by Hannah Gray
“Yes,” she hisses. “Always.”
Before she can so much as blink, I thrust into her, causing her to cry out.
Putting my mouth over hers, I nip her bottom lip. “Those cries are for me and me alone, angel.” Pumping into her again, I lean up and glare down at her. “Need you to keep quiet. I can’t have everyone in the restaurant hearing what’s mine. Got it?”
Biting her lip again, she nods once.
“Good girl.”
Hard and fast, I fuck her with everything I have. And she greedily takes it, doing a good job of keeping quiet too. Though I can tell by watching her, she’s dying to let out a scream. And I’m dying to hear her sexy, tortured cries.
It doesn’t take long for us to be staring into each other’s eyes, both so high that I think we might leave this planet. And for that short period of time, it’s only us in our own world. No strange adoptive parents waiting outside the door, no football team and responsibilities to fulfill, and no secrets hidden and buried in her past. Just us. Just two kids who can’t get enough of each other. Two bodies who need each other to survive, to feel, to live.
Just me and the person I want to give the world to.
Until it’s over and it’s time to go back and eat some awkward-as-fuck dessert. I would much rather have her instead of anything on their menu.
twenty
Ally
It’s been a week since Cole and I went to dinner with Matt and Jenn. A week since they told me to not tell him that they’d paid for Cole to live with them. A week since we had some really hot sex in a staff-only room at the restaurant. So, in other words, a week ago was a shitstorm.
How we got away with banging in a locked room before returning for some dessert, all like, “We’ll have the tiramisu, please,” like we hadn’t just banged on a damn table minutes before, I have no idea. Either Matt and Jenn are great actors or they really had no idea what we’d disappeared to do. Either way, I don’t really care. It was worth it. There was just something so thrilling about doing that in such a forbidden place. I sort of want to make it a weekly occurrence.
Cole and I have always had a hard time with keeping our hands off of each other, and at the restaurant was no exception. I can’t resist him. And lately, it’s as if we’re making up for lost time and have turned into damn bunnies.
Oddly enough, a voice inside of me is telling me that Jenn and Matt aren’t the bad guys. I have this strange feeling, like whatever they did, they did it for a reason. I also think that maybe, just maybe, more is to come. It seemed like they desperately needed me to keep this secret for just a little longer. And even though it means keeping more secrets from Cole, call me crazy, but I plan to do just that. I can tell he enjoys having them around. Not that I can blame him. It’s nice to have someone—anyone—after years of radio silence from any parental figure. I think it’s that void that you feel when you experience a thing like your parents not wanting you. You just want someone to care. To see you. To acknowledge you’re there.
Their words filter through my mind over and over. “We wanted you too, Ally.”
I think of how differently things would have turned out if only Marion and Dave had let them take me. I can’t seem to find a motive for why they wouldn’t have.
I have other secrets I’m keeping from Cole too. Just keep adding them to my list. This bomb I’m going to have to eventually drop on him, I’m afraid it will fuck up his line of vision. And if I know Cole, he’ll want to hurt anyone and everyone who hurt me. I can’t let him do that. It will tarnish his name and ruin his future. I love him too much for that to happen.
But Cole can be as stubborn as they come, and I’m afraid no matter what I say, he won’t listen.
“Do you have to work tonight?” Sloane asks while curling her hair.
“Nope, first weekend off in a while.”
I’m a little bummed. I like making the cash. But it’s been slower than usual, so Lenny only wanted either me or Carla on. And since she is the one with three mouths to feed at home, I told her she could have the shift if she wanted it.
“There’s an open mic night at the bar in town. I hear they never even card. Can we go? Please?” She sticks her lip out. “I really want to hear you sing.”
“Depends. Are you going to sing too?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Girl, my voice is shit. But if it gets you up on that stage, you bet your ass I will.”
Clapping my hands, I jump up to change, actually excited to sing in front of people. It’s been a while. “Let’s do it.”
