Bad boys, p.13
Bad Boys, page 13
I need him. I want him. I crave his heat over me, his weight against me, and his control as he sets the pace.
I need to feel owned while being given a choice to remain free. Tuck somehow does that.
“You’ve got me in knots, baby.” His hands cradle my head, those vibrant hazel eyes trained on mine.
I settle my hands on his hips, his body now held over the length of mine. I can’t see the stars anymore, only Tuck. I don’t mind; I like this view better anyway.
I don’t know what to say to voice the way I feel, so I opt to use my hands to show him instead. Gathering the hem of his T-shirt, I coax the material up his body until it reaches his ribs and then slide my palms beneath. As much as I’d love him half-naked, it’s damn cold out here—I’m not that mean.
A groan rumbles in the back of his throat, his eyes shuttering closed as I roam my hands higher. The dip of his collarbone, the swell of the muscles in his shoulders beyond—I love it all. I trace a path back down his chest, running the tips of my fingers beneath his pecs, then out to the striations on the side of his stomach. He holds himself tense over me, dipping his head to kiss and caress the sensitive area at the base of my neck. The position keeps Tuck’s fit body taut while I mind map every ridge and swell.
I want to be able to recreate this moment in my dreams in crystal-clear HD. We all need the good times to help us through the hard, and this right here is the best time of all.
“Take this off.” He tugs at the side of my jacket, moving back to kneel.
I bring myself up, pulling the coat from my body, while Tuck gently runs his palms up and down my exposed thighs. I can barely concentrate on what arm to move where; the sensation of his touch creeps higher on each stroke, making me desperate for things I didn’t know I wanted yet.
I pray his fingers dip beneath the denim. I ache to know what it feels like to have him touch me without barriers.
“Trust me to keep you warm?” He lifts one eyebrow, fingertips skimming the crease of my hip.
Half an inch, one tiny shift, and he could reach beneath the satin and lace.
“I do. Yeah.”
Tuck’s hands slide away, leaving me silently begging for them to return, and move to the bottom of his sweatshirt. He guides the fabric up my torso, his lips slightly parted as he watches the material leave my body with rapt fascination.
The cool night air hits my exposed shoulders, and I shudder. I want to appear bold and confident, but on instinct, I wrap my arms closer to ward off the chill.
“Come here.” Tuck’s command is barely a whisper, rumbled from deep in his throat.
I shuffle closer, moving my legs so that one rests between his, the other outside as I straddle his thigh. Firm hands tug me closer, capturing me by the back of the hips. I settle my palms on Tuck’s shoulders and then sigh.
“What?” His brow pinches. The confusion cute.
“This,” I pout, tugging at his shirt. “It’s in my way.”
His lips kick up on one side, eyes alive with mischief while he slowly peels the well-loved fabric from his well-loved body. Hard work and sun have most certainly been kind to this guy.
“Better?” He tosses the T-shirt aside.
Tilting my head, I lean in slow, palms to his pecs, and place a gentle kiss on the side of his throat. My lips track down his shoulder, eliciting a guttural groan from Tuck.
If that is all I could ever have from him, it could be enough. He says the sweetest things, treats me like a princess, and yet, one tiny sound of pleasure is what brings the greatest joy to my heart.
“Lace,” he murmurs. “This isn’t too fast?”
I jerk back. “Is it for you?”
His chest rises and falls with the deep breaths he pulls. “No. Is it for you, though? I don’t want to rush you.”
“Does this feel like I’m rushed?” I grind against his leg, allowing instinct to take over and rationale to lie discarded on the forest floor with our clothes.
“Baby.” He buries his face against my shoulder. “You need to tell me what you want so that we’re both real clear, here.”
Hands either side of his face, I lean back a little and stare into his honest eyes. “I want you. I want this. I want whatever happens next.”
Tuck sweeps an arm around my waist, pulling me tight against him. I meet his kiss, hungry for more of the unique thrill he spreads through my body. My hips move of their own will as I desperately seek more.
More of what, I don’t know.
I haven’t gone this far before.
The warm caress of Tuck’s lips against my cold skin sears a hot path from my neck to my shoulder, his adoration clear in every gentle kiss he lays on me. My sighs echo off the trees, the moonlit clearing our respite from the reality dawn will bring.
How will I explain this in the years to come? The night I discovered what true passion feels like with a boy who roped my heart. Could I adequately put into words how thrilling it is to have the pressure of his palm against my breast? The way his mere thumb can have me holding on by a thread when he tucks it inside the neckline of my loose tank and bra and tugs the material down?
Tuck’s kisses never let up as we move against one another, clawing to find new sensations. He occasionally meets my lips, but for the most part, he explores every inch of my body—my exposed breast included.
For the first time in my life, I’m partially naked before a guy. I couldn’t have picked a better man to grant that privilege.
“You have to come back,” Tuck mumbles, reaching for the clasp on my cut-offs. “It’s not fair for you to come out here and do this to me and then leave.”
I shift my hips, leaning back a little so he can tug the zipper down. “You think I’d willingly choose to move away from you?”
“I didn’t say that.” He kisses my throat, twisting his hand between us to rub between my legs.
