LOGIN“I want you.” I meet his gaze, completely certain. “I have always wanted you.” Something moves through his face, raw and fast, gone before I can name it. Then his hand wraps around my jaw and he tilts my face up and kisses me once, hard, like a statement , like he needed to do that before he could do anything else. Then he settles between my thighs. He reaches between us and drags the head of his cock through my soaked folds and I feel how wet I am for him, how embarrassingly ready, and he feels it too because his jaw goes tight and his breath comes out rough against my temple. “Fuck,” he says quietly. To himself. To the room. “You’re soaked.” I tilt my hips up in answer and he pushes inside me. Every inch announced. My body stretching open around him and the sound I make is loud and shameless and his hand clamps over my mouth before I finish making it. I grab his wrist and hold it there, breathing fast through my nose, feeling every inch of him filling me so completely it bor
He kisses me like he’s been starving for months and I’m the only thing that can feed him.Both hands cradle my face with possessive hunger, his mouth claiming mine in a hot, open collision of tongues and teeth. I stop being a person with thoughts and dissolve into pure liquid heat and aching want, the specific throbbing need in my dripping cunt that has tormented me through two long months of empty nights finally finding its release. I kiss him back just as desperately, both hands fisted tight in his hair, yanking him closer, and the deep guttural groan that vibrates from his chest into my mouth shoots straight down to my soaked pussy. I press my body flush against his, hips already grinding for friction, because I need more of that sound, more of his heat, more of every thick hard inch of his cock I’ve been craving in the dark.His hands find the hem of my hoodie, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of my stomach.I lift my arms without hesitation.The cool air hits my bare skin for
Layla I last forty minutes.I lie there in the dark counting reasons and by the time I get to seven I’ve already lost the thread of them, and by nine I’m sitting up, and by ten I’m pulling on my hoodie and telling myself I just need a glass of water, which is a lie so thin I don’t even finish the thought.The real reason is simpler and worse. I keep thinking about tomorrow morning. The way things go back to careful over breakfast, the way we’ll move around each other in the kitchen and say nothing and I’ll spend another day pretending the beach didn’t happen, and then another day after that, and at some point Amelia goes home and the summer ends and I will have stood outside his door at two in the morning and turned around, and I cannot make that the thing that happened. I cannot lose him to my own silence.His room is at the end of the hall.I stand outside it with my hand raised and a whole speech prepared. I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to clear the air before tomorrow gets complicate
I go out the door and the cold hits me and I walk. The beach is dark and the water is loud and I walk until my feet find the wet sand and I stop and let the cold come up between my toes. The waves come in slow and the wind is low and I stand there and breathe and think about nothing, which means I think about everything. The whole vacation so far, this morning, the beach, the disaster that was this night. Amelia kissing Cain. My throat tightened. Footsteps behind me snapped me out of my thoughts. Ryan comes to a stop beside me and shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at the water and we stand there for a while without talking. The cabin light is a warm smear behind us and the waves come in and pull back and neither of us is in a hurry. “She told me to go,” he says finally. “I know.” “She always tells me to go.” He says it without self-pity, just fact, the kind one has carried long enough that it stops hurting in the sharp way and starts hurting in the quiet way that the
“He’s friendly,” I say. “Doesn’t mean there’s anything.” “Ryan is friendly with everyone. He kissed your hand, Layla. He never does that.” She says it with the authority of someone who has been cataloguing this boy’s behaviour for the better part of a decade. “He’s going to be looking for you tonight.” She stops me with a hand on my arm and does a quick unselfconscious sweep. “Wear something short. Whatever you have that shows that banging body.” I look at her. Bright eyes, genuine smile, not a complicated thing behind any of it. “Amelia,” I say. “I know, I know.” She waves it off. “I’m not saying anything serious. I’m saying it’s summer and he’s lovely and you should let yourself have a good night. There’s going to be booze and bad music and you deserve to actually be here for once.” She tilts her head. “Yeah?” She means it like a gift. She has absolutely no idea what she’s handing me. “Yeah,” I say. “Okay.” She grins and disappears and I stand there in the sun with the shower
The kitchen smells like butter and coffee. Amelia is at the stove in one of Cain’s old t-shirts, hair piled up with a few loose strands around her face, talking with one hand while the other works the pan. Cain is at the table with his coffee. Neither of them hears me come in. “—and I kept saying the tide’s coming in, and you just—” She laughs and glances back at him. “You didn’t even move. You just sat there.” The corner of his mouth does something. I step into the kitchen. “Morning,” Amelia says, clocking me, warm and easy. “Coffee’s fresh. Sit.” I pour a mug and wrap both hands around it and lean against the counter. “I was just telling Cain about that summer we were fifteen,” she says, turning back to the pan. “When both our parents went to that wedding and we had the whole house to ourselves.” A beat. “Three days. Just us.” The smile that crosses her face is private, pointed inward. “We barely left the house.” Cain’s thumb moves along the side of his mug. “I don’t know
Layla The gym doors are right there and I am not moving. Three minutes and forty seconds. I know because I keep checking the clock above the water fountain, watching the second hand like it’s going to change my mind from entering in there, for taking this reckless step i planned to take. Inside
Layla The pasta has gone cold. I’ve known for about three minutes but I keep moving my fork through it anyway, because it gives my hands something to do and my hands need something to do or they’re going to give me away. His father is talking about the beach house. Spring break. Four days, the
Layla The bell hasn’t rung yet. I know because I’ve been counting. Timing my exits between periods with the precision of someone who has something to avoid. Third period ends, I wait four minutes, the hallway clears, I move fast and I don’t look up and I get to fourth period before anyone else a
“Get your hands off her.” They both turn. Jace’s face shifts from rage to something worse. Amusement. “Well, well.” He doesn’t let go of Zara. “Come to save your pathetic friend?” “I’m not going to say it again.” I’m close enough to touch them now. “Let her go.” “Or what?” He’s smiling. Actually s







