A line moves in his cheek and for a moment, he looks almost amused. But only for a moment. Then he’s deadly serious. “I’m going to need a lot of tutoring, Stella. Day and night. For years. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?” “No,” I whisper, honestly. This happens a lot. I was raised in a qu
Something hard is pressing to my bottom. I wiggle around on the large object, trying to discern its exact shape. When Gage grits his teeth and curses, it dawns on me. It’s his hard penis. He’s…aroused? I’ve read about male sexual response in my health class, though I admit I skimmed a little, it mad
When I wake up, she’s gone. It’s like having a claw hammer buried in my skull. I dive out of bed with a bellow, clutching at the sheets like I’m going to find her hidden in there. Where the hell did she go? Where the fuck did she go? The anger has returned with a vengeance in her absence. I scra
I’m in the front row of my political science class, head bowed forward so I can create a little world of my own inside the safety of my hair. It shields me from the rest of the class and stops me from getting too overwhelmed by the sheer number of people surrounding me. If I think about it too much,
“Stella,” he says. I’m standing before I realize what I’m doing, my small hand locked inside his much larger one. He picks up my books in the opposite hand and guides me out of the classroom to a renewed chorus of hoots and whistles. My face burns at the attention and I have the impulse to bury my
“You get it now. You get it.” “Yes.” My mouth is open against his cheek. I’m dazed, barely aware of where we are. Our surroundings. What day it is. “Yes, I get it.” A shudder goes through him. “You’re going to tell me every single thing about you. All right? Everything. Every like and dislike. Eve
My thighs try to shoot together from the sheer force of my orgasm. The hands I’m using to prop myself up slide sideways and I almost fall, but manage to catch myself on my elbows while the monstrous pleasure undulates through me, ripping the breath out of my lungs and constricting those low intimate
“You’re only four years older than me, right?” I breathe, threading my fingers through his hair. Driven to comfort him, even as he details his “abusive” behavior. The fact that he doesn’t want to stop. Warning me that it will escalate. Why is excitement fluttering in every cell of my body? I need to