by Annie Stone
Hunter gets me a blanket, and I fall asleep with my head on his thigh on the bathroom floor.
When I wake up, my head hurts, and, for the first time, I have no memory whatsoever of what happened late last night. I know Hunter was going to pick me up from Brit’s. And I guess he must have, because I’m at home. But what happened after that? I have no idea.
It’s disturbing not being able to remember whole chunks of my night, but I do know nothing bad could have happened, because Hunter was there to watch out for me. I’m positive about that. But in a different situation, a lot of stuff could have happened. I should be more careful. Me, of all people, should know better.
Groaning, I roll out of bed, look down, and notice I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes. I change into yoga pants and a T-shirt, moaning from the headache. Slowly and painfully, I make my way downstairs. I can hear voices in the kitchen.
“Morning,” Carey says with too much fervor.
“Too loud!” I mumble. Why is it so damn bright in here?
He laughs and puts an arm around my shoulders. “Hungover?”
I free myself from his clutch and go grab a bottle of water. I gulp down half of it in one go. God, I’m thirsty!
“You should really be a better role model for us!” Carey says. I know he’s joking, but he’s actually right. I really shouldn’t get this drunk living in a house with two minors.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. I look over at Hunter, who’s leaning against the counter. “Thanks for saving my ass.”
“Any time, doll.” Carey laughs, but I get the impression Hunter isn’t joking. He means it.
“He really did save your ass,” Carey calls out much too loudly. “I was going to paint your face.”
His voice pierces my skull. “Thanks.”
Laughing, he hands me a cup of coffee. And despite his screeching, I suddenly really love him. “Where’s your dad?” I ask.
“He had to go to New York,” Hunter says. “It was urgent. He said he’d call you.”
“For how long?” I ask, a bit annoyed.
Hunter shrugs. “A week or so?”
“So, speaking of Dad being gone, we wanted to talk to you,” Carey says, looking at me with big, puppy-dog eyes. “School starts tomorrow.”
“I’m aware,” I grumble. “Do you need me to hold your hand and walk you in?”
He rolls his eyes. “Very funny, Mac. No. We just…” He looks nervously at his brother. “We want to throw a little back-to-school party tomorrow night.”
“That’s a Monday night,” I point out.
“Yeah.”
“It’s a school night.”
“When you were in high school, were you bullied for these astute observations?” Hunter smiles. “Captain Obvious?”
I give him a dark look. “Well, what did your dad say?”
Carey, the little heartbreaker, puts his arm around me, all affection, and looks at me with imploring blue eyes. “He’s left us in your capable hands, Mac. So, we thought—”
“Oh, no,” I say, shrugging his arm off me.
“Come on, Mac!” he says, giving me a bright smile.
I shake my head. “I know what your parties are like.”
Hunter smiles at me, too, like innocence personified. “That was not a normal party. We know what happened then was wrong. And it was amazing, what you did for that girl.”
“Oh, cut it out!” I snap, and he laughs.
“Mac—”
“No way.”
Hunter’s chocolate-brown eyes—damn you, Brittany!—catch my gaze and hold it. “Doll—”
“No!” God, I hate that nickname!
But still. They’re both standing next to me, looking at me so nicely, smiling so sweetly… I can feel my defenses crumbling. I can’t give in. Then they’ll just keep me there in the palm of their hands… Now, I must not cave…
“No alcohol.” I’ve said it before I even think it. And they know they’ve won before I do.
Triumphant smiles break out on both their faces.
“You know it’s not a party without beer,” Hunter says, gearing up for the next battle.
“I can’t let you serve liquor.”
Carey’s smile is a little diabolical as he says, “Why don’t you spend tomorrow night at Brittany’s and just be blissfully unaware of what’s happening here?”
I frown. “So that’s your plan, is it?”
“It’s not like we don’t want you around,” Hunter adds. “We just thought it’d be easier on your conscience that way…”
“Oh, you’re worried about my conscience now?”
