Page 26 of The Boy Next Door
I push in a little more, wanting to thrust into her, but loving the wait. “What do you want, Emma?”
“For you to fuck me.”
With a smile, I slam into her, groaning at how perfect she fits around me.
In and out. Slow and hard. I fuck her like a savage, the sheets coming lose and falling to the floor. I fuck her until sweat drips down my brow and my muscles burn, until we’re both coming and she’s begging for me to stop.
And then I lie next to her, pulling her onto my chest, absolutely certain she’s the woman I’ll spend the rest of my life with.
“Evan,” she shifts, looking up at me.
“Huh?”
“What are we going to do about that auction?”
* * *
I’ve spent all morning driving, trying to come up with a solution to this bullshit. I’ve nearly run my tank to empty, and the only logical thing I’ve thought of is possibly letting the air out of the prick’s tires.
I park my motorcycle at the side of a strip mall gas station and climb off, hanging my helmet on the handle bar. I pull my wallet out of my back pocket and swipe my card through the machine.
“They called to repossess it?”
My brow furrows. I swear that sounds like Winston.
“That car is the last bit of dignity I have,Mother!” I turn around and find Winston standing by the Happy Mouse Party House dumpster, dressed in a mouse suit with the massive cartoon head placed on the roof of his shiny BMW. I lean against the pump, smug that I’ve found Winston working as an entertainer at a kids’ fun zone. It would be a shame if someone tarnished the one thing that matters most to him—that rich prick image he wears like a crown.
It really would. God, I’d love to blackmail his ass with—A smug grin works over my lips as I pull my phone from my pocket and snap a few pictures of Winston in his Happy Mouse suit.
“It’s crap!” he shouts. “I’m working in this shithole, dressed as a stupid mouse. Do you know what it smells like inside that mouse head?” He pauses. “Bankrupt? Dad declared bankruptcy? That’s just great.” With a huff, he crams his phone in his pocket then grabs the mouse head from his car, shoves it over his head, and storms through the back entrance of the building.
I can’t help but laugh when the door shuts behind him with a bang. Not that I would wish misfortune on anyone, but Winston?
I stare down at the photo on my screen before I type out a quick text to Corey, asking if he could print this up in the university paper next week.
After I fill my tank, I shove my helmet over my head and crank my bike with a smile. Looks like Winston and I are about to have a little heart to heart.
* * *
Some shitty music thumps from the frat house. All those guys do is party. I have no idea how any of them are passing their classes, I think as I park my bike right beside Winston’s precious BMW.
I lean against the side of his car, placing my hands on the freshly waxed paint. That dipshit should be trotting out of the frat house any second, all freshened up for a night on the prowl.
The music grows louder when the back door opens and Winston steps out in a cardigan and slacks. He’s staring at his phone as he crosses the driveway. The taillights to his car blink. The alarm chirps when he hits the key fob. Right when he gets to the trunk, he glances up and I smirk. “Hey buddy, going somewhere?” I push off from the car and take a step toward him.
“I guess you’re pissed I’m taking Emma out?” A smug smile crosses his face.
“You’re not taking her out.”
“Whatever, brah.” He laughs and places his hand on my shoulder to shove me aside, but I stand firm.
“You’re right, I bet that mouse uniform does smell awful.” I smile, and he freezes, the color slowly draining from his face. I pull my phone from my pocket, flashing the picture of him in his mouse suit.
His jaw ticks. “Out of my way, Drake.” He shoves past me and opens the door to his car.
“You go out with my girl, Winston, you breathe one word about that auction to anyone that could get those girls in trouble, and I will ruin your stupid image. Corey already said he’d love to slap that picture of you in that damn mouse suit all over the front page of the university paper.”
“Man,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t do that.”
“Then leave my girl alone.”
“Fine.” He slams his door and I climb on my bike, rev the engine, and peel out of the drive.
