Winter Miracle

by Teagan Kade

  “I am,” he says, arms crossed. “And you two are going to accept it.”

  I can’t stop shaking my head. How did this get so fucked up so fast? “He’s right, Hunter.”

  Hunter suddenly winces, reaching for his head before shaking it off. “Fuck that.”

  “If you’re going to be angry at anyone,” I continue, “it should be at Dad for not putting up more of a fight.”

  “What do you want him to do?” questions Colton. “This is too much. You heard her. I did throw the first punch. I go down or we all go down, and I’m not going to have that on my conscience, because I can start over. I mean, fuck it, I wasn’t that serious about lacrosse anyways.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Colton shakes his head. “No, bro, but you guys?” he points between us. “Abbotsleigh is home. You’re fucking Trojans, champions. This is where you belong.”

  All of us stand there silent, stunned.

  “I’m begging you,” pleads Colton, avoiding eye contact. “Let me do this one thing.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” says Hunter.

  Colton places a hand on his shoulder. “You can.” And I swear to god I’ve never seen him so serious. “And you fucking will.”

  *

  We split up. I don’t ask where the others are going and they don’t tell. We need space right now, to think.

  I hit the old gym, grateful to find it empty.

  I look at myself in the mirror, nothing more than a common jock, and I cannot fucking stand it. I pick up a dumbbell and heave it across the room with everything I have. It smashes against the free weights, rolling across the floor.

  But it’s undamaged.

  It’s been around for seventy, eighty years doing what it was designed to do. An angry punk like me can’t even put a dent in it.

  I stoop down and pick it up, enjoying the weight of it in my hand, the dull pain it brings. “Sorry, buddy.”

  I shouldn’t be taking out my issues on gym equipment, but I do know I need to blow off some steam, do something to release the pressure.

  I text Indy one simple message: I NEED YOU. NOW.

  *

  I open the door and there she is, the answer to every problem in the world.

  “What happened?” she asks. “I saw you guys being taken to the admin building?”

  I place a finger against her lips. “I can’t, not now. I just want to be inside you. Please.”

  She nods.

  We attack one another the moment I’m through the door.

  I crush her against the wall, my hand fisted in her hair, pulling her to my mouth. But what I really want is to taste her, see how wet she is for me, lose myself in her.

  I brace her stomach with one hand as I lower myself to the ground, lifting her skirt. I kiss the soft flesh of her inner thighs, my stubble rasping against the tender skin there while I draw her panties aside.

  She whimpers, fingers webbed in my hair, as I lick her long and wet. She groans, begging me for more, as I repeat the motion.

  She’s fucking delicious. I bring my fingers up beside my mouth, teasing and caressing her folds, covering her hole with the flat of my tongue before working my way up to her clit.

  I insert my middle finger and look up to her, my lips wet. “You’re going to come so fucking hard for me, baby. Wait and see.”

  I growl, low and deep, licking her again, my tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of her sex.

  It’s not enough. I want her naked. I want all of her, and I want it now.

  I stand and strip as fast as my fingers will allow, buttons popping off and pinging to the floor in my haste. She’s panting, lifting her shirt off and unclasping her bra, her skirt peeled away. I unbuckle and unzip, gripping her panties with two hands, tearing them at the side.

  She gasps, face caught somewhere between fear and pleasure at my sudden aggression, but she doesn’t know how much I need this, how much I’ve been craving her body.

  And then, finally, she is naked, raw.

  She quivers when I run my hands up her side, her skin pebbling with goosebumps.

  I breathe hard, raking over her with my ice-blue eyes.

  I take a breast in one hand and gather her hair in the other, turning her head sideways to kiss her neck. My thumb brushes over her nipple. It turns to a taut peak at my touch.

  “I fucking love you,” I tell her, speaking into the pink cornucopia of her ear. “I need to be inside you. I need to feel your pussy squeezing my cock.”

  “Cayden,” she exhales, breathless.

