Damn it, I enjoy it. Whit sinking inside my body feels so good. He’s not hesitant in his movements at all. There’s no fumbling, no asking if I’m sure, if I’m okay. No careful touches or gentle caresses. He’s brutal. He fucks me like a machine, his hips working, his thick cock driving inside of me again and again. It’s as if my entire being comes alive the more that he thrusts, until I’m clinging to him, our sweaty bodies stuck together as we move as one.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he says on a groan, burying his face against my throat as he presses me deeper into the mattress. I let my hands drift down, until they settle on his ass, and I feel the muscles there flex with every push inside my body. I press down, wanting more, wanting all of him, and he licks my neck. Sucks it.
My hands wander everywhere I can reach. His body is beautiful. Smooth and muscular and flawless. His cock fits perfectly, as if we were made for each other. Every time he pushes inside me, I see stars. My belly trembles. I’m going to come again.
I grip the back of his head, my fingers sinking into his silky soft hair and tugging. He grunts, going completely still above me, his cock throbbing, pulsating deep within my body just before he’s racked with shudders.
“Aw fuck,” he mutters through his teeth, his hips bucking wildly as he loses all control. A spurt of hot liquid floods me and I realize he’s coming. I clench my inner walls around him, purposely trying to milk him and a string of curses leaves his lips as he thrusts once. Twice. A third time.
And then collapses on top of me.
I lie there for a moment, trying to gather myself. I didn’t come. My entire body is on edge, eager to fall, but he doesn’t move. Disappointment crashes over me and I push at his shoulders, desperate to get him off of me.
He pulls out of my body, a gush of semen spilling out of me and leaving a wet spot. I roll away from it, plastering myself to his side, both of us trying to catch our breath.
“You didn’t come,” he says after a few seconds, his voice a whisp of sound.
I shake my head. “No.”
His hand lands between my legs, his nimble fingers finding my clit. He rubs it in circles, his pace quickening until he’s furiously trying to get me off. It takes nothing. A few assured strokes of his long fingers and I go off like a rocket, chanting oh God, oh God again and again as my orgasm rattles through me.
I crack open my eyes when he removes his hand from my pussy, just in time to watch as he sucks our mixed juices off his index finger. “Told you there would be three.”
My mind scrambles, remembering what he said only after he’s already climbed off the bed and casually putting his clothes on. I sit up, clenching my trembling thighs together as I watch him get dressed, trying to come up with something to say.
“Do you hate me?” he asks casually as he tugs his joggers on, foregoing his underwear.
I stare at him, unsure of what he wants from me.
“You should,” he continues, tugging the hoodie over his head, that beautiful torso disappearing from my view. “I treat you like shit, and still you come for me. Multiple times.”
“I hate you,” I agree, scooting away when he plops onto the edge of the mattress and puts his shoes on with his back to me.
“Good.” He sounds pleased. “I’ll eventually fuck you out of my system, give you back that drivel you call your deep thoughts and we can forget this moment in time ever existed.”
I watch as he stands and stretches his arms up toward the ceiling, his hoodie lifting and revealing a sexy sliver of his flat stomach. My mouth practically waters at the thought of licking him there.
Licking him everywhere.
“Because trust me, you are that forgettable.” I blink him into focus, realizing too late that he’s incredibly close. He grabs hold of my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Thanks for the fuck.”
He delivers a punishing kiss upon my lips before letting me go, striding toward the door without a backward glance, carefully opening and closing it as quiet as a church mouse.
His words run through my mind again and again, and I realize he’s full of shit. The only reason he came back to campus early was because of me. He couldn’t stop thinking about me. Those were his exact words.
I’m unforgettable. He’s just trying to convince himself that I am.
My lips start to curl and I rest my fingers on them, trying to stop the smile from spreading, but it’s no use.
Stupid, bratty boy.
Twenty
Summer
He ignores me for three days.
Of course he does—this is what he’s done before. Now he fucks me to within an inch of his life and then pretends I don’t exist in class. On campus. At lunch. In the halls. It’s his usual mode of operation and I’m not even offended. At least everyone else still leaves me alone.
I let him have his way. He’s like a pouty little baby who has to have a tantrum—after he got what he wanted. Giving me the silent treatment, treating me like a stranger. He can pretend all he wants, though. We’re so aware of each other, I swear the air between us crackles and sparks with electricity every time we’re in each other’s presence. In American Government he’s always in his seat before I am, his eyes trailing after me as I walk past, my entire body lighting up from just a look.
He unnerves me completely, and I think I do the same to him. The awareness between us grows each day, and I’m more daring when he passes by me in the hall, or in class. I blatantly stare, not caring who notices. Who would say anything? He can’t help but look at me either, his eyes going to my chest. My legs. I roll up the waistband of my skirt just for him, the hem dancing around my thighs as I silently hope I drive him out of his mind.
One day after my French class, the hall floods with people, all of us seemingly moving as one. He approaches, head above everyone else, his gaze locked on mine. We pass by, his fingers finding mine briefly, so quick I could almost believe it didn’t happen. His index finger curls, snagging around mine briefly. One second we’re touching…
The next, he’s gone.
Whit Lancaster has become a dangerous obsession, and I don’t know how to get him out of my head. My blood. He said he was going to fuck me out of his system, but how is that possible? With our every interaction, it only gets worse. He becomes…more.
I can’t help but think I affect him the same exact way.
Mid-week we’re struck by a hot spell. It’s that last bit of summer before we’re slammed with frosty mornings and brisk late afternoon winds. Followed by endless rain and then eventually, nothing but snow. Everyone on campus is outside every chance we can get, grabbing at those last bits of warm temperatures and shining sun. At lunch, during free periods, after school.
Thursday during lunch, I’m in line at the dining hall, paying the cashier before I turn to head outside when I run smack into Chad, nearly sending my wrapped sandwich and bag of chips clutched in my hand flying onto the ground.
Chad grabs my elbow, steadying me. “You all right?”
I glance up at him. Chad is attractive. Not as handsome as Whit, but he’s close. He has warm hazel eyes and rich brown hair. He’s from a prominent family with British royalty connections—his aunt married a duke. His family also makes frequent appearances in gossipy magazines and sites, thanks to his sister, the social media influencer, who hangs out with Kylie Jenner and her crew.