by Rachel Jonas
Why are you here?
Why are you doing this?
Why can’t you stay away and let me hate you in peace?
The mattress shifts when he climbs on top of me, kissing me so slow and deep my eyes roll back in my head. Both heels dig into the backs of his thighs, encouraging him to enter me, and I’m so far gone I don’t even consider protection. I’m never that impatient. But when West doesn’t budge, I assume this is the reason he’s hesitant.
Those powerful, inked arms of his keep him hovering above me, as our mouths move in perfect sync. As his tongue does a series of skilled pirouettes over mine that have my need for him surging even more.
I want to push again, want to draw him in with my heels like I attempted before, but I’m a bit more sensible this time.
“Condom,” I murmur against his mouth.
He’s ready, rock-hard against me, yet he shows no sign of urgency, no sign he intends to let me have my way.
“Don’t need one,” he says, taking his lips away.
I’m confused as hell where he thinks this is going without protection, but I stop questioning it so much when his mouth moves to my neck, and then to my chest. He pauses, slowly teasing one nipple with the tip of his tongue, before drawing it into his mouth. Then, there’s a playful nip to my belly ring when he journeys there next, tugging the tiny, metal rod with his teeth. The sensation has my back arching toward him, and I arch again when the soft, wet heat of his lips travels to the base of my stomach.
A shallow gasp leaves my mouth when he dares to wander just a little lower, finally reaching his intended destination. It’s in that very second that electricity sparks from someplace deep within me. So powerfully I nearly clamp West’s jaw with my thighs. I likely would have if it weren’t for him gently holding them open, keeping me relatively still while exploring me with his tongue.
My eyes roll back again, wanting to close, but I keep them open, watching obsessively in the mirrored ceiling as he makes his point. He wants me to grasp the meaning of tonight’s lesson, that he can show me how he feels better than he can tell me.
I swear my entire body lifts off the bed when I arch toward him, feeling like I’ve completely lost touch with reality, risen to some alternate plane of existence. My heart’s never raced faster than it’s racing right now, and I’m out of my head, hearing my thoughts become words as they spill from within me. But the jumble of words leaves my mouth as one whispered expression:
“Shit…”
The response is enough to make West remove both hands from my thighs to slip them beneath my ass. Now, it’s impossible to claw my way up the sheet to escape when the feeling becomes too intense. Instead, I’m forced to endure the full-body convulsions that follow as I explode with pleasure, so raw I swear I’m on the brink of blacking out.
“West!”
I reach down, tangling my fingers in his hair, struggling for even an ounce of air. There is none, and I drown in this powerful sensation he’s brought on so suddenly, spreading from my core, and then overtaking me completely.
All at once, I shift from being so tightly wound my muscles ache, to fatigue hitting me hard and fast when it ends. Aftershocks have me quivering all over and I can’t move. Not even when a soft kiss placed on my inner thigh sends butterflies fluttering straight to the pit of my stomach. He stands after that and I’m transfixed on his perfect reflection from above, watching as he makes his way onto the bed. A second later, I feel his heat against my torso, his hardness against my hip.
He has staked his claim, more than proven his point.
“Should I leave?” he rasps, that deep tone of his sparking another of those aftershocks.
I have an answer, but pride won’t let me give it. So, instead, I simply reach for the remote on the bedside table that controls the candles. I turn them off completely, plunging us into darkness, answering his question by drawing the blanket over us both.
When I turn into his chest, his arms slip around me like this is how it’s always been, how it always will be.
I fully intend to scold myself for giving in to him so epically, but sleep overtakes me before I even get the chance.
I’ll save whatever lecture I have for myself for tomorrow. But for tonight, I’ll just enjoy this moment for what it is. If regret intends to bring me down from this feeling, that bitch will have to work for it.
@QweenPandora: Tis Game Day Eve!
Rest up guys! No pressure, but the whole city’s depending on you to pull out a win in the semifinal’s matchup :) Clear your heads and get a good night’s rest, because tomorrow’s sure to be intense.
Let’s send them all the good vibes we can. GO Panthers!
Later, Peeps.
—P
Chapter 17
WEST
Fucking hell.
So, this is what it feels like to be ghosted.
Guess I understand the panicked texts and phone calls that flood my phone after a girl’s given it up, and then I ignore her ass.
Joss lets out a sigh from where she’s sprawled out beside Dane on his bed. Sterling’s deep in thought in the armchair, and I’ve been pacing for the last thirty minutes.
We took the win this morning, so there’s another massive celebration going on at a nearby frat house, but I haven’t even considered leaving this hotel room. My brothers and Joss, being my only support through all this, are holed up here with me. To make it up to them for being such a drag, I bought up most of the snacks and soda from the vending machine down the hall. They hadn’t signed up to be my advisors, but slipped into those roles without complaint.
“I don’t understand,” Joss finally says. “The room, the flowers… I mean, it should’ve worked. Hell, it would’ve probably even worked on me if it’d been the right guy,” she jokes.
Dane’s brow quirks with intrigue, probably taking notes for whenever he finally gets up the nerve to make a move.
If he ever makes a move.
