by Jenna Scott
She’s the type to lounge around in her robe while she’s putting on makeup and picking out something to wear, so there’s no chance she’ll walk out of the house while I’m talking, and I’m hoping she hasn’t started drinking yet if she’s planning to drive somewhere tonight. Despite her issues, one thing my mom does not do is drink and drive. Not since her twenties, when she got into a car accident after drinking with friends at a house party. The damage to the other car was minor, luckily, but she realized she could have easily injured (or worse) a family with a baby in their backseat.
Knocking on her door, I keep my voice light. “Hey, Mom?”
“It’s unlocked!”
Here goes nothing.
I go into her room, surprised at how neat it’s looking. Usually her space is a lot more…chaotic. She’s sitting at a vanity that’s littered with cosmetics, her fluffy pink robe wrapped around her and her hair twisted up in a towel. I’m struck by how beautiful she is like this, still bare-faced after her shower and looking relaxed and in her element.
“What’s up?” she asks, facing the mirror and carefully applying moisturizer.
There’s a nice dress laid out on the bed, heels, and a purse next to it.
“You going out on a date or something?” I ask, trying to make light conversation and ease into this discussion as gently as possible.
“That’s my business,” she answers stiffly. “What do you need?”
So much for breaking the ice.
“Well, actually, I do need your help with something…” I take a deep breath to steel myself, heart pounding. This feels like the most important conversation I’ve ever had in my life. My future depends on her. “I wanted to talk to you about school next year. Um, so far I’ve gotten into Cal Lutheran, UC Santa Barbara—”
“That’s a party school. You won’t like it there.” A snort curls Mom’s nose. “And what makes you think you can even afford to go? I sure as hell can’t pay for it.”
“I also got into Stanford,” I say, watching her face carefully for a reaction.
I never told her it’s my dream school, but surely even she is aware that it’s a really big deal for someone to get in. Part of me just wants her to say she’s proud. Or amazed. Or that she knew I had it in me. Something. Anything.
“Well, you definitely can’t afford to go there,” she says dismissively. “What about city college? They have two-year programs, and they’re free. You can get an associate’s like I did. That’s really all you need.”
Her nonchalance has my blood boiling, and before I stop to think, I say, “Yeah. If I want to clean houses for a living.”
The words are out of my mouth, and it’s too late to take them back. Both of us freeze. I feel my face go hot, and the floor seems to drop out from under my feet. Shit.
“Mom—”
She stands up now, pulling herself to her full height, eyes narrowing.
“You think you’re too good to clean houses, Camilla? That you’re so much better than me?” she hisses, glaring daggers. “You think getting some fancy degree is going to get you a job that pays a million dollars? Do you know how many people actually end up with a career in the field they majored in? Less than thirty percent. Look it up.”
Her words are hitting me like gut punches, but it’s not enough to deter me.
“I’m going to major in psychology,” I tell her. “I want to help people. I need a degree to do that.”
“Then get it at city college! The higher education system in this country is a con. It’s elitist. Nobody gives a shit where you went to school.”
“They do if you work in healthcare,” I point out. But she’s not even listening.
“Look at the Becks’ son. That boy is a perfect example! His dad is going to hand him a real estate job that pays six figures as soon as the kid graduates, and then he’ll be set for life. No college required. That’s who succeeds in this world. Not the people who study the hardest or work the hardest. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be. Don’t waste your time and other people’s money chasing pipe dreams.”
Blinking back tears, I shake my head. “I’m going. I’m not asking for money. I just need you to fill out the FAFSA so I can get loan offers. It’ll be my debt, not yours.”
Disgusted, she folds her arms across her chest. “Don’t be an idiot. You want to be paying off student loans for the rest of your life? Trust me, you don’t. And besides, you’re wasting your time. I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this when you have a perfectly good face and a decent figure, and there are plenty of men—”
“It’s my life to live, and I’m not gonna waste it trying to get someone else to take care of me because they think I’m pretty!” I cut her off. “Please, Mom, just do this one thing for me. My savings will cover some of the tuition at least, and—”
“What savings?” She’s gone stock-still, like a rattlesnake about to strike.
“My babysitting money,” I say. “I have almost ten thousand dollars saved up—”
“Ten thousand dollars,” she repeats, her voice suddenly ice cold. “You had ten thousand dollars, and you let us get evicted? Jesus.” She shakes her head. “I raised you all by myself with zero help from your father, not a dime of child support, no free childcare. I thought you were using up all your paychecks on groceries and bills, and here you are holding out on me this whole fucking time! How could you be so selfish?”
The realization of where this is going hits me like a ton of bricks. She talks like I’m asking her to climb Everest for me, but all I need her to do is give me data for an online form.
I speak softly, trying to appeal to her logical side, worried my college dreams are slipping away right before my eyes. “Mom, I’ll say this one more time. The only thing that I need you to do is fill out a form with me, and I’ll help you every step of the way. That’s it.”
“Ah. So I guess little miss perfect can’t do it all on her own. You still need me,” she taunts. “God, I should’ve been like your father. Escaped all this. But no, I had to keep you. I had to raise you. You’ve already ruined my life, Camilla. I’m not going to help you ruin yours. Forget Stanford. City college is good enough for you.”
