“Asshole.”
Glancing up at her, I drink in her smile. She tosses her phone on the nightstand and shimmies out of her shorts and panties.
“You’re looking tired, baby, you sure you don’t wanna go to sleep? It is a little late.”
Biting down on my smirk, I prise her legs apart and lower myself over her, nipping her thigh between my teeth. She yelps then bites down on her bottom lip.
I trace my tongue along her soft skin, wrapping my hands around her ankles.
“Do I still look tired to you?” I grunt.
“Hmm.”
Hmm?
My wife is playing with me. I’ll play along. Bringing her legs up, I rest them over my shoulders and suck on her clit. She gasps and her fingers find their way into my hair.
I’ll show her how tired I am.
14
Ford
It didn’t take long for Phoebe to pass out when she realised I wasn’t up for talking. She refused to leave until I talk. I have to work out how long I’m going to let this go on for. Since I’ve been back, I haven’t been able to stay in this room for longer than a few hours, and that’s only because I sleep through most of it. I can’t bring myself to tear my eyes away from her and leave. I don’t want to leave. We have so much history, I was a fool to think I had a future without her. I have needed her before I even knew I would come to need her.
“Who’s the new girl?” I hear as I scoff down my lunch.
I don’t see who says it, but I still find myself looking around the cafeteria and don’t see anyone new.
It takes a few moments but then I see who the table one over from mine is asking about.
It’s not a new girl, it’s Phoebe.
The baggy jeans and loose sweaters she usually wears have been replaced with a tight tee, a slither of her of tanned stomach showing, and a skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination.
I shoot up from my stool and cross the cafeteria, whipping my hoodie off as I storm toward her.
By the time I’m in front of her, I wrap my hoodie around her waist, making sure she’s covered. She swats at me but thanks to my growth spurt over the summer, I don’t budge.
“Stop it, Ford!”
“Stop? What the fuck are you playing at wearing shit like this to school?”
“What are you talking about? It’s just a skirt!”
Grabbing her by the arm, I drag her out of the cafeteria and toward my locker. I keep one hand on her while I rifle through my sports bag and pull out my sweats and t-shirt.
“I’m not going to wear your kit, Ford. Stop this!”
I can barely look at her. My life was hard enough being around her, wanting to kiss her, have my hands all over her perfect skin. My imagination was tortuous. But having her walking around mostly naked for all these pricks at school to leer at, I’m not having it.
She slaps at me, but I don’t stop. Not until she’s covered. She looks ridiculous in the oversized sweats but at least those luscious legs aren’t on show on longer.
Pushing her against the lockers, I trap her between my arms and ask, “Why the new look?”
She drops her eyes, and I tilt her chin up so her gaze is on me again. Her sparkling green eyes are a distraction momentarily.
“I’m in high school. I should be experiencing things that happen in high school.”
