Whatever I do, I need to keep it together. I lock my jaw and focus on the upcoming game and how challenging it will be. Mentally, I breakdown the film I’ve been watching and focus on weaknesses that can be exploited. I run through each play, thrusting my hips and driving inside her tight sheath.
As much as I try to distract myself, I can’t help but think about how perfectly we fit together. As if she was made for me. Every time I surge forward, Demi meets my upstroke. We’re in perfect rhythm, which makes holding onto the last shred of my control almost impossible.
The delicate sounds that escape from her will be my undoing. My willpower is being stripped away with each one. Up until this point, I’ve always taken pride in my self-discipline. I’ve pushed my body to the limits and denied myself temptation. As an athlete, that’s the name of the game. You can never give in to the pain. You have to be constantly pushing past your limits. If this continues much longer, this one-hundred-and-twenty-pound girl will be the one who ultimately breaks me.
And that, I will not allow.
When I’ve run through every play in the book, my mind turns back to statistics. I mean, come on, how could that not turn me off?
Except...when I concentrate on the probability of independent events, I conjure up an image of Demi as she removes a piece of clothing and that only makes me harder. How messed up is that?
“I’m going to come,” she whimpers, breaking into my thoughts.
Thank fuck!
No, seriously. I mean that with all sincerity. Thirty seconds more, and I would have embarrassed myself.
Instead of speeding up the way my body insists, I hold a steady pace. My balls tighten as her cries grow louder. There’s a distinct possibility the tip of my cock is going to explode. What I’ve learned from this experience is that a blow job is good, but sex is fan-fucking-tastic.
Or maybe, more specifically, it’s sex with Demi that’s so amazing. I’m not sure, although I suspect it might be the latter.
When she cries out my name, her pussy spasms, strangling my cock, and I totally lose it, coming with a vengeance. It’s like the floodgates have opened, and there’s no holding back. Stars burst behind my eyelids, and there’s an excellent possibility I blacked out for a moment. When I finally come to again, Demi is leaning over me with a smug grin wreathing her face. My fingers bite into her hips, wanting to keep her seated on my dick.
“So,” she asks, satisfaction dripping from her voice, “what did you think?”
What did I think?
What did I think?
I think I could fuck this girl for the rest of my life.
Damn. That’s a scary thought. And yet...not really. I’m not quite sure what to make of it, so I push it aside for the time being. Then I shutter my expression before shrugging. “It was good. Although, out of curiosity...is that all there is to it? Like, is there anything more?”
Every bit of arrogance filling her expression vanishes as her eyes widen. “Is...there...anything...more?” The question gets pushed out slowly as if it’s foreign, and she’s having a difficult time wrapping her lips around it.
It takes everything I have inside to keep a straight face. “Yeah, you know, like a trick at the end or something?”
A garbled sound gets emitted from deep within her throat. “A trick?”
“Yeah. That was a lot of grinding. I expected you to do a little bit more.”
When her body stiffens and fire leaps into her dark eyes, I can’t stop the laughter from shaking my shoulders as it echoes throughout my body.
“Wait a minute—you’re fucking with me?” She sits up and smacks my chest.
I grab her hands before she can inflict any real damage. “Yeah, I’m joking around. You have to know that was amazing.”
Her brows jerk together as she grumbles, “Damn right, it was.”
I tug her closer before smacking a kiss against her lips. “Nothing I imagined could have prepared me for how spectacular that felt, and that has everything to do with you.” I raise my hand to her cheek before stroking my thumb across her lower lip.
Her body softens, turning pliant. “Good.”
Quite honestly, I don’t know how it could have been any better.
With a sigh, she relaxes against my chest. Her steady inhalations fill the space between us. For the first time in my life, true contentment settles over me. It’s as if the last puzzle piece has fallen into place. It’s a strange feeling. One I could get used to, if I’m not careful.
