by Anne Jolin
My sister is gorgeous, but aside from our green eyes, we don’t look much alike. Her hair is wavy like mine, but hers is blond and cut off at the shoulders in a stylish bob. She’s shorter than I am, standing at no more than five foot four, and where I am curvy with a big chest, she’s petite and dainty. Differences aside, we both share an unhealthy obsession with action movies and can string together cursing combos that would make a sailor blush, but I think that’s a family trait.
She’s glaring at me because I still haven’t answered. There’s no way around it. Beth’s nosy as hell and she’ll drag it out of me eventually, so I give in and tell her.
“I may or may not have had a one night stand. And I may or may not have gotten caught attempting to sneak out at the break of day.”
All the anger leaves her in an instant and she squeals clapping her hands together. Beth loves good gossip. “Oh my God, Hannah Banana, you are such a little skank! Now tell me everything, I want all the dirty details.”
“There’s no dirty details to tell Beth. I don’t remember anything.”
“Nothing?” she says, her eyes wide.
“Not a damn thing. The last thing I remember is doing my umpteenth tequila shot at the bar with Lennon.” Speaking of which, where the hell is my best friend? I can’t believe she let me saunter my drunk ass off with him.
“Well that just makes this a whole lot juicier! She hasn’t come home yet either,” my sister says, pulling into our driveway.
Lennon, Beth, and I have shared a three-bedroom condo on Alpha Lake for the last three years. We’d never be able to afford it on our own, but when our grandmother passed away, she left us an inheritance. Beth and I pooled ours together and used it to buy the condo; Lennon rents a room from us.
“Can you go unlock the door and open the garage? I left the opener inside when I came to get you.”
“Fuck!” I scream and slam my hands down on the dashboard.
“What the fuck, Hannah? Watch my car. Jesus Christ. What’s wrong with you?”
“I left Michael at Mr. Hunnam’s,” I whine and do a face-plant into my hands.
“Mr. Hunnam, eh?” She snickers. I turn my head and give her a glare, leaving my head in my hands. “Well do you want to go back and get it?”
I mull it over briefly. Everything is inside my Michael; house keys, wallet, truck keys. Speaking of truck keys, I really need to find Clifford today. I like to name my things. So what?
“No, I’ll figure it out later.”
“Oookay then, grumpus.” She hands me her house key and I head inside.
Hitting the button for the garage door, I wait to see that she’s pulled in before I head straight to the bathroom. After a shower and two Advil, I’m closing my blinds and climbing under the covers. My thoughts drift to a tattooed man with pale-blue eyes before sleep quickly pulls me under.
“SPREAD YOUR LEGS for me, sweetheart,” he says, reaching down to cup my pussy.
I moan and thrash under the weight of his body, doing as I’ve been told and spreading my knees for him. He nips and kisses his way from my neck to my collarbone. Oh God, I just want him inside me. Fuck.
“You have the most gorgeous tits, Hannah.” He sucks my right nipple into his mouth as he pinches and rolls the other with his hand.
I throw my head back. I fucking love it when he plays with my tits. He’s alternating between sucking, biting, and blowing on my nipples, and I think I could come from this alone. He kisses his way down my flat stomach, biting my side. Equal parts pleasure and pain. I’m so wet I’m probably dripping onto the bed.
I gasp as he runs his thick tongue between my folds. “You taste fucking unreal, Hannah.” The stubble on his face is rubbing between my legs; it feels amazing on my already sensitive pussy.
“Oh God. Please. I need more,” I beg. I’m so close, just hovering on the edge.
“Do you want me to bang you, sweetheart? Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers until you come all over my face?” Jesus Christ. His dirty talking is making me drip. All I do is nod. “Say it, Hannah. I want to hear you say it.” He’s teasing my entrance with two fingers, rubbing his thumb on my clit. Just light enough to drive me crazy, giving me no relief.
“I want you to fuck me with your fingers until I come. I’m begging you. Please. Don’t tease me. I can’t take it.”
