Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
I fucking needed this, more than I knew.
And I can’t stop thinking that I love you, too.
“I want to come inside you,” I said near his ear, my voice coming out strained as I started to thrust into him faster.
“Give it to me,” he said. “You belong to me, Peachel, and you can’t ever forget it. Say it.”
“I belong to you,” I uttered, my voice breathless.
Just saying it made heat flash through my veins.
“Say it again as you fuck me like that.”
I groaned.
He was commanding me, even as I fucked him.
I loved him so goddamn much for that.
“I’m yours, Gray,” I said, fucking him like I knew he needed. “You’re mine to fuck, too. You need to come for me. Now.”
“Make it hurt, Andrew,” he demanded.
I fucked him harder into the desk. His hips pounded up against it as I squeezed my fist tighter around his cock.
And I shoved into him harder and faster, so much that I swore I would make him break.
But he didn’t break.
He took it all, saying my name under his breath like he was praying to me.
“Going to come for you,” he uttered, his words broken up by breaths.
“I’m coming, Gray—”
The world disintegrated into pure sensation as I fucked him into my desk and I came so hard I couldn’t think anymore. I let go as I felt him come on my hand, and I stroked him through it, taking him every step of the way.
Mine.
Yours.
How are you exactly what I fucking need?
I was breathing so hard I swore I might pass out, but every goddamn moment of it was worth it. I eased out of him and snapped off the filled condom, throwing it away.
When he turned around, standing up and looking up at me with half-lidded eyes and pupils blown wide, my heart pounded harder in my chest.
He had marks all along the front of his body from being shoved against the desk.
“Next time I want it even harder,” he murmured, one corner of his mouth coming up in a little smile.
Fuck.
I think I really might love you.
It was the truth.
I didn’t care how we got there, or what it meant.
I wanted to tell him how I felt. But I couldn’t make the words come out.
He reached out, running his fingertips along my nipple, then taking a step closer to me.
He tipped his head back and pulled me down into a slow, slick kiss, sliding his tongue deep in my mouth before pulling away.
“You’re a lot of fun, Peach.”
CHAPTER 18
GRAY
The morning the article was published, something in the air was different.
Maybe it was the cold October breeze, blowing the leaves all around the quad.
Or the deep ache in my ass from where Andrew had pounded me last night, for the third time this week, as I bit down on his fist—and the bite marks I could still feel along my chest, from where he’d retaliated later on.
I knew he probably felt it, too.
I knew he wouldn’t trust me, not fully, until he had the article in his hands. All there was left to do was wait. The Homecoming game was later today, and Andrew had a light warm-up practice this morning, bright and early.
And as I approached the football field, for the first time all semester, I was nervous about it.
I’d written the article I knew I needed to write.
I’d done it in a rushed, feverish state, which wasn’t how I’d ever written an article before.
It took place over three days, when usually, I’d spend weeks and weeks editing my words. Making everything carefully perfect.
This article flowed out of me like a bolt from the sky.
And it was the most raw, vulnerable thing I’d ever written.
I walked across the lot toward the football field, watching the Tempests’ distant figures on the grass as they stretched.
The paper had just been distributed, and I knew they wouldn’t get a chance to read it until practice was over.
Instead of sitting in my usual spot at the edge of the field, I went up one row into the edge of the stands. Up here, I felt even more like an observer. This was how the fans truly felt, perched up watching the boys do what they did best.
Andrew was doing something that I’d learned was called a deflection drill.
In the deflection drill, his teammate Jacob was holding up two pieces of hard foam, trying to come at Andrew from any angle and see how quickly Andrew could raise up his arms, pushing off the attack.
In the morning sunlight, Andrew moved his shoulders and arms like he was a well-oiled machine.
He is a machine, I thought with pride, watching over him.
He’s incredible.
I watched them jog around the field, stretch for another few minutes, and then Coach Ennick broke off the practice as another guy came onto the side of the field with a stuffed duffel bag.