Page 55

“Remi. Come. Here.”

I turn to face him, seeing his Marlboros in the console, the lighter too.

“I want you in my lap, Remi.” There’s need in his voice.

I keep staring at the black lighter. “Van will be looking for?—”

“I don’t give a fuck. Get your ass in my lap.”

But he doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t haul me over.

It’s my choice.

I take a breath. Another. Then I push off my shoes, my eyes finding his in the darkness. Just like that night in the park, he moves his seat back, his eyes locked on mine.

I kick off my pants, pull my legs up, turn to cross over the console.

He grabs my hips, and I’m straddling him, my knees sinking into the leather seat of his truck.

His hands come to my hips, mine to his hoodie, trying to yank it up.

He smiles, releasing me to cross his arms over his chest, pulling it over his head, tossing it in the back of the cab.

I inhale his pine scent, my hands back on his shoulders, over his black shirt, as his palms ride up my sides.

He yanks me closer, and I grind against his erection, my core heating with every touch.

“I’ve missed this. I’ve fucking missed you.” His breath fans my mouth and I angle my head, dragging my lips along his.

He groans, parting his own, and then his teeth are pulling at my tongue ring as I shove it down his throat. I whimper and taste the iron in my mouth, but he doesn’t stop.

His hands slide under my top and he’s got me literally by my tongue as his strong fingers roam over my tits, pinching and pulling at my nipples.

I shift my hips, grinding him, and only then does he release me, my tongue burning as I swallow the blood in my mouth.

I slide my hands down his toned arms, reaching the top of his sweats.

He catches my wrists in his hands, stopping me.

I look up, startled and needy.

“Am I going to prison after this?” he asks me, his voice hard.

I yank my hands away, fumbling with his waistband, adrenaline coursing through me as I stare down between us. “Fuck you,” I whisper.

“You’re worth a lot, baby, but I don’t know if fucking you is worth all those years behind bars,” he says, yanking back my braid, my neck arching.

My breath catches in my throat, but I stare up at him. “You’re fucking me in this truck, Cortland. Don’t make me beg you.” I try to pull down his pants, but he doesn’t move.

I look up again and meet his gaze, my heart sinking. If he denies me, what does that make me?

But the corners of his full lips are turned up in a smile. “I like that idea,” he says, grabbing both braids and yanking them harder.

My breath leaves in a rush and he leans in, running his tongue up the hollow of my throat. “Beg me, Remi,” he says against my skin. “Beg me to fuck you, so I don’t get this whole consent shit confused.”

I pull back, my fingers clenching his shirt.

“Cortland.” My voice is throaty, my heart hammering in my chest. He’s still holding my hair with one hand, his other wrapped around my hip, his thumb grazing the top of my underwear. “Please.”

His grip tightens in my hair, pulling at my scalp. “Please what?” he asks, his tone edged with anger.

My neck flushes hot, but I shift my hips, needing him. Wanting him. “Please don’t make me do this.” I look down between us, see the bulge in his pants, feel it against me. “Please don’t.”

His fingers skim down my side, making me shiver. He runs his palm over the crease of my thigh, so close to where I want him. His thumb comes to my slit, over my underwear as he strokes me and I whimper.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he says, his tone amused as he looks at me. “You’re going to ruin these, Remi.” He runs his thumb down the center of me, but that cotton barrier is driving me insane.

I bow my head, my temple against his, and he looks up at me. “I want you,” I tell him, feeling flushed and embarrassed that I have to beg a boy to fuck me that I almost sent to prison. “I want you so much.”

He runs his tongue over his lip ring, shifting his hips easily even with me on top of him, pulling down his pants, his boxers, fisting his hard, thick cock in his hand as he strokes himself.

“You do?” he asks me, taunting me, his fingers circled tight around him as he pumps himself. I see a shiny bead of precum on the tip of his cock and I’m shaking all over again, for a different reason.

“Yes, Cortland.” My heart is going to burst out of my chest. His cock is nearly lined up with my slit, but his fingers wrapped around himself are between us.

“Tell me to fuck you.”

“F-fuck me.” I stumble over the words, embarrassment making my throat constrict.

He angles my head with his fingers in my hair and captures my mouth with his in a bruising kiss. His other hand comes to my underwear, pushing it aside, and I can feel his warm, hard dick against me.

I gasp, lifting my hips, and he laughs into my mouth.

I angle myself over him, his teeth pulling at my bottom lip.

“Sit down, Remi.”