It feels like my heart’s in my gut now, though. Not only because of the obvious air of doubt in Joss’s voice, but also because of what desperation had me confessing to Southside last night. There was this look in her eyes, though, making her distrust abundantly clear. While I’ve been far from an angel when it comes to her, I needed her to know I’d never cut that deep. I’d never get her completely open to me like she was last weekend, then exploit the shit out of that moment.
Damn, I’m a dick, but that’s beneath even me.
So, when I realized nothing I was saying last night was working, I spilled my guts, despite having every intention to keep the info about Parker to myself.
Now, what if Southside spills? Not like she has reason to be loyal toward me after all I’ve done.
“And she spoke when you woke up in her room today?” Sterling asks.
I shrug, still distracted by the possibility of having shot myself in my own damn foot.
“We said good morning,” I share. “Then, she left to shower and I ordered us room service for breakfast.”
“Did you guys talk while you ate?” Joss wants to know.
“A little, but not much.”
She’s mulling over my answer and I hate this has me so on edge.
“Other than that, nothing seemed off?” Dane asks.
I peer up at him while I pace, shrugging again. “Dude, I don’t fucking know! Next time I’ll make sure to write the shit down in my diary,” I snap.
A surge of air fills my lungs and I remember that they’re doing me a favor. They’re here to help and I’m in no position to be an ass right now. So, I start again, keeping my cool this time.
“Mostly, I guess it was just awkward waking up naked beside someone you’re not entirely sure doesn’t hate you, but—"
“Wait a second,” Joss cuts in. She sits up and pops a brow at me, smiling. “I thought you said there was no sex.”
There’s a curious accusation in her tone that I don’t miss. I’m also aware of the fact that I’ve just said too
much. Again. Which has me thinking I’m starting to develop my mother’s condition: word vomit.
Good job, asshat.
“Joss, just… don’t start. Please,” I say with a sigh.
My discomfort has her smiling bigger now. “You can’t just leave us hanging, West. You left something out. Something major,” she teases, resting on her fist while eyeing me.
“Honestly? I kind of wanna hear this, too,” Sterling jumps in. “I mean, if you two weren’t getting it on, but you were naked, something sure as hell went down.”
“Did she go down?” Dane guesses.
“No… you went down! Didn’t you, West!?!?” Joss cuts in with a gasp. I can hear the amusement in her voice and I kind of fucking hate her right now.
I’m shaking my head as I turn to gaze out the window, avoiding any and all eye contact. This is about to get real fun. Only, in reverse.
“That’s it isn’t it?!?!” she squeals. “Mr. Bigshot, QB-1 broke his own cardinal rule!”
“Settle down,” Dane cuts in, coming to my defense. “Not possible. We all know West is strictly a receiver, not a giver, in the oral department.”
Annoyed, I’m chewing the side of my lip like it’s a steak, and when I fail to deny Joss’s accusation, Dane’s traitorous ass turns on me, too.
“Then again, Southside does kind of have your punk ass whipped,” he says.
“Was it uncomfortable?” Joss starts. “Did you like it? Oooh! Did she like it?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I mumble, not answering a single one of her dumb ass questions. Not out loud anyway.
They’re not wrong; I’d never done that for a girl. Not before last night. Of course, I’ve wondered if I got it right, but then I stop doubting when I remember how hard she came, and then how fast she fell asleep afterward. For a newb, I’m pretty sure I killed that shit.
Who ever said porn is useless?
There wasn’t much thought that went into it beforehand. Timing felt right, she seemed down for whatever, so I went with it. Only, I hadn’t anticipated she’d jet back to South Cypress right after taking pics at the game. At least, that’s what Pandora’s reporting. Her friend with the red hair popped up at the hotel, helped Southside load up her things, then they took off.
I mean, I didn’t expect her to completely soften toward me in one night, but damn. Not even a ‘see you later, asshole’ before she hightailed it home?
It dawns on me that I’m practically pining over her when I start scrolling through Pandora’s pics again, checking to see if any were taken of her carrying at least one dozen of the roses I bought. When I realize she’s only seen with her suitcase, it guts me a little.
The only thing better about this time is that she didn’t call that dick, Ricky, to come to her rescue. That’s something, I guess.
What the hell is wrong with me? Girl’s got me acting like such a fucking pussy.
Suddenly, the urge hits me to crush beer cans on my forehead, lift weights, barbecue or some shit that’ll reassert my masculinity. Can’t have her turning me soft. I’m the guy who crushes those guys.
“Let’s lay off him,” Sterling speaks up, cutting into the laugh Joss and Dane are having at my expense.
With my back still to the room, I smile a little. I’d give any one of them at least this hard a time if the tables were turned and they know it.
“All right, all right,” Dane interjects, catching his breath to speak. “So, we see luxurious hotel rooms, flowers, and mediocre head don’t work with this girl. So, what’s next on the list?”
“Mediocre?” I scoff. “She damn-near woke the neighbors screaming my name, so let’s get that shit straight.”
“Ew! TMI!” Joss screeches.
“Well, whatever the case, we need a new approach,” is Sterling’s take.
