by Madison Faye
We move slow—slower than we ever have. Before it’s been more frantic and animalistic. No, this time, we take our time. This time, I’m not just fucking Emily Hayes. This time, we’re making love.
And fuck is that a first for me.
Her moans echo through my ears as she kisses over my neck, her hands sliding around to claw at my back. My balls swell with cum as I push into her again and again, feeling her slick, tight, perfect pussy pulling me back in with every thrust. The way her nipples drag against my chest, the way the smoothness of her thighs rubs my hips. The way our bodies move like we’ve been doing this with each other our whole lives. All of it is just fucking perfection.
We start to move a little faster, my heavy balls slapping her ass and her cries urging me on. My cock is so fucking hard as I plunge into her again and again, one hand sliding down to grab her ass and spread her even more open for me. I can feel her pussy rippling up and down my length, her slick honey dripping down my balls, and as we thrust together again and again, I know we’re both going to fall.
“Ethan…”
Her voice in my ear, followed by the broken cry of pleasure that wrenches from somewhere deep inside of her, is the last I can stand. I groan, saying her name again and again into her lips as I kiss her, thrusting my thickness into her over and over again until suddenly, I feel her shatter under me.
Her hips buck up against mine, her body jolting like it’s been struck by lightning. And when I feel her sweet cunt clamp down on my cock, I can feel every single second of her coming for me. She cries out, clinging to me and gasping as my cock sinks deep inside of her and suddenly explodes. Her orgasm and mine wash over us at the same time, her pussy flooding my cock with her honey just as my hot cum erupts into her. Pulse after pulse, I roar into her lips as I empty every single drop from my balls deep inside of her, the both of us rocking together over and over until we finally collapse onto the paint-stained sheets.
We roll onto our sides, our bodies still entwined, and my cock still buried inside of her as we pant for air.
“Fuck, Emily,” I groan, swallowing as my hands stroke her skin.
“You’re telling me,” she groans, giggling as she drops her forehead to my chest. “Jesus Christ are you good at that.”
I grin, and I’m leaning in to kiss her, when suddenly, the door to the garage bangs open.
I swear, lurching out of bed as Emily hides her shriek in her hand and yanks the sheets over her. I grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist before I whirl for the railing and jut my head over to look down at whoever’s just barged in.
It’s Jamison. In the scheme of things, he’s maybe the least shittiest of the list of people who could have walked in.
“Dude, knock?”
He looks up at me, his eyes hard and his jaw tight.
“We need to talk.”
“Later, I’m busy. And fuck, man. Knock next time—”
“You can tell Ms. Hayes this concerns her, too.”
I freeze, my body going still and my eyes locking onto him.
“What are you talking about.”
Jamison rolls his eyes. “I might be your twin, but that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot too.”
“J, I don’t know what you think—”
“Hey, Ms. Hayes?” he calls out.
My eyes narrow at him as I hear the rustle behind me. I glance back to see her staring at me from under the sheets, her face white, and her eyes looking horrified.
“Look, she can stay hidden, you guys just both need to hear this from me before you hear it everywhere else.”
My gut twists, my heart dropping.
“Hear what,” I growl.
Jamison’s jaw tightens, and he shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, man,” he says quietly.
“Sorry for—”
“Ms. Hayes, Derrick Maybach found your sketchpad.”
Oh fuck.
“Your sketchpad full of, uh, detailed drawings.”
Oh FUCK.
I turn, and when my eyes lock with hers, I see the same fear written large across her face.
Five minutes ago, I had perfection. I had the woman of my dreams, the one I love, wrapped in my arms, and the rest of the world couldn’t touch us. Now, they’re about to do everything they can to destroy us.
Heaven just turned into hell, and we’re about to be screwed.
13
Ethan
Well, this is the worst-case scenario. Okay, maybe not the worst case. The worst case would have been running. I did suggest that, for the record, but Emily wouldn’t do it. That’s why we’re here, back at Winchester in Principal Kane’s office. Apparently, the cops were already at her cottage, and both of us knew running wasn’t actually a viable option, so here we are.
