Page 12
Story: Counter Play
He calls my name to get my attention, bringing me out of my ab haze. “Charlene, you ready to go? We can grab a calendar while we’re there so we can set up a schedule.”
I look up at him and scowl. “Beckham, why do you insist on calling me Charlene? It’s like you want me to hate you more.”
“Then maybe you should stop calling me Beckham.”
“Playing tit for tat is so beneath you. And why do we need a new calendar? You have one right here,” I say while grabbing the one off the wall near the desk.
“Can you not touch my things? That calendar is my football and class calendar. They can’t mix. We’ll get a new one,” Beck says with irritation in his voice.
I forgot how particular he was about keeping things organized. But I guess I am, too, with my counting.
Not wanting to stay in here with him any longer than I need to, I stand up from the chair, grab my crossbody bag, and start walking toward him at the door to the room.
“Ready. Let’s go.”
He just stands there for a minute, looking at me. Like he’s trying to find an answer.
“They’ve gotten darker,” he mumbles.
“What? What’s gotten darker? Do I have something on my face?” I ask, running my hand over my face.
With a hint of laughter in his voice, he says, “No, you’re good. More than good. Let’s go.” Then he pushes off the doorframe, turns, and walks away.
Not sure what just happened, I pull out my phone, tap on the Camera app, put it in selfie mode, and inspect my face. I don’t see anything I should be embarrassed about, so I turn it off, slide my phone into my crossbody bag, and follow him out the door of the room, but not before flipping the bedroom light switch three times.
It’s a habit I started when I was a kid. Once my parents separated Casey and me into our own rooms, I had trouble sleeping and would count in threes—the squares in the door, shadows on the ceiling, anything I could group into threes. I’m not sure why it had to be three times, but it helped me get tired and fall asleep. I haven’t been able to break my little ritual since.
As I’m walking toward the front door, I make a mental note to check out the house more when we get back so I know where everything is.
When we moved Casey in last year, it all happened so fast, and I didn’t have much time to look around. Now that I’ll be staying here, I need to get familiar with it a little better.
By the time I’m out of the house and I reach Beck’s car, he’s opening his door and sliding into the driver’s side. Beck also has a truck, but his doesn’t sit as high as Casey’s, so I can get into it much easier, and it’s a bench seat with no rear cab.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been in his truck. The last time I was in it alone with him, things got a little heated. Okay, maybe more than a little heated. It was so fucking hot that the windows fogged up. I can still see the look on his face when he looked down at me as his cock thrust into my mouth. I bite my lip and close my eyes, then quickly shake the thought away. I don’t need to look like I’m imagining him naked. I want to seem completely unaffected by being in this truck with him.
But then he does the thing …
CHAPTERSIX
BECKHAM
“Lean back,”I say to Charlie as I reach across her body and pull the seat belt over her chest and hips.
My knuckles brush over the cotton of her shirt, and she inhales quickly as I lock the buckle in place.
When we were … us … I always buckled her into the car. Honestly, I think it was muscle memory just now that made me do it. I’d started strapping her in when I got my license. A subconscious thing maybe to feel like I could keep her safe.
“Why did you do that?” she asks, sounding a little breathy.
“Habit,” I answer. That’s all I’m giving her right now.
I don’t want to tell her that having her in this car with me is making me crazy. Memories of her, of us laughing, listening to music. All the fucking and other dirty things we did in here. Yeah, it’s all rushing in.
Hell, I damn near grabbed her in my room before we walked out. She came to stand in front of me, and all I could see were her pink lips, begging to be kissed. She has the perfect mouth for kissing. The bottom lip is just slightly bigger than her top lip, which is shaped like a Cupid’s bow. I could see the flush in her cheeks and neck. And her eyes—yeah, she wasn’t unaffected either. The freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks get me every time too.
And, fuck, now my dick is starting to get hard again.
I basically ran out of the house like a chickenshit so she didn’t see my growing boner. Like a freaking middle schooler.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12 (Reading here)
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83