Queen of Hawthorne Prep

by Jennifer Sucevic

  And just like that, the tables have been turned.

  Since that’s not a statement I’m going to touch with a ten-foot pole, I brush it aside. “Here’s a little FYI for future reference, when a girl says she’s cool with just sex, she’s not. Most of the time, she wants more.”

  “Again, not my problem. The girls I’ve been with always know the score up front. It’s one of the conditions to me laying hands on them. If I make it clear from the beginning that it’s nothing more than fucking, then they should do us both a favor and heed the warning instead of trying to make it into something it’ll never be.”

  That little speech makes me want to vomit.

  Did I know the score up front?

  His words leave me cringing with a need to fold in on myself. Maybe that’s all I ever was. Another stupid female to add to an already lengthy list.

  “Is that all it was between us?” It takes effort to swallow down my rising nausea. “Just sex?” I don’t understand why I’m so intent on inflicting more damage on to myself. It’s not like it matters.

  And yet, for some inexplicable reason, it does. More than I want to admit.

  His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as we careen down the country road, picking up speed. The engine revs and the scenery flies by the passenger side window in a blur of gold and green. “Is that what you think, Summer?”

  I shrug and remain silent.

  “You know damn well it wasn’t,” he bites out, anger vibrating throughout his tone.

  Do I?

  How am I supposed to know that?

  Red barns dot the landscape along with small herds of black and white spotted cows. There’s something peaceful about the vast openness and yet it does nothing to settle the turbulent emotions attempting to break loose.

  “You were never just a fuck. It always meant more,” he admits in halting tones.

  I glance at him, startled by the admission. Something reluctantly loosens in my chest before thawing. The need to guard myself against him thrums through me. Kingsley is someone who has the power to inflict untold amounts of damage. Kind of like Godzilla wrecking havoc on a small Japanese fishing village. I’m nowhere near ready to allow that to happen.

  When we zoom past the turnoff for our subdivision, panic fills me. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Being trapped alone with Kingsley is a double-edged sword. How is it possible to love and hate something in equal measure at the same time?

  Ten minutes later, he swings into the gravel parking lot of the Dairy Barn, an ice cream stand in the middle of Hawthorne. Memories of the first time we came here rush through me. As promising as the outing had begun, it had ended in disaster. I’m not looking for a repeat performance.

  He cuts the engine before shifting his body toward mine. My breath stalls when he lifts a hand to cup the side of my face. Instead of ducking away, I sit rooted to the leather, unable to escape the contact. His touch shouldn’t feel so good. And it certainly shouldn’t create a sense of rightness in me. If I were smart, I would knock his hand away. Instead, I close my eyes and relax into his palm as he cradles my cheek. If I didn’t understand it before, I do now. I’m a glutton for punishment with masochistic tendencies.

  “You realize we’re going to have to talk about this, right? I won’t let you push me away.”

  Deep down, I’ve always known that. It’s why I didn’t want to tell him until I had a better handle on the situation.

  My eyelashes flutter open, only to find his gaze piercing mine. “I know.”

  He draws closer, the scent of his aftershave scrambling my senses. All I want to do is strain toward him. How am I supposed to fight not only him, but myself as well?

  “Have you given it anymore thought?”

  My teeth sink into my lower lip as I shake my head and glance away. “I need time.”

  Gentle fingers guide my face back to his. There is no running or hiding from him. He won’t allow it. “Do I get a say in the matter?”

  “Do you really want one?” I fire back, already knowing what the answer will be.

  Anger flashes across his face as tension crackles in the air between us. “How can you ask that?”

  “How can I not? You’ve made your feelings crystal clear.” There’s a beat of silence before I add, “You hate me.”

  The fury filling his voice drains away. “That’s not true,” he mumbles as his hand falls from my face, coming to rest on his thigh. “I know things have been rough between us—”

  Ha!

  A gurgle of laughter explodes from my lips. Is he joking? “That’s the understatement of the decade. Maybe even the century.”

  He releases a measured breath before conceding, “You’re right, okay? But this is a decision we should make together. It doesn’t just affect you, it involves me, too.”

  I chew my lower lip and stare sightlessly out the windshield. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s not wrong. This baby is his as much as it’s mine. Maybe he should have equal say in the matter.

  Air gets trapped in my throat when he carefully places his hand over my flat belly. The palm is so wide, the fingers tapered, the nails short and blunt. The heat of his touch burns a hole through the white shirt and waistband of my tartan skirt down to my skin. If I thought the connection between us had been severed, I was wrong. It’s there, humming dangerously beneath the surface.

  “How pregnant are you?”

  There is nothing amusing about this situation, but that doesn’t stop the snort from escaping. “Very.”

  He huffs out a laugh as some of the tension loosens from his rigidly held muscles. “That didn’t come out the way I intended.”

  Instead of waiting for him to reframe the question, I blurt, “Six weeks. We have time to...”

  “Make a decision?” His lips sink into a grim line.

  Barely am I able to push out a response. “Yeah.”