And again, nothing we did is a crime. Which makes me even more furious that the fucking cops are here swearing at Emily and waving cuffs around like she’s some sort of monster. My dad is yelling, the cops are yelling, Vice Principal Owens is yelling. But me? I’m just looking right at her, and she’s looking right at me, our eyes locked like it’s the only lifeline we’ve got as the chaos explodes around us.
“Enough!”
Principal Kane’s voice suddenly booms over the room, throwing it into silence as he lunges to his feet. His dark blue eyes scan the room, his brow dark and his jaw tight.
“Enough of this shit! Everyone out!”
“Colton—”
“Out, Jerry,” Principal Kane barks at the Southworth chief of police.
“Colton,” he growls. “If a crime has been com—”
“Jesus fucking Christ, what crime?” I hiss, lunging to my feet. “Ms. Hayes hasn’t done shit. This was all me. I went after her.”
“Ethan,” my dad growls lowly, his eyes flashing. He and I have barely had three words since we all tumbled into this office, but I know him well enough to know what he’s thinking. He’s not mad about what’s been going on with Emily and I. I mean, he might not be thrilled about it, but he’s not angry. What he is mad about is this possibly getting me kicked out, after the many strings he’s pulled to get me in here with a record like mine.
“No, dad,” I mutter back. “I’m eighteen. There’s no fucking crime here.”
“Son, that is for us to figure out, so if you please, Colton,” Chief Halter glares at Principal Kane. “We’re going to take Ms. Hayes down to the station for—”
“Out.”
Principal Kane’s face is drawn and scowling, his broad shoulders bunched. “All of you. Right now.”
Chief Halter glares at him a second before he turns, nodding at his two deputies before they all file out. My dad shoots me a look and a half smile, reaching out to clap a hand on my shoulder before he also leaves.
“Colton…”
“You too, Natasha,” he says, arching a brow at Vice Principal Owens. “Everyone.” He glances back at Emily and I. “Everyone but you two.”
Here’s what we know so far. Since Derrick’s folks don’t live in Southworth and he’s a boarding student, he got the rest of the day to pack his shit and get his dad to get him a ride off campus for the week. But that gave him plenty of time to stew on it. And while stewing, I guess the little prick decided to fixate on the fact that it was mentioning Emily that got me all heated. I don’t know why the fuck he went to her classroom, but when he didn’t find her there, apparently, he went through her shit and found her sketchbook.
Yeah, that sketchbook.
My only consolation is trying to imagine Derrick’s face when he opened that thing up to find bare-assed drawings of yours truly with my cock in my hand. But, even a dipshit like Derrick knew what that picture, of a student, in a teacher’s sketchbook meant, and he went right to the cops about it.
Which brings us here.
The door to the office closes behind Vice Principal Owens, and the room goes quiet.
“Sit,” Principal Kane growls at me. I glance at Emily, who’s still white-faced and shaking, but
she nods. I sit.
“I don’t care who started this thing between the two of you,” he growls. “And I know it’s not technically a crime. I know you’re eighteen, Ethan, but…”
He gives me a hard look before turning his gaze on Emily and shaking his head.
“Emily…”
“I know,” she says softly.
“No,” I hiss. “You’re not going to fucking shame her into—”
“He’s right, Ethan,” she says quietly, her eyes looking at the floor. This was—”
“Don’t say it,” I growl. “Don’t you dare say it.”
I whirl on Principal Kane, snarling.
“I wanted this, okay! I wanted her.”
“Ethan,” Principal Kane sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Ethan, rules are still rules,” he says quietly.
“Fuck that.”
He smiles.
“You’re a good kid, Ethan.”
I roll my eyes and look away.
“No, you are, even if you’re hell-bent on pretending you aren’t. And you’re a damned good teacher, Emily,” he says with a sigh.
