AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Away from you!” he shouts, shoving me away from him.
I grab his arms and swing his back against the wall covered with spray-painted graffiti and trap him with my body. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”
“All night, I’ve had to watch you with other people, pretending I mean nothing!” His shout echoes around us. “Why the hell did you even make me go? To torment me?”
“Because I wanted you with me!” I snap back, just as angry with the situation as he is. Does he think this shit is easy for me? That if I had the power to change where we live or the mindset of the people here, I wouldn’t?
“How would you like it if I was hanging all over some girl?” he demands, shoving at my chest again. “You’d be pissed and demand I stop! It’s not fair that others can touch you and I can’t!”
I hate that he’s right. I would be pissed.
“You are mine.” I push his chin to one side and suck on his neck. Hard. I know I’ll leave a dark bruise, but right now, I need it. I need both of us to see it.
“I hate you,” he grits out, bucking his hips. I don’t know if he’s trying to rub against me or get me to let go of him, but I don’t care.
“It would be easier if you did,” I tell him, shoving my hand into his pants. He’s hard as a fucking rock. “Your dick likes me just fine.”
“My dick has terrible taste.” He closes his eyes and turns his head away from me.
“Look at me,” I growl. I need his eyes on me to see what I do to him.
“No.”
“That word is going to get you in a world of hurt,” I grit out through clenched teeth with my face pressed to his. “Or hurt so good. I’ll let you choose which.” I rub my face against his skin like I want to scent-mark his skin and damn the consequences.
His hips rock into my fist, trying to hurry my strokes, but I’m not giving him that. I’m angry too.
“I swear, Roman, if you edge me again, you’re not getting any for a week.” Jonah’s threats are adorable.
“Like I won’t take it while you’re asleep.” I bite along his jaw, and his cock throbs in my hand.
The crunching of leaves makes us freeze, both of us holding our breath. Who the fuck is out here right now? Releasing his dick, I step back and head toward the other end of the tunnel to see if I can find anything.
The wind carries voices from not too far away, and dread drops heavily in my stomach.
“Go get in the truck and start the engine. I’ll be right behind you.” Fear flashes over Jonah’s face in the moonlight, but he does what I say. The voices and footsteps are getting closer. The Boone brothers are coming, and we’ve got to get out of here.
They’ve already assaulted a gay couple once out here and tried to beat us up at my father's wake when they found us in my father's office.
Jonah’s track-running ass is faster than me, so I have no doubt he’ll be okay. I rush after him, hoping my footsteps aren’t too loud. My feet pound in the tunnel, echoing on the brick just as fast as my pounding heart.
The dress shoes I’m wearing have zero grip, and I damn near faceplant more than once. I’m a few feet away from the truck when the driver's door swings open. Thank fuck.
I launch myself into the truck and slam the door while I’m slamming into reverse and peeling out of the parking lot. In the rearview mirror, I see the damn Boone brothers running toward us, all of them carrying shotguns. Jesus fucking Christ.
As we drive through town, I put my hand on Jonah’s inner thigh to remind myself that he’s okay. He grabs the bottle of Maker’s Mark along with the Pepsi and takes a few pulls from the bourbon, chasing it with the soda.
I know tonight was hard for him. Shit like this always is. Acting like I don’t give a shit, like nothing bothers me, is my defense. Nothing can hurt me if I don’t care, but he’s soft-hearted. He feels everything so deeply, and I don’t know how to comfort him. Fuck, I don’t know how to comfort myself, so I use sex to distract us both. I don’t know what I’m doing, and as long as we’re here, there’s nothing else I can do.
He has to watch me pretend to be happy with his sister. We both have to pretend to be straight, be careful not to touch too much or let our gazes linger. It’s dangerous around here if we’re caught. What we just ran from is proof of that.
“That Dylan guy knows we had sex at the dance.” Jonah’s words have ice shooting through me.
“What?” My fingers tighten around the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. That punk is the son of the sheriff. The same sheriff that allows domestic violence to fly under his radar, lets people drive drunk, and as long as it’s lining his pockets, doesn’t care what happens around here.
“He knows.” The gloom in Jonah’s voice hits like a knife in my chest.
“I’ll take care of it,” I tell him, squeezing his leg.
