by Cathryn Fox
“You like a sure thing, huh?” I ask.
“I do.”
I’m a second away from telling her I’m a sure thing when a door creaks open and lights in another room flick on. “Shit, we need to get out of here.”
22
Reagan
I stare at my phone, checking the time again. My God, will this class ever end? I should be focusing, but my mind keeps drifting back to last night, to the art gallery. I smile, hardly able to believe we broke into the place. But Rocco told me it was safe, and deep inside, I really feel like he’d do anything and everything to protect me. It’s a strange feeling. A nice one.
That thought leads to Cochrane, and my bliss disappears. I’m enraged that he and his friends busted up Rocco’s bike. I know he’s waiting for me to talk to him, and I’m wondering if I should calm down before I do that.
The lecture finally ends, and I pack my things up and head out. The sky is gray, rain on the horizon as I exit the building and start back toward my place. A group of giggling girls catch my attention and I glance over to find them hanging off Cochrane’s friends. I pick up my pace, until Cochrane’s voice stops me.
I go perfectly still, my phone clutched in my hands. I turn, and as he races toward me, I brace myself. I guess now is as good a time as any to have it out with him.
“Hey,” he calls out as he catches up to me.
“What do you want?”
He frowns. “Come on, Reagan. Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?”
“I told you I was sorry about the other night. I was drunk, and stupid and you were with Rocco…”
“You were the one who put us together, Cochrane, or did you forget that?”
“It was a stupid mistake.” He glances past my shoulders.
“Was busting his bike up a stupid mistake too?”
His gaze shifts, his eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”
I’ve known Cochrane for years. Does he not think I can tell when he’s freaking lying to me? “Are you seriously going to stand there and deny it?”
He reaches for my hair, takes a strand between his fingers, and the second he touches me, bile punches into my throat. “Don’t touch me.” I jerk back, and his face hardens.
“What the fuck, Reagan? You better get your head on straight. We have a future together. You might be slumming—”
“I am not slumming.”
He stares at me, his eyes cold, arctic blue. Anger moves into his eyes, and for the first time in my life, I’m afraid of him. He takes a threatening step closer, and from my peripheral vision, I note his friends have stepped forward as well. Why do they think he needs backup against a girl? I cross my arms as my heart crashes against my ribcage.
“Are you fucking him?” My throat tightens. “Jesus Christ, Reagan, you better not be fucking him.”
“I’m…what I do is no longer your business. We’re done.”
“We’re not done. Not by a long shot.”
I take a step back and he follows me. “We are done.” I swallow. “I want you to stay away from me.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Cochrane—”
“No, Reagan, you’re mine. If you don’t come to your senses, bad things are going to happen.”
“Are you threatening me?”
He shrugs. “I’m just saying.”
My pulse jumps in my throat as he looms over me, his words and body setting alarm bells off in my brain. What the hell did I ever see in him anyway?
“Come back to me, Reagan, or very bad things will happen, and the fault will be all yours.”
I spot movement in the distance, but I’m afraid to take my eyes off Cochrane, afraid that he’ll see it as a weakness if I do, and he’ll think he’s won.
“I talked to my folks the other day. Our families are all planning Thanksgiving together. Come on, Reagan. You know they won’t be happy about any of this and you don’t want to upset them, do you? Especially over the holidays.”
Goddammit, if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s hitting me where it hurts.
“Dad’s already invited Rocco and they won’t take no for an answer from him,” I shoot back through clenched teeth.
Anger flares in his eyes. “Rocco is an asshole. He’s only with you to get back at me.” I stare at him, and he laughs. “What, you don’t really think he likes you, do you? He fucks anything with two legs and a hot pussy.” Rage burns through my blood, and I’m seconds from making a fist and swinging it. “He’s a dirt bag, Reagan. Deep inside, you know that. I mean, what could he possibly see in you?” I jerk back as if he’s slapped me. His face softens, and he reaches for me again, changing tactics as he backtracks. “What I mean is, you’re not really his type. He’s just trying to get something from you.” Once again, he hits where it hurts. Growing up, I never knew who my real friends were or if they were just looking for something.
“I…I…” I stutter, my brain too wired with worry to summon a response.
“Why don’t we just forget all of this? Pretend it never happened. Go back to the way things used to be.”
Before I even realize what’s happening, Rocco is right there, standing between Cochrane and me. He nudges me back with his body, in a protective move.
“Pretend what never happened?” Rocco asks.
“Back the fuck off, Rocco. This is between Reagan and me.”
“Seems to me like she doesn’t want to talk to you.” He turns to me. “Do you want to talk to him, Reagan?”
I shake my head.
“Look at that. Seems I know her better than you do.”
Cochrane takes a step forward, his friends stepping closer, and Rocco braces himself.
“Stop, please,” I say, and tug on the back of Rocco’s jacket. “He’s not worth it.”
In the distance, a security vehicle drives by and slows. Cochrane rubs his face and steps back. He smirks at me when I glance around Rocco’s shoulder.
