Rival (Fall Away #2)
Page 19I didn’t want her to be real.
Gripping her hair at the back of her head, I pulled her in for a kiss. Our teeth rubbed together, and I heard her moan. From the hard kiss or pleasure, I didn’t know, and I really didn’t care.
“I want it now,” she panted, rubbing me harder.
My jaw steeled, and I broke the kiss, grabbing her by the elbow and hauling her over to the bed.
“You don’t order me. You don’t own me. You got that?” I bit out.
A flash of excitement crossed her eyes like lightning. “Yes, sir.”
I stuck my fingers underneath the hem of my briefs and yanked them down my legs, kicking them to the side. Gripping the back of her neck, I brought her down with me as I lay down. “Go down.”
Cool oxygen poured into my lungs, and my heart pumped faster.
Quick-quick.
Quick-quick.
Quick-quick.
Her mouth descended between my legs, and I squeezed my eyes shut, reveling in the pleasure of how eager she was. She licked and sucked, taking all of me in as her hair warmed my thighs.
“I want to see you. I want to kiss you when you come.”
I tried to shut that voice out of my mind, instead putting my hands on Brenna’s head and pushing her down further on my cock.
“Keep going, baby,” I grunted, urging her on. “That feels good.”
Her head bobbed up and down as she sucked harder, and I arched my h*ps up into her mouth.
“Who’s kissing you right now? Who’s riding you?”
“More. Harder,” I ordered, but despite my best intentions the blond hair I gripped turned a light brown and smoky green eyes stared up me. “God, that’s good, baby.”
And whether I liked it or not, I retreated into my head where Fallon lived and let the fantasy take over. I didn’t want to think about that bitch. I didn’t want to want her, but I did.
Fallon was here, with her mouth on me right now, and I hated her. I f**king hated her, and I was going to f**k her with that hate until I came.
The nerves in my legs burned, leading in to my groin and everything pooled between my legs. I punched my h*ps up into her, going deeper and harder, while her tongue rubbed against my underside.
She took her mouth off me and then licked me up and down, before wrapping her hand around the shaft, stroking as she sucked the head.
‘“Madoc, please.”
“Fuck.” I jerked, arching my back and pulling my head off the bed.
I came in her mouth, gripping her hair at her neck and sucking air through my teeth. She worked me until I was done, and I collapsed back on the bed, letting her go.
Afterward.
But my head was in even more knots.
Fallon. It always returned to Fallon. I couldn’t get off anymore unless I thought of her.
I wanted to look down and see ears full of piercings and the random little tattoos she had all over her body. I wanted to see the sexy green eyes in black eyeliner looking up and killing me with everything inside of her that she tried to hide.
Why? Why did I want her so much when she kept leaving?
“Who’s Fallon?” I heard a voice tap into my head from somewhere.
I blinked and asked, “What?”
“Fallon. You said that name while I was . . .” She trailed off.
Shit.
“It’s no one. You probably misheard.”
Son of a bitch! Shit. Seriously, dude?
Brenna sat up. “You yelled it when you were coming. Are you into guys? Fallon is a guy’s name, isn’t it?” She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, teasing me with a grin.
“It’s not a f**king guy,” I growled and then looked straight at her. “It’s my sister, actually.”
She laughed it off until she noticed that I wasn’t laughing. Then she shut the hell up.
“Um, okay.” She scooted off the bed, looking like she wanted to run. “That’s not weird.”
She dressed quietly and quickly, saying nothing before she walked out. The rumble in my chest broke loose, and I laughed miserably as I slid back under the covers.
• • •
“Hey!” I jerked up in bed. “What the hell?” I asked, because I had no idea why my ass was stinging.
“Get up!”
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and peered up at my mother at the end of the bed. She grabbed the sheet and yanked it off of me. Thank God I had my basketball shorts on.
Her pink lips were pressed tight in disapproval, and her hands sat on her hips.
“Did you just slap me on the ass?” I pissed and moaned, falling back onto the bed and throwing my arm over my eyes.
“Get up!” she barked again.
Normally, I enjoyed seeing my mom. She was a lot of fun, and she was a pretty decent parent actually. She and my father each remarried fairly quickly, and I hated that she had moved away. Her new husband lived in New Orleans. But asking a kid to leave his home and everything he’d known was too much. I stayed with my father and his new wife.
I sighed. “I was sleeping. Why are you even here?” My exasperated tone told her everything.
I just wanted to be left alone.
“Your father called and told me what happened.”
“Nothing happened,” I lied, keeping my bored expression focused on the ceiling. Headlights from a car outside flashed across the ceiling in the dimly lit room, and I knew that I’d slept all day.
I heard my mother’s heels clunk, clunk, clunk across the wooden floor. “Get up!” she urged again, and the next thing I knew she was swatting me with a magazine.