He laughs, and Carey puts his arms around me again. “Sweet Mac—”
“Oh, stop it!”
He plants a kiss on my cheek and repeats, “Sweet, sweet Mac…”
I roll my eyes, annoyed that I’m such a sucker. “Fine.”
“Yes!” Carey calls out, pumping a fist in the air. Hunter holds up a hand, and Carey gives him a high five.
“I can’t stand you guys,” I mutter.
Their answer is laughter. Then they start bustling about, getting ready for their little project. Emotionally drained, I sink down on a stool. What have I done?
12
Hunter
It’s the first day of school. The first day of school at my new school. I should be nervous, but I’m not. I’m big and good-looking. I’m not going to have any problems. Still, I’d like to get today over and done with as soon as possible. It really fucks things up to transfer for your senior year of high school, but there was no other way for me. We couldn’t stay with Mom.
Still, I can hardly wait to finish high school. Don’t get me wrong—school’s easy for me. I always get good grades. But it’s annoying. At my high school in Miami, I was the king. And still I always felt like I just wanted to get it over with. It’s not so much about the classes and studying. It’s more that I finally want to start living my own life without others telling me what to do all the time.
Soon enough, I’ll be able to do what I want. The question is: What do I want to do? There are a few colleges I’m going to apply to, and I might get a football scholarship if I’m lucky. But is that what I really want? I have no idea. Everyone expects me to go to college, especially Dad. He wouldn’t understand if I didn’t.
So, while I want this year to go by real fast, at the same time, I want it to crawl along at a snail’s pace. And the reason?
Mac…
I chase the thought away. No, there are other reasons. And, dear God, I don’t want to think of her being with Dad. Of her fucking him. Fuck, no images, please!
“Hey, Hunt!” Devon calls from down the hallway, and I walk over to him. He slaps me on the shoulder, and I feign a punch. He laughs.
“Ready for your first practice?” he asks. “Coach is gonna keep an eye on you. See if you’ve got what it takes to play for us.”
With a cocky grin, I nod. “More than ready. I can’t wait to start playing again.”
“I’m sure you’re gonna be a great addition to the team.”
Ava puts her arms around him from behind, and he turns around to kiss her. I feel a stab of jealousy. I want something like that, too, which I’m realizing more and more. Someone who’s there to stay. The problem is—I want that someone to be Mac.
Devon and I have first period together. I’ve always had a lot of friends, but I’ve never had a buddy I actually trusted. I mean really trusted. No, up until now, I’ve only ever trusted Carey, because I know for sure that he’ll always be on my side. But it’s starting to look like Devon’s cut from the same cloth. After spending so much time together this summer, I have to say, I think he’s been a good influence on me.
As starting quarterback, he’s popular as hell, but for some reason he’s not as much of an asshole as most high-school kings. Even I was an asshole back in Miami. But Devon rules with class. The fact that he’s been with Ava forever seems to add to the respect people have for him.
It’
s clear pretty quickly that classes here are no more difficult than in Miami. And I brought a good transcript with me—with a great GPA—so I don’t need to worry about grades much. Which is lucky, because here, the school has a no-nonsense policy on the grades you have to keep to play sports. But that doesn’t even matter if I don’t make the team.
After school, Devon introduces me to the coach, who seems super strict, but his team respects him, and that’s what matters. He watches me during practice and makes me do extra drills while he takes notes. When I finally run off the field, exhausted, he stops me.
“I can’t promise anything, Hunter, but you did all right.” He nods at me.
Devon, who overheard him, smiles wide as we head to the changing rooms. “That was the highest praise I’ve ever heard from him,” he says earnestly.
I laugh, relieved, because I thought it went pretty well, too. Carey, who practiced with the JV team, approaches us, looking completely spent. Coach pushed us harder today than the coach back in Miami ever did, but that’s a good thing.
“See you tonight?” I ask Devon as we part ways in the parking lot.
“Sure, man. How did you manage that, by the way? Throwing another party after the last fiasco? And on a school night?”
Carey smiles. “Mac’s not as bad as we thought.”
