She had begged for more.
“I love you, Willow,” I panted between thrusts. “I fucking love you and I’m going to fuck you like this forever.”
“Duke…” she mewled.
“Forever, Willow,” I swore. “My cock is the only cock that’s going to ever split you wide open like this.”
“Yes…”
I took everything this girl was offering, and it wasn’t until Sunday night rolled around that I allowed her to go home. But in six months, after graduation, I’d never let her leave my side again.
What was six months, anyway, right?
Epilogue
Alistair~
I wasn’t really sure what to expect of college, but, so far, it was meeting all the hype. I knew my experience was going to be vastly different from everyone else’s since I wasn’t sports orientated, but I was still looking forward to the experience. And experience that was going to be debt-free, might I add.
Turns out, Samson Maddox Sr. was such a sucker for love, he wrote a check, and was going to continue to write out checks, so that Amelia, Mackenzie, and Charlie could follow Ford, Samson, and Raiden to the colleges of their choice. It had been an easy decision for the girls since Amelia had never had a solid plan before dating Ford, and Mackenzie had never planned on going to college since she couldn’t have afforded it. Charlie and Raiden had lucked out by getting into the same college that worked for the both of them.
Samson, Mackenzie, Ford, and Amelia had headed off to Ohio State, while Raiden and Charlie had taken off to UCLA. And now that Maddox Jr. has been loved up with Willow Davis since their first day of school this year, I was sure Samson Sr. would make that work, too. They had both chosen Stanford, and it was going to be good to know he’d be in California with us.
I ended up at USC, only twelve miles from UCLA. And even though it hadn’t been love that had brought me out this way, Samson Sr. counted me as one of the group and had written a check for me, too. He had also footed the bill for Amelia’s twin brother, Steele. And he attended USC with me.
It had been shocking, and humbling.
Now, two months left on my first year at USC, I was thankful for the man’s generosity. Meeting other students who were here on scholarships or working three jobs to be able to afford to attend USC had made realize what a blessing it was to be financially free of responsibility regarding my education. Everything else, I was responsible for, though.
With the amazement of how strongly Samson Sr. felt about love, it had been hard not to revisit that dull ache that’s been with me since my freshman year at Eastwood.
Rory Simmons.
The girl I fell in love with the summer before our freshman year.
The girl who left the following summer.
The girl I’ve never been able to get past to move forward with someone else.
Rory fucking Simmons.
My sophomore year was spent heartbroken enough that Amelia almost never left my side. Junior year had been better, but thoughts of a serious girlfriend weren’t in existence. It hadn’t been until last year when I finally caved and reveled in the attention I had received after getting my ass kicked by Ridgeview trying to save Charlie from their bullshit. I still had a scar that cut across my left eyebrow from where they kicked my ass.
Fucking assholes.
After I had been regaled as a hero, girls had started coming up to me, and making their intentions known. And while I had still not been looking for anything serious, I had taken a few of them up on their offers. It was hard not to be bombarded with females the closer I hung out with Samson, Raiden, Duke, and Ford. Even with Samson madly in love with Mackenzie, Ford, Raiden, and Duke had been single around that time, so I had been popular and wanted by default.
And now, here I was, at college, no longer a kid. I might only be nineteen, but this was the next step in becoming a responsible adult. And I knew, with that, I was going to have to eventually move on from my childhood broken heart.
I often wondered about Rory, but I never reached out. We could have done the whole social-media-long-distance thing, but we’d been too young to be that miserable for the next three years. And while I wanted Rory to be happy, I didn’t want to witness her moving on without me via social media. I hadn’t block her or anything like that. However, I had removed her from everything.
“Brown!”
I looked over as I was exiting the Math building and saw Steele Prescott. I jerked my chin up. “Prescott.”
He caught up with me. “Ready for spring break?”
I looked over at him. “You know, I think I am.”
The End.
Alistair
Copyright 2020 Monica Clayton
Published by M.E. Clayton
All Rights Reserved
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. The entire content is a product of the author’s imagination and all names, places, businesses and incidences are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), places or occurrences, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the express written consent from the author, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Formatting: Smashwords
Cover: Adobe Stock
Warning: This book contains sexual situations and other adult themes. Recommended for 18 years of age and over.
Table of Contents
∞∞∞
Author's Note
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Prologue
1. Rory
2. Alistair
3. Rory
4. Alistair
5. Rory
6. Alistair
7. Rory
8. Alistair
9. Rory
10. Alistair
Epilogue
Playlist
About the Author
Other Books
Contact Me
Author’s Note
∞∞∞
Just a couple of things before I let you go and get your read on. While I am doing my best to work with better editing and proofreading software, all my books are solo, independent works. I write my books, proofread my books, edit my books, create the covers, etc. I have one beta who gives me feedback on my stories, but other than that, all my books are independent projects.