  All rational thought is lost when I kiss her again, her desire still fresh on my lips.

  She reaches between us and finds my hardness. It pulses in her grip.

  Enough.

  I pick her up, cradling her in my arms to the bed. I toss her onto the mattress, just like our first time.

  She lies there in wait, slowly allowing her legs to spread, her glistening center opening. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, so fucking sexy.

  I fall on top of her and take a nipple into my mouth, sucking it—desperate, hungry, unable to quench my thirst for this woman. I moan as I lick her, taking my time to enjoy the small, minute sensations. I’m trying to be gentle, but the animal inside me is straining at its leash.

  I kiss her again and she returns it with even greater urgency, her mouth hard on mine. I never thought I would know passion and hunger like this, love at its most primal and powerful.

  I lift myself and set my forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. I take hold of her thigh in one hand and draw it up, opening her wide.

  My naked cock sits against her opening.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  She nods with approval.

  I groan as I fill her, losing myself in the slick heat of her pussy.

  “Cayden,” she gasps, fingers digging into my shoulder.

  I pull back and drive in again. I love the feel of her, the feeling of nothing standing between us, skin on skin.

  I fuck her harder, bending her right leg back, her ankle dancing on my shoulder, her body opening up even further and allowing me to plunge to new depths of pleasure. I’m deeper than ever, buried to my balls inside her.

  She whimpers. I silence her with my mouth, my tongue slipping between her lips as my cock does likewise below, the lewd sounds of the act filling the room, sounds I could happily listen to on repeat for all eternity.

  I take her other leg and bend it to match, amazed at the new sensation it creates, my cock completely enveloped by the slippery channel of her sex.

  “You’re so deep,” she pants.

  I rock forward. “This deep?”

  “Yes. Oh, god. Cayden.”

  I drive into her again, her legs dancing on my shoulders.

  I fuck her like it’s our last night on earth. She clenches as I do, her muscles gripping the hot length of my cock as it sluices in and out of her pussy.

  “Squeeze me,” I tell her. “Squeeze my cock with your pussy.”

  “Yes,” she pants, eyes closed in concentration.

  They flicker open as she comes. I hold them with my own, enjoying it just as much as she does until I’m too close to the breaking point to hold off.

  Her next words undo me.

  “Come,” she says. “It’s okay. Come inside me.”

  I roar in climax, my mouth capturing hers, my cock jerking inside her until I’m dry and spent.

  We lay there, tangled together, for the next few minutes staring at the roof. We separate naturally, stretched out beside one another.

  Her dove eyes are glassy as she takes me in. I hold the back of her head and draw her closer, locking us.

  I snake a hand between her legs, using our mutual arousal to lubricate the tight pearl of her clit.

  Her mouth drops open, a shock of pleasure running through her body.

  I hook a thumb inside her, curling it up to rub against her g-spot. I love the sound she makes. It’s all a ma
jor fucking turn on—her scent, our scent, driving me fucking crazy with want.

  She lightly thrusts her hips up to meet my hand, quietly pleading for more.

  I ease my thumb in—in, out, in, out, working on her clit in tandem.

  She starts to thrash, her head whipping from side to side, desperate for more.

  I take her hand and wrap it around my cock. “Feel how hard you’re making me.”

  It doesn’t take her long—a simple lick of her nipple does it.

  Her back bends, spine lifting from the sheets, as she comes once more.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  INDY

  Cayden fills me in as we lie there naked, still no sign of the others past the door.

  I play with the wiry hair around the root of his cock, amazed at how soft it is. “I could talk to the Dean, tell her what really happened.”

  Cayden’s head rocks from left to right on the pillow, an arm behind his head. “No. It wouldn’t do any good. He’s right. He did throw the first punch, and the Dean needs blood. Besides, our wonderful father already okay’d it.”

  “He did?”

  He shakes his head again. “It’s fucking crazy, I know. Dad’s willing to fight for the dirtiest criminals in the country but doesn’t give a damn about his own son, because, what, he doesn’t play football? It’s bullshit.”