Devon laughs. “I kind of liked her from the beginning.”
I shrug. “I’m still not convinced she’s with our old man for the right reasons, but she’s okay.”
Carey shoots me a look. “She’s more than just okay.”
“Maybe.”
At home, we start getting the place ready. It sort of makes me sad Mac’s not going to be there. I put on jeans and a washed-out T-shirt, then look at myself in the mirror and wonder whether I should shave. More specifically, I wonder whether Mac would want me to shave.
I don’t know why I’m such a masochist. She’s out of bounds. She’s fucking Dad. Not to mention she’d never start anything with a minor. And even though the legal age in California is eighteen, I doubt she’ll start fucking me on my birthday in March.
And, to be honest, I don’t just want to fuck her. I want something more…
And I never thought I’d say that about a woman.
Speaking of women, when the party’s in full swing, Liza finds me. She just smiles up at me, and I kiss her on the head. It makes me feel very domesticated.
I try to talk to Carey, but he’s distracted. With Katie. The man has finally managed to get laid. Just thinking back to how excited he was makes me smile. And Katie’s a nice girl. A little boring maybe, but it could’ve been worse. And I kind of like that he’s following in Devon’s footsteps instead of mine.
Even if I’m enjoying my casual arrangement with Liza, and definitely don’t regret fucking all the girls in my past, I still want something different for my little brother. He doesn’t have to end up a cynical bastard like me.
Just looking at him, it’s hard not to see that he’s happy. And I haven’t seen him happy in a long time. Not since before our parents’ divorce, actually. Of course, it’s not just Katie. It’s Mac, too.
Strange as it is, Mac has changed our lives for the better. She’s helped Carey cope with his problems so much, helped him understand it’s not his fault our mom doesn’t love him like he deserves. Like I deserve. Oddly enough, the more time that passes without hearing from Mom—the more she shows us she doesn’t give a shit about us—the less it hurts. It’s still hard, but I’m no longer broken by it.
Liza rubs my stomach like she always does when she wants sex. I look down at her, kiss her on the mouth, and whisper, “Later, babe.” Slipping her arms around my waist, she leans her head against my chest. It may not be her I want, but it feels good to be holding someone in my arms.
As we promised Mac, the party’s over by one. I take Liza upstairs, eat her pussy, fuck her, and let her blow me, imagining the entire time that it’s Mac’s caramel eyes looking at me with my dick in her mouth.
When we’re done, I take Liza back downstairs to walk her out. I know it’s not the gentlemanly thing to do, but I don’t want her staying over. It’s too intimate, too boyfriend-girlfriend. Too complicated.
In the front hall, I press her up against the wall again and kiss her goodbye, pushing my hips against hers.
“Oh, sorry!” It’s Mac’s voice.
Liza and I pull apart.
Fuck! Why did she have to get home right at that moment? I don’t want her to see me with Liza when I’m still daydreaming about us being a couple one day—which obviously won’t happen if I keep fucking someone else.
Liza kisses me, sort of embarrassed, and hurries outside. I turn to look at Mac, even though my dick is hard and I’m only wearing boxers. Her eyes scan my body and linger on my hard-on for a long time before she blushes and looks away.
My eyes scan her, too, and I see her nipples go hard beneath her shirt as she studiously avoids looking at me. “You’re allowed to look, doll,” I say hoarsely. “Want me to get it out for you?”
Her eyes dart to mine, shocked. Fuck, why did I say that?
“Sorry,” I say contritely, “I didn’t mean to—”
But she’s already making a run for it.
I grab her around the waist to stop her and pull her back toward me. Which is maybe not the best idea, because now my hard-on is pushing into her lower back. She stiffens in my arms.
“Forgive me, Mac, please,” I murmur in her ear. “Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. You just caught me by surprise.”
