Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
I snort. Sitting up in bed, I set my phone down, and I’m about to get up, but I hesitate, listening to the ceiling for another minute.
The tree sways, and the only sound I hear coming from the attic is the chair.
I know no one’s up there. If there was danger, it would’ve happened last night while I was vulnerable.
But I slept peacefully.
Semi-peacefully.
A smile pulls at my mouth, and I can’t stop it, no matter how hard I try. My cheeks warm.
I know what I really want for my birthday.
I want to feel him. He was so hard, too much for me not to stare at Tuesday night, and every time I tried to touch myself afterward, I just keep seeing him. Wanting to know what it feels like to have him inside me.
I bury my face in my hands, my insides ready to implode. Hunter.
I fantasized about Hunter last night and the night before.
He didn’t talk to me much yesterday. He had practice before and after school, and was AWOL at lunch. I was worried he was feeling weird about what we did and didn’t want to face me, but then he shoved a guy into the lockers who was messing with me before fifth period, and then he grabbed my hand and walked me to class. I don’t normally go for that “saving a damsel-in-distress” type of thing; but God, it was hot.
I know what his body looks like now. His whole body.
Any time I’ve masturbated, it’s been to faceless fantasies. Maybe we’re in a car or he’s snuck into my room in the middle of the night, but I never knew who it was. I’ve seen the hair or the clothes, but never the face.
Now, though, it’s Hunter on top of me. His mouth in my neck. His body under the sheets.
I was worried he’d be able to read it all over my face when we saw each other, but I couldn’t stop picturing him.
He said he was hard all the time—not to read anything into it.
But last night wasn’t the first time he was hard around me.
I’ve noticed it before.
“No, no, no!” I squeal, steering my PS5 controller into his space like I steer a car.
Hunter ducks away, laughing and trying to keep his car on the track and eyes on the TV screen through my invading arms and body as I bounce next to him.
“I’m not letting you win this time!” he shouts.
“Let me win?” I growl, scowling at the screen as we race side by side. “Let me win?”
YONAKA plays on the speakers in the Caruthers’s basement, and our parents are outside, relaxing with margaritas after the barbecue Madoc and Fallon threw today for Kade and Hunter’s fifteenth birthday. I love summers. My dad would never admit it to his face, but he loves everything my uncle Madoc grills.
Hunter elbows me as I push into him, and I elbow him back. He cruises over a hill, and we both bob up and down, moving our whole bodies as if that helps our game.
He cruises around a bend, and I follow, steering my controller in a wide circle, standing up, and falling on Hunter.
He cries out, I laugh, both of us trying to keep control as I lay half on his body. My shorts and shirt ride up, and I dig my bare foot into the area rug on the floor, resisting as he tries to push me off.
I pass his car and gasp, smiling wide as I shift and nudge on top of him, trying to win.
But something presses into my stomach.
Hunter’s car slows, mine nearly goes off the track, and I look up at him.
He stares at the screen, jaw clenched.
I shift a little, a grunt escapes him, and I let my mouth fall open, realizing what the hard ridge thickening against my tummy is. Oh my God.
I start to look down, but he shoves me off. “Your winning streak is overrrrr.”
It takes a minute to remember to breathe, but eventually, I let out a laugh, sinking back into the game. “Nothing is over,” I say.
I elbow him, he elbows me, and I speed over the last hump, raising my controller in the air, about to claim my win.
We fall together, chuckling, but the next thing I know someone is grabbing me.
In a moment, I’m in a lap on the other side of the couch from Hunter. Kade puts his hands over mine on the controller, holding me tightly between his arms.
The warmth of his bare chest hits my back.
“Come on,” he tells me, starting the game again. “Let’s do this, my queen.”
I sit there, letting his fingers work, the room suddenly quiet. Hunter stares at the screen, racing us but differently now. His shoulders are tight and his knuckles white.
“Where’s Lake?” He jerks the controller, speeding past Kade. “Or River or Ocean or whatever this one’s name is?”