In my chest, something breaks. The tears I’ve been battling to hold back well up again, full force. I hate her so much, and I can’t do anything about it.
“I ruined your life?” I choke out. “How can you even say that? I’m your daughter!”
I never asked her for help with anything, and I worked hard all my life to help her however I could. So stupid of me to think this could’ve gone differently.
“No, you know what? You ruined your own life,” I go on. “You ruin it every day when you fill that glass with—”
Her hand moves so fast I don’t have time to react. Pain sears my left cheek, my face whipping to the side with the strength of her slap.
As tears slip from my eyes, all I can think is leave.
Chapter Forty-One
Camilla
Holding my face, cheek throbbing where my mother hit me, I turn around and run.
Out of the pool house, across the yard, into the Becks’. Rushing toward the one person who will hold me together while this pain tears my heart to shreds.
I burst into Hunter’s room. He’s in bed, in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt with his phone in his hand, but he sits up as soon as he sees me and tugs his earbuds out. A sob rattles my throat. Still near the door, I hesitate, chin trembling.
“Milla? What’s wrong?”
He holds out his arms, and I run over, crashing into him on the bed.
“My mom,” I sob, and then I can’t stop.
Hunter holds me close, and I bury my head in his neck. The pain’s still there, tearing a hole inside me, but being close like this lessens it somewhat. I can feel Hunter’s warm, solid chest rising and falling beneath me, his steady arms around me. His presence reminding me that there is someone who wants me. That my mom is wrong, and I�
�m not the kind of person who ruins lives.
“What did she say this time?” he asks softly.
I’ve made some offhanded mentions of our arguments, and I know he’s overheard a few of my mom’s harsh comments, but I’ve tried to shield him from the worst of it. Not anymore though. I’m done trying to cover for her.
“That…” I do my best to sniff and stammer my way through it. “She’s not going to help me with my college stuff. That I ruined her life. She said it’s my fault we got evicted, and that…that I’m selfish. She called me little miss perfect, but I’m not.”
I dissolve into tears again, equal parts relieved and humiliated.
“That’s a lot of bullshit,” Hunter says. “Shh. Don’t cry because of her. You’re the most unselfish person I know; she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You’re the best thing she ever did.”
Warmth blooms on my temples, then again on my cheek. Hunter’s kissing me as he speaks, putting my heart back together with his touch. I’m so starved for affection that it makes me cry even harder.
“But what about college?” I stammer. “I don’t have enough saved up, and she won’t do the FAFSA for me, and…”
“It’ll be okay. I promise. We’ll figure it out.” He kisses the edge of my jaw and in my ear whispers, “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
He says that last sentence over and over, like a charm, and I find myself holding on to the idea harder than I’m holding on to his body. I believe it when he says it.
It’s between his arms and my tears that I realize the one stable thing in my life right now is Hunter. I finally stop crying and start to calm down. Contented to feel Hunter’s warmth, I stay in his arms for a while longer, letting my tears dry. Finally, I excuse myself to go to his bathroom and blow my nose, splashing cool water on my face and rinsing my mouth out with mouthwash.
“Feeling any better?” he asks when I pad back over to his bed, brushing my hair back with his fingers.
I nod and climb back over to him, curling up in his lap. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” He holds me tight in his arms but doesn’t try to do anything other than trace my cheek with his thumb and look at me. There’s concern in his eyes, and underneath that, genuine affection. Something I crave but have kept at a distance because I was afraid that we had no future.
But futures are uncertain. Only the present is real. Solid. Tangible.
And right now, I need to feel closer to him. As close as I can.
“Hunter,” I say slowly, like a confession, as I adjust my position to straddle him. I grip his broad shoulders and then close the distance between us. His lips are soft against mine, and his tongue tastes of salt and sadness.
I feel his hands circle my waist while we kiss, and then one sneaks around to the small of my back, stroking the soft skin that’s exposed where my shirt has ridden up. I don’t want to leave this and go back to the pool house. Even if my mom is long gone by now, that’s not where I want to be.
When we pull apart, I touch my forehead to his. “I don’t want to go back home.”
Hunter gives his head a small shake. “Then don’t. Stay with me.”
“Okay.”
Our lips meet again, more aggressive this time. With every touch, I sink deeper into him, surrendering more of myself, and with every kiss, I’m hungrier. The sadness I feel is still there, but something else is growing to devour it.
My fingers find the hem of his T-shirt, and Hunter barely has time to raise his arms before I tear it over his head. He does the same with mine, and with a flick, unhooks my bra and throws it aside.
Skin to skin, I wrap myself around him, kissing him harder until he flips me over. My back hits the sheets, and Hunter looms over me, eyes half-lidded, knee between my legs. “Milla,” he says, mouth so close to mine our breaths mingle. “Tell me what you want. I need you to be really clear right now.”
A shiver of embarrassment crosses my chest, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. “To be with you,” I whisper.