Rushing over to our mini fridge, she pulls out a six-pack of Smirnoff Ice. “We’ll Uber over. Let’s get buzzed first. That way, I don’t freeze up onstage.” Taking one of the bottles from the pack, she giggles. “A few of these babies, and I’ll be singing so loud that you’ll need earplugs. You’ll probably pretend like you don’t even know me.”
“You’ll do just fine, I’m sure,” I assure her before looking at her drink selection. Wrinkling my nose, I push past her and grab my new bottle of Crown Royal Peach. “I can’t drink that shit, but I’ll take a few shots of this.” Looking it over, I frown. “Besides, to sing in front of people again, I’m going to need something stronger than your bitch drinks.”
“Hey! These are yummy!” she whines.
“Different strokes for different folks.” I shrug. “Drink up!” I say, pointing to her bottle. “We’ve got singing to do.”
Cole
Staring down at my phone, I read Ally’s reply again, my body slowly filling with irritation.
I asked her what she was up to, and she told me it was a secret. With a laughing face emoji. It instantly irked me, given our history of her leaving and shit.
Hitting her Contact for the third time, I try to call her. Yet again, I get her voice mail.
Stomping on the gas, I drive toward her dorm.
“Dude, I thought we were going to go find a party. Why the fuck are we here?” Knox bitches.
“Yeah, man, what the hell’s going on? We got beers to drink and ass to find.” Weston hits my headrest lightly. “No particular order either,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.
Football players basically get any chick thrown at them. We’re at the top of the food chain even if I don’t understand why. We can throw a ball? Sweet. Somehow, I know that even if I wasn’t the star player I am—hell, even if I’d never picked up a football in my life—Ally would still love me.
“Ally isn’t answering. I just want to see if she’s home. Calm your dicks down,” I huff.
“Oh yeah, we’re the ones whose dicks needs calming,” Knox mumbles under his breath.
Throwing the truck in park, I glare at him. “Chill the fuck out, or I’ll have Ally come after you.”
My threat has him shutting his mouth real fast. For whatever reason, these guys are intimidated as shit by her. I suppose I can’t blame them. She’d scare me, too, if I didn’t find her so fucking hot when she was annoyed.
I walk up the stairs and to her dorm room. “Ally?” I knock a few times. “Ally?”
A chick with the blondest hair I’ve ever seen—so blonde that it actually burns my eyes a little—pops her head out of the dorm next to Ally’s, attempting to put an earring in.
She looks me up and down. “You lookin’ for someone, sugar?” her thick Southern accent drawls, and I can tell by the way she’s looking at me that she’s getting the wrong idea.
“Yeah, Ally,” I answer back shortly. It doesn’t take much for people to get the wrong impression these days. The last thing I want is this girl to think I’m coming on to her. “My girlfriend.”
That last part might be a stretch. I’ve never once asked her to be my girlfriend. Even as kids, we just knew we were together, and that was that. Things are different now. She seems to forget some days that she belongs to me.
I’m going to remind her of that real quick.
“That lucky bitch!” She rolls her eyes. “My girls and I are headed to meet her and Slo
ane in a few minutes. We’re running late.”
“Where?”
“They went to open mic night at Club 83.”
“Thanks,” I yell as I jog off.
Why would she need to go there and keep it a secret? Doesn’t she know how fucking sleazy college guys can be? Not to mention, the creepy fucks who hang out there?
“So, what’d ya find out, Cappy?” Knox says from the passenger side.
Pulling away from the curb, I grip the steering wheel with one hand. “Club 83. Open mic night. Her and Blondie.”
“Shit, man. Really?” He groans. “I haven’t seen that chick since they came over and watched a movie. Do we really need to roll up there? I’m not trying to have her up my ass tonight.”
“Holy fuck.” I laugh. “What are you smoking, man? Because I want some.”
“What do you mean?” Knox frowns, confused.
“If you really believe that chick is going to be up your ass and not the other way around, you’re on something.”
“Am not!” He pouts. “I thought we were going to a fucking party or something.”
