin says and ends the call before setting the phone on the desk.
“I have to talk to him about our classes,” I say; my voice betrays me when he licks and sucks at the skin on my neck.
“You need to relax, baby.”
“I can’t—there’s so much to do.”
“I can help you.” His voice is slow, slower than usual.
His grip on my hip tightens when he places his other hand across my chest to hold me still. “Remember that time when I fingered you in front of the mirror and made you watch yourself come?” he asks.
“Yes.” I gulp.
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” he purrs.
Heat makes its way through my body at the sound of his words. Not heat—fire.
“I can show you how to touch yourself the way that I touch you.” He sucks harshly at my skin. I have now turned into a ball of electricity. “Do you want me to?”
The dirty idea sounds somewhat appealing, but way too humiliating to admit.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” he says and lets go of my waist, but takes my hand. I stay silent, nervously going over his words in my mind. This is beyond embarrassing, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
He guides me to the bed and gently pushes me back onto the soft mattress. He climbs on top of me and straddles my legs. I assist Hardin in taking off my sweats, and he places a kiss on the inside of my thigh before sliding my panties off.
“Stay still, Tess,” he instructs.
“I can’t,” I mewl as he softly bites my inner thigh. There’s just no way. He chuckles, and if my brain were actually connected to the rest of my body right now, I would roll my eyes at him.
“Do you want to do this here or would you like to watch?” he asks and my stomach flutters. The pressure continues to build between my legs, and I attempt to squeeze them together to get some relief.
“No, no, baby. Not yet.” He’s torturing me. He pushes my thighs apart and puts more of his weight on me to keep them separated.
“Here,” I finally answer, almost having forgotten he asked a question.
“Thought so.” He smirks.
He’s so cocky, but his words do things to me that I never thought possible. I can’t get enough of him, even when he has me pinned to the bed with my legs spread open.
“I had thought about doing this before, but I was too selfish. I wanted to be the only one to make you feel this way.” He leans down and swipes his tongue along the bare skin between my hipbone and the top of my thigh.
My legs involuntarily try to stiffen, but he doesn’t allow it. “Now, since I know exactly how you like to be touched, this will not take long.”
“Why do you want to?” I squeak when he bites down on my skin again, then licks the sensitive skin.
“What?” He looks up at me.
“Why . . .” My voice is thick and shaky. “Why show me if you want to be the only one?”
“Because despite that, the thought of you doing it to yourself, in front of me . . . just, fuck,” he breathes.
Oh. I need relief and soon; I hope he doesn’t plan to torture me long.
“Besides, you can be a little uptight sometimes—and maybe this is just what you need.” He smiles, and I try to hide my face in embarrassment.
If we weren’t doing . . . this . . . I would say something back about him calling me uptight. But he’s right, and like he said earlier, I’m otherwise occupied.
“Here . . . this is where you start.” He surprises me by placing his cool fingers against me. A hiss escapes my lips from his cold touch. “Cold?” he asks and I nod. “Sorry.” He chuckles, then slides his fingers inside of me without warning.
My hips buck off the bed, and I clamp my hand over my mouth to silence myself.
He smirks. “I just need to get them nice and warm.”
As he moves his fingers slowly in and out a few times, the fire within me heats up. Then he removes them, making me feel empty and desperate. Suddenly he places them back where they previously were and I bite down on my lip.
“Now, don’t go and do that, or we won’t be able to finish your lesson.”
I don’t look at him. Instead, I swipe my tongue across my lip and bite down again.
“You’re very testy today. Not a very good student,” he teases.
Even while teasing he drives me crazy; how is it possible to be so seductive without even trying? This skill is surely something that only Hardin has mastered.
“Give me your hand, Tess,” he instructs.
But I don’t move. Embarrassment pools in my cheeks.
Then his hand grips mine, and he brings our hands down my stomach and to the top of my thighs.
“If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to, but I think you’ll like it,” Hardin says softly.
“I do,” I decide.
He smiles knowingly. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m just . . . nervous,” I admit. I feel much more comfortable with Hardin than with anyone I’ve known in my entire life, and I know he won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable, not in a malicious way at least. I am just overthinking this—people do it all the time. Right?
“Don’t be. You’ll like it.” He bites down on the corner of his mouth, and I smile nervously. “And don’t worry: if you can’t get yourself off, I’ll do it for you. It’s no foreskin off my back.”
“Hardin!” I groan in embarrassment and plop my head back down on the pillow. I hear him laugh lightly and say, “Like this.”
He spreads my fingers. My heartbeat increases dramatically as he brings my hand . . . there. It feels so strange. Foreign and just strange. I’m so used to the way Hardin’s hands feel on me, the way his fingers are rough and callused, the way they are long and slender, the way they know exactly how to touch me, how to . . .
“Just do this.” Hardin’s voice is thick with lust as he guides my fingers to the most sensitive spot. I’m trying not to think about what we’re doing . . . what I’m doing?
“How does it feel?” Hardin asks.