  I have to agree, but deeper down, selfishly, I’m happy it’s not Cayden who’s being forced to leave.

  He lifts his head from the pillow, eyes fixed on me.

  I suddenly become self-conscious, which is kind of amusing given what we’ve just been through. “Have I got something in my teeth?”

  “Yeah, a pube.”

  I rub my teeth frantically.

  He laughs. “Jesus, I’m joking. You look perfect.” His cell’s lying on the bedside drawer. He taps it. “I just wish you’d let me take a photo of you, for my own enjoyment, of course.”

  “You know the rules.”

  He twists a strand of my hair around his finger, watches it unravel, ultramarine eyes multi-dimensional in the afternoon light. “What’s it all about, this secrecy? Because you can trust me completely. I want you to know that. I would never betray you.”

  Betray—A fitting word.

  “It’s better you don’t know,” I tell him, pulling close to his side.

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “If I keep skipping class to sex it up with you, I will be.”

  His hand snakes between my legs, fingers curling around the tender mound of my sex, still sensitive from multiple orgasms. “I say we skip college altogether, spend the next two years holed up in here.”

  “You’d get sick of me.”

  “Sick of you?” he scoffs. “Impossible.” He removes the hand from between my legs and runs it over my shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Looking for your wings.”

  “My wings?” But I should know what’s coming next.

  “Because heaven called.” He smiles. “It’s missing an angel.”

  I shove him away, almost managing to push him off the bed entirely.

  He corrects and kneels, his cock swelling. “Maybe you should try out for quarterback.”

  “Sports aren’t my thing. I told you.”

  He grips his cock. “How about golf, a little hole-in-one?”

  I spread my legs. “As long as you don’t send it into the rough.”

  *

  The Lab’s far quieter tonight. In fact, our only patron is a Sheldon lookalike who appears fresh from chemistry club.

  “I think he’s playing Pokemon Go,” Lucy whispers over my back.

  “I hate to break it to him,” I reply. “But the monsters around here don’t fit in your pocket.”

  She whips my butt with her towel. “My god, was that a penis joke?”

  “I guess it just kind of slipped out.”

  Lucy snorts. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Speaking of pocket monster, did you hear what happened to Colton Beckett?”

  I nod. “Yeah. It sucks.”

  Lucy goes back to cleaning the bar—a rather impossible task. I doubt even a sander would do it much good.

  “I gave my side of events to the Dean,” she says. “I told her Dwayne started it. I was out back, yes, but I imagine that’s what happened, right?”

  “Right, so why isn’t he being booted?”

  “He’s being reprimanded as far as I know, but Daddy’s pretty well connected.”

  “More connected than the Becketts? I find that hard to believe.”

  Lucy places her hand on my back. “Oh, naïve Indiana. Everyone here at Abbotsleigh is connected. Dwayne’s dad owns half the power in this state and the next three over. Jerry Beckett is rich, but Dwayne Senior is the Scrooge McDuck of the South.”

  “I see.” It only reinforces how far out of my league I am here. Abbotsleigh’s right up there with Princeton and Harvard, an education powerhouse, only with swamps and grits instead of ivy.

  “Go on,” says Lucy, nodding to the door. “Get to the game. I’ll handle Professor Hawking here,” she adds, glancing to the Sheldon lookalike.

  “Really?”

  “Men in tights and big, padded bras? Who could resist?” She smiles.

  “Thanks,” I reply, and I’m off, sprinting across campus towards Troy… and Cayden.

  It’s almost kickoff when I arrive. I miraculously manage to find a seat right down on the front row between a set of couples too busy burying their tongues down each other’s throat to pay attention to the game—not that I’m much better.

  I lock on Number One, on Cayden. For a guy in tights and an oversized bra, he looks like sex incarnate out on the field, setting up for the first play.

