Page 25 of Surviving in Clua


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I drop the remote into the sheets twisted around my legs.

The girl is blonde. Not natural. Not like Kenzi. It doesn’t matter. It’s Kenzi I’m seeing. Kenzi’s naked body. Kenzi’s hand between Kenzi’s thighs. I press the palms of my hands into my eyes and drop my head back onto my pillow. This is wrong. And fucked up. That doesn’t mean I’m not hard.

I should switch it off. Ignore. Deny. Get a motherfucking grip and stop pining for things I won’t let happen.

I wrap my hand around my dick and glare at the TV. It would help me sleep though.

The first stroke rips a grunt from my throat. No. I tear my hand away and power off the TV, my lungs emptying in a frustrated moan, those nerves in the back of my neck firing like they can smell her. Like she’s here. With me.

I kick my sheets off and grip myself again, jaw tight, eyes squeezed shut. I don’t have to imagine. I know how it feels to have her legs around my waist. Know how it feels to have her rolling her hips, rubbing against me, nails digging into my skin, my back, my shoulders. Flashes of that night. Of the feel of her ass in my hands. The feel of her knotting her fingers in my hair. The feel of the heels of her feet digging into my ass.

In this version I don’t push her away though. In this version I kiss her harder. Pull her hair and deepen it even more. I rip her lacy panties at the sides and let her unbuckle my shorts and push them down my thighs. In this version she wraps her fingers around my dick and works me with hard, deliberate strokes until my eyes roll and my spine tingles. In this version she spreads her legs wider and guides me in. No doubts. No secrets, just the tight wet heat of her and my name on her lips.

I growl low and jerk faster. My jaw slack, every muscle in my body contracted tight, every brain cell focused on the image of how it would feel to watch my cock disappear into her. Of the noises she’d make and the look on her face when she’d fall apart beneath me—around me—over me. And then I’m coming. Hard. Fast. Desperate. And all over my stomach.

My eyelids droop, my legs still jerking restlessly, my head forced back into the pillow.

She’s right. We were never friends, and we never will be.

NINE

Kenzi

“I swear if we get arrested for this…”

I glance down to where Rae is holding my calves. “Just don’t let me fall.” Lifting up onto my tiptoes on the narrow tree stump, I grip the top of the high wooden fence and then pull myself up to peek over the top.

Okay. So. Mylo may be a jerk face, but he had a point last night. I need to depend on me.Just me.And a little on Rae too. It’s how we ended up here at six-thirty in the morning on the verge of breaking and entering a deserted old house just up the beach from Plot Perfect, the now way too expensive plot of beach I’d pinned my hopes and dreams on.

“You said we were going for a sunrise run to talk it out, Zi. These are not my criminal behavior clothes, woman.”

I lower myself back down, my feet finding the stump again with Rae’s help. “You have criminal behavior clothes?” My forehead wrinkles as I hop off the stump, brushing the dirt from my hands. I wouldn’t put it past her. We’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and I’m pretty sure I don’t even know the half of what she gets up to.

“No comment.” Hands in the back pockets of her black running shorts, she spins in a slow circle, dry leaves crunching under her running shoes. “This place has always given me the creeps.”

I look around at the shaded forest. Okay, forestmay be pushing it. It’s like a clump of palms and Big Leaves set back from the beach like a spooky little oasis. The sun’s barely risen, its pink light spreading from behind us, everything cast in shadows. This house has been deserted for as long as I can remember. I’d forgotten it even existed until last night. Until my grumpy-faced neighbor made me wonder if there really was another way to get things done. A plan B. I messaged Rae at five. She was at my place by six. I told her everything as we jogged along the beach-side walkway, past Plot Perfect, and round the bend until we ended up here—the very end of Talamanca Beach. The point where the walkway breaks from the coast and winds its way up over the flat rocks on the other side of the micro-forest.

Rae grimaces as she takes an exaggeratedly high step to avoid tripping on a tree root, then heads towards the front of the fenced-off property.

I follow her around. The gate is locked—big-as-my-fist-rusty-padlock—locked.

Hands on our hips we both stare at it uselessly, and in my case not just a little bit deflated.

“Do we even know who this place belongs to?” Rae plucks a twig from a lock of hair that’s fallen over her face, grimacing as she throws it to the ground.

“It’s not posted on the council’s website. Must be private.” I lift my foot and give one of the planks of the door a little shove.

And the whole damn thing falls back with a creaking, groaning crunch, leaving nothing more than rusted hinges attached to one side of the, thankfully still standing, six-foot fence.

Rae’s eyes are wide when she swivels her head to look at me. “Not sure trespassing and property damage will do much to up your mom’s faith in you, Zi.”

“That… I barely touched the thing.” I shoot a furtive glance over my shoulder to check we’re still alone. Nothing but trees and the orangey light seeping between them from the wakening sky.

“Are we doing this or what?” Rae’s eyebrows wiggle. “What’s a little entering now that you’ve broken.”

“Okay. Right. Just a little look around.” I step gingerly onto the fallen door and then to the squidgy leaf-strewn ground inside the property.

Rae stomps right across the rotten wood past me towards the house. “I smell potential.”

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