He slams his fingers into me. I hear someone moan loudly, and I think it’s me, but all I can focus on are the muscles in his forearm as he pumps his fingers in and out of my pussy. He nips at my clit just as his fingers curl up to hit that sweet spot inside me and I scream, my hips bucking off the bed as my release comes crashing down around me.
“I could eat you for breakfast every day, Hannah. So fucking sweet,” he says before lapping up the rest of my juices.
He looks hot as fucking hell with his head between my legs, licking my come off his lips. Jesus, I just came and I already feel unsatisfied. I need to feel his cock inside me...
I’m ripped from sleep when I hear my phones text tone go off. I ignore it, hoping that whoever it is will go away and I can go back to my naughty dream. I’m almost dozing off when I hear my phone again. I groan and blindly reach toward my side table, slapping around until I feel my phone. It takes my hungover brain a few minutes to adjust to the light of my screen before I can read the message. It’s from Jami. His full name is Jamison, but nobody calls him that. Not unless they’re trying to piss him off, anyway. Which I am, because I think I was having the hottest wet dream of my life with my Hunnam and he fucking ruined it.
Jami – Wake up, Hannah Montana! Martha and I are going jogging and we want you to come.
Me – Piss off, Jamison! I’m hung to the tits.
Jami – Well that’s a gross mental picture.
I smile to myself because of course Jami would think it’s gross. We’ve been close friends for so long, I’m practically his sister. It’s how I met Jackson actually. My thoughts instantly start to drift to Jackson and our breakup when another text comes in. Bastard knows I read his last message. Stupid iPhone and its read function. I really need to turn that off.
Jami – Seriously, though, Martha misses you.
Me – It’s pretty sad that you have to use your dog to guilt trip your friends into hanging out with you Jami.
Jami – Martha’s crying now. You’ve really upset her.
Me – Oh good God. Fine. It worked. But you have to help me find Clifford after. Pick me up in an hour.
Jami – Only you could lose a bright red truck. See you soon.
I roll out of bed and put on a pair of long running tights and my favorite old Rock Falls Lacrosse hoodie. It was actually my brother Kai’s, but I stole it when he left. Kai’s in Ontario going to school on a hockey scholarship. I miss him a lot, but I’m so proud of him. I smile to myself as I pull my hair into a ponytail, thinking I should call my brother soon. It’s been a while. I grab my Nikes and a pair of socks then head into the kitchen to make some breakfast. Or, well, lunch. I hate breakfast food. It’s probably why I love to sleep in. Then I can just skip the god-awful meal altogether.
I’m sitting at the breakfast bar, eating my non-breakfast—a tuna sandwich and a can of Coke Zero—when Lennon comes sneaking in the front door. She hasn’t seen me yet and thinks she’s getting away scot-free on having to do the walk of shame.
“Morning, butthead!” I say a little too loudly for my own headache, making me wince.
“Takes one to know one, butthead. Good morning to you too,” she says with a smile and climbs onto the barstool next to me. “You look like shit, by the way.”
“Why thank you. So do you. Care to explain why you let me leave the bar with the Hunnam lookalike from Jackson’s party? The one whose bed I woke up naked in this morning.” I finish off the last of my sandwich then get up to put the plate in the dishwasher.
“You did not!” she exclaims and covers her mouth with her hands. I just nod my head and try to keep from blushing. “I swear to God I ha
ve no idea. If I were sober, I would have stopped you. I woke up at mom’s house, in my old bedroom, surrounded by Furbies. It was creepy as hell. We drank way too much last night.”
“Yeah. Well, I woke up surround by two hundred and thirty pounds of solid, tattooed male.” Lennon smirks at me and I shake my head at her just as Beth comes into the kitchen. “Don’t even ask. I know what you’re thinking. I already told Beth. I don’t remember how it was because I don’t remember anything! At all,” I huff out, waving my arms for emphasis.
“Nothing?” she says, looking disappointed. Beth isn’t the only one who enjoys juicy gossip.
