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I snorted. “What do you think you have, magic laser beam eyes? Sorry to disappoint, but they’re not going to get—”
“Shh…” He rocked his hips into mine.
“Hey! That’s not what we agreed to.”
“Quiet.” He rocked again, and the base of my spine tightened. His gaze lifted to mine, and he smirked. “Fucking bingo.”
“Someone notify the press.”
He leaned over me. “This sweatshirt’s ridiculously thick.”
“So?”
“So your nipples must be really hard if I can see them.”
“You’re a twelve-year-old.”
“Don’t scream.” His hands moved so fast I wasn’t prepared as his long fingers pinched down harder than clamps.
I sucked a sharp breath through my nose and gave into the pain. The slow burn transcended into pleasure, and my body reflexively arched into his. My eyes threatened to close, but I forced them to stay open, holding his challenging glare, pretending what he was doing had no effect on me.
“Nine…” he counted, giving me a smile that would destroy a less disciplined woman. “Ten.” He released my nipples and sat back.
Damn him. The second he let go I felt his touch all over again, the sharp twinge of sensation traveling to the tips of my breasts, making me itchy for more. If he were anyone else I’d make him strip and eat my pussy wearing only butterfly clamps until I came, but he was Noah, and that wasn’t how this worked.
“Happy now? Can you please get off?”
“Sure, but maybe I should get you off first. Cheeks are awfully flushed, Avery.”
I shoved his chest and pulled my legs out from under him. “I’m going home. Thanks for dinner.”
“I thought we were going to watch a movie.”
“Turns out your taste sucks.” I walked to the door.
“Not true,” he called, still sitting on the couch. “I like you.”
“Well, find another girl to like.”
“Nope! Soon we’re gonna be more than friends. I’m gonna have you, Avery Johansson. Just wait.”
I let myself out and smiled as I crossed the hall. He wouldn’t get his wish, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy his perseverance while it lasted.
As it turned out, Noah Wolfe was also “sort of fun”.
Before climbing into bed, I stood in front of my dresser mirror and stripped off my sweatshirt. My nipples, puckered and deliciously sore, tightened in the cool air. God, I missed sex.
Visions of past experiences mingled with moments from tonight, and again, I was reminded of how unfitting Noah was for me. Yanking open a drawer, I grabbed a T-shirt and changed for bed.
That metaphorical shelf, the cluttered one with old memories I rarely examined, seemed to call to me, and soon enough I was picking through dusty recollections that were better left alone.
Meandering thoughts wandered through my mind, taking me back to where I used to live and how my life used to be. The musty scent of our trailer seemed so embedded in my head that my nose twitched as the walls of my present home fell away, replaced by dingy wallpaper and dirt smeared windows. I could feel the crusty shag carpeting against my knees and taste the faded cigarette smoke lacing the air. And suddenly I was home again.
* * *
I cowered in the corner as my mother waled on Kenny with a book in the next room. We were all teenagers, and in my mom’s head that made us each fair game for her belligerent drunken tirades, which usually ended with someone getting struck.
Kenny, although closest in age to me, was bigger and could take a wallop. He often took the brunt of her abuse to protect me. If I kept quiet, she might forget I was still home.
“I told you it was gettin’ late and now look what you’ve done!”
“The bus was early!” my brother screamed. “I left the same time I always do.”
“I ain’t got no way to take you to school, Kenneth! The truant officer’s gonna be back.”
“Let him come! I ain’t ever gonna graduate anyway!”
The book hit the wall, and I flinched.
“Get outside! Avery Dean, I gotta get the neighbor to drive your brother to school. Do not miss your bus. You hear?”
“Y—yes, Momma.” The front door slammed, and I quickly gathered my backpack, rushing out the door the moment they were out of sight. But I didn’t go to no bus stop. I had bigger, more important things to do.
I rushed down the back path and hopped the fence, moving quick, so the neighbor’s pit bull didn’t cause a fuss. My heart raced faster with each yard I cut through until I finally made it.
The sight of the rusted trailer with its siding held on by dry rotted strips of duct tape calmed my racing heart. He said he kept it that way, so people didn’t suspect he had anything nice enough to steal inside, which made him smart.
I knocked on the rickety screen door, and it rattled against the frame.
