Fuck, I want her to do it again.
I want her to sit on my face while she does it next time, letting me suffocate on her pussy while she slobs on my pole again, doing that delightful little thing she did when she tightened her lips on the head practically milking my dick.
And…I’m hard again.
Standing in her bedroom in just my towel and looking around at her jewelry and random pictures of her perfect middle class family, I remind myself that Everly is the enemy. I hate her. She ruined my life, and she is literally the face I see every night when I close my eyes, remembering how I once had it so good but now live a constant daily struggle.
Suddenly, hating her is becoming something different. Like I’m annoyed with her. Frustrated with how she lives her life, like she takes all of it for granted, never truly appreciating how good she has it. I hate that she’s rolling over and taking my punishment when what I really want is for her to fight back.
“Dinner’s ready,” she calls from the kitchen, and I drop my towel, knowing she could probably see me from the living room. Might as well have a little fun with her I guess.
With my bare ass in her view, I turn my head to see her standing in the kitchen, looking at me with a deer-in-headlights look on her face.
“Ever heard of a door?” she asks, shaking off the hypnotized look in her eyes.
I let out a laugh as she turns away. After getting dressed, I find her in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove while flipping through her phone. She’s in a pair of green workout pants and loose top that has a cut-out along the back, exposing her pale skin. I want to walk up to her and run my fingers across her skin. I want to bury my face in her hair and press my body against her, pinning her to the oven. For some reason, I want to claim every piece of Everly, as if having her as mine is some sort of punishment for what she’s done to me.
I mean, a good hate fuck isn’t exactly off course.
Everly is a woman, a sense of maturity in her body and mannerisms I don’t find with the girls at the restaurant and at school. She’s not so self-conscious, constantly hiding her body and flaws, and my eyes land on the nape of her neck where the soft hairs have fallen from the ponytail, inviting me to touch them.
Noticing me standing there, she glances my way. “Grab a plate.”
Doing as she says, I pick up a white porcelain plate off the counter and walk up to her like a waiting child. This little playing house routine is weird, but I like it.
As she scoops up a chicken breast smothered in some creamy delicious smelling sauce and a heaping spoonful of rice, I watch her face. She looks miserable, and I wonder if she really is or if she’s just playing the part since I’m still technically making her do this for me.
I want inside her head. I want to see everything she’s thinking at every moment, and I’ve never felt that way with anyone before.
We eat in silence. Well, I should say she eats in silence. I inhale every bite of it, not even registering it’s gone until I stare down at my empty plate. She glances at my plate and avoids my eyes as she grabs my plate and refills it without a word.
“Thanks,” I mutter when she sets it down. I should be more embarrassed by how fucking hungry I am, but she’s being too nonchalant about it. Still, I hate feeling like a charity case. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth that was abruptly torn away without warning, and what the fuck did I do wrong to deserve that? Nothing. But here I am, feeling like a fucking piece of shit in her dining room, forcing her to feed me like I’m a damn child.
After dinner, she cleans up while I wander around her house, nosily picking at every single thing I can. Her laptop is open on her desk, and I’m tempted to start scrolling through it, but the second I get close to it, she snaps at me.
“Leave it alone.”
“You got a porn stash you don’t want me to see?”
“Yes, that’s exactly it,” she replies sarcastically.
“Let’s watch it.”
She’s stepping forward to stop me when I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close. “When are we going to talk about that little incident in the car today?”
“We’re not. I was planning on forgetting it ever happened.”
“Oh, it happened,” I reply, leaning my face close to brush my nose along her jawline.
She lets out a shaky breath as I feel her tremble. “You’re sending mixed signals, Cullen. You hate me, remember?”
“Oh, I remember. Ever heard of a hate fuck?”
Her eyes flash toward mine, our gazes locking in a heavy stare, so much unspoken between and so much we don’t even need to say. The intrigue and lust is thick, and it makes me forget what I was supposed to be doing in the first place. I’m trying to make her pay for what she did, not make her feel good. Of course, making her feel good makes me feel very fucking good, and I want more of it. Is getting sexual favors from Everly as payback too much? Do I care?
There’s a sudden knock on the door pulling us apart. Her eyes go wide, and I notice the way she freezes.
“Oh fuck,” she whispers.
“Expecting company?”
“No.”
She glares at me with a wild fear in her expression. “Cullen,” she whispers. “Please go hide. Please.”
Her begging tone is cute, and I kind of love how desperate she looks when she does it. I want to make her beg more. But for now, I don’t want to upset this little setup we have so I do as she asks, walking to her bedroom with my phone where I shut the door and plop down on the bed. Whoever she has coming over probably won’t come in here. At least they better not.
The house is quiet when I hear voices coming from the door. It’s just hers at first, and she’s being polite, high-pitched and friendly. She seems to be carrying on with them for a while, and when I hear the response, I recognize it as a man’s. Maybe her gay BFF’s.
Pulling up the doorbell camera app on my phone, I try to spy on their little conversation.
As soon as the camera loads, my breath stops. Standing right in front of her door is Coach Prescott. His voice carries through the speaker, and the first thing I notice is it’s slurred. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s only a little after six. The sky has turned a soft hazy orange behind him as he leans on the door frame, smiling at her with a look that has me feeling very fucking irritated.
What is he doing here?
His body language and the small talk between them makes it pretty obvious he is flirting with her. I jump up from the bed so fast, the room practically spins under my feet, but just as I’m about to tear through the door, I stop.
What happens when he finds me here? Will it ruin my chances for my scholarship? He could have me thrown off the team for fraternizing with the teacher. It would be a big scandal, one even I can’t afford. And I’ve had my fair share of scandals.
Standing behind the closed door, I listen in on their conversation on the doorbell app.
So far it’s just small talk. He’s telling her about moving to the area, leaving out everything having to do with his wife, of course. Everly is nodding in agreement, but I hear the tension in her voice.
“You mind if I come in and use your restroom?” he asks, and my spine straightens.
“Tell him no,” I whisper to absolutely no one who could hear me.
“Um…sure. Don’t mind the mess,” she replies in a clipped tone. They move out of my view on the camera before I hear them walking through the house. Shifting away from the door, I head for her closet, but she takes him to the guest bathroom.