Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“If I don’t pass this class, Coach will really kick me off the team. I’ll have to catch you next time,” I mutter as I snap my laptop closed.
He swipes his keycard off the dresser and shakes his head. “Your loss, man. But when I bring them both back to the room, you stay in your bed. I won’t share then.”
“Got it,” I grumble.
As soon as he’s gone, I text Rylie.
Me: I don’t like him. Be safe.
The dots move on the screen as I stretch back out on the bed.
Rylie: He’s nice. I gave him a hundred bucks to get me a fake ID.
Me: What the hell do you need a fake ID for?
Rylie: So I can go to bars with you once I move out of this dumb hell hole.
I relax at her response. The idea of her going out with Travis pisses me off. But the idea of Ry and me bar hopping together isn’t a bad one.
Me: As long as you promise to only go with me, heathen.
Rylie: I wouldn’t dream of going with anyone else.
And this is where shit gets hard. Literally. I’m imagining a night of drinking and dancing at the night clubs. Rubbing against her as we dance. Dragging her to a dark corner, lifting her dress, and fucking my sweet sister against a dirty bar wall.
I slide my hand into my sweats and grip my aching cock. With my free hand, I text her back.
Me: I fucking miss you. Three weeks is too long.
Rylie: If Aunt Becky would kindly remove her claws from me, I’d drive down there when you get back from traveling and see you.
Imagining Rylie in my dorm room gets me hot, but then I’m instantly pissed thinking of Nick hitting on her. I know him. He’d try to fuck her and then I’d have to fuck him up.
Me: Call me when you get home. I’ve had a bad day.
My phone rings and I chuckle. “Yeah?”
“What’s wrong?” Her voice is breathy and concerned. It makes my cock twitch in my grip.
“I played like shit. Coach is mad as hell.”
“Oh, Hudson,” she murmurs. Someone says something to her and she explains she has to take an important call. The music becomes muted and I hear a door shut. “That’s better. This party is lame anyway. I’d rather talk to you. Tell me what happened.”
I tell her every shitty play and she listens quietly.
“And then I was researching some stuff…” I trail off. “It just put me in a bad mood.”
“So you wanted to hear my voice to cheer you up?” she teases.
“You’re the only voice who cheers me up.”
“How are you and Amy?”
My cock softens in my hand and I groan. “We talk here and there. She went out on a date with a guy named Blake.”
Rylie snorts. “Ew. She told you about her date?”
“I think she was trying to make me jealous,” I admit.
“Were you?”
“I should be. I should be trying to repair what I broke.”
“But…” she probes.
Normally, I change the subject and guide us to simpler topics. Ever since the night I had to tell her we couldn’t be together like we both obviously wanted, I’ve been going crazy. Exactly what I’m not supposed to think about is all I think about. It had me so distracted during my game that I fucked that up and pissed off my coach.
“Do you think about that night a lot?”
She lets out a ragged breath. “All the time.”
“Me too.”
Silence fills the air for a long pause.
“I wanted it, Huds. I wanted to have sex with you.”
“I did too,” I whisper.
“I still want it.”
“We can’t,” I tell her, hoping I sound firm, but my voice quakes.
“I wish we could. I could probably get Travis to take my virginity, but I don’t love him. He’d probably—”
I explode with fury. “You’re not fucking Travis,” I snap. “Never, Rylie. Got it?”
“Okay,” she agrees softly. “That night you and I had felt so good. How can something that feels good be considered bad? Why do people care who we love? We’re not hurting anyone.”
“It’s not that simple,” I groan, letting my eyes fall shut. I stroke my cock, trying to mimic the way she did it. “Everything is so fucking complicated.”
“I’m touching myself, Huds,” she murmurs. “Just talking to you…I get so…” A soft moan escapes her and it makes my cock jerk in my fist.
“Fuck, baby,” I hiss. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Nobody has to know.”
Nobody has to know.
“Are your panties wet?” My words are barely audible.
“Yes.”
“Just a little bit or soaked all the way through?”
She moans again. “Now that I’m teasing myself through my panties, I can feel the wetness through the fabric. I wish it were you touching me.”
“Jesus, I wish that too.”
“Are you touching yourself as well?”
“I’m fucking my fist wishing it were yours,” I grind out, my voice low and gravelly.