31
Rowan
As I hustle my way across campus to meet Demi for lunch, my phone breaks into the whirl of my thoughts. In case you’re wondering, those thoughts have everything to do with the dark-haired soccer player. I’m in so fucking deep with that girl I don’t think I’ll ever get out. At this point, I don’t even want to.
We’ve been public with our relationship for more than a week, and the talk around campus has finally died down. People are getting used to seeing us together. I’d wondered if the guys on the team would give me a hard time, but other than a few harmless comments, no one has said boo. Now, does that necessarily mean shit isn’t being said behind my back?
I’m sure it is. Those dudes gossip like a bunch of old ladies standing around in a church parking lot. At least they’re smart enough to keep it out of earshot. They’d get their asses handed to them by yours truly if they didn’t. Plus, most of these guys think of Demi as a little sister. They’re protective of her and will shut down any bullshit they hear floating around campus.
So yeah, life is pretty damn good at the moment. I don’t have any complaints.
I slip the phone from my pocket and stare at the screen.
Mom. Guilt slices through me. I’ve been so wrapped up in Demi that I haven’t checked in to see how everything is going. Normally, we talk a couple of times a week. I should probably stop at home and see how she’s doing. Maybe we can grab dinner.
I hit the green button and put the phone to my ear. “Hey, Mom. How’s it going?”
There’s a slight pause, and I frown, wondering if the connection is bad. Every once in a while, you’ll hit a dead spot on campus.
“Hello, son.”
Thrown off by the deep male voice that bursts over the line, my footsteps falter before stuttering to a halt.
What the fuck?
I shake my head, clinging to the irrational hope that my brain is playing a trick on me.
“Hello?” he says again before asking, “you there?”
Instead of answering, I rasp, “Why do you have Mom’s phone?” A chill slithers down my spine before settling uncomfortably at the base. “Where the hell is she?” My voice rises as I turn panicky. “Put her on the line.”
“Calm the fuck down, all right? Your ma is fine.” He chuckles before taking his mouth away from the phone. “Say hi, babe. Your son is worried about you.”
My muscles coil tight as I wait for the sound of my mother’s voice. I swear to fucking God if he’s done something to her, I’ll be on the phone with his parole officer so fast, his damn head will spin.
“Hi, sweetie,” comes Mom’s soft voice from somewhere in the nearby vicinity.
Everything in me loosens. “Give her the phone,” I snap, wanting to talk privately with her and get to the bottom of what’s going on. Why would she be anywhere near him?
Disregarding the demand, he says mildly, “Good news. Your ma and I have decided to give it another whirl.” My belly crashes to the bottom of my toes. “Aren’t you excited?”
Is that a joke?
It’s the worst possible news. After my father was sent away, it took months, if not years, to evict him from my mother’s head. She had to practically be deprogrammed. And now he’s back. The last thing she needs is him fucking up her life again.
Goddamn it!
“Now that I’m out, we can be one big happy family.”
Like we were ever that. My father has proven time and time again that he doesn’t give a rat�
��s ass about us.
“I gotta go.” I don’t have time for this bullshit. I don’t want him in my life, and I sure as shit don’t want him anywhere near Mom. I’m not the same kid he left behind a decade ago who was easily intimidated. I’m a grown man. I wasn’t able to protect my mother from him before, but I sure as shit will do it now.
“Don’t you dare hang up!” His voice deepens, cracking like thunder over the line. Some of his nice guy façade falls away like I suspected it would. It only reconfirms my suspicions that he’s trying to run a game on me.
“Why? There’s nothing for us to talk about.”
“We have ten years to catch up on.”
“No, Scott, we don’t.”
“You always were a mouthy little bastard, weren’t you?” he chuckles, although it sounds like he’s holding on to his patience by a thread. I can almost imagine him tightening his hand before flexing it and cracking the knuckles. That sound always meant trouble.
“There’s no reason we can’t sit down and hash out our shit. You’re my son, we’re family. I want to see you. It’s like I’ve always told ya—you can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your family.”
I almost snort.
Is that rationale really supposed to win me over?