  I have to pat myself on the back. My sporting knowledge is improving, and as for Cayden’s golf swing… Whoa, momma.

  I even shout, a tentative ‘Wooo!’ that sounds like a whale dying.

  Finally, things are settling down. Yes, Colton’s expulsion is going to be difficult for Cayden and Hunter. I know how close the brothers are, but they will adjust, as will Colton.

  As nice as the clean, urban lines of NYU were, I’m started to enjoy the leafy surrounds of Abbotsleigh.

  But for how long?

  The question nags at me. Once more I am reminded of the reason I am here.

  I watch Cayden pluck the ball from the air and dart down the field, expertly weaving his way between the opposing team. I have to admit, he was born for this, a bird in flight.

  I see the way other girls look at him, their more primal instincts kicking in because he couldn’t possibly be more alpha, more ‘leader of the pack,’ and you can’t help but want to be a part of that, to become part of the legend.

  But I don’t want to be part of it. I want to be the whole thing—forever and ever.

  I picture Cayden in a suit and practically melt into a puddle.

  A cheer goes up as the Trojans score their first touchdown, Cayden shouting and pounding his chest. He stops, sees me in the crowd and nods, a wide smile spanning behind his face mask.

  I spot Hunter in the distance. He seems lost, walking away from his teammates, hands on his hips.

  Cayden’s too busy pandering to the crowd to notice.

  The field resets for the next play, Cayden right in the mix of it.

  And then it happens.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CAYDEN

  Troy is my city, my home. I’m not about to let the Huskies come trampling in and fuck up this winning streak.

  The play’s on.

  I take it all in—the Huskies’ cornerback shifting, the five-yard cushion, the inside slot.

  Hunter should be there, but he misses it and the Huskies slip through for their first touchdown.

  Fuck.

  I jog over. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “My bad,” he says. “Won’t happen again?”

  Ricky joins us. “You good, Beckett?”

&
nbsp; We both turn to him.

  “Hunter,” he clarifies.

  Hunter nods and slaps the side of his helmet. “Never been better.”

  Ricky starts to run off. “Good. Let’s fuck up some Huskies.”

  Hunter and I butt our helmets together and get into position.

  I check with Coach. He signals from the sidelines.

  ‘The Lonesome Polecat’—a classic play.

  I make the call. Our center lines up alone on the ball, the rest of the offensive line split to his left, two receivers to the right and me alone in a shotgun formation.

  This is going to be fun.

  I crouch, ready, but someone’s shouting to my right.

  I turn and at first don’t see it… until Ricky goes running past me.

  I scan the field.

  It’s Hunter. He’s on the ground, face down.

  But the play hasn’t even started, I’m thinking. How the hell did he go down?

  I join Ricky, some of the others picking up on what’s happening and moving over.

  There’s a low murmur in the crowd.

  I pull off my helmet and toss it aside, sliding up to Hunter and rolling him over.

  He’s out cold.

  The fuck?

  “Hunter!” I shout.

  No response.

  Any icy cavern opens up in my gut, a deep knowing that something is seriously wrong.

  A ring of players closes around us, one of the refs pushing through and kneeling down. “Call an ambulance,” he shouts. “Now!”

  *

  Coach had to put the second string guy in. We lost, but I couldn’t give a damn right now.

  Colton enters the waiting room. “Cay, what the hell’s going on?”

  I shrug and take a seat, crushing a plastic cup in my hand. “They say he dropped, just like that.”

  “Was he tackled?”

  “It wasn’t during a play.”

  Colton spins on the spot, hands on his head. “Fuck. I know he hasn’t been feeling himself, a bit weird maybe, but—” he trails off.

  A TV mounted to the wall is playing Seinfeld re-runs, the canned laughter completely out of place given the situation.

  My cell rings. I take it out.

  It’s Indy.

  She was one of the first onto the field from the stands, right by my side. I told her I’d keep her updated as they bailed me into the back of the ambulance with Hunter, but my cell already reads six missed calls.