Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,140

to talk about my past and my fucked-up family, so did he. “So, I understand how you feel. Because I’ll never have all the answers. My grandmother is … she’s too far gone in her illness to give them to me. Even if she did, I doubt she’d ever give me the full truth. So I just tuck it away, behind more important things, and then it doesn’t seem to matter so much anymore.”

“More important things like what?” I whisper, and Cal licks his lower lip.

“Like my love for you,” he breathes, and then he’s kissing me with the full power of that fairy-tale mouth. I swear, for the entirety of that kiss, I forget that he’s actually the villain in the story. For the entirety of that kiss, I’m convinced that I’m the princess he’s just rescued from the tower, the one that he’s going to spirit away into an eternity of bliss.

And then reality comes crashing down around me, and I remember that we’re filthy and wicked, wanton and ribald and lascivious, and I can do whatever the fuck I want to this man because he’s mine. He always has been. He always will be.

My hands drop to the fly of his jean shorts as his tongue takes over my mouth, casting a spell on me that I’m not entirely certain isn’t also a curse. Callum backs me up until I’m pressed into the side of a stone wall, our bodies partially hidden by a trellis covered in ivy. It’s possible that another student might stumble on us here, twisted and tangled together like briars on the edge of an ivory tower, but I don’t care.

I just need to touch and kiss and hold someone that cares about me, somebody that I care about in return. Because I don’t need Pamela or the love that I was supposed to have from her. I went out and found my own love. And that isn’t to say that romantic love is the ultimate, it just so happens that the ultimate love I’ve found with the Havoc Boys just happens to be that. Romance. Sex. We get to have it all. I could die happy right now, I think, even as I’m still trembling and shaking from the depth of my mother’s betrayal.

She killed my sister.

My mother, the woman that gave birth to us, who raised us, who abused us.

She snuffed my beautiful, beautiful sister out.

My right hand curves around the base of Cal’s cock, squeezing him so hard that he grunts, encouraging him to thrust against my sweaty fist. He does the same for me, finding my swollen cunt inside my sweatpants and expertly sliding a single finger in to test my readiness. What he finds there has him groaning and grinding against me, seeking hot friction between our bodies as our breath escapes in small puffs. The air is tilting toward spring, but winter has yet to give up her hold on the valley so even though we’ve been running for a while now, all the places on my body that are exposed prickle with the cold.

I like that though, the feeling of being punished by nature.

“Cal,” I murmur, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth until his eyelids flutter and he lets out a small, ragged sounding groan. “Turn me around and fuck me until it hurts.”

“Bernie,” he says, the sound caught halfway between a chastisement and an endearment. I give his cock a few last tugs before I withdraw my hand and he does the same. Just as I asked, Cal puts his hands on my hips and spins me until I’m facing the cream-colored stone wall. My palms brace against it, my back arched and my ass tilted up for his viewing pleasure. Callum curses under his breath as he drags my sweats over the plump curve of my ass, and even if I can’t see him, I can feel him admiring it.

He swipes a hot thumb over my opening—the rear one—and continues down until he finds the slickness of my cunt, pressing inside briefly. A shudder ripples through him that I can feel through even that simple touch.

“Fuck my ass,” I murmur, and Cal makes another sound that could be a growl or a cry or a little bit of both. I’m inviting his darkness to play, and he isn’t entirely sure he wants to let it out. Risking a glance over my shoulder, I find him watching me, as if he anticipated having my