“Son of a bitch,” I grunted, sitting up in bed.
Arching my leg, I rested my forehead in my hand with my elbow propped up on my knee.
I’m so fucked.
My dick was throbbing so hard it hurt.
I was waking up with constant hard-ons, and it was like I was thirteen all over again.
I was actually waking up in pain with the pressure between my legs, and the only thing I wanted was under lock and key next door.
It was going to be a long fucking year. That was for sure.
I still didn’t have any plans about college, but one thing was for certain. Wherever I ended up, I looked forward to visiting Tate and screwing her brains out in privacy, without parents around.
A creak interrupted my thoughts, and my head shot up out of my hand to see Tate stepping into my room.
My chest caved, and I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
She shut the door and leaned back against it.
“Please tell me you’re thinking about me.” Her lips were soft and playful as she purred her words.
She was fucking me.
With her look, fierce and urgent. With her mouth, moist and open. With her voice, smooth and taunting, and I was ready to thank my lucky stars that she was here.
“Are you kidding?” I raised my eyebrows and whipped off the blanket, gesturing to the very hard bulge poking through the jeans that I’d fallen asleep in. “Look at this shit. I can’t think straight.”
And I jumped out of bed and rushed her. Our lips came together, and the sweetness of how her body molded to mine made me regret every other girl I’d touched.
Tate always tasted good, like hot apples and angry skies, and her tongue was simply candy.
She knew how to move with me. When I leaned in, she arched back. When I pulled my head back, she read my mind and opened her neck to me.
“Wait,” she gasped. “Your front door was open. I didn’t see your mom when I walked in, but she’s got to be up.”
I shook my head, scolding her. “You started this. And this isn’t your house. There are no rules here.” I smiled and leaned over to my iPod dock and switched on Rachel Rabin’s Raise the Dead to drown out our noise.
“Come here,” I whispered, pulling her by the hips into my body.
But she pushed me away.
Disappointment—-no, pain and confusion—racked through me.
“Wha—” I started to ask but sucked in my breath when she began peeling off her clothes.
Fuuuuck.
Her little, white tank top?
Gone.
Her pajama shorts and panties?
Off in a single movement.
And when she came to me, I was light-headed and fucking hard.
I glided my fingers up her sides and then down over her beautiful breasts. Her skin was silky and firm, like rain.
Perfect.
I didn’t even have time to reach for my nightstand drawer before she pushed me down on the bed and straddled me.
“Tate, a condom,” I gasped out.
Holy shit.
My whole body shook with the contact, her wet heat rubbing against me and the blood pumping through my cock.
“Pants,” she whispered, and when she leaned over to grab a condom, I knew what she meant.
After about three seconds, the rubber was on, and I thrust up and inside of her.
We stilled for a minute, both shuddering and catching our breath as we soaked in the feeling.
God, Tate. So tight.
Her lips crashed down on mine, and I dove into her mouth, moving my tongue against hers as we gasped and came back for more.
“Jared,” she whispered between kisses. “Something’s wrong with me. I always want more of you.”
Her hips started moving back and forth, up and down my cock, making a sweet tightness race down my arms and legs.
Her heavenly skin felt like cream, and I grabbed her ass in my hands, jerking her down on me as the room filled with wet heat and sweat.
God… she loved me. I still couldn’t believe it, but she did.
“What do you want, Tate?” I breathed against her lips, desperate and fucking lost in my need for her skin, her smell, her fire...
“I want you.” She closed her eyes, and dropped her head back as her body rocked into mine. “Every morning and every night.”
Her head came back down, and her fingers fisted in my hair. “I want to feel you all day, Jared.”
Yeah, it was going to be a long fucking year.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I whipped us around, so that she laid on the bottom, and I fucked the love of my life hard enough, so that she would feel me.
All. Damn. Day.
“Ahhh,” she moaned, her desperate eyes meeting mine.
“I love you, Tatum Brandt.” I put my hand over her mouth, and pushed inside of her harder. “Now, come.”
I fucking hated rushing. But I knew my mom was already up, and our talking and moaning would draw attention. Even with the music.
“Jesus Christ, baby, you feel good.” I dropped my mouth to her breast and sucked her nipple into my mouth.
I knew my back was drenched with sweat already, and I smiled when I tasted her salty skin. She felt this as much as I did.
Her thighs tensed around me, her nails dug into my back, and I felt her pulsate from the inside as she held her breath.
She was coming, and I looked up to see her eyes flutter closed. After a few moments she let out a little whimper and exhaled against my hand.
I always knew when Tate came. She had a thing about holding her breath.
I leaned up on one hand and grasped her thigh with the other, moving my hips between her legs faster and faster. More and more. Harder and harder.
My eyes closed, the pressure inside of me at its breaking point.
Fuck.