He sits back in his chair, shaking his head as he turns to glance out the window.
“Fuck.”
His quiet swear, has Emily and I both looking up at him as he turns back to us.
“Emily, I’m sorry, but there’s just no goddamn way I could keep you on staff after this.”
My heart drops, and I watch her nod as she looks down.
“I know, Colton.”
“No!” I snarl. “No, fuck that!”
“Ethan!”
“Fuck that!”
“Ethan!” her voice cuts through. So does her hand on my arm.
“Please,” she whispers. “This—this is happening. This is the only way this goes. You know that,” she says softly, sadness in her voice and a glisten of moisture in the corners of her eyes.
“This is bullshit, Emily.”
I turn back to Principal Kane.
“You know what? She goes, I go. Fuck this place.”
“No.”
Her voice breaks as she lets the word tumble out, and when I turn, my heart starts to break as I see the tears start to fall from her eyes.
“No, Ethan, you’re not leaving here. And you’re not throwing away the opportunities this place could offer you—”
“Emily, I don’t—”
“But I care!” she sobs, shaking her head as her hand finds mine and squeezes. Principal Kane turns away, like he’s giving us some space alone.
“If you leave,” she whispers, shaking her head as me. “If you leave, I’m never speaking to you again.”
I growl, my jaw grinding.
“This is what has to happen,” she says softly, squeezing my hand before she turns to Principal Kane and clears her throat.
“How long do I have at my place, Colton?”
His face darkness as he sucks his teeth.
“I can give you until tomorrow morning. After that, the board is going to get hardcore on this, Emily.”
He glances at me and shakes his head as we all stand.
“I’m really sorry about this, son,” he says quietly.
I don’t say a word as I turn and follow her out of the office. And then out of the building and into the parking lot. Outside, my dad and Celia rush over to me, and Celia starts to open her mouth as she turns to Emily, but I stop her cold.
“No,” I growl, shaking my head. “Whatever you’re going to say, fucking save it. This wasn’t her; it was me. I pursued her. I seduced her. I fucked up here, not her.”
Celia frowns. “Ethan, she’s your teach—”
“Sweetheart.”
My dad puts a hand on her arm, and when she glances at him, he shakes his head softly.
“But Tom!”
“Please,” I growl, my eyes searching hers. “Looks, she’s gone, okay? She’s leaving Winchester. What the fuck else would you want?”
Celia swallows, eyes darting between us. And slowly, she nods curtly as she glances at Emily.
“Good luck in the future, Ms. Hayes,” she says tightly, frowning, but saying nothing else.
Emily just nods, looking down. I glance past my dad at Jamison, who nods. He gets it.
“Hey, dad.”
He puts a hand on my dad’s shoulder and beckons with his head. My dad frowns for a second and then gets it.
“C’mon, sweetheart.”
He and Celia and Jamison turn and head out, leaving us alone.
“Emily—”
“Ethan,” she says quietly. “This…”
“You don’t have to go, Em—”
“Stop, Ethan!” she yells suddenly, turning with tears streaming down her cheeks. She storms across the parking lot to her car, but I follow her. And when she starts to open her car door, sobbing, I slam it shut with my hand and spin her around.
“Goddamnit, Emily,” I hiss, my eyes searching hers and my heart breaking as the tears roll down her cheeks. I reach out, wiping them away with my fingers, and she crumbles into me.
“Please, Ethan,” she whispers. “Please, if this meant anything to you, you have to let me—”
“You mean everything to me!” I roar, and she sobs.
“Don’t chase me. Don’t you dare leave school for me,” she hisses, her eyes narrowing at me as she pulls back and jabs my chest with a finger.
“Do what you should do. Paint, go to college, find someone who—”
“Christ, Emily, I don’t want—”
“Please, Ethan. For me. Because if this thing between us ends up wrecking your future, I’ll never forgive myself, and I’ll never forgive you.”
