Summer Sanders is going through it. The pressures of school are mounting, and her home life is completely falling apart. Feeling bored and lonely on a Saturday night, she decides to get buzzed and surprise her hookup buddy with her best lingerie. Th...
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CARTER'S FOUND A way around Mrs. Reyes's rules.
He knocks on the guest room door three times just to be obnoxious, because he knows I'm skittish about making noise that could wake them.
"Come in, already." I whisper towards the door with panic. I feel like I'm committing a crime or something.
He laughs and slides into bed with me. "They're not going to chase us around with a machete if they catch us together, you know."
"No I don't know, and neither do you."
I'm being dramatic, but I don't want Mrs. Reyes to feel like I'm disrespecting her in her home. We've been abiding by her request, technically.
Carter pulls himself on top of me and connects his lips with mines, drowning out any worry I previously had five seconds ago. He smells like his eucalyptus soap, and still tastes like the apple pie we had for dessert.
He kisses my jaw and down my neck until he gets to my sweet spot. He lingers there teasing me with the pressure of his soft lips.
"Now the question is can you be quiet?" He asks as his kisses trail down my chest.
"I was quiet last time." I suck in a breath when he cups my breast.
"Barely."
Without moving or pausing his lips, he grabs the pillow by his foot and swings it in my direction. It hits me straight in the face with so much force that my head falls back an inch.
"Fucking hell, Carter. Are you trying to knock my head off?"I clutch the pillow with force.
"Crap, I'm sorry," he says, and reaches his himself up to plant a kiss on my forehead.
When he pulls back, I raise my pillow and get him back with two straight blows to his head.
"You always mess with me, Summer." He carefully grabs the pillow by my head. "And I don't know why because you know I always win."
He hits me with consecutive soft blows. It's enough pressure to mess my hair up, but not enough to actually hurt.
When he slows down, I reach for his pillow and while he focuses on keeping it in his grip, I wrap my legs around his waist and manage to shift him over so I'm on top.
I secure my pillow again and smile at him. "I don't care if you win as long as I get the chance to play." I swing my pillow against him carefully.
"So lets play," he says, throwing his pillow on the floor and slamming his lips onto mine.
He shifts me so he's back on top, and we yank each others' clothes off piece by piece with our mouths still moving in feral unison.
He enters me and moves at a slow, tantalizing pace. I bite down on his shoulder to suppress any noise, realizing I could probably use the pillow he threw at me after all.
