Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,131

different boy. For as long as I live, I doubt I’ll ever have to deal with the annoyance of going unsatisfied.

When I go to sit up, Aaron makes a growling sound of displeasure, and I find myself being flipped over, my arms pinned up on either side of my head. His eyes find my breasts just before his teeth do, and he bites down so hard on my nipple that I cry out, the sound echoing in the empty apartment. Only … it’s empty in furniture and things only. In every other way, it’s full. Bursting, really.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Aaron murmurs, mouth still pressed against my breasts, tongue teasing my nipples and probably tasting that peach lube I slathered all over them. He moves his mouth to mine, but when I arch my back up and try to kiss him, he pulls away smirking.

“You fucker,” I breathe as he moves his hips forward and slides his cock against the fabric of my pajama pants, the head of his dick pressing against the almost painfully swollen nub of my clit. Aaron laughs, the sound low and soft, just before he drops his hot lips to my neck, kissing and sucking on me in just such a way that I’m sure every person on campus will be able to see the mark of Havoc on my skin.

“I can be,” he murmurs, scooting back so that he can grab my sweats and slide them down and off, tossing them onto the floor before moving back between my thighs. He cradles my head between his hands and finally drops his mouth to mine, tasting me with a sweetness that reminds me of being fifteen again, before Penelope was gone, before Callum lost his dream of dancing, before the whole world shifted and tilted and broke.

I can’t say that I don’t wish things had been different, but I also can’t say that I’m not happy with where I am right now, using all of those broken bits to create a mosaic of stained glass that’s twice as beautiful as any solid piece I might’ve had before. When the light hits it, it paints the world in vibrant color.

Our tongues dance together as Aaron finds my opening, sliding forward so slowly that I ache and writhe and squirm, trying to get just a little more, impale myself a little harder. He keeps complete control of the moment, but not in a domineering way like Vic or an obsessive desperation like Oscar. He just knows what he wants, and he’s okay asking for it.

And what he very clearly wants is me. Us. This. All of it.

We start to move together, our hips creating this coordinated song and dance. Flesh against flesh, the sweet music of wet bodies, our fingers tangled, our eyes locked. I can hear other sounds, lewder ones, groans and curses. I can smell the tang of sex in the air as Aaron tastes my lips, making love to my tongue at the same time he does to my pussy. There are promises in his kisses, in the movements of his hips, the way his muscles tighten and quiver as he approaches his climax.

For the briefest of moments, it’s just me and him again, losing our virginities to one another in a suburban bedroom on the border of Prescott and Fuller while his mother cooks downstairs and the world keeps spinning the way it always does.

The climax takes me first, and Aaron keeps me pinned in place while I quiver and shudder, my silken inner muscles clamping around him and milking him like my body wants something I’m not ready for. But, well, I’ve been taking the pill at the same time every day for extra assurance, so it can do whatever it wants. It feels good anyway, to complete the primal dance of mating with the boy I first fell in love with.

My body goes slack beneath his, but I keep my thighs spread wide so Aaron can use me to find his own orgasm. He pulls back from our kiss, just so he can watch me as he comes, his lids fluttering, my fingernails digging into the tight muscles of his ass he pumps hard and fast a few last times and then collapses on top of me.

I close my eyes as his breath flutters my hair, listening to the chorus of ragged breathing in the room, trying to see if anyone else is still going. But no, it’s nothing but panting