“How would you ache down there if you haven’t been touched or kissed?” I’m assuming. I’m pissed. Who kissed her? Who touched my prey, my little mouse?
“My romance books. The romance movies and series I binge-watched. Some scenes have me feeling twinges in my stomach and aching, um”—she swallows—“aching down there.” She tips up the ball cap. “Are you sure you don’t want a fling with Phoebe before you commit to no sex for three weeks?”
She whispers the last part, like saying it too loudly would have the sex gods striking me dead with lightning. “I’ll be fine, Sorrow. My dick won’t wither away and fall off from not getting any action.”
I have a feeling Mr. Blue Balls will be happy with any action. I haven’t had sex since way before Sorrow moved in.
“The kids must think we’re up to something; we’ve been gone for so long.”
“Let them think whatever they want. Either they’re wishing they were doing what we’re aiming to do, or they’ve already done it and are going back for seconds in their cars or back at their places.”
She puffs out a breath. “I didn’t realize so many kids were having sex in high school.”
Sorrow adjusts her ass on my crotch, seating herself deeper. My beast comes out to play, hardening under the warmth of her tight ass. My heartbeat amps up. My breathing is ragged. And all from timid, quiet Sorrow Sophia rubbing her ass on my cock.
What will happen when we go all the way?
Fuck no, I’m not going there with her. Phoebe and the other girls, yes, but not Sorrow. One time with Sorrow will wreck me for other girls. That’s what my gut and my boner are telling me.
“But you won’t be. You’ll save it for the right guy.” Sorrow deserves better than a quick, meaningless lay by some randy dude who wouldn’t last a second in her tight virginal channel.
“We’ll see.”
“You changing your mind? ’Cause your earlier words said differently, like you weren’t planning on giving up that pussy until you’re eighty fucking years old.”
She laughs. “Nice visual, Trace, but I can change my mind. I can and might lose my V-card in high school.”
“Not if I can help it,” I grumble. Why am I unhappy?
“Mine to give, remember? And I’ll give it to whoever I want, including Rush.”
Rush, my ass.
He doesn’t deserve Sorrow’s purity.
Then again, neither do I.
8
Sorrow
Before we can talk more, there’s laughter from the direction of the trail. Faster than I can take my next breath, Trace gets to his feet with me in his arms. I hang on to his neck and suck in a surprised breath.
I knew he was strong, but not this strong. “Put me down,” I say in a low voice with desperation. “They’ll think something happened between us.”
“Of course they will, and of course it did. Who stays out here for as long as we have without some something-something happening?”
“Some something-something?” I can imagine him thrusting his hips like in movies with frat boys. Laughter bursts from me. In the moment, I kiss his nose. “You’re funny.”
There is a heartbeat of silence. Then suddenly I’m set on my feet, my arms are pried from his neck, and Trace steps back, putting space between us. I stumble. My arms hang out there before I realize I’m holding air. Embarrassed, I drop my arms to rest against my sides.
What just happened? “Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” He avoids looking at me. Was it my laughter? “I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at your joke. It was a joke, wasn’t it?”
Did I hurt Trace’s feelings? He comes off as unconcerned, but he has feelings like everyone else, and no one can tell me otherwise, including his hookups. I overheard them in the bathroom or the hallways going on and on about how good he is in bed. I wanted to rip out their hair and demand they not talk about him, that they should keep what’s private to themselves, rather than brag about how they snagged Trace’s attention and time and had to flap their yaps.
Don’t they know there’s more to Trace Saints than his good looks and skills in the bedroom?
“I’m good.”