“I . . . don’t know,” I mutter.
“Yes, you do. Tell me, Tess,” he half demands and removes his hand from mine. I whimper at the loss of contact and begin to remove my hand. “No, keep it there, baby.” His tone makes my hand snap back to the spot. “Continue,” he commands lightly.
I gulp and close my eyes, trying to repeat what Hardin was doing. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as when he does it, but it most certainly doesn’t feel bad either. The pressure in my lower stomach begins to build again, and I screw my eyes shut, trying to pretend that it’s Hardin’s fingers that are making me feel this way.
“You look so hot touching yourself in front of me,” Hardin says and I can’t help but moan and continue to trace the pattern that he’s shown my fingers.
When I open my eyes slightly, I see Hardin’s hand rubbing over his jeans. Oh my God. Why is this so hot? This is something I thought people only did in naughty films, not real life. Hardin makes everything so hot, no matter how strange it is. His eyes are focused between my legs, and his teeth are digging into his bottom lip, making his silver ring stand up taut.
The second I feel he may catch me looking at him, I snap my eyes shut, I shut off my subconscious. This is a normal and natural thing, everyone does it . . . just not everyone has someone watching them, but if they had Hardin, they surely would.
“Such a good girl for me, always,” he says into my ear, nipping at my earlobe. His breath is hot and smells of mint, and it makes me want to scream and melt into the sheets at the same time.
“Do it, too,” I breathe, ba
rely recognizing my voice.
“What?”
“Do what I’m doing . . .” I say, not wanting to use the word.
“You want that?” He sounds surprised.
“Yes . . . please, Hardin.” I’m getting so close and I need this, I need to take some of the focus off of me, and honestly, seeing him rubbing himself just now did wicked things to me, and I want to see him do it again, that and more.
“Okay,” he answers simply. Hardin is so confident when it comes to sex. I wish I was the same way.
I hear the zipper of his jeans, and I try to slow down the movements of my fingers; if I don’t, this will be over very, very soon.
“Open your eyes, Tess,” he demands, and I oblige.
His hand wraps around his bare length, and my eyes go wide at the perfect sight as I watch Hardin do something I never thought I would see anyone do.
He leans his head down again. This time he plants a single kiss on my neck before bringing his mouth back to my ear. “You like this, don’t you? You like to watch me pleasure myself, you are so dirty, Tess, so fucking dirty.”
My eyes never leave his hand between his legs. His hand moves faster as he continues talking to me. “I’m not going to last long watching you, baby. You have no idea how fucking hot this is.” He groans and I do the same.
I no longer feel uncomfortable. I am close, so close, and I want Hardin to be close, too. “It feels so good, Hardin . . .” I moan, not caring how stupid or desperate I sound. It’s the truth, and he makes me feel like it’s okay to feel this way.
“Fuck. Say something else,” he grits out.
“I want you to come, Hardin, just picture my mouth around you . . .” The filthy words tumble from my lips, and I feel the warmth on my stomach as he releases onto my flaming skin. That does it for me, and I come undone from my own doing and close my eyes as I repeat his name over and over.
When I open my eyes, Hardin is leaning up on his elbow next to me, and I instantly bury my face in his neck.
“How was it?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me close to him.
“I don’t know . . .” I lie.
“Don’t be shy, I know you liked it. So did I.” He kisses the top of my head, and I look up at him.
“I did, but I still like it better when you do it,” I admit and he smiles.
“Well, I would hope so,” he says, and I lift my head up to plant a kiss over the indent of his dimple. “There are a lot of things I can show you,” he adds, and when I flush again he reassures me, “One step at a time.”
My imagination runs wild at the thoughts of all the things Hardin could show me—there are probably so many things I’ve never even heard of that he has done, and I want to learn them all.
He breaks the silence. “Let’s get you a shower, my star pupil.”
I lower my eyes at him. “You mean your only pupil?”
“Yeah, of course. Although maybe I should teach Landon next. He needs it just as bad as you,” he teases and moves to climb off the bed.
“Hardin!” I shriek, and he laughs, a real laugh, and it is such a beautiful sound.
WHEN MY ALARM GOES OFF early Monday morning, I fly out of bed and head to the bathroom to take a shower. The water gives me energy, and my thoughts begin to travel back to my first semester at WCU. I had no idea what to expect, but at the same time I felt very prepared. I had every detail down. I thought I’d make a few friends and focus on extracurriculars, maybe join the literary club and a few more. I would spend my time in my dorm or at the library studying and preparing for my future.
Little did I know that just a few months later I would be living in an apartment with my boyfriend, who was not Noah. I had no idea what was coming when my mother pulled into the parking lot at WCU—even less so when I met the rude boy with the curly hair. I wouldn’t have believed it if someone told me, and now I can’t imagine my life without that crabby guy. Butterflies begin to dance in my stomach as I remember the way it felt to catch a glimpse of him on campus, to try to glance around the room to look for him in Literature, the way I’d catch him looking at me while the professor was speaking, the way he’d eavesdrop on Landon and me. Those days seem so long ago, ancient really.
