by Nicole Fox
“I’d suck your nipples,” Finn adds, his voice hoarse and breathless.
“I’d arch my back and let you,” I say, switching the phone to speaker so I can slide my hand under my sports bra and pinch my nipple. My entire body is arched, pulled taut like a bow, arrow ready to fly. “I’d lean back and roll my hips against you, grinding our bodies together.”
“Keep going,” Finn whispers.
“I’d let my breasts bounce in your face while I bounced on your cock. Our bodies would slap together.”
Finn curses under his breath, and I know he is close.
“I’d ride you until—” My breath catches as the edge of my orgasm comes into view. It’s a slow clenching, a drawing upward of everything inside of me.
“Come,” Finn says, knowing I’m close. “Come with me.”
“I’d ride you until I come.” I flick my thumb over my center only once because that is all it takes, and then I’m falling with him. My body clenches at my hand, and I can hear Finn’s rhythmic breathing over the phone.
“So good,” he says. “So fucking good.”
When I finally come down, I realize that I’m in the motel room I share with my mother. I realize that my mom could have come home at any second and seen me. I was so lost to Finn and his voice and the things I want him to do to me that nothing else mattered.
And that is exactly why I called him.
To forget.
“That is not how I thought my night would end,” he says, chuckling darkly.
“Thank you,” I say, tipping my head back against the headrest, my heartrate returning to normal.
“No, Lily. Thank you.”
32
Finn
When the call is over, I flop back on my bed.
Fuck. Lily is so fucking hot. So filthy and yet innocent at the same time. Ten minutes go by and my thighs are still trembling from the release.
Despite the fact I’d promised myself I wouldn’t call and ask her about her day and sit on the phone with her like we were high school sweethearts in a romcom, I wanted to do exactly that.
Just call her back and simply … talk.
My phone buzzes again. I pick it up with a grin, expecting maybe a nude, a flirty comment, or something else achingly hot to finish off our conversation. Even just a smiley face.
But it’s not that. It’s not that at all.
In fact, the message isn’t from Lily.
It’s a picture of Lily as she’s running on the trail.
Taken from behind.
By someone watching her.
The sender’s number is unknown, and the picture is blurry, but I know her shape. Her lean runner’s legs, her blonde ponytail streaked with gold even in the darkness.
I’d recognize her anywhere.
Lucky for her, she can run fast, the accompanying text says.
“What the fuck?” I say out loud to my empty room.
Is that why she called me? Because she was being chased? And if so, why didn’t she mention it on the phone? Why didn’t she tell me?
I text back furiously. Who the fuck is this? What do you want?
I never get an answer. When I call the number, no one answers.
But I have an idea about who might be responsible. Ingram has told me about the rumors circulating that I was the one who put Dallas Martin in the hospital. No doubt the Hell Princes have heard those rumors, too.
They want answers, and I know they’ll do anything to get them.
Even if it means hurting Lily.
That is what I’m thinking about at our home football game Friday night. And when I look up in the stands, I don’t see Lily.
She told me she’d be at the game, but she isn’t in the student section, and I don’t see her standing along the fence by the end zone. I don’t see her anywhere, and no matter how hard I try to focus on the game, nothing else matters.
She’s the only thing I give a fuck about.
My phone is in the locker room, far away from where I’m busting my ass on this godforsaken football field.
What if those biker idiots text me that they’ve snatched her, and I don’t get the message because I’m busy—out here playing this stupid fucking game that no one cares about?
What if there is a time limit, and they’ll hurt her if I don’t make it in time?
What if I’m entirely whipped by Lily’s pussy and becoming soft?
That last thought almost scares me worst of all.
“Would you pull your head out of your ass, Foster?” Caleb shouts in the huddle. “You’re sucking ass out there. Keep fucking up and Coach will pull you, and even with your head in your rectum, you’re better than the backup. So, get it together.”
I flip him off, but I know he’s right. I can’t focus on the game.
There weren’t even any defenders around me during the last play, but I still missed the catch because I was too busy scanning the crowd for Lily’s blonde ponytail.
Where is she?
We are in the lead by three points thanks to a field goal by Noah, but Coach wants blood. I can deliver. I just need to focus up.
Caleb calls out the next play and we break the huddle. I jog over to my position.
Caleb calls out, “Ready, set… hike!”
Boom. Action time.
I put my head down and sprint hard. I shed the defender with a quick fake towards the inside, and then shoot down the field.
The play calls for a post route, but before I cut in, I glance up towards the stands again. It’s a compulsion. Something I can’t seem to control.
I know I won’t be able to see anything with my helmet on and the lights glaring in my eyes, but it doesn’t matter.
I look anyway.
It’s a mistake.
I’m a step behind and a second slow. I make my cut—too late. Way too late.
Thirty yards behind me, Caleb launches a pass. It’s perfect.
Or at least, it would be—if I was where I’m supposed to be.
But I’m not. Lily has me fucked up. Far off my game.
Once again, there is no one around me. And once again, I’m not going to be able to catch the ball.
I stretch my hands out, hoping for a miracle.