That being said, I apologize, in advance, for the typos, grammar inconsistencies, or any other mistakes I may make. Since writing is strictly a hobby for me, I haven’t looked for commitments in regard to publishers, editors, etc. My hope is that my stories are enjoyable enough that a few mistakes, here and there, can be overlooked. If not, my books are probably not for you.
Also, I am an avid reader-I mean an AVID reader. I love to read above any other hobby. One of the things about reading that hurts my heart, though, is when I fall in love with a book, but I have to wait for the additional books in the series to be released. Because I feel that disappointment down to my soul, I vowed that if I ever write a series, all books will be published at once. Nope-no waiting over here…LOL. So, if you are reading one of my books, but can’t find any other books on the secondary characters of that book, that means the book is a standalone project.
That being said, standalones aren’t really working out for me because I have readers (and my beta) constantly asking for the stories of the supporting characters. If there is enough interest for the supporting characters, I will do my best to give them their stories, but I will
make sure to have the remaining books that were requested out at the same time.
Thank You! Thank You! Thank You! Thank you, for making this dream of mine come true!
Acknowledgements
∞∞∞
The first acknowledgement will always be my husband (unless we ever divorce, then probably not so much after that), but seeing as how I can’t imagine that day ever coming, I can’t ever put myself out there without thanking him for all his love, support and belief in me.
Second, there’s my family; my daughter, my son, my grandchildren, my sister, and my mother. They are the people who love me the most, know me the best, and love me dearly, despite all they know…LOL!
And, of course, there’s Kamala. She insists that I don’t have to thank her in every book, but my love for her and gratitude for all her support and enthusiasm, claims otherwise. She’s the first person (outside my family) that I shared this dream with, and she’s been by my side every step of the way. Kam, you really are the best kind of friend!
And, finally, I’d like to thank everyone who’s purchased, read, reviewed, shared, and supported me and my writing. Thank you so much for helping make this dream a reality and a happy, fun one at that! There are not enough ‘Thank You’s in the world.
Dedication
∞∞∞
For –
Anyone who’s ever had to decide if
the second chance was worth it or not.
Prologue
It was him.
It. Was. Him.
Over the years, I’ve run into a few people who’ve had that shock of white-blonde hair and were tall and nicely built. And my heart always thumped inside my chest at the possibilities, but my mind would always remind me of reality’s harsh truths.
The truth where you were at the mercy of how your parents had decided they wanted to lead their lives. The truth where you had no voice and you had to concede to what the adults deemed was the best thing for you. Because, at the tender age of fifteen, you couldn’t possibly know what you want, right?
Wrong.
I knew what I wanted at fifteen, and it was the same thing I wanted to this day.
Or, rather, who.
Alistair Brown.
The boy I fell in love with when I was just fourteen, and swore I was going to spend the rest of my life with. The boy with white-blonde hair that I had never seen on someone before. And it had only magnified the bright blue hue in those bedroom eyes of his. I remember Alistair having lashes that I’d kill for when we were younger, and I wondered if he still had them.
I knew, four years later, there were bound to be physical changes, but I wondered if he’s changed. Then I shook my head at my ridiculousness. Of course, he’s changed.
We all always do.
I knew for a fact that I’ve changed. I changed the day my mother had dragged me away from Eastwood and away from Alistair. People tell you that you can’t possibly feel real love when you’re young, but that wasn’t true. Four years later, my chest still felt like it was going to cave in whenever I allowed myself to fall into the memories of Alistair Brown.
Over the years, I’ve often wondered what would have happened had we stuck it out, but ‘what ifs’ never did anyone any good. The only thing that had helped with the loss was that, when Alistair and I had found out I was leaving, we had given each other our virginities. It had been sloppy, desperate, and sweet. By that time, my parents had already hated each other, and my dad had been scarcely around, and my mom had been out, every night, partying it up. So, it hadn’t been too hard to sneak Alistair into my bedroom that night where we said goodbye the only way we knew we could.
We had spent the entire night together until Alistair had snuck back out in the morning. Three days later, my mother was moving me to Wisconsin, of all places. My father had stayed in California, but I had scrubbed my hands of that relationship the night he had come home to tell my mom he’d fallen in love with someone else.
Because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, I had been torn away from the only home and town I had ever known. My aunt, Jeri, had convinced my mom to move to Wisconsin, and that had been that.