Her breath is coming faster, and I really have to put effort into not rubbing my hips against her. “Okay,” she says quietly.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. She relaxes in my arms a little, and I have no explanation for why, but I press my lips against her neck, right below her earlobe. Her breath stops for a second, and a tiny moan escapes her lips. That encouragement sets my veins on fire, and my hands wander up from her stomach to cup her enormous tits. Rubbing her nipples, I lick her neck.
“Please stop,” she whispers.
I don’t want to stop, but I can’t keep going if she doesn’t want me to. No, I want her to beg me to continue. I want her to be mad with desire, wild with passion, so horny she’ll let me do anything. I want her to beg me to put my dick in her. But if she doesn’t want me to, I have to accept it. Even if nothing’s ever been harder for me to accept.
I let go of her and step back.
She slowly turns around and looks me in the eye. “I’m sorry if I’ve given you any signals that made you think this is okay. I love Carter.”
Her words pierce my heart like a dagger, cutting me open, ripping up my insides.
All I can do is nod. I want to hit myself for being so stupid. Of course she loves Dad. Why did I do that? Why did I risk our friendship?
“I’m sorry,” I say, licking my dried-out lips.
“I don’t ever want this to happen again,” she says quietly, and I nod again.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
Slowly, she walks up the stairs, and I lean against the wall. What the hell was I thinking?
The truth is, I wasn’t thinking. At all. I let my dick make decisions for me. And when has that ever turned out well?
I look at my palms, which were holding her just a second ago. They’ve never felt this great in my life. My thumbs are still tingling from teasing her nipples, and my tongue prickles from the sensation of her skin. I lick my lips, trying to get a sense of her taste again, but it was just one fleeting moment. Still, I know I’ve never tasted anything as delicious as Mac. Instead of curbing my longing for her, it’s rekindled my need for her, which is flaring up like wild flames.
My dick is painfully hard, and I touch it to get some relief. I lean my head against the wall and slide my hand up and down. I imagine her small hands, fantasize that she has to use both of them, and think about what she would say.
I start rubbing harder, faster, squeezing tight. What does her pussy
feel like when she melts around me? Is it tight? I hope so. Are her muscles strong? I hope so. Does she know how good it feels for me when her pussy muscles close around my dick and she makes an extra effort to squeeze them tight? I hope so.
I imagine bending her over the armrest of the sofa. One hand on her neck, I push her down. She’s standing in front of me, legs apart, ass stretched up in the air. I let my hand smack against her flesh, making her skin look nice and pink. Fuck—what a view… I’ve never actually been this rough with girls before. I’ve fantasized about being dominant during sex, but so far it’s always been sort of even. But with Mac… Fuck. I want to take her so hard all she can do is scream my fucking name.
Grabbing my dick, I’d push it against her opening and ram it deep inside her. Her muscles pulse around me, shocked by my hard entrance. She moans and screams, begs me to give her a moment, but I just keep ramming into her.
My hand slides up from her neck, grabs her hair, pulls her up, and closes around her throat. I squeeze, and she makes small, anxious noises, but she loves it. I can feel her pussy flooding with lust, getting wetter and wetter. I can hear the smacking sound my dick makes as I stick it deep inside her and pull it out again, again and again, as far as possible.
Yes, Mac likes it dirty.
When I pull out my dick, she protests, but I whisper in her ear, “Spread your cheeks for me.”
A little shudder runs through her, but she obeys. Her fingers grab hold of her bottom and open the door for me. I murmur, Good girl, and, Let me reward you for being such a good girl. I have no idea whether she’s into this or has even tried it before, but in my fantasy, I fuck her in the ass real hard. She whimpers and moans. I imagine tears running down her face as she lets me ram my dick inside. Again and again, she screams my name.
I actually fucked Liza in the ass the other day. It was so different and awesome. Maybe I’m a bit obsessed with anal since then, but the idea of fucking Mac’s round ass is just out of this world. I growl, squeezing my tip so hard it’s almost uncomfortable. In long thrusts, my juice splashes out of me, onto my hand and belly, dripping onto the floor. But in my mind, I’m decorating her pink, spanked ass with it, marking her pink hole as mine.