But the ball hits the ground a few yards ahead of me and bounces to my feet.
The crowd boos.
“Where in the fuck were you out there?” my father snarls at me the moment I step off the field. “What the hell was that shitshow?”
I shrug and try to move past him to the locker room, but he grabs my arm and pulls me out of the line of my teammates.
He has more to say, but I don’t bother listening. Even after that disastrous performance, I can’t stop doing what caused it in the first place: looking for Lily. Glancing over his shoulder, searching the crowd for that telltale blond ponytail…
She never shows.
“What’s going on up here?” my dad asks, tapping my temple with his finger and forcing me to look at him again. “Am I asking too much of you? Is this more than you can handle? Because football is pretty simple, Finn. If you can’t handle this, how can I trust you to take care of anything else?”
I grit my teeth. “I had an off night.”
“You’ve been off for weeks,” he snaps back. “And neither of us can afford for you to be off.”
“You mean you can’t afford it.”
He narrows his eyes and leans in, voice low so no one else can hear. “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
His hand clenches at his side, desperate to grab the collar of my jersey and yank me down to his eyeline, but he can’t do that. Not with all these people around. It wouldn’t be a good look for the unofficial king of the city to be seen physically accosting his son.
Instead, he lays his hand on my shoulder, looking to everyone else like a father giving his son a pick-me-up after a bad game.
“If I go down, do you really think you won’t be going with me?” he hisses. “
Because I know rumors are spreading about you being the last one to be seen with Dallas. I’m friends with Officer Ingram, too, you remember. You and I are tangled in this shit together, and that little girlfriend of yours is the lynchpin in all of it. Deal with her, or I will.”
The idea of my dad doing anything at all to Lily makes my vision go red.
My first instinct is to wrap my hands around his throat and choke the life out of him right here.
I suck in a deep breath and try to cool my raging temper. It works—barely.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” I say, slipping my shoulder out from under his grip. “I’ll take care of your mess. Just like I always do.”
Then I jog into the locker room with the rest of the team.
An hour later, the rest of the Golden Boys and I are sitting in the back of Caleb’s pickup truck in the parking lot, drinking and brooding.
“I’ve never actually heard a crowd boo their own team before like that,” Caleb says, taking a long sip from his beer. “It was a new experience for me.”
“They weren’t booing us,” Viktor says. “They were booing him.” He points at me with his bottle of beer and scowls.
I’m so beyond tired of talking about my performance, but it seems to be all anyone else can discuss. First my father, now my friends.
“Seriously,” Viktor says, kicking my leg and pulling me from my thoughts. “What is going on with you, dude? Are you even listening to us?”
“I’m never listening to you.” I crunch my empty beer can on my thigh and throw it in the pile in the middle of the truck bed.
“Fuck the game,” J.C. says, shedding his hoodie and balling it up like a pillow so he can lie back. “Do any of us really care about it? It’s not like you need the scholarship, Caleb.”
“It would be nice, though,” he snaps. “Some of us don’t have multimillion-dollar trust funds to fall back on.”
“Right, only one million, isn’t it?” J.C. says with an eye roll. “Tell us more about how unfortunate you are, Caleb.”
“We’re all unfortunate compared to Finn, and he’s the one who fucked us over.” Noah lights a cigarette and exhales a cloud of smoke. “Probably because none of it matters to him.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Viktor cuts me off. “Wah, wah, wah to all of you. My dude Finn is clearly upset about something. If you all could stop thinking about yourselves for five seconds, you’d see that.”
All at once, the other guys chuck empty cans and, in Caleb’s case, an elbow at Viktor, knocking the wind out of him.
“If you all would leave me alone, maybe you’d notice Caleb has a fresh black eye.” I tip my head towards Caleb.
He just glares at me before turning away.
“Another one?” Viktor jumps down from the rock he is standing on and squats down in front of Caleb, trying to get a better look. “Let me see.”
“Fucking mother hen,” Caleb grumbles, swatting him away. “It’s nothing.”
“Who were you fighting?”
“And who did you let get a punch in?” J.C. asks, eyebrow raised. “I’ve never seen that before.”
Caleb mumbles something about a doorknob, but no one calls him out on his obvious lie because at the same time, footsteps approach.
I jump up, half expecting Hell Princes to be riding up on his.
Then I see the familiar shape.
It’s not the Hell Princes, but it might be just as bad.
It’s Officer Ingram.
He aims his flashlight right in our eyes, sweeping from one to the next. “Gentlemen.”
“I have no idea where these beers came from,” Viktor says sarcastically, holding up his hands and dropping an empty can at his feet.
“We’re conservationists here to clean up the litter from the parking lot,” Caleb adds sarcastically.
Ingram sighs heavily and turns his light towards me. “I’m not here to bust you all for underage drinking. If I did that, I’d never have time to do anything else.”
“Hear, hear.” J.C. lifts his can in salute and drinks deeply. The other guys all resume their previous positions, comfortable enough around Ingram to know he can’t really touch any of us.
I, however, hold position, arms crossed over my chest. “Then why are you here?”
“To talk to you all,” he says. “About young Mr. Martin.”