“You don’t know anything,” he yells at me, his eyes as hard as his voice. “But you’re soon going to.” I suck in a fast breath and step closer to Rocco, seeking his heat and comfort. Cochrane just shakes his head. “Hey, sorry to hear about your bike.”
Rocco goes tense as Cochrane provokes him, and in that moment, I almost want Rocco to fight him, and that thought is coming from the girl who hates confrontation.
Rocco shrugs. “Shit happens. I’m sure whoever did it will regret it.”
Cochrane stares at Rocco, and I hope he takes his words seriously. I’m not sure what Rocco will do, but I don’t think he’s going to let Cochrane get away with it.
Cochrane steps back. “See you, Reagan.”
I don’t speak. I just stay pressed against Rocco as Cochrane steps up to his friends, and they all clap him on the back.
Rocco turns to me, his gaze moving over my face. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“What was that all about?”
“He’s trying to convince me to forget what happened and to go back to him.” I frown and glance down. Rocco touches my chin and lifts it.
“What?”
“He said you…basically he said you were just fucking with me to get back at him.” I swallow as old insecurities grip my throat.
“What did you say?”
I stare at the guy who has been nothing but kind, gentle and protective of me. “I think Cochrane is an asshole.”
“Something we agree on.” He laughs.
“I actually think we agree on a lot of things.”
“Yeah, we do, Sunshine.” He throws his arm around my shoulder, and starts walking me toward home.
“You don’t think he can do anything to hurt us, do you?”
He stiffens for a brief second and relaxes again, but it’s forced as I stare at him. “Nah, he’s just all talk.” He drops his arm, and jogs backward. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.”
“I’ve already seen it,” I joke, some of the tensi
on draining from me as his enthusiasm curls around me, and hugs me tight.
He laughs. “Funny girl.” He turns and starts jogging beside me. “Come on, pick up the pace. I don’t have all day.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?”
“Keeping track of me, are you?”
I roll my eyes at him and pick up my pace. We reach our place—our place—and he opens the door to usher me in. He captures my hand, leads me up the stairs to my bedroom. “So I was right, you do want to show me…something.”
He laughs, and pushes open my door. “I hope you don’t mind that I came in here when you weren’t home. I know how protective you are of your room.”
I step inside and my heart thumps in my chest. My gaze moves over to the easel set up by my window, along with printed photos of the ocean, taken the night he drove me to his private cave off the highway. “What…”
He shrugs. “I thought maybe you could do some paintings for the art gallery. There was a bare spot on the wall. We can sneak in again and hang your painting to fill it.”
I laugh, warmth and lightness invading my body and soul. “You’re crazy.” I throw my arms around him, and find his lips with mine.
“You like it, huh?” he asks after I kiss him.
“I love it.”
I love you.
“Show me how much you love it,” he teases.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, and puts his hand between my legs. “Right here.”
He lightly strokes me through my yoga pants and my body burns from the inside out. I reach for the button on his jeans and free it. He angles his head, clearly intrigued by what I’m doing. Grinning, and deciding to show him just how much I love my new easel, and how much I love him, I sink to my knees and chuckle quietly when his soft curses reach my ears.
“I was just kidding, babe. You don’t have to show me anything.”
I glance up at him, take in the tightness on his face. “Oh, but I want to.”
“Fuck,” he grumbles, as I tug his pants down and free his cock. “Who am I to stand in the way of a girl who knows what she wants?” I laugh, and his cock settles on the crook in my top lip. “Babe,” he moans, pre-cum dripping from his slit as he grows thicker.
I run my hand over his hard length and hold my tongue out.
“Holy fuck.” His curses fill the quiet of the room as his cum drips and lands on my tongue. “That is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Maybe not,” I say, as I think about the way I want him to take me today.
“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but I can’t wait to find out.” He grips my hair and holds it from my face as I open my mouth for him, relaxing my throat so I can take him deep. He jerks forward and feeds me his cock, and I grow so wet between my legs, I’m pretty sure I’m going to come just from pleasuring him.
I suck him hard, take him deep and his groans send waves of heat through me. He rocks into my mouth and I cup his ass, wanting every inch in my mouth but knowing it’s impossible. He hardens even more, and while I plan for him to come in my mouth, there’s something we need to do first.
I back away, and his cock remains pointed at my mouth as I go back on my heels. “Babe, you’re killing me.” The heat and need in his voice thrills me, and I push to my feet, take him into my hand for a long stroke before I back up. He stands there like a wild animal as I strip before him, tossing my clothes to the floor and turning to crawl onto my bed. With my ass pointed at him, he curses and I turn and crook my finger.
He rips his clothes off and he’s on me in an instant, his body over mine, his cock pressing against my leg as he devours my mouth. I love how needy he is, love the untamed desperation about him. I know that feeling well.
I push on his shoulders and he lifts his head, his eyes full of questions. Deciding to show him, I reach down, coat my fingers with my juices and rub them between my breasts to lubricate myself.