We’re all quiet for a moment, thinking.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
I glance toward Dane from over my shoulder. “Meaning?”
He shrugs before explaining. “You came on strong, told her the truth—”
“Part of the truth,” Joss amends, which has Dane rolling his eyes.
“Well, part of the truth, but you proved your point. Now, I think you should fall back. Continue giving her space so she knows you respect that these things take time. But while you wait, keep showing up to walk her to class, keep showing her you’re trying, and just let nature take its course. At the very least, she has to be a little less pissed at you than when this all began. I mean, right?”
His question has me shrugging. “Hell if I know,” I say. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
No one responds and I go back to staring out the window, like Southside’s lost dog.
Fuck this.
“We partying or not?” I ask, breaking the silence. “We won today. That deserves a celebration.”
Dane’s face lights up. “Fuck yeah it does.”
He and Joss are off the bed the next second, and I swear Sterling has one shoe on before I even finish my sentence.
I’m not exactly in the mood for a crowd, for being the center of attention, but I sure as hell don’t want to sit here wondering if I just got played. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that Southside simply wants me to feel this shit—used, uncertain, sort of insecure—but I won’t let it consume me.
We’re one step closer to the championship win and I won’t let anything bring me down from this well-earned high.
At least… that’s what I’ll let people think, anyway.
Shit.
Karma really is a heartless bitch, ain’t she?
@QweenPandora: Dare I say the king is back?
Based on these images taken from tonight’s party, The Golden Boys are enjoying every second of this latest victory. Only, it hasn’t gone unnoticed that one Golden, in particular, has been keeping the fangirls at bay. Sure, he danced, he drank, he was the life of the party, but not once was he spotted behaving like he’s single, if you know what I mean. Either there’s a secret rekindling to a certain twosome that’s slipped past me, or… someone’s hoping like hell to prove he’s a changed man.
Only time will tell, I suppose.
In other news, MrSilver and PrettyBoyD MORE than made up for the girls KingMidas passed up on tonight. Wonder how VirginVixen feels about watching her “bestie” get super familiar with the female student body tonight. Or, should I say bodies, plural?
Things are certainly heating up, folks. Keep an eye out for the next update.
Later, Peeps.
—P
Chapter 18
WEST
As far as awkward Thanksgiving dinners go, this one’s right up there with the worst of them.
To start, Vin and I are barely speaking to one another, and those seated around the Harrison’s enormous dining table have taken notice. It’s made things pretty fucking tense. Especially seeing as how the two of us haven’t even made eye contact since two servers brought out hors d’oeuvres roughly an hour ago.
Vin went from being pissed about the video, because he assumed—like the rest of Cypress Pointe—that I was the one who leaked it, jeopardizing my own future. To, now, being pissed because he’s thoroughly convinced I’m making a fool of myself over a girl he insists isn’t worth it.
A girl he also claims to have once had mutual feelings for, before deciding to end it.
At the thought of it, I glare up at him over the dry-ass turkey that’s just been brought out on a platter.
Lucky for me, my douche of a father’s been following Pandora’s updates super close. Ever since first catching wind of my involvement with Southside. So, naturally, he’s kept up with what Joss has now dubbed Mission: Lobster. Apparently, that’s some lame-ass Friends reference I don’t even pretend to understand, but it’s how she sums up everything I’ve done to show Southside I’m not giving up.
Meanwhile, my father’s had a front row seat of me trying to earn Southside’s forgiveness. Which, by the way, is pretty fuck
ing hard when I’m limited in what I can and can’t say to her right now.
When he does speak, it’s to let me know what a pussy he thinks I’ve become, pissing away my reputation, turning soft.
Fuck him.
Not gonna lie, though. Getting the silent treatment from his toxic ass has been well worth the emasculation and shit-talking. Being honest, I’ve considered it more of a vacation than anything. It’s been so effective, Dane and Sterling are seriously considering getting on his bad side just so he’ll stop talking to them, too.
Highly recommended.
But this dinner was unavoidable. Apparently, we owe Headmaster Harrison for the favor he did Vin, which consisted of him keeping me off the team’s suspension list. In a way, I suppose I’m grateful for that, too, but it’s not lost on me that it’s kind of shitty to appreciate being given a pass. Especially when I know Southside wasn’t afforded that same luxury.
Anyway, here we sit. Stuck at a table with Headmaster Harrison, his stalker wife, and about eight empty chairs.
“Bon appetit!” wifey says with a smile.
For a woman her age, she isn’t bad to look at. She definitely has a little help, though—fake tits, and she lives in the tanning salon. She keeps highlights in her dark hair, and it’s cut a bit shorter than usual, hitting just above her shoulder now.
Her eyes shift around the table to each of us, but I don’t miss that her stare lingers on Sterling a bit longer than anyone else.
Hence the whole ‘stalker’ comment.
I started noticing she has a thing for him around the time we turned fifteen. First incident I picked up on was during the weekend our parents went away for their anniversary and left us here. It was small shit at first—giving Sterling the bigger guest room, letting him choose what movie we went to see. Those things were petty, of course, things that could’ve been passed off as coincidence.