I’m about to answer her when I hear a knock at the door. “That’s probably Jami. We’re going jogging.” I slide my feet into my Nikes, figuring that I’ll lace them up on our way to the trail. I’ve almost reached the door when I decide ah, what the hell? I might as well throw my girls a bone. “Oh, one more thing, girls...” They turn around to look at me. “He has the biggest cock I’ve ever seen,” I say before opening the door and closing it to their gaping mouths.
“Well you look happy with yourself,” Jami says as we’re walking toward his lifted Jeep Wrangler.
I smile at him but don’t say anything. He definitely doesn’t need to know about the size of Mr. Hunnam’s cock.
He just shakes his head at me and motions to the Jeep. “Get in, Hannah Montana. It’s torture time!”
I groan. I hate exercise. I only do it because I love food. In fact, if it weren’t for my friend and his stupid obsession with running all the goddamn time, I’d probably be on that show The Biggest Loser.
After opening the door, I grab the Jeep’s ‘oh shit’ handle and use it to pull myself up. He must have to use a stepladder for any of his dates that are under my height, I think to myself. This is a typical problem in Rock Falls. Everyone has big trucks—girls, guys, old people, and young people. It doesn’t matter. We’re all completely obsessed with big vehicles. You could try and blame it on the fact that we get so much snow, but that would be a crock of shit. Any vehicle with four-wheel drive would do fine up here. Even Beth’s Mazda can hack it. I buckle myself in and let Martha give me a few sloppy kisses, and then we’re on our way.
Jami’s nattering on about some cooking show and how he just has to try and recreate the lamb chops they made. I’m happy to listen to him ramble. Mostly because I’m distracted with playing my dirty dream on a mental loop in my head. I can’t believe I had sex with this guy and had him go down on me in a dream, but I don’t even know his name. I smile to myself, but that’s just so ridiculous. I must have missed something important though because now Jami’s staring at me with a look that says, ‘Are you even listening to me?’
“Sorry. I was distracted. What’s up?” I ask, giving him my full attention now.
“I said how does Lennon like her new job?”
Lennon. What the hell? I swear something’s going on with these two. They’re constantly fishing for information about each other. Well, Lennon only mentions him when she’s drunk.
“She loves it. The group of girls at this place is much better than the last one.” Lennon is a hairdresser—a damn good one at that. She can do wonders with my mop of hair. She recently just moved to a new salon with a more upper-class clientele. She doesn’t have the patience for catty bitches. “Why?” I ask.
It’s not that I don’t love Jami. I do. He’s insanely good-looking. He has dark-brown, almost-black hair and a strong, chiseled jaw that is always sporting scruff. Jamison Henley doesn’t do clean shaven. He has lots of tattoos, none of which you can see unless he has his shirt off. He has women falling all over themselves day and night just to keep his bed warm for a few hours. He’s not exactly a one-woman guy, which is the nice way of saying that he’s slept with most of the female population in our town, and I’m not sure I want his first run at monogamy to be with Lennon. She might be tough as nails on the outside, but being cheated on would destroy her. I make a mental note to ask her about him later on.
“No reason. We’re here.” He pulls the Jeep into a stall on the far end of the parking lot and hops out, effectively ending my line of questioning.
It looks like we’re running the forest trails today, which is fine by me because they’re gravel and the big trees keep most of the snow off them. The last thing I want to add to my day is a bruised tailbone. That would make me a very big grumpus, as Beth likes to say. We head out onto the trail, starting off at a slow pace to warm up. Martha is running out in front of us, making sure not to miss a single opportunity to pee on something and having a grand ol’ time doing just so.
After about thirty minutes, I can feel my lungs starting to burn. Running in the mountain air is hard enough, but doing it hungover it’s a bitch. I know Jami’s running slower than his usual pace, but he likes the company, so he doesn’t complain. We finish off the loop, and about another thirty minutes later, we are back in the Jeep and headed across town.
“So where’s Clifford? I still don’t understand how it’s possible for you to have lost him.” Jami is rolling his eyes at me; I don’t have to see his face to know that he’s doing it.
“It’s not that I lost him per se. I just can’t remember where I put him before I got drunk off my ass.”
We both laugh and I let him know that I need to go home to get my spare key before we go looking for my truck. All of my keys are still at his house.