“Wish I could.” Not. “But I’ve got a lot going on.”
As I’m about to stab the disconnect button, he says, “Well, I got your address. Maybe a surprise reunion will be more fun.”
That not so subtle threat has my blood running cold. I don’t want him anywhere near campus.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I plow my fingers through my hair and quickly decide what to do. There’s always the possibility that it’s an empty threat. Although...do I really want to take that chance? With my luck, the bastard will show up on my doorstep.
“When do you want to meet?” I gnash my teeth together so hard they feel as if they’re in imminent danger of shattering.
“Now works for me.”
No way in hell.
“Sorry, I can’t—”
“Look, I’ll make it easy on you. There’s a truck stop on the outskirts of town, right off highway eighteen and county ten. I’ll be there in an hour.”
Before I can open my mouth, the line goes dead. A cold sweat pops out across my brow at the thought of coming face-to-face with my father after all these years. As much as I don’t want to cancel my plans with Demi, there isn’t a choice in the matter. The thought of lying to her leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but there’s no way in hell I can tell her the truth.
Hey, remember when you asked about my parents? Well, guess what? Pops was released early from prison, where he was serving a twenty-year sentence. That’s right, I’ve got the blood of a murderer running through my veins.
Can you imagine the look of horror and disgust that would come over her face?
I shake my head as if the movement alone will banish the ugly thought from my brain.
It doesn’t work.
I fire off a quick text explaining that something came up, and I can’t meet her for lunch after all. It’s not exactly a lie. It’s just not the unvarnished truth. Within moments, a sad face emoji pops up on my screen followed by a bunch of hearts and kisses. It’s almost enough to bring a smile to my face.
I slide my phone into my back pocket and take off for home. An hour later, I’m parked in the gravel lot outside a seedy truck stop along the highway. There’s a peeling sign that advertises massages.
Yeah right...
My guess is that they’re offering a lot more than that—more like a rub and a tug. It shouldn’t come as any surprise that my father is familiar with a place like this. I still can’t believe he’s a free man. In all honesty, after he was incarcerated, I never imagined seeing him again. I had high hopes of him rotting in prison. Do you have any idea how comforting that thought was? And now it’s all been blown to shit. The same sick feeling I used to get when I was a kid settles in the pit of my belly. I hate that he’s still able to tie me up into knots.
My muscles stiffen as I sit in my truck and watch mostly men come and go from the establishment. There’s a ball cap pulled low over my eyes. So far, I haven’t caught sight of my father. Is it too much to ask that he doesn’t show up? Although, deep down, I know he will. The only reason he contacted me is because he wants something. And contrary to the garbage he spewed earlier, it’s not for us to be a happy family. We were a lot of things, but that was never one of them.
I glance impatiently at my sports watch, only wanting to get this over with. Once I shut him down, I won’t have to think about him again. Maybe this is for the best. I can get him out of my life once and for all.
Another ten minutes tick by without any sign of Scott. As I consider starting up the engine and getting the hell out of here, a beat-up Chevy pulls into the lot. I squint, trying to get a good look at the driver. Even though I can’t see the guy’s profile clearly, the fine hair at the back of my neck stands at attention. It’s like déjà vu. That’s exactly what would happen when I was a kid, and he’d come home drunk, spoiling for a fight. It pisses me off that after a decade, I still have a sixth sense where he’s concerned. My gaze stays pinned to the driver’s side door.
The man who unfolds himself from inside the vehicle only vaguely resembles the one who was hauled away by the police in cuffs a decade ago. His blond hair is cropped short. Almost as if he walked into a barbershop and told them to buzz it with a number one. And he’s more jacked than I remember. My gaze drops to his belly. No longer is there a beer gut hanging over his belt. The sleeves of his black T-shirt are wrapped tightly around bulging biceps. Looks like someone made good use of the prison workout room. That was probably more of a survival tactic than anything else. I study his face carefully and notice the roadmap of new lines.
The years have not been kind to my father.