“You can go home. I can drop you off. Both of you,” I say. Keeping my eyes fixed on the road. “You can paint each other’s nails and talk about who has the biggest vagina.”
“Fuck no. A chance to see people sing and bomb it? Hell yes, I’m going.” Weston cheers from the back.
Knox is quiet for a moment before finally shrugging. “Fine. Me too, I guess.”
I knew he wouldn’t miss out on going to an open mic night. And I know he’s avoiding Sloane. He likes her, but there’s something holding him back. I don’t know what it is, and it’s not really for me to figure out. Besides, I have enough fucking drama with my own girl.
The thought of hearing Ally sing makes me slightly less pissed at her. Aside from the night I gave her a ride home and she quietly sang along to “Broken,” I haven’t heard her sing in too damn long, and I miss it.
“What happened with you and this Sloane chick anyway?” Weston questions him. “Seems like she really bent your dick out of shape.”
Turning toward Knox, I grin. “Did Knoxy get his heart broken?”
“Fuck no,” he grumbles. “It’s just … complicated.”
I chuckle. “All women are, brother. All women are.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” he mumbles before laying his head back.
We strut in through the doors at Club 83, and just like every other place, everyone stops what they’re doing just to watch or say hello, fist-bump, purr like a cat, or thrust their titties at us. You name it, and we see it.
Some of the guys eat it up. Not me. I fucking hate being surrounded all the time. It makes me feel so claustrophobic. There’s no escaping it either. If we get up and go to a new seat, the vultures follow. We can tell them to fuck off, but even I don’t like to be a prick.
I’m an imposter. In this group of normal college kids, many who are rich or come from nice homes, I know I don’t belong. That’s why I’m most myself with Ally because we know where we each came from. It isn’t some hidden, dirty secret. As her note said, In the good and in the grit. Because it doesn’t matter which, we’ll have each other’s backs.
I look around the room for her but don’t see her anywhere. Shrugging off the cling-ons who are rubbing against my arms with their long, pointy, painted fingernails, I sense that feeling of suffocation coming over me. So many strangers, all touching me.
How the fuck will I make it in the NFL?
This is so small on the spectrum of attention. When I’m in the NFL, it’ll be like this times one hundred.
That’s really the only downfall to a future in playing pro ball. I want the world to know my name. I want my face and stats on the TV. I just don’t want everyone all up in my space when it happens. Unfortunately, that isn’t how it works. If you’re a pro athlete, it is assumed that your life is allowed to be broadcasted.
“Wade,” I call to Weston, “you see Al—”
I don’t finish my sentence when I spot her up on the stage, all alone.
A slow beat starts, and soon, her beautiful, haunted voice sings the lyrics to “Landslide.” Suddenly, every single person is quiet, watching her, completely captivated, including me. Abruptly, all the feelings I had about being annoyed that she snuck here without telling me are gone as she hypnotizes me with her voice.
Word by word, she rips my heart out and breaks it into more pieces. Not meaning to either. But she’s that good that she can bring you to that place where you hear all of her pain as she sings. She isn’t just up there, singing about cupcakes and rainbows. Fuck no. That girl has lived through hell, and it comes out in her voice.
Her eyes are closed for most of it. Something she does when she’s really into what she’s singing. And when she’s done, nobody moves, and nobody talks. Fuck, I’m not even sure if anyone breathes.
We all just stand there, completely numb from her gift.
Her lips turn up slightly as she gazes around the room. “Thank you,” she says before stepping down off the stage and walking over to Sloane.
Sloane instantly pulls her in for a hug and jumps up and down. Along with the rest of the crowd, who roars and cheers for her.
Within five minutes, she’s already gained fans, just by showing herself to them. The real her. The raw her.
Her angelic voice has this uncanny way of calming even the biggest of storms down. I should know. I’m one of them.
She hasn’t spotted me yet as I walk up behind her.
“Good job, beautiful.”
She turns slowly, and her cheeks redden. “Oh fuck. You heard me?” Graceful angel to crude pirate in a matter of seconds.