“Dallas Martin? What do we know about him?” Noah asks, dark eyes narrowed.
Out of all of us, he is the least comfortable around Ingram. Blackmail or not, he is leery of everyone.
“That he can’t fight to save his life,” Caleb says, giving a quick one-two punch in the air.
Viktor slaps Caleb’s arms out of the air. “Bad choice of words, idiot. He’s in the hospital right now after getting his ass kicked.”
“I fought him last year. That’s all I meant.”
“Is it?” Ingram asks, looking from Caleb to me and back again. “Because he got hurt pretty bad. Almost killed, the doctors say. He’s lucky to be alive.”
“We don’t kill people,” Caleb answers. “We’re not bad guys.”
Ingram’s eyebrow rises. “Lily DeVry’s mom would say differently. She still calls once a week to see if I’ve found out anything about the people who attacked her daughter.”
“Have you found anything out?” I ask. I’m careful to keep all emotion out of my voice.
The cop shrugs, looking off towards the dark horizon. “Like the rest of the force, I know Nico Barber was rarely very far from his best friends. Where he was, the rest of you were, too. But so far, there’s no proof of that.”
“Because we didn’t do it,” Caleb and Viktor say in unison, looking at one another in surprise. They are the only two who are ever surprised by how similar they are.
Ingram twists his mouth to the side in uncertainty. “I suppose the truth will all come out eventually. Either way, the DeVry girl’s attack and now Dallas Martin… It’s not a good look, fellas. Two strikes. A third one might cost you boys dearly.”
The idea that the accidental injury to Dallas could be what finally brings the long arm of the law down on me and my friends is absurd. We’ve done a lot of stupid things over the years—a lot—but maiming Dallas is not one of them.
“I think it’s time for you to go patrol the rest of your beat, Officer,” I say grimly. “Crime never sleeps. Especially not in Ravenlake.”
“Right,” Caleb chimes in. “Keep sniffing around here, and we’ll lawyer up, pig.”
Ingram snorts, spits on the ground, but says nothing. He keeps his eyes skewered on me for a moment longer.
Then the flashlight swings down and he saunters away, whistling quietly before disappearing altogether.
Ingram didn’t say anything specifically bad, but I didn’t like his tone one bit.
It sounded like a man who was getting ready to do something very, very drastic.
33
Finn
In the end, Lily’s absence from the game is completely innocent.
Sorry! she texts. Mom wanted to do a girls’ night. We watched a trashy movie and did face masks.
It sounds too cutesy to be real, until she sends me a selfie of her face covered in green slime.
I should be pissed off. Thoughts of her fucked up my game in front of the whole town.
But I find myself smiling instead. The picture is cute, honestly. Endearing in a way I didn’t know I cared about.
I don’t show any of that to her, of course. I just text back, I’m coming to get you. Be ready in five.
“Gotta go, boys,” I say to the rest of the crew. They’re all slumped around the truck bed, gazing up at the night sky.
“Where you off to?” J.C. inquires.
“To fuck your mother,” I retort.
He flips me the bird as I hop down and head off to my own vehicle.
A couple minutes later, I’m in the motel parking lot, waiting. Lily slips out of her room, closes the door slowly behind her, and then tiptoes across the
gravel parking lot to my car.
She has on a pair of thin cotton pajama shorts and a T-shirt with paint splattered all over it. When she climbs into the car, her vanilla scent fills the space. Her hair is damp from a recent shower.
I survey her and grin. “Your mom didn’t say anything about you walking out like that?”
Lily smiles back and shrugs. “She drank a lot of wine and was asleep for the entire second half of the movie we were watching. I didn’t want to wake her, so I left a note.”
She reaches back for her seat belt and turns to buckle it, but before she can, I lean across the console, grab her chin, and bring her lips to mine.
Kissing her is not something I’ve made a habit of. Mostly because it goes to my head in a rush, muddying the rest of my thoughts. I can’t think straight when her soft lips are sucking on mine, when I can feel the warmth of her breath on my face and taste her. It’s a sensory overload that makes it hard to be calculated.
But right now, I don’t want to be calculated.
Right now, I have no plan whatsoever.
Lily’s hand cups my cheek, her fingers curling around the back of my ear, pulling me close. When we part, her hand stays there for a minute, stroking my hair.
“What was that for?” she asks, blinking.
“Because I wanted to.”
I immediately shift the car into drive and focus on the road. Driving is something that will keep me from touching her. As long as I’m driving, I’m not giving in to the weakling inside of me that spent the whole night searching the stands for one sight of her smile.
“Where are we going? It’s late, and I’m in pajamas.”
I don’t know the answer to her question until I see a sign pointing out the direction of the park.
“You’ll see.”
When we pull up to the park, Lily frowns. “I don’t have my running shoes on. Or a sports bra. Or a bra, period. I’m not getting out of the car.”
She never mentioned her jog in the park the other night. I’ve been waiting for her to bring it up, to mention something weird or creepy happened, but she hasn’t said a word.
It prompts a lot of troubling questions. Is she hiding something from me? Is she cooperating with whoever is behind the anonymous texts?