“You’re already with me,” he says, an edge of mischief to his lips as he brings them down against mine. He runs his thumb across one of my nipples, and heat pools in my abdomen. Under my fingers, the muscles on his back shudder. When I lightly bite his lip, Hunter hisses a breath, looking at me darkly. It’s the look he gets when he wants to put his mouth and his hands all over me—and more than that, if I’d let him.
I want to let him.
“I want to be with all of you,” I say, feeling lame, but it’s what comes out.
“You want to have sex,” he says, but I know it’s a question. A question I have to answer if I want this to go any further.
“I want to have sex,” I repeat, our eyes locking. “With you.”
The Adam’s apple bobs in Hunter’s throat. For a moment, he doesn’t seem to breathe, doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything other than pin me to the bed with his heavy body and his heated gaze. Then, suddenly, it’s like I’ve unleashed an animal.
His mouth crashes down on mine, our tongues sliding against each other, and his hand moves lower to pop the button of my shorts and slide the zipper down. He wastes no time slipping his fingers down my panties, tracing my opening with his thumb before slowly dipping a finger into me.
Hunter only stops kissing me to say, “You’re already so wet…” before his finger pumps deeper, in and out, and the sound of my wetness draws even more of a blush to my cheeks. My back arches, and I spread my legs wider to give him better access.
As he fingers me, his thumb brushes my clit, his mouth trailing from my cheek to my chin to my neck, finally planting kisses on the line of my collarbone. Moans and gasps slip out of me, my thigh muscles trembling, my hips grinding to meet his movement. The pleasure builds inside me, and I’m impossibly tight as the feeling grows and grows and…stops.
I look up at Hunter, and he has the wickedest smirk I’ve ever seen on him.
“Don’t worry, Milla. You’re gonna get something even better,” he says, kissing me deeply until I’m out of breath.
Then he moves his hot mouth down to suck on both my nipples before heading lower, past my navel, and I suddenly sit up, shocked. His fingers going down there I expected, but his mouth? I don’t know why I didn’t prepare mentally for this, but I didn’t, and now he’s taking off my shorts and underwear in one easy movement.
“What are you…?” I ask, even though I know exactly what he aims to do. And as hesitant as I am to expose myself to him like this, the prospect of having his tongue there makes me even wetter.
“I’m going to eat you,” he says. “Stop is your safe word, yeah?”
Before I have time to lose my nerve, he’s grabbing my thighs and tugging my naked body toward the edge of the bed, sliding off and shifting my ass closer to the edge. Dropping to his knees with his face between my legs, he looks up and says, “I did tell you I wanted another taste.”
Oh my God, I can’t believe this is really happening, and then it is.
The first lick alone steals my breath, long and wet and slow, tracing a line all the way up to my clit. I let out a gasp that turns into a low moan, and Hunter laughs a little, his breath hot against my pussy, and says, “You’re lucky we’re home alone tonight.”
After the second lap of his tongue, I’m clutching the comforter in my fists, head tilted back, eyes shut tight. Writhing is the only way to describe how my body’s moving, my thighs squeezing his head as I try to stay in control. I can feel everything. Every shift of his lips, every twitch of his tongue, every soft suck.
“Oh my fucking God,” I pant. I’ve never experienced anything like this.
Hunter pulls back, and I can hear the amusement in his voice as he says, “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.”
One of his fingers has been circling my entrance as he talks, but now he slips it inside me with ease. I immediately tighten, but slowly, gently, Hunter opens me up.
This is different than th
e times he’s fingered me before. Deeper, less frantic. I’m wetter, hotter, and so close to the edge that I think I might actually come.
I look down my body at him, and our eyes lock, my heartbeat echoing in my ears. He dips his head, and his tongue and fingers—yes, it’s plural now—are stroking and rubbing me just right. Tongue circling my clit, fingers pumping into me, faster, faster.
“Hunter, I’m…” I whimper. “I’m going to…”
“Do it, Milla.” He bends his fingers, tapping some spot inside me that sends a flush of white-hot heat through my body, and then he whispers again. “Come.”
I can’t though. God. I can’t let myself go, can’t stop tensing up.
“I can’t,” I tell him breathlessly. “I’m trying.”
“Then stop trying,” he whispers.
With that, he switches to long, slow laps of his tongue, so slow I can feel myself clenching in anticipation between each stroke. The heat is building again, coiling tighter by the second. “Oh my God,” I moan, drawing it out.
“Mm-hmm,” Hunter moans, the sound vibrating against my pussy. “Mmm.”
He moans again, but longer this time, louder, sounding almost as desperate as I am, and that’s it. Heat is spilling out of me in an unstoppable rush, pleasure exploding from my center. My hips buck, and I’m grinding on Hunter’s tongue, riding it as colors start to flash in front of my eyes.
“Hunter,” I whisper, over and over again.
I thought it would feel the same as when I do it by myself, but somehow, it’s so much better. Gasping for air, I’m whimpering helplessly as I finally come, in waves, all over his mouth and fingers, melting into a torrent of pleasure I never imagined.
Chapter Forty-Two
Hunter
Camilla. I can’t get enough of her.
The way she moans with her eyes half closed, biting her lip like that, makes me want to torment her even more, give her orgasm after orgasm until she breaks.