I’m seconds from tearing my underwear off for him. “God, that feels so good.”
His fingers push harder, splaying a little and then coming together to intensify the contact. I move with him, head tipped back to silently pray to whoever listens that he damn well moves one layer lower before I combust.
“Shift your leg.” Tuck nudges my outermost thigh, coaxing me to change my position on his lap.
Turning side on, I seat myself in the crook of his bent leg, his arm supporting my weight. I’m cradled in his embrace, his hand down my shorts and his lips on my throat.
I’ve quite simply gone to heaven.
He leans me back, and I loop my arm around his waist, using my elbow farthest from him to take some of my weight. A lazy smile spreads across his lips, his hand slowing in its ministrations against my swollen flesh.
“What?” I can’t help but smile also.
“I’ve got the prettiest damn girl in my lap, and it’s got me wondering.” His gaze roams down my body, my top twisted around my middle, exposing most of my stomach. “How did I get so damn lucky?”
Using one hand to take my weight, I push up and capture his mouth. The heat returns, his kiss possessive and strong as his hand brings me to the point of imminent climax. When I’m sure I can take no more, Tuck grants my wish, his fingers moving the satin aside to place his fingers bare against me.
I inhale sharply, my mouth open as I adjust to how freaking incredible it feels to have his fingertips teasing, and stroking, skin-on-skin.
One second of nothing. No movement. No words. A singular pause to centre us in the moment, and then Tuck pushes inside. I can’t look away, can’t break eye contact from this gorgeous guy as he strokes me beyond all reason. My eyes slide closed, my head lax and tipped back while I try desperately to remember every tiny detail of this.
My keen focus intensifies the incredible tension that coils inside my body, promising to explode. I can’t get enough air; I can’t get enough of him.
Tuck’s mouth covers mine, his tongue sweeping against my own to bring me over the edge. I cry out into his kiss, eyebrows peaked and tears balanced at the outer corners of my eyes.
I made third base.
I decided to let a guy touch me in such an intimate way, and I don’t regret a damn second of it.
As his fingers withdraw and he rubs me gently while I come down from the high, I’m already curious how long I have to wait before he can do that again.
Sneaking out tonight was definitely the best worst decision I’ve ever made.
TUCK
We didn’t bring enough blankets. That, and if I kept Lacey out here all night like I want to, her parents would lose their goddamn minds with worry.
Lacey lies on her side, hands tucked beneath her chin to keep warm, and her head nestled against my shoulder. I drink her in, at least what I can see of her from under Major’s blanket, and wonder again if the way I feel about her is a one-off, or if I’ll realise that it wasn’t as special as I believed when I experience the same bliss with another woman later in life.
Don’t be a quitter, idiot.
I’m already allowing myself to think as though it’s a done deal; she won’t be allowed out here again—ever.
“Babe.” I give the arm tucked around her a squeeze. “We better get you home.”
Her body softens with a long exhale. “Do we have to?”
“Unless you want to give your mum a solid reason why I’m bad news, then yeah, we better do the right thing.” Because doing what I want would entail her losing a few more clothes than she did earlier, and the sound of her voice echoing off the trees when she calls my name .
Lacey disappointingly slides away, pushing, with one hand, to sit and stare out at the darkened trees. “I was thinking, what if I went to Dad’s?”
“Yeah. I’m sure that’d be fine. Colt can pick you—”
“No.” Lace turns her head to look at me. “I mean go there and refuse to leave. Like a sit-in, I suppose. They can’t force me to go back to Riverbourne, can they?”
“Not physically, but they can do plenty if they want to bribe you there.” I frown. “What changed since you left your old school? Why do you hate it so much?”
She turns back to the trees, her head tilting back and untied hair sliding off her shoulders when she looks up at the canopy. “It’s a different world to this. Your friends aren’t actually your friends, and your enemies are just people who aren’t your friends yet. If that makes sense?”
“I think so.” Basically, everyone’s out for blood. “Tell me about that video.”
Her gaze finds mine, Lacey’s brow hard while she chews gently on her bottom lip. “I didn’t do it.”
“What did happen?”
Bit by bit, she slowly shuffles herself around so that she sits face-to-face with me where I lie. “It was payback. For standing up to her.”
“Who?” I reach up and tuck my hands behind my head.
“Libby. She’s like the queen bee, ruling the hive. The two of us used to be equals; nobody could decide either way who should be more important, so we shared the throne if you want to make it sound that vulgar.”
“It’s not that different here,” I reason. “We just don’t have thrones and queens and all that shit. We have arseholes who think they know it all, and dickheads who don’t give a shit.”
“And which one are you?” she teases, her face softening with a smile.
“The latter—clearly.”
Her amused huff quickly fades, and eerily quiet contemplation takes its place. “The girl’s parents haven’t decided if they will or won’t press charges.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t involve you, right?”
“People take online bullying seriously, these days, Tuck. And that’s what they think I did.” Her fingers dance across Major’s blanket, picking random horse hairs off the fleecy underside.
“You still haven’t told me what really happened.”
“Because it sounds lame when I say it out loud,” she mumbles.
