Page 134 of Suck It Up


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I wonder how that’s going to fly with the guy the little jailbait is actually screwing.

“How is it that all of us can tell how fucking obsessed you are with Morgan, yet she has no clue?”

“Because I’m not fucking pathetic,” I reply with a snort.

I’m not about to actually let her see how much I want her.

“Maybe that’s what it’d take for her to let you in,” Rhys muses. “Show some vulnerability. If she saw you care, maybe she would too.”

That makes no fucking sense, and Rhys has no business offering any form of advice, given the fact that he’s been tangled up over some girl who barely even knows his name since junior year of high school.

I’m not cruel enough to point that out, so I change the subject.

“Good game today,” I tell him.

Football isn’t really a passion for me. I started doing it because Roman loves it, and it’s a workout like none other. I certainly don’t intend to make a career out of it, though Coach let me know that some teams have been looking my way.

Rhys shrugs. He’s even less enthused than I am. Rom could make NFL, and he might want to, so we’ll stay to ensure he has a team worth shit around him, to give him a chance to get drafted.

Roman is the simple one, and the nicer among the three of us. He has football. Rhys has tech. I have finance. I could drop out of college tomorrow and live off the money I’ve made in the last two years without even touching the rest of my trust fund. And I’ve invested part of my cousins’ portfolios, too, so they’re filthy rich because of me.

I’m staying at Rothford because it’s smart to keep making connections—andbecause of a certain hot blonde who still doesn’t quite belong to me.

I have her body. She says hi to me every day. She lets me touch her whenever we see each other. She replies to my texts. We even flirt in person. But she’s still putting an emotional brick wall between us, and there’s nothing I can do to tear it down. No flattery, no assurance, no present works. If I fell to my knees and proposed tomorrow, she’d tell me I’m joking and walk away.

Fucking frustrating princess.

“Are you going to the Carmichael wedding?” Rhys checks with me.

“I am.” I grin. “And you shouldn’t miss it either.”

That’ll be a fun night.

He grimaces. “Nate might need a drinking buddy after that farce. I can’t believe his dad is doing this. His mother just died last year. How long did he wait before announcing his engagement to the ho?”

Four weeks.

“Nate will be just fine,” I quip cryptically, unwilling to get into it right now. “And you should come. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

That makes me think, The wedding is on a Friday, in New York City. I frown, reluctant to miss my favorite day of the week here. Though I suppose I can just bring Morgan with me.

I shoot her a text after my shower.

Me: What are your plans for Thanksgiving?

Morgan: Didn’t I tell you? I’m going to New York.

Fucking perfect. I don’t even have to coerce her. Even if that can be fun, too.

ChapterSixty-Four

"Who does this pussy belong to?"

"You!" I scream, lying through my teeth.

Hours ago, when he started, I told him the truth: that it's mine. I had to change my tune after he licked, bit, slapped, and fucked it, again and again.

"That's right. Mine. My pussy. My Morgan." He accentuates each word with a deep thrust that has my ass flying back on the sex swing.

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