Page 16 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
“Oh, fuck yes.” His hands move to my hips, holding them steady as he pumps into me relentlessly. I whimper when he pulls his cock from my body. He wraps his fist around his length, working his hand roughly until he moans deeply as his sticky white cum coats my stomach.
Both of us struggle to catch our breath as I lay spent on the dining table.
“Holy shit.” He pushes his sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes. “That was…”
“I know.” My voice is winded like I’ve been running. “You got me dirty,” I accuse with a half-smile, lazily reaching down to spread his cum around my stomach. “Looks like we both need to shower again.” I touch his sweaty chest with my other hand.
He grins and I squeal when he grabs me up, carrying me bridal style. “Looks like you’re right.”
The smirk he gives tells me he’s about to get me a hell of a lot dirtier before we make it to the shower.
CHAPTER 5
SPENCER
EIGHT YEARS AGO
“Give me one of those.”
“No.” I swipe the plastic container out of T.J.’s reach and put it on the top shelf of my locker while I switch out my books in my backpack.
“Why can’t I have a cookie?” My best friend sounds truly hurt and offended.
“Because they’re not mine.” I zip my bag.
“Did you steal them?” His gaze grows questioning.
I grab the container and close my locker, twisting the dial around. “Why would I steal cookies?”
“I don’t know, but since you won’t share it’s a legitimate question.”
“They’re for Harlow.”
“Why?” He narrows his eyes suspiciously.
“You were there when I burned the cookies—that’s why. I owe her.”
It was awkward explaining to my mom that I needed to make homemade oatmeal cookies and asking for her help. Despite telling her it was because we were partners and I ruined them and wanted to give her cookies to make up for it, my momhas already spun a story about how I must like her and we’re destined to get married and ride off into the sunset or some shit.
“And you can’t spare one single cookie for your best friend?” He frowns, hand to his chest like I’ve physically wounded him.
“No.” I hold on tighter to the box. “Go get your own cookies.”
“Maybe I will.” He chuckles, grinning. “And I definitely won’t be sharing with you.”
With those parting words he heads to his left down the corridor to his math class. I keep walking toward the sophomore locker section and breathe a sigh of relief when I spot Harlow’s blond head.
“Harlow,” I call out, and she turns with surprised hazel-colored eyes. Bumping her locker closed with her hip she meets me in the middle of the hallway.
“Spencer,” she replies. “What are you doing here?” She adjusts the straps of her backpack on her slender shoulders.
Now I feel awkward as hell, like making cookies will come off as if I like-like her or something—which I mean, Ido, but I don’t want her to know that.
“Earth to Spencer.” She snaps her fingers in front of my face.
“Oh, um, these are for you.” I hold the plastic container out to her. “Oatmeal to make up for the ones I burned.” Her lips twitch, fighting a smile. “And if those are horrible, I got you these on my way to school.” I swing my backpack around and unzip the middle compartment, pulling out the fresh sleeve of Oreos—double stuffed of course.
She takes both from me, her full smile lighting up her face now. “You should kiss ass more often if it means I get cookies.” She looks down at both, then back up at me. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this you know?”