I’m startled from my nostalgic thoughts as the shower curtain is pulled back to reveal a shirtless Hardin, his hair messy and falling over his forehead as he rubs his eyes.
He smiles, his speech drawn out and thick from sleep. “What are you doing in here so long? Practicing your lessons from yesterday?”
“No!” I squeak, flushing as the image of Hardin coming pops into my mind.
He winks. “Sure, babe.”
“I wasn’t! I was just thinking,” I admit.
“About what?” He sits down on the toilet, and I close the curtain.
“Just about before . . .”
“Before what?” he asks, his tone full of worry.
“The first day of college and how you were so rude,” I tease.
“Rude? I didn’t even speak to you!”
I laugh. “Exactly.”
“You were so annoying with your dreadful skirt and your loafer-wearing boyfriend.” He claps with glee. “Your mum’s face was priceless when she saw us.”
My chest tenses at the mention of my mother. I miss her, but I refuse to take the blame for her mistakes. When she’s ready to stop judging Hardin and me, then I’ll talk to her, but if she doesn’t do that, then she doesn’t deserve my time.
“You were annoying with your . . . well . . . your attitude.” I can’t think of what to say, because he didn’t speak to me the first time I met him.
“Remember the second time I saw you? You were in a towel and you were carrying those wet clothes.”
“Yes, and you said you wouldn’t look at me,” I recall.
“I lied. I was certainly looking at you.”
“It seems so long ago, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, very long ago. It doesn’t seem like those things actually happened; now it seems like it’s always been us, you know what I mean?”
I pop my head around the curtain and smile. “I do, actually.” It’s true—but so odd to think about Noah being my boyfriend instead of Hardin. It doesn’t sit right. I care for Noah so much, but both of us wasted years of our lives dating each other. I turn off the shower and push him to the back of my mind.
“Can you . . .” I begin to ask, but before I finish, Hardin tosses a towel over the top of the curtain.
“Thanks,” I say while wrapping the cloth around my wet body.
Hardin follows me into our bedroom, and I get dressed as fast as possible while he lies on his stomach on our bed, his eyes never leaving me. I towel-dry my hair and get dressed. Hardin does a good job at distracting me with not so subtle gropes during the process.
“I’m driving you,” he says and climbs off the bed to get himself dressed.
“We already had that established, remember?” I remind him.
“Shut up, Tess.” He shakes his head playfully, and I smile a mock-innocent smile before heading back into the living room.
I decide to wear my hair straight for once. After I apply light makeup, I grab my bag and take another look inside to make sure everything I need is inside before meeting Hardin by the front door. Hardin carries my gym bag for yoga class, and I carry my bag full of everything else that I could possibly need.
“Go ahead,” he says as we step out.
“What?” I turn to look at him.
“Go ahead and spaz,” he says with a sigh.
I smile at him and tell him the intricate plans for the day, for the tenth time in twenty-four hours.
As he pretends to listen carefully, I promise him and myself that I’ll be much more relaxed tomorrow.
chapter sixty-six
TESSA
Hardin parks as close to the coffeehouse as he can manage, but the campus is crowded since everyone has returned from Christmas break. He curses the entire time he circles each par
king lot, and I try not to laugh at his annoyance. It’s quite adorable.
“Give me your bag,” Hardin says when I get out of the car.
I hand it to him with a smile and thank him for the thoughtful gesture. It’s pretty heavy, manageable but heavy.
It feels strange being back on campus; so much has changed and happened since I was last here. The cold wind whips against my skin, and Hardin pulls a beanie over his head before zipping his jacket up all the way. We rush through the parking lot and down the street. I should have brought a thicker jacket, and gloves, and even a hat for myself. Hardin was right when he said I shouldn’t wear the dress, but there is no way I am admitting that.
Hardin looks adorable with his hair hidden under the beanie, and his cheeks and nose are red from the cold. Only Hardin would look even more attractive in this harsh weather.
“There he is.” He points to Landon as we walk inside the coffee shop.
The familiarity of the small space calms my nerves, and I smile as soon as I see my closest friend sitting at a small table waiting for me.
Landon smiles when he spots us, and when we get near he greets us. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I chirp back.
“I’ll get in line,” Hardin mumbles and heads to the counter.
I didn’t expect him to stay, or get my coffee, but I’m glad he does. We don’t have any classes together this semester, and I’ll miss seeing him since I’ve gotten used to seeing him all day.
“Ready for the new semester?” Landon asks when I take a seat across from him. The chair squeaks against the tile floor, drawing attention to us, and I smile apologetically before taking a good look at Landon.
He’s tried a new hairstyle, pushing his hair up off his forehead—and it looks really good on him. As I look around the coffee shop, I begin to realize I probably should’ve just worn jeans and a sweatshirt. I’m the only person in the place who’s remotely dressed up save for Landon in his light blue button-down shirt and khakis.
“Yes, and no,” I tell him, and he agrees.