“No fucking way.”
I press my tits together to form a tight channel. “I want you right here.”
He rakes his hands through his hair. “You are so goddamn beautiful and full of surprises.” He puts his knees on either side of my torso and shimmies up, his hands braced on the headboard behind me. He powers forward and slides between my breasts.
“You feel so damn good.”
“I want you to come in my mouth.”
“Yeah, babe. You want to taste me?”
“I want all your cum inside my body,” I tell him and I swear his cock expands another inch.
He pumps his cock between my breasts. Everything about this is all for him. It’s for me too; I’m enjoying the tortured yet pleasured groans rising in his throat. With each forward thrust, I take him into my greedy mouth, and his thrusts become almost manic as he chases his release. I love that I can do this to him.
With each hard, blunt stroke, meant for his pleasure, he lands in my mouth, and I love everything about this moment we’re sharing, from the realness, and the rawness, to the sheer, deeply moving intimacy.
His body goes still, his groan reaching my ears as he shoots into my waiting mouth. He glances down, watching intently as he releases, and I drink him in. “So goddamn beautiful,” he groans, and I hold him to me, wanting every last drop. He pulses and spasms and when he’s drained, he pushes off the headboard, and falls over me. Big, warm hands brush my hair from my face, and his smile is soft and sweet.
“I guess that’s showing me.” He laughs. I’m about to move, get out from under him so he can get to class when he captures me and holds me down, lowering his mouth to my pussy. “Now it’s my turn to show you.”
I laugh, loving that idea. “Who am I to stand in the way of a guy who knows what he wants.”
23
Rocco
I finish my passing drill and Coach blows his whistle. I tug my helmet off and glance around the bleachers, searching for Reagan, even though I know she’s in class. Still, I can’t help but hope to see my girl out there watching and cheering me on.
We all head into the locker room and get showered and changed. Alistair steps up to me as I’m pulling on my team jacket.
“Any news on getting your bike fixed?”
“Yeah, I got a couple calls in, and I’m waiting to hear the quote.”
He nods, and knows better than to offer me money. “You know if you need anything…”
“I know.” I pat him on the back. “Thanks, man. I got this covered.” I don’t really. I’ll have to find a way, though. I made my high school coach a promise to take care of her and I’ll find a way somehow. I tug my phone from my pocket to see if there are any missed calls or messages from Reagan. I smile when I see her text, telling me she’ll catch up with me after class.
“Reagan?” Alistair asks.
“Yeah.” I can’t seem to wipe the stupid grin from my face.
“Rumor has it Cochrane is pissed and out for blood.”
“He should have thought of that before he put her in my hands.”
“You like her, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do. A lot.” I take in his frown. “What?”
He shrugs, but I stare at him. He’s got something to say. “Out with it.”
“I don’t know. I just…she’s not the kind of girl you usually go for and I don’t trust Cochrane one bit. He could make things difficult for you.”
“How?” It’s a question I already know the answer to. But if he fucks with Reagan, I’ll break every fucking bone in his body.
“Be careful, that’s all I’m saying.”
I nod and I’m about to tuck my phone away when an email pops up. I open it and quickly read the message from the Dean of Science. “What the fuck?”
“What’s going on?”
“The Dean wants to see me.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with my scholarship. I might have forgotten to send a form in
last month.” I make light of it despite the sudden storm swirling in my gut. I’ve been in the Dean’s office before, for paperwork and career talk. This feels different, though. This feels bad. I shove my phone in my pocket, and try to shake off the burst of nervous energy in my blood. I scoop up my bag and head toward the door.
“Text me and let me know, okay?”
I nod, my mind on a million things. “Yup,” I agree and head out the door. With the sun shining today, lots of students are out on the lawns studying, and I keep my head down and make a beeline to the administration building. I step inside and the scent of pine cleaner fills my nostrils, and amplifies the dread inside me. Why do I feel like I’m walking into the executioner’s office?
I take a breath and shake it off. It’s nothing. Nothing at all. I’m just here to sign a paper. I head down the hall and stop outside the Dean’s office. His door is cracked, and it’s opens slightly as I knock.
“Come in,” Dean Blakely says.
“Hey.” I enter his office and find him sitting behind his colossal dark mahogany desk, which is always littered with files, paper coffee cups and books. He usually has a smile for me. Today, not so much. The dread in my stomach mushrooms, and my heart picks up pace as he gestures toward the chair across from his desk.
“Have a seat, Rocco.”
I close the door, leave my football bag by the door, and drop into the seat across from him. I keep my mouth shut as he checks something on his computer. He presses a few buttons, and sits back in his chair, the leather squeaking under his weight.
“I’ve heard some disturbing news.”
Fuck me. Twice.
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” As I sit there looking at his frown, his gray bushy eyebrows knitting together, I continue to tell myself this is nothing. But that’s a lie born out of self-preservation, because right here, right now, this is about to change my trajectory. Every instinct in my body tells me so.