Alistair and I could have easily kept in touch, but I hadn’t wanted to see him move on without me. As selfish as that was, I didn’t want to see pictures of him smiling with new friends or a new girlfriend. I had been certain that I was going to spend the rest of my life miserable, so I hadn’t wanted to see him happy. Oh, I had wanted him to be happy, I just hadn’t wanted to see it.
With time marching on, I had finally found myself in a place where I could move on. Not fall in love, mind you, but have a life outside what I felt for Alistair Brown.
I ended up making friends at my new school, but that had been about it. It hadn’t been until earlier this year that I finally started dating seriously. I hadn’t found a serious boyfriend yet, but I had dated with the intention of giving it a serious effort. Since I hadn’t wanted to experience the same heartache twice in a lifetime, I opted to not date in high school because I knew college was in my future. I wasn’t about to get serious with another guy only to have to leave him again.
No fucking way.
I was still hiding behind the library when Millie, one of my dormmates, found me. “What are you doing?”
I let out a yelp as I jumped around. “Jesus, Millie,” I rushed out. “You scared me.”
She rolled her pretty blue eyes. “You were seriously in the zone,” she replied. “Spring break has started. Serious left the building during last class.”
Yeah, it had.
Until I saw Alistair Brown walking across my college’s campus.
Chapter 1
Rory~
Spring break in California was insane. But I suppose it was like that everywhere. Millie and a bunch of our dormmates had already made plans to go down to Cancun, but I didn’t have the time or money like that. I didn’t begrudge them their financial blessings, but I also wasn’t about to stretch myself thin just to fit in.
USC was made possible by years of hard work and maintaining a high enough G.P.A. to qualify for scholarships and financial aid. Sure, I was going to be in debt to my eyeballs for the rest of my life, but the plan was to invent a cream or shot or technique with my sports therapy degree that would cut healing time with sports injuries. Or maybe go the preventative route. Either way, the patent would garner me millions and I could pay off the ball and chain of debt I had and was going to have when it was all said and done.
Growing up, I had always had a thing for sports, and it hadn’t even been a father/daughter thing. Stanley Simmons hadn’t known squat about sports, and he had never cared to. For me, it had all started in the first grade during our first dodgeball game. The competitive streak in me had come alive and I had become hooked on sports.
I had tried out for everything and found that my list of likability was baseball first, then football, hockey, basketball, rugby, volleyball, and finally soccer. Volleyball had been the only one to stick because I wasn’t tall enough for any basketball player to take me seriously and soccer didn’t hold my interest like all the other sports. And since baseball, football, hockey, and rugby were all male sports, volleyball ended up being my calling. Of course, that was until my life had fallen apart. After the move to Wisconsin, nothing had interested me. However, when the time had come for me to have to decide what to do with my life, sports had seemed like the way to go.
My mother, Keri, hadn’t had an opinion, one way or the other. But that was probably because she had been too focused on her new family to really put in the effort with me anymore. It wasn’t that she was horrible, I think she just knew I couldn’t be reached with as badly depressed as I had been. And my stepfather, Kevin Merlot, had his own responsibilities to attend to. His daughter, Chrissy, was a spoiled handful, so we had ended up becoming polite roommates more than anything else.
The funny thing was that everyone had thought I was just being a melodramatic teenager, but I hadn’t b
een. My heart had genuinely been broken, and my depression had been real. I had even started gaining weight from eating my feelings and, four years later, I was still chubby. But the good thing about being overweight was that it weeded out the jerks from the nice guys. The few guys I’ve dated had been sweethearts, but the relationships had just fizzled out. It happened all the time.
And because I wasn’t born rich and college was a hard-earned experience, instead of going off to get drunk for a week straight, I was tightening my apron around my waist, getting ready for my shift, even though I knew we were probably not going to get any customers with campus damn near empty. I worked at a small diner two blocks away from USC as a waitress, and I had been able to land the job as soon as I had moved to California. And because the diner was owned by a wealthy real estate broker, he didn’t need the money, so we were all paid well above the state’s minimum wage. Mr. Brandon Claire knew a lot of college students worked here to help with college expenses, so he paid us well enough to make a difference in our educational success.
Now, not all students went off gallivanting to party it up, but enough students were gone for it to make a difference in how fast the hours would pass. It was okay, though. I was grateful for this job and it beat going back home to Wisconsin for a visit. It wasn’t that I disliked my mom, I just didn’t feel comfortable in her new life. Plus, Chrissy was hard to take. She was only seventeen and a truly horrible human being. Her mother walked out on them when she was young, and her father tried to make up for it by giving her every star in the sky. Seriously, ‘entitlement’ should be her middle name.
“I don’t know what’s worse, a packed house or an empty one,” Stacy Sawyer muttered as she walked into the employee lounge.
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