  His hand tightens over my belly, the fingers curling into my pelvic bone. There shouldn’t be anything comforting about his touch. And I certainly shouldn’t feel less alone because he’s here, wanting to be part of this decision.

  All he’s doing is confusing matters.

  And that’s the last thing I need.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  That night I wake to Kingsley slipping into my bed and stripping off my T-shirt and panties. Silently, I wait for him to flip me over and take me from behind. Instead, he gathers me into his arms until every hard line of his body is pressed against my softer ones.

  His lips ghost over mine without ever quite touching them. The warmth of his breath is drugging. I want to inhale giant gulps of him. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think he was asking for consent, but that can’t be the case. Kingsley doesn’t ask permission. Whether by gentle means or brute force, he takes what he wants.

  When I lift my mouth to his, seeking his touch, his lips settle over mine. A groan rumbles up from deep in his throat as the velvety softness of his tongue sweeps across the seam of my lips. As soon as I open under the firm pressure, he plunders the inside of my mouth, ravaging me with an aching sweetness that blots out everything but the physical pleasure he’s intent on doling out. The kiss becomes so deep that I don’t know where he ends, and I begin. It dredges up feelings of how it once was between us before life imploded, obliterating everything in its wake.

  His arms tighten as he rolls onto his back, taking me with him until I’m settled on top, my thighs spread to straddle his narrow waist. The lips of my bare pussy are splayed wide against his taut abdominals. As he draws in a breath, I feel the shift of toned muscle beneath me. I sit up, finding purchase by bracing my palms against the solid width of his chest. When he flexes, his thick erection glides over my delicate flesh, setting off a shower of fireworks in my core.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  The friction we create is staggering.
My eyelids threaten to close as my head lolls back. Sensation ricochets through me, echoing in my fingertips and toes. His hands bite into my hips, anchoring me in place as he rocks against me.

  “Open your eyes,” he rasps.

  It takes a herculean effort on my part to lift my head and crack open my eyes. And then he’s snagging my gaze, holding it captive with his own. Sparks explode deep in my core. He’s not even inside me and already there is so much pleasure.

  “Look at where we’re connected.” There’s a pause as my gaze drops to my spread thighs. The movement of his hips becomes more pronounced. His thick length slides against my lower lips before the crown of his cock peeks from between my folds, bumping my clit.

  It’s erotic as hell.

  Already my pussy is drenched, making it easy for him to slide against me.

  We’ve never had sex in this position. Watching him move adds a whole new dynamic, heightening all of my awareness. I find myself unable to look away from the sight. As amazing as this feels, I need more. It’s like being taunted over and over, but never quite reaching the pinnacle. Frustration spirals through me and my movements become desperate.

  He must realize what I need because he jerks his hips and gently slides inside my wet heat before filling me to the brim. A moan falls from my lips at the sensation of him stretching me wide. I feel every inch of him buried deep inside. And this time, there is no condom to come between us.

  “Look at the way you ride my cock.”

  At his urging, my gaze once again drifts to where are bodies are truly connected. Not only do I feel him pulsing inside me, but I see it. I can watch the way he rolls his hips, pulling out only to thrust in with more force. When he’s buried in me like this, there is no better feeling and the bond between us is undeniable.

  “I’ve never fucked without a condom,” he grits between clenched teeth as if it takes all of his willpower to hold on, “it feels so damn good.”

  He’s right.

  It does feel good.

  I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but there’s something about his bare cock surging rhythmically that makes the pleasure a thousand times greater. He flexes his muscles, pulling out before sliding home.

  When a whimper escapes from my mouth, his movements still.

  “Am I hurting you?” His voice turns rough with fear.

  I shake my head and bite my lip. His concern melts something deep inside that I’d rather not acknowledge.

  “Are you sure?” His fingers tighten around my hips, stilling my movements.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” I pause before adding, “it feels really good.”

  His thrusts become slower. Gentler. His hands drift from my hips over my ribcage before settling on my breasts, palming the soft weight.

  Need pools in my core as his body rocks against mine. There has never been this element of tenderness to our sex. I’m almost afraid to read into what it means. The way his fingers stroke over me is more worshipful than anything else. And I realize that I like this just as much as when he gathers the length of my hair in his fist, nips at me with sharp teeth, or pinches my nipples with rough fingertips.

  Our bodies move in perfect harmony. Every thrust of his hips makes me soar higher until it feels possible to reach out and touch the stars that crowd the night sky. It doesn’t take long for my world to splinter apart. His name is a fervent cry on my lips. He holds back, never quickening the pace or driving too deep. The rhythm remains constant.

  His gaze stays pinned to mine as he groans out his own release. Waves of pleasure crash over his features and I find myself unable to look away. There’s something beautiful about watching this strong boy fall apart and knowing that I’m the one who made it happen.

  Instead of crashing back to earth with a painful thud, I drift like a feather on a gentle breeze. Gradually my breathing evens out and my rigidly held muscles loosen, turning lax. My mind clicks back on as I anxiously wait to see how this will play out. This is usually the part when he pulls his softening cock from my body and rolls from the bed, leaving the room as quietly as he appeared.