I blink, stunned. So, stunned that when she opens the door again, slides behind the wheel, and closes the door, I let it happen.
“I—I have to go pack, okay?” she whispers, tears coming down her cheeks again.
“Look, we’ll talk later, okay? We will. I just…” she shakes her head. “I need to go breathe and clear my head.” She smiles wryly. “And pack my shit.”
Our eyes meet, and I nod.
“Don’t you run off on me before I get there.”
She smiles sadly, and when I lean in through the open window and crush my lips to hers, she sobs into the kiss, clutching my face tightly like she never wants to let me go. But then we do, because I know she has to go. She pulls away and gives me a small wave as I just stand there like an asshole, watching her drive away.
Fuck.
I turn, and I’m heading back to where I’ve parked my bike, when I hear the sneering voice.
“Aww, don’t worry, trash. I’m sure that slut isn’t the only trash-whore who’ll fuck your sorry ass.”
A red mist comes over my eyes, and I’m turning, roaring, and charging before the little shit even knows what hits him. I catch Derrick full in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and the smirk off his face as I drive him right back into the side of a parked car. My fist sinks into his gut, doubling him over. Then it’s my elbow on his back, and my knee in his face, And then it’s just fury and blind, red, rage.
Every single beat-down I took from bigger kids at Lenox Hill. Every single holiday my mom and her drinking ruined. Every birthday I spent locked in a fucking reform school. Every fuck-up, every misstep, and mistake, and every regret comes pouring out on Derrick. But most of all, every voice inside me that knows Emily’s already gone.
He gets a few hits in, I’ll give him that, but the fight is over the second he opens his mouth. At some point, I’m aware of some people—Chief Halter, I think—pulling me away from him and slamming me to ground. There are cuffs on me, so, yeah, I guess it is the cops. And then I’m being dragged away.
But the only thing in my head is her.
* * *
Jamison ends up bailing me out. We both agree my dad’s dealt with enough shit for the day. He shoots me a look when I tell him to drop me back off at campus, but he doesn’t question it. He drops me at the
gates, and I’m off and running, my lungs burning and my pulse racing as I charge right for her house.
It’s dark when I get there, but deep down, I knew it would be. It’s empty too. That I think I also knew. I stand cold and hollow in the doorway, my heart stopping as I just stare at the empty cottage.
Well, not totally empty.
Because there, in the middle of the floor, propped against a chair, is a painting. It’s me, shirtless and slumped against the window of her Grand Wagoneer, grinning. There’s an orange glow over me, and you can see the rain just fucking pouring down behind me outside. And in my hand, is her hand.
Also, there’s a note.
Ethan—
Sometimes, I like to take a photo of something incredible so I can paint it accurately later. I didn’t have one for this, so, it’s from memory. But I think it turned out exactly how I remember it. I want you to remember us like this, not from today. You’re going to do amazing things, and I can’t wait to read about you in the New York Times or something. Go live your life, Ethan, and remember us like this.
I love you,
Emily
I drop to my knees, the note falling from my hands as something cold slices through my heart.
14
Emily
One Month Later
There’s a cool chill in the air as I step out of my apartment building. I shiver, the wind whipping through my hair as I turn up the collar of my jacket and dip my head into the chilly air. My feet move, my body walks forward, but as usual, my mind lingers somewhere behind me, barely able to catch up.
And my heart? Well, that’s been missing for weeks now.
Chicago is colder that Southworth, that’s for sure. Especially as fall begins to turn into winter months. Another shiver hits me as the wind whips up the back of my jacket, and my hands push deep into my pockets as I trudge towards work. Well, one of my works. Since landing in Chicago, I’ve kept myself busy working two jobs: days at the art supply store down the street from my Wicker Park apartment, and nights bartending at an obnoxiously clubby bar a few blocks the other direction. It’s a grind, I’ll say that, but it’s keeps me busy. And they keep my mind occupied. Kind of. Sort of.
