Page 82 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
“Callum, I can’t take it,” I admit as he nuzzles into that hollow space between my neck and shoulder, biting me there, too. I’m soaked in sweat now, absolutely drenched. God knows how long we’ve been in here.
On the positive side, Kali’s ghost seems to have disappeared again. That’s a good sign, right?
Without warning, Cal sneaks his hand between my thighs and slides two fingers into the molten heat of my core before I can even register that he’s taken my words seriously. His thumb slicks my own juices up and over my clit, massaging that as he fucks me with his hand, just as slow and easy as he kissed me.
My fingers curl together behind his neck as he stares down at me, so much less vulnerable since he’s clothed and I’m not. I decide to go for it and reach my right hand between us, searching for his cock.
It’s thick and hot under my palm, even with his jean shorts between us.
“Sometimes you have to wait,” Cal tells me, taking my wrist in his hand pushing it into the bed above my head. “Even if the waiting’s longer than you’d like. Then, when it’s time, you strike. That’s how I move the way I do. I wait, I watch, and I never try to take something before it’s time. You, for example. Bernie, I waited a long, long time to take you.”
He drives a third finger into me, and my hips buck up off the bed, body pulsing around his hand. I’m thrusting against him, digging my nails into the shoulders of his hoodie and wishing I could tear it right off.
He doesn’t change his pace, moving his fingers in and out until he’s able to add a fourth. His lips tease the hollow of my throat, and then he bites down hard, slamming his hand into me over and over and over until I’m coming so hard that I see stars, that I groan so loud I bet every nosy ass neighbor on that street can hear me.
And then I collapse, boneless and shaking, into the sheets.
Cal sits up and then wipes his hand on his hoodie with a small, secretive smile playing on his fairy-tale lips.
“I have to wash this tonight anyway,” he explains, leaning down one final time to press a kiss to my lower belly. “You did well, Bernadette.”
I say nothing as Callum stands up and leaves the room. By the time I get dressed again and head out into the living room, he’s already gone back to his grandmother’s place.
Unlike Oscar, however, I know that Cal isn’t running away. Instead, he’s trying to teach me something.
Good things come to those who wait.I’m determined to graduate. I don’t want gang leader’s girlfriend to be my only lifetime accomplishment. Besides, I’d be the first woman on my mother’s side to actually finish high school and get her diploma. That, and there’s always the chance that something will happen, that we won’t get the money. It seems too good to be true, and when something seems that way, it usually is.
When I tell this to Vic, he looks at me like I’m nuts.
“First off, I do want you to graduate, so don’t take this the wrong way.” He steps up close to me, smelling too good to be real. Too male to be sane. “Gang leader’s wife, first off.” I roll my eyes, but Victor’s smirking at me because he knows he’s got me. “And this will work out. Just trust me.”
“Trust you when you ask about an annulment like it could be a good thing?”
He stares back at me as I sit on the edge of the bed in panties and a bra. I haven’t gotten dressed for school yet. To be honest, I’m dreading it. First thing I thought when I opened my eyes today was why the fuck do I have to go back there, to Prescott motherfucking High?
But goddamn it, I’m going to finish high school if it kills me.
The thing is, it just might …
“What do you make of James Barrasso being at that club?” I ask, and I can see the muscles in Vic’s back tighten. He turns around, a pair of jeans slung over his arm. He hasn’t gotten dressed either; I can see his dick. I intend to keep this view for as long as is feasibly possible.
“Trouble,” he tells me which isn’t really an answer at all.
We ride his bike together to the school, park at the curb, climb out like everything is normal. There are extra cops here, sure, but that’s nothing new. It’s not Sara Young’s presence, or Detective Constantine’s that makes everything feel so surreal, like one of those awful paintings at the art gallery, some cubist nightmare come to life.
It’s the fact that Kali isn’t here.
