Page 72 of Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 2)
Arching my back, I press into Aaron, moving my own hips so that we make a pretty little push and pull, our moans mingling together. Mostly, I keep my eyes closed. Because I want to feel Aaron, not see him. I watched him for years, dated him, lost him, watched him again. I’ve done plenty of looking and I’m sick of it.
His fingers wrap my hair and pull my head back but still, I keep my eyes closed. I can feel the fingers of his other hand grabbing my hip, bruising, squeezing. Aaron powers into me, fast and hard and furious, until his muscles clench up and I feel his body tightening behind me.
With a desperate groan of relief, he spills himself while still trapped inside of me. After a few, final thrusts, he releases my hair and I lean my cheek down against the countertop for a moment. My body is still throbbing, but I don’t care. It was so worth it.
Before I can stand up though, I feel the air shift around me as he pulls out and then crouches down behind me. The heat of his breath brushes against my pussy just before he makes contact with his lips. His hands slide up my bare thighs and he holds me in place as he dips his tongue into my sweet honey.
Shit.
Aaron is just as good as Hael, but in a different way. Hael is slick, easygoing, confident to the point of arrogance. I could feel all of that in his tongue. Aaron, though, he’s more concerned with seeking out my specific pockets of pleasure, two fingers borrowing lube from my pussy to slide across my clit.
He takes his time, too, despite our current situation, working me with his mouth until I’m crying out, slamming one of my palms into the mirror and coming hard against his lips. Also, I probably soaked the shit out of his face.
We sit there for exactly six breaths before Aaron stands up, and I lift my head to stare in the mirror, my eyes locking with Aaron’s in the reflection. It’s spotty, the glass twisted and warped in spots, but I can still see what’s important: Aaron, me, and our feelings for each other.
I never fell out of love with him, that’s the truth. I just started hating him on top of it. We just made love … and then he hate-fucked me. It’s a dynamic that works. As Aaron steps back and I push up to a standing position, I wet my lips with my tongue.
He groans as he leans back against the wall, fixing his pants while he struggles to catch his breath. I love that, watching his tattooed chest rise and fall with each desperate inhale.
You’re so human, Aaron Fadler, I think, and I smile.
“Don’t lick your lips like that,” he tells me, disposing of the condom and washing his hands. I stay leaning against the counter next to him, watching him. “You’ll get me hard all over again, and the poor Prescott kids won’t get to piss for hours yet.”
“You really think you can go for hours?” I quip back with a grin. I feel weird right now, an emotion I don’t understand flickering inside of me. Since I don’t recognize it, and I don’t want to ruin the moment by trying to delve into it, I just push it aside. “That’s some serious bravado, Fadler. I’d like to see you prove it.”
He turns his head to look at me, a smug smirk taking over his lips. He might be the nicest of the Havoc Boys, but he’s still a boy and therefore, still an asshole.
“Mind if I do that sometime?” he asks, standing up and drying his hands off on his jeans. “Take you to bed and show you exactly how long I can go?”
I just smile back at him. Let him have that smug male sense of satisfaction. The kitty cat inside of me purrs and arches her back. I’ve taken three of the Havoc Boys to bed. I knew that I’d end up sleeping with them when I called out that word. Idiot that I am, I tried to lie to myself and pretend that it was all out of duty and obligation.
In reality, it was obsession.
Do the boys owe me retribution for their wrongs?
Sure.
But nothing is as sweet as salvation.
Someone like Kali or the Thing or Pamela, for that matter, will never be worthy of redemption. But the boys will. Are.
I bite my lip.
“Can we get a burger or something before we go home?” I ask, and Aaron laughs, reaching out to grab me by the hips and pull me close. It’s strange, I’ll admit, how easily we fall back into touching each other. He strokes my hair back, putting his face up against mine. The way Aaron touches me, I can sense it in him: he thinks we’re on a timeline, too. He’s going to touch me as much as he can because he doesn’t know when it might stop, when we might be separated again.