  The thought of that happening after the intimacy we shared has sorrow pushing in at the edges, threatening to swallow me whole. It’s brutal to feel so intensely connected to Kingsley, only to have him callously sever the link.

  Our gazes stay locked as his hands slip from my breasts, trailing over my ribcage, before sliding around to my spine. He drags me to his chest, pressing me close. The breath escapes from my lungs in a rush as a tempered bubble of happiness explodes.

  I squeeze my eyes tight and allow the steady thumping of his heart to fill my ears. For the first time since Dad died, I can truly breathe again, and within a matter of moments, I’m drifting off to sleep wrapped up in Kingsley’s embrace.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Ready for lunch?” Everly asks as I slam my locker door closed. “I’m freaking famished.”

  “Yup.” With my brown paper bag in hand, we walk through the crowded corridor to the cafeteria. Everly chatters about an upcoming party that we’ve heard whispers about but I’m only listening with half an ear.

  My gaze gets snagged by Kingsley, who lounges against his locker as a group of football players surround him. When he catches sight of me, he straightens, pushing away from the blue metal and clearing a path through a sea of guys until he stands in the middle of the hall.

  “I’m not going to lie,” Everly whispers from the side of her mouth, “you two give me whiplash.”

  My gaze never deviates from the dark-haired boy. She’s not wrong. Unfortunately, that’s a perfect way to describe our relationship.

  Whiplash.

  It’s as exhausting as it is exhilarating. The constant push and pull between us feels as if it will never dissipate. It’s like a fire burning out of control. Even now, I’m not sure if containment is possible.

  “Hey,” he says when we’re close enough.

  “Hi.” Heat slams into my cheeks as images from last night flash through my brain like a slow-motion picture show. Once again, our relationship has changed, morphing into something new. There is a fragile peace that has sprung up between us.

  A truce of sorts.

  During the day, he hovers protectively over me, but there is still a distance between us. We aren’t the same as we once were. Under the cover of darkness, though, it’s an entirely different story. He doesn’t allow me the same freedom. I’m exposed and vulnerable. He worships my body, forcing me to orgasm over and over again until I want to die with the pleasure he is capable of giving. It’s as if he’s trying to convey all the pent-up emotions that scratch and claw beneath the surface of our relationship. Afterwards, I fall into an exhausted sleep against his chest. When I wake in the morning, his arms are wrapped protectively around me.

  Kingsley falls in line beside me as Everly flanks my other side. The throng of rowdy football players trail behind us, talking and jostling one another. A sheath of long blond hair catches the corner of my eye and I turn, gaze colliding with a heated blue one.

  Sloane.

  Unconcealed hatred wafts from her in hot, suffocating waves. She crosses her arms against her chest and stares daggers at me.

  Once we reach the cafeteria, Everly and I split off from the guys as they head to the hot lunch line while we beeline to our usual table.

  Her feet falter as she grumbles, “I liked it better when we sat by ourselves.”

  I glance at her and then to the table in the center of the room. Jasper, Delilah, Austin, Duke, and a couple other boys are already there, digging into their lunches.

  My guess is that her reluctance has everything to do with Duke. They’ve fallen into a strange pattern, Everly does her best to ignore him while the blond boy goes out of his way to needle her. He’s constantly poking and prodding. I don’t understand what his problem is. Before she started at Hawthorne Prep, Duke mostly kept to himself and didn’t bother anyone. It’s like sh
e brings out the worst in him.

  “I don’t mind if we sit somewhere else.” Over the last several weeks, Everly has become a really good friend. If she’s not comfortable eating lunch at our usual table, then we’ll move. Kingsley won’t be happy about it, but he can deal.

  Indecision flickers across her face.

  “Look,” I say, “I know you’re not crazy about Duke—”

  She snorts before muttering, “How did you guess?”

  “Did something happen between you two?” Maybe there’s more going on than I’m aware of.

  “No,” she grumbles stubbornly, eyes narrowing, “I just don’t like him. It’s nothing more than that.”

  Hmmm.

  Why do I have the strange feeling that she’s holding back? There are definite undercurrents simmering beneath the surface between them, I’m just not sure what they mean. And let’s face it, I’ve had my own crap going on and haven’t been paying as much attention as I should.

  And that’s on me for being a shitty friend.

  My gaze flickers to the table again, and I’m surprised to realize that Duke has straightened on the bench and is watching us. Well, not us exactly.

  More like Everly.

  Yup, his focus is definitely locked on Everly.

  From what I can tell, he doesn’t give a damn if she notices his blatant interest. If I was at all uncertain about something going on between them, those questions have been laid to rest. Now I just have to figure out what it is.

  I clear my throat to recapture her distracted attention, since she’s full on glaring at the blond boy. If looks could kill, he’d be dead on arrival. “Maybe it would be better if we sit somewhere else for today.”

  Her shoulders jerk back as she straightens to her full height. “You know what? Forget it, we’ll sit at our normal table. If that asshole thinks he can intimidate me, he’s got another thing coming.”

  Well, she’s right about that. Everly has turned out to be the type of girl who isn’t easily cowed. By anyone. And that includes Duke.