It’s almost like he can sense my scrutiny. He squints, glancing around the half-filled parking lot before taking a drag from his cigarette. The cherry at the end glows bright red as he inhales. My immediate response is to fold in on myself as his gaze coasts over my truck. The moment I realize what I’m doing, I straighten my shoulders.
Fuck that. No matter what he thinks, I’m not the same timid kid he left behind.
As soon as he’s done with the smoke, he flicks it onto the gravel and saunters toward the diner. A chime over the door rings out faintly as he steps over the threshold. I force out the lungful of air that is lodged in my throat.
My fight or flight instincts kick in, screaming at me to start up the truck and get the hell out of here while the getting is still good. It only proves you can never escape from your past. And rewiring your brain—even after a decade—is more difficult than you’d think.
As tempting as it is to cut and run, I know there’s no point. He’ll make damn good on his threat to come looking for me, and I don’t want him anywhere near Western University.
Or Demi.
My mouth dries.
Especially Demi.
It takes another ten minutes before I work up the courage to leave the safety of my vehicle. As I stalk toward the rundown restaurant and whatever-the-hell-goes-on-here, it’s like I’m walking toward certain death. I pull open the door and step inside. Maybe I’m a mess of nerves, but I’ll be damned if I show him anything but strength. My gaze scans the faded red vinyl booths that have seen better days—more like better decades—until it lands on a man buried in the far corner. A waitress who looks as worn as her surroundings sets a cup of coffee in front of him. I blow out a steady puff and force myself to eat up the distance that separates us. I’m halfway across the room when he senses my presence and glances up, his light blue eyes landing on me.
They flare slightly with surprise before the emotion is quickly masked. The corners of his lips twitch with a forced smile as he rises to his feet. “It’s good to see you, son.”
T
he endearment rings false and grates against my nerves.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, unable to rein in my irritation.
There is no love loss between us. When I was a kid, he couldn’t be bothered to treat me with an ounce of kindness. I was nothing more than a nuisance. His lips would twist with disgust, and he’d snap at me to stop hiding behind my mother’s skirt and act like a man, not a little pussy. That’s probably the best memory I have of him. Actually, watching him get hauled away by the police is my fondest recollection.
It’s only when I’m standing a few feet away that I realize he has to tilt his chin to hold my steady gaze. As a child, my father loomed over me, always seeming larger than life. A powerhouse of physical force and brute strength he used to strongarm Mom into giving him what he wanted.
That’s not the case anymore.
I straighten to my full height and lower my shoulders, hoping to intimidate him the same way he used to do to us. Instead, he does the unexpected and opens his arms as if this is a happy reunion, and I wasn’t threatened into making an appearance. I recoil at the thought of touching him and drop into the booth instead.
He stands there for a moment. Annoyance flickers in his eyes before he slides in across from me. “What? No hug for the old man?”
I sit back and fold my arms across my chest. “My guess is that you didn’t come here for hugs.”
His lips twist. The slight semblance of a smile doesn’t reach the coolness of his eyes. Instead of answering, he says, “Aw, come on. It doesn’t have to be like this. We’re family.” There’s a pause as if he’s assessing the effect of his words. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
I lived with him until I was eleven years old, and not once could the guy be bothered to ask how my day at school went. If there wasn’t a way for me to be useful, it was like I didn’t exist. And now he wants to be filled in with all the details?
I don’t think so. He can get bent for all I care.
“Can we drop the façade?” Rather pointedly, I glance at my watch. “I don’t have a lot of time.”
The look in his eyes sharpens, turning just this side of feral. I tense, immediately recognizing the reaction. It brings me straight back to my childhood and makes me send up a little prayer of gratitude he was sent away before he could inflict any real damage. Who would I be if he hadn’t pulled the trigger? Would he have sucked me into his orbit? Gotten me involved with his petty con games? There are nights when I lay awake and try to imagine an alternate future. Thank fuck that was never my reality. If it had been, it’s doubtful I’d be where I am today.
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