Page 45 of Midnight Curfew

It takes everything I have not to smile.

Descending on me, he grabs for the flag, but I wrap it around my arm, clutching it in my hand.

His shirt is gone, too, his body soaked and his fucking mouth inches from mine as he fights me.

“Give me the fucking flag,” he grits through his teeth.

“What will you do when I give it back?”

He keeps yanking at the fabric, their totem. “I’ll get back to my party.”

“Yeah?” I play. “So bite me.”

He digs his shoes against the soil, using them as leverage, but all I feel is his dick grinding between my legs.

“Punch me,” I tell him. “Strangle me, break an arm…”

But I falter, tilting my head up so I can look down and see us pressed together. His black pants brushing my jeans. His stomach touching mine.

He won’t do what it takes, because he loves this and doesn’t want it to stop.

Letting the flag go, he squeezes my neck, and I think he’s going to punch me, but instead, he thrusts.

I gasp, damn near grabbing his ass and keeping him there.

Oh, fuck.

I feel so fucking good.

He rises above me, arm steel-rod straight as he clutches my neck. Did he do that on purpose?

Growling, I knock him over and scramble for him, dirt caking under my fingernails as he tries to climb to his feet and I crash onto his back.

My blood runs hot, sweat and dirt coating my face and my body, the cool rain soothing my burning skin.

He presses his forehead into the dirt, breathing hard and spent.

I drop my head onto his shoulder.

This is what I wanted when I came over here. To be exhausted and alive and far away from everything that makes me feel nothing.

This is what I wanted to do to him when he got in my face today at my house.

“Everyone out!” someone shouts from the house.

I lift my head, seeing the lights of his place through the trees. He stays on the ground, his chest rising and falling under me.

“They never come over here without a plan,” a voice I can only assume is Macon Jaeger bellows. “But you don’t listen! They had those cops waiting!”

I drop my eyes to Dallas, seeing he hasn’t moved.

“I’m dying for the day you all become a little less useless!”

Dallas lies there as his oldest brother rages thirty yards away, and I guess it’s not a party at home for him, either.

“I got one of those at my house, too,” I tell him, calming.

He turns his head, and I see his left eye. “Mine doesn’t leer at my sister,” he snaps. “He’s a hundred times the man your father is.”