Gripping her chin softly, I look down at her. “I did. And I was pretty pissed off that you tried to be sneaky with me.” Moving my hands down her back, I cup her asscheeks and bring her closer. “You trying to piss me off, Allycat?”
“No,” she says, her eyes dancing with fire. “I don’t need a leash; you aren’t my master.”
Leaning my head down, I bite her neck before moving my lips to her ear. “You might want to rethink that, sweetheart.”
“Or what?”
“Or I won’t fuck you next time you’re begging for it.” I pull back, watching her reaction.
I don’t mean it. She wouldn’t have to beg much for me to give her what she wanted. But still, I’d like to try to instill some fear in her.
She only looks further amused as her lips twitch, and she laughs. “We both know I don’t need to beg you to give me what I need.” Standing on her tippy-toes, she wraps her arms around my neck. “Forgive me, master?”
She knows she’s the one in control. I can play God all I want, but when she snaps her fingers, I’m a little bitch.
Her little bitch.
“I suppose. You’ll just have to make it up to me.” I run my thumb over her bottom lip. “With that pretty mouth.”
She shudders before I lean down and put my mouth to hers.
When I kiss her lips, she tastes of Crown Royal Peach and smells of vanilla. A dangerous combination for my self-control.
Pulling back, I grin. “Thank your loudmouth neighbor for me showing up here.”
She laughs, her whole face lighting up as she does. “Extremely blonde hair?”
I nod.
“That’s Amber. She’s nuts, but I like her.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask her, unable to pull my eyes from her plump lips.
“Mmhmm,” she says and nuzzles her face against my shoulder. “Takes a nut to know a nut.”
“You have a point there.” I chuckle before murmuring against her ear, “Speaking of nuts, mine are blue just from watching you tonight. You going to take care of that or …”
She swats my chest. “Is Knox here? Sloane is singing next.” She giggles. “She said she’s an awful singer.”
“Oh boy. And yeah, he is. He seems pretty bitter over her. What even happened?”
She shrugs. �
��I really don’t know. She makes it sound like he blew her off and just hasn’t talked to her since. Who the hell really knows?”
I don’t understand the pair of them. At. All. They are confusing as fuck. But I know he’ll tell me when he wants to, so I’ll wait until he’s ready. God knows there’s enough shit about me that I’ve kept to myself and away from him and Weston.
A song starts, and everyone’s attention turns toward the stage, where Sloane stands with her blonde hair curled in waves, wearing a black dress.
She’s beautiful, but she’s not my type.
Pulling Ally’s back to my chest, I murmur against her hair, “What the fuck is this song?”
Her body shakes with laughter. “ ‘Sorry Not Sorry’ by Demi Lovato.” She cranes her neck to look up at me. “She picked a good one. I’d say she’s trying to send Knoxy boy a message.” Ally nods her chin and points to the bar, where Knox stares at the stage with a grumpy-ass look on his face. “He looks super impressed by it.” She giggles.
Turning my attention back to Sloane, I frown. “Ally … I know she’s your friend and all, but—”
“She’s fucking terrible,” she finishes my sentence, staring at the stage like a zombie.
“Yep. Aw-fucking-ful,” I agree with her, my ears literally burning inside from this chick’s voice.
Sweet fucking Jesus, make it stop.
“It’s so bad. But we have to make her feel like she did good,” Ally says. Turning her body toward me, she grips my cheeks. “For real, she’s been so sweet to me, and she was nervous about doing this. You need to tell everyone to be nice to her.” When I stare at her, confused, she widens her eyes. “Well, what the fuck are you standing here for? Go! Go tell the guys to be nice.”
Realization hits me. “Oh, right, right.” I start to strut off but turn toward her and narrow my eyes. “What do I get out of it?”
“You get me not kneeing you in your nutsack. Now, go!”
Smirking at her, I wink. “I’ll get something out of it. I’m sure of it.”
She looks like she might actually cut my dick off and stick it in a blender. The thought makes me cringe as I head over to the bar, where the guys are seated.