I reach across and take one of her hands. “You haven’t heard half the dumbarse things I’ve done in my time, have you?”
“With all due respect, this isn’t the same.”
“Maybe not. But we’ve all done things we’d go back and redo another way given the gift of hindsight. It’s how we learn.”
“I guess.”
I give her hand a little tug before letting it go. “Come on, then. Spill the deets.”
Lacey sighs, tucking her knees to her chest. “They staged a welcome home party for Colt and me. When we turned up, my phone got taken, and I was made to sit and watch while they picked on that girl.”
“What did they do to her?” I push up to rest on my side, weight on my elbow. “Mags said it was bad, but I never saw it.”
“They tattooed a horrible phrase on her.”
I blink a couple of times. “They tattooed some chick against her will?”
Lacey nods.
“How fucked up are these people?”
“Pretty fucked up.” She hugs her knees tighter. “They used my phone to record it, pinned me down and tickled me so that it sounded like I was laughing at what they did to her, and then posted it before I got my phone back.”
I flop to my back with a loud exhale and run both hands over my head. “And I thought our bitchy squabbles were bad.”
“You all look like a bunch of kids quibbling over the best toy in the sandpit compared to the kids at Riverbourne.”
“Yeah. I see that.” I roll my head her way. “What are you going to do?”
“Avoid them.” She shrugs. “Try to move in with Dad.”
“Nah.” I bolt upright again, this time getting to my feet and offering Lacey a hand up. “Fuck that. Lie down and let them win? Not without a parting shot. Jesus, Lace. You gotta have your turn before you bow out of the ring.”
“You realise that goes against everything we’re taught as kids?” She takes my hand and gets to her feet as well. “To walk away. Not engage. Be the bigger person.”
“I don’t mean you should play dirty like they do. Nah. That’s just sinking to their level.” I head for Major while I think on it. “You need to do something legit, but bad enough it puts the fuckers in their place. Hold a damn mirror up to their crap and see what they think.”
“They wouldn’t care. Trust me.”
I spin back to face her, Major’s lead in hand. “If they don’t care, then you haven’t done it right. I’m going to show you how to do it right.”
LACEY
The vehicle has barely come to a complete stop before Dad pushes out the front door. I watch him approach, tears of sheer frustration balanced precariously in my eyes, and steel myself for the fallout.
“Do you want me to stay with you?” Tuck’s words startle me like a cannon boom in the otherwise quiet truck.
“No. You’ve got to get back to Major.” He left the horse tethered to the float back at the showgrounds, Johnson and Beau keeping watch.
Ed apparently passed out not long after we left for the forest.
“Call me after he’s done, okay?” Tuck nudges my leg to draw my attention away from Dad. “I don’t care how late it is.”
“Messenger?” The signal is patchy at best out here. A connection across WIFI is our best option.
Tuck nods. “Yeah.” He jerks his chin toward Dad. “Hear him out. He’ll be angry because he’s worried.”
“I know.” I want to kiss Tuck, to feel his lips against mine one more time.
But with Dad waiting impatiently, a mere metre from the truck, I don’t think that would be smart.
“Thank you for this.”
“For coaxing you into more trouble?” Tuck teases with a cocked eyebrow.
I smile briefly. “I still had fun.”
The tension hangs thick between us as I step out into the night, but it has nothing on the wall of fury Dad throws my way. I barely get the truck door closed before he starts.
“Fucking hell, Lacey! Where on earth have you been?” His livid gaze cuts toward Tuck’s truck as it pulls away. “And with who? Get inside. Right now.”
His spill continues behind me while I make my way through to the lounge room.
“Your mother called and said you’d gone missing. Run away. From what she said, neither of you thought it would be necessary to tell me what the hell has gone down at school, or with your friends in the city. No. I’m kept in the dark. Unaware of what the fuck goes on with my own daughter. What the hell were you thinking, taking off? Whose idea was it? What am I going to find out—”
“Dad!” I cry, dropping onto one of the armchairs. “Stop. Let me answer.”
He stands shocked in the middle of the doorway, legs wide, and chest heaving. His greyed hair looks as though he’s run his hands through it on a loop all night, his eyes tired and red.
“Can we talk about this in the morning, when we’re both rested?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”
Fair enough—I deserved that.
“I don’t like it at Riverbourne. I don’t want to be there anymore.”
“So, you bully some poor girl who now has a tattoo for crying out loud, and then you run away?”
“I didn’t do it!” I yell. “It was a setup. I was bullied too.”
“You expect me to believe that?” he says scarily level. “After also running away from here two weeks ago?”
The tears I’d held back so well spill over. Even Dad doesn’t believe in me. Do my parents genuinely think I’m that callous? That cruel?
“Am I that kind of person to you?” I ask, despite my words shaking. “You think I would hurt a girl that way? Scar her for life over something so trivial?”
“I don’t know who you are anymore,” he cedes, falling onto the far end of the sofa. “Zero to one hundred in six seconds. It feels as though that’s how our life has gone.” He hangs his head low between his shoulders, staying silent a moment before catapulting out of the seat. “I should call your mother.”
“Yeah. You probably should.”
