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He made a grunting noise. “Keep talking and I might change my mind.”
“Someone’s in a sour mood.”
It took him less than a minute to work his way up to the top of the path. He stood up straight and I still clung to his back. He waited, then turned his neck to look at me over his shoulder. “You can get off now.”
“I don’t know if I should walk on the leg,” I said. “Do you think I could just ride you back to the cabin?” It wasn’t a complete lie, after all. What if there was some deeper injury and adrenaline was just stopping me from feeling it?
I thought he was going to command me to get the hell off him, but he just bent his back slightly and started walking. Sebastian got out his phone and ordered a ride to the nearest hospital, then shoved it back in the pocket of his athletic shorts.
The bounce of his step had the unfortunate effect of creating some not-so-unpleasant friction between my legs against his back. I tried to shimmy a little to move myself away a bit, but I kept slipping into the same position. I pressed my cheek against his broad back, biting my lip and trying not to focus on the feeling.
“What?” he asked.
“Hm?” I said. It had been a few minutes and I realized I’d kind of been in my own little place. Also enjoying the feeling of rubbing against him more than I should’ve.
“You were making noises. Is the pain getting worse?”
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah. It’s really hard not to groan. Sorry.”
He nodded. “I’ll try to be quicker.”
Sebastian started jogging. Of course, this only intensified the friction of my body against his. Even my nipples were hard and getting their own little rub down from the movement of his back going up and down. My hips had slid so the top of his hard ass was pressing against me in all the right ways, and I found my fingertips digging into his shoulders for more than support.
“Is that worse?” he asked, barely breathless after a few seconds of jogging uphill.
“Don’t stop,” I said, eyes squeezed shut.
This was going to go down in the halls of my memory as a moment of great shame. That time I got myself off while getting a piggyback ride from a guy I was supposed to be mad at. But I was pretty sure I read somewhere about pregnancy making some women really horny. I could go with that, right?
I inhaled sharply as the pleasure became almost too much to bear, but he came to a stop before it amounted to anything more than a little nugget of shame. Something to dwell on when I couldn’t sleep at night for the rest of my life.
He eased me off his shoulders once we were back to the cabin.
As soon as the feeling passed, I was able to see clearly again. Sebastian was bad. I could remember that now. He was a final exam the day before winter break. He was those little spiky ball things that grow in the grass and exist only to stab into the flappy part between your fingers. He was all the bad things, sort of. Except all his bad parts made me feel good. I felt like a freaking puppy that needed a shock collar to keep me away from the cookie jar.
“You alright?” he asked. His face was creased with concern.
“Fine,” I said breathlessly. “Completely fine.”
He gave me an odd look, then pulled out his phone. “Ride should be here in a few minutes. How’s your leg feeling?”
“Better.”
“Good.”
An uneasy silence stretched out between us. “Are we still fighting?” I asked.
“What kind of question is that?”
“The sort of question someone asks when they want to know if they’re supposed to have their dukes up or their guard down.”
He shook his head. “We’re indifferent.”
“Hm,” I said. “Speak for yourself.”
He gave me a sharp look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t get to decide if I’m pissed at you.”
“You’re pissed at me?” he asked. He’d been keeping his tone level, but a touch of emotion was there now. “I’m not the one jerking you around. At least you know exactly what to expect from me.”
“I thought I meant what I said, okay?”
“What kind of person doesn’t know if they mean what they say?”
“A normal one? I don’t know. But it’s not my fault you made it feel so personal. It was just supposed to be sex. Get in. Get out. You enjoy my hole, I enjoy your pole.”
“You didn’t just say that,” he said dryly.
“I did. And that’s what it was supposed to be. But you had to go and make it feel all passionate and sensual. Didn’t anyone ever tell you meaningless hookups are supposed to feel meaningless? If we’re supposed to forget about it, maybe next time you could try making it forgettable. Asshole,” I added.