I brought up my arms and legs to shield me. “Damn, woman!”
She fired the magazine across the room, tucked her long blond hair behind her ear and stomped toward my closet.
“And I fired Brittany,” she bit out over her shoulder.
“Who’s Brittany?”
“The housekeeper you’re bedding. Now get up and shower.” She threw clean jeans and a T-shirt at me and walked out of the room.
I shook my head at nothing, amazed with the women in my life.
Complete ballbusters.
I flipped over, burying my face in my pillow.
“Now!” She thundered from somewhere downstairs, and I punched my pillow in aggravation.
But I got up. If I didn’t, she’d be in with a bucket of cold water next.
After I’d showered and dressed, she took me to a quiet Italian place that was big on candles and Frank Sinatra. I ordered one of their pizzas, and my mother nibbled some pasta with olive oil.
“Why did Dad call you?” I asked, sitting back in the chair with my hands locked behind my head.
“Because he hasn’t seen any transactions on his credit card other than to the gas station. You’ve probably consumed nothing except Doritos and Fanta for weeks now. And he knew you’d rather see me than him, so . . .”
That was about right. I didn’t like to eat alone, so I snacked, and I was too pissed off right now to be sociable. Gas station food it was, then.
And I damn well didn’t want to see anyone, but my mom was preferable to my dad.
“Did he tell you . . .”—I lowered my voice—“that he’s getting married?” I didn’t want to upset my mom in case she didn’t know, so I tried to keep my tone gentle. I’d also heard that his current wife was suing for our house—my house—and it made me sick.
“Yes, he told me.” She nodded, taking a sip of her white wine. “And I’m happy for him, Madoc.”
“Happy?” I sneered. “How can you be happy? He cheated on you with her. It’s been going on for years.”
Her eyes dropped for a split second, and she placed her hands in the lap of her white pencil skirt. I took in a breath but immediately felt like dropping the argument. I was a dick.
Did she think I wasn’t doing that? I may not be firing on all cylinders at the moment, and I may be missing my friends like crazy, but my father was right. Distance and perspective. I was working on it.
She picked up her fork, digging into her meal again. “He also told me what happened with Fallon.”
“Let’s not talk about her.” I picked up a piece of pizza and stuffed a bite into my mouth.
“You deleted your Facebook and Twitter accounts,” she scolded, “and you’re holed up in an empty house. Why don’t you just come and spend the last six weeks of summer with me?”
“Because I’m fine,” I burst out, my mouth full. “I am. I’m getting an early start here, making friends, and I’m planning to take a look at the soccer team at Notre Dame.”
“Madoc—” she tried, but I interrupted.
“I’m fine,” I maintained, my voice even. “Everything’s fine.”
And I continued to tell her that every day when she regularly texted me to check in, every time she called, and every time she made Addie come and check on me.
For the rest of the summer, I was fine.
OCTOBER
CHAPTER 17
FALLON
My alarm went off, and Sublime’s “What I Got” played on my radio. I pulled my comforter back up, having kicked it off during the night. The morning chill was getting worse every day, and I couldn’t believe that it was already October. Tate and I had moved into the dorm a little over a month ago, and time had flown by as we settled in and started our heavy class loads.
Neither of us had a job, but school kept us rocking around the clock. When I wasn’t in my room or at class, I was in the library. When Tate wasn’t in our room or the library, she was at Jared’s apartment in the city.
At first she tried only staying there on the weekends—respecting her father’s wishes and all—but now it had become more frequent. They couldn’t stay away from each other. Most weekends they traveled back to Shelburne Falls to visit her dad and for them both to race at the Loop—whatever that was. I never went, though. No way.
While it was lonely around the dorm when she went home—I still hadn’t really made any friends—I couldn’t begrudge them the time they spent together. They were in love. Plus, over the past couple of months, I’d grown to like Jared a lot. He put on a macho act, but that was all it was. An act.
Tate and I studied together and went out once in a while. Since Jared attended the University of Chicago, he didn’t hang around our campus much. They often invited me along on their dates, but I had no interest in being a third wheel.
The heavy wooden dorm room door clicked open.
“Fallon, are you awake?” I heard Tate call.
I sat up, leaning back on my elbows. “Yes?” I replied as more of a question, blinking against the morning light. “What time is it?”
Reaching over, I turned my alarm clock to see it was only six in the morning. Tate threw her backpack on her bed and started yanking stuff out of drawers. She was still in the same clothes from last night. Usually when she spent the night at Jared’s, she came home freshly showered and dressed, ready for class. Right now, she looked rushed.
“What classes do you have today?” she asked, not looking at me as she darted around our room.
I swallowed the dryness from my mouth. “Um . . . Calc III and Sex and Scandal in Early Modern England.”
“Nice,” she teased in a deep voice.