“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
Bringing Stella to practice was a mistake. A huge one. That much becomes obvious the second we arrive. I’ve never had a girlfriend before, so I didn’t recognize the error in judgment I made until now, when it’s too late. When every single one of my teammates is gawking at her from the field. All o
One of the girls in nice. Mindy. She’s the one who offered to keep me company while Gage is practicing. The rest of them scan me like I’m a barcode and decide, apparently, that I need some work. “Oh my God, that skirt,” says one of them—a pretty, raven-haired girl with a dozen hoops in one of her ea
“Damn. Who is the hot girl in the stands?” “Haven’t seen her before. Fuck. Those legs are begging to be clamped around my head.” They shove each other. “After me, bro.” I don’t even glance up from the playbook. This is normal bullshit from my teammates. They’re always going on and on about women,
“Then why can’t you see how different we are?” My fingers pause on the final button. “What are you talking about?” She presses her lips together and shakes her head, so I prompt her again, desperate to know what’s going on in her mind. It seems bad. I don’t like it. I take her by the shoulders. “Ta