I do, going slow, my thighs shaking as I grip his shoulders tighter. “C-Cortland,” I gasp his name out, the pressure building as I slowly lower myself down onto him. He’s so big and I’m so full and?—

“Fuck, baby,” he groans against my mouth, pulling away from our kiss.

His hands come to my hips, and he thrusts his own, fucking me from beneath him, helping me move, guiding me over him.

I wrap my arms around his neck, bury my head into his chest.

“No, pretty baby,” he says, his fingers digging in deeper with every thrust. “Look at me while I fuck you.”

I pick my head up and meet his gaze as I ride him, and he helps me.

His lips are parted, his breath coming in heavy pants. “You feel so fucking good.”

As I get wetter, the sounds grow louder, the scent of sex heavy in his truck.

“Y-you feel good,” I stammer, and see his lips pull into a smile as I arch my back, leaning away from him, the spot he’s hitting sending more need through my core.

It’s like a fire growing hotter every time I sink down onto him.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks me, pulling me closer, so our lips graze one another. “Is this all mine?”

“Yes,” I whisper, closing my eyes as my walls tighten around him.

He groans, his movements growing faster, harder, taking my breath away.

“I’m all yours,” I tell him, fisting my fingers in his hair and pulling, one arm still around his neck. “I’ve always been all yours.”

Then, as he groans my name, I realize, belatedly, that he’s not wearing a condom and I’m not on birth control and a moment of panic seizes through me.

But he pulls out, and while I gasp with the loss of him, the relief is dizzying, until he pulls down the waistband of my underwear, stroking himself as I watch him come inside of them, creamy white against the black cotton.

He keeps pumping until it’s all out, brushing the tip of his thick cock against my clit, covering me in him.

I stare down at the mess, his fingers still pulling back my underwear so I can see everything. We’re both panting as we look between us, and there’s something so fucking hot and wrong and bad about it that I want to fuck him all over again.

Before I can say anything about that, though, his thumb comes to my clit and he circles me, uncaring of his own cum on his skin.

“We’re not done until you’re done, Remi. Tell me what you need.” His voice is low and thick with lust, and I grind my hips as he grips one, his cock still hard between us.

“That, keep doing that,” I breathe out, staring at my ruined underwear, at the pad of his finger all over me.

He grips my ass, spreading me, and nerves shoot through my body, but he doesn’t go any further as he gets me off, and that fire in my core bursts not long after, my clit swollen under his thumb.

“Cortland,” I moan, dropping my head to his shoulder, feeling weightless as I relax in his arms and he doesn’t stop as I writhe on top of him. I say his name again, and again and again.

“Mmm, that sounds so good,” he whispers, finally stopping as the fire subsides, leaving me with a pleasant, spent, pulsing sensation.

For a moment, I just rest against him, blocking out the world. What comes after this.

Then I pick my head up, and he grabs the waistband of my underwear, pulling it up tight, pressing all his cum into me.

My mouth falls open at the sensation, but he isn’t done. He runs his finger up my slit, dampening the cotton, pushing it all against me.

Then he takes his whole hand and does the same, ensuring I’m soaked with him.

Finally, he runs his palm up my stomach, under my shirt, his fingers circling around my throat as I stare down into his dark eyes.

“Cortland,” I whisper, my hands sliding down to his biceps and squeezing his hard muscles. “I’m not… I’m not on the pill or anything.” I feel nervous admitting it as he stares up at me in the dark, fingers still loose around my throat.

“I fucking hope not,” he finally says with a smile.

“But we could?—”

He quiets me with a soft kiss before pulling away. “We’ll take care of it.”

I don’t know what that means, and I don’t really want to ask, but for one fucked up second, I imagine having his baby, and warmth runs through me at the thought.

But it’s obliterated by another one.

My stepdad finding out. Sloane. Van.

The world.

At the thought of Van, though, I jump, turning toward the touchscreen of his truck. “Fuck,” I whisper, and he laughs, turning my head back to him.

“That word from your lips is so fucking hot,” he says softly.

I smile despite my pounding heart as I scramble off of him and he lets me go, slapping my ass as I do.

I push my feet into my leggings, pull them up, uncaring of the mess between my thighs as I shove my shoes on.

And just as I open my mouth to tell him we need to drive back to my cabin, the truck jolts, like someone is… jumping on it.

I clamp my hand over my mouth, and at the same time, Cortland leans across the console, opening up the glove compartment. Cold fear washes over me as he pulls a black handgun out, slapping closed the compartment as the truck jolts again.