WE PULL UP to my condo and it’s impossible not to notice the massive, blacked-out Dodge Ram in the driveway. That’s weird. I don’t know that truck. Like I said, it’s a pretty small town and we like big vehicles. I happen to usually know most of the ones that like to park themselves in the driveway.
Jami pulls up behind the strange truck, and I hop out, letting him know that I’ll be back in a minute. I’m jogging up the steps, making sure to keep my eyes down so I don’t slip on any ice, when I slam into a brick wall. Well, it’s not a brick wall because a brick wall wouldn’t be in the middle of my stairs and it also wouldn’t smell this good, I think to myself as the brick wall in question reaches out and wraps an arm around my waist to steady me.
At this point, I have my hands wrapped in the brick wall’s shirt and I’m almost drunk on how fantastic he smells. Someone clears their throat behind me and I detangle my hands from the brick wall in question. I can’t imagine this stranger takes too kindly to strange women smelling him like he is the last flower on Earth, albeit a sexy flower. I go to step back, but his arm is still wrapped around my waist, leaving my body pressed against his.
I look up, and through my eyelashes, I see his handsome face. It’s my Hunnam lookalike and he looks righteously pissed off.
“Who the fuck is this asshole?” he growls. He actually fucking growled. He growled and it sent a straight shot of heat between my legs. I shiver, and not because I’m cold.
“Who the fuck are you?” I hear Jami snap back behind me. I’ve known him long enough to know that his voice is laced with anger. He’s a fun-loving guy, but he’s extremely protective.
“I’m the guy whose bed she slept in last night.” He tears his pissed-off glare from Jami and looks down at me. “I’m going to ask you one more time, sweetheart. Who the fuck is this asshole?”
It takes my brain a few seconds to catch up. I’m still getting over the growling and sensation of having him pressed up against me when I finally take in what’s happening. I pull myself out from his embrace rather harshly and glare up at him.
“He’s my fucking friend. His name is Jami. I’d introduce you, but I don’t even know your goddamn name. So why don’t you tell it to me before you go strutting around like a peacock thinking you own my bloody driveway,” I huff. I’m angry now. Who does this sexy jerk think he is? We had a one-night stand, and now he thinks he can be an asshat to my friends? No bueno. Not happening.
He cocks his eyebrow at me and smirks. “Holt. Greyson Holt.”
“What are you, fucking James Bond or something?” I hear Jami moc
k from behind me.
I’m currently standing between the two of them because the amount of testosterone flying around is making my head spin.
“Well, Greyson Holt. I’m Hannah Rhodes, and this is my friend, Jami Henley. And now that the introductions are over, I suggest you get going. Jami and I have plans for the afternoon.” I don’t know what I said, because now his eyes just went from angry to furious.
“I know who you are, sweetheart.” His eyes are shifting between Jami and me again. His hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. It’s making me nervous, so I move to stand in front of him. These two are so busy being macho idiots they don’t realize how ridiculous they’re being right now. It’s laughable. Well, except for the growling. I liked that a little too much. It was no laughing matter. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Privately?” he says, glancing up towards Jami again.
I sigh. “Jami, I’ll meet you back at the Jeep.”
He starts to say something but I wave him off. Once he’s almost back at the truck, I put my hand on my hip and give my Hunnam—or, since I guess I know his name now, I give Greyson—a glare.
“Okay. Talk.”
“You left this at my house this morning,” he says, picking up my Michael from the step beside him. I didn’t even notice it was there. Now I feel like the asshat for being so rude. He was just being nice. Or, well, he was—until he started being an ass. Jesus, he’s exhausting.
“Thank you.” I take Michael, give him a once-over to make sure he looks okay, and slip him onto my shoulder. “How do you know where I live exactly?”
“I asked a friend. It’s a small town.”
I nod because it’s true and start to turn to walk back to the Jeep when he grabs me by the elbow. I look over my shoulder, and I’m shocked at the change in his demeanor. He’s looking down at the ground now, all the fight seems to have left him and he just looks hurt. What the hell? I raise my eyebrows to indicate for him to keep talking.
