"I can hit the rock better now, thanks."

“Mmh—okay, okay, fuck—“ The new height, the new way his dick drives into you, makes you want to cry. He’s not even that big, but god does he know what he’s doing. “I’m so—oh, oh, god—“

“Yeah, yeah, gettin’ close,” Holland huffs, pressing his mouth against your ear. “Shit, you’re so good.” He reaches down, pressing his hand against your stomach to feel himself inside you, then presses his thumb against your clit as it throbs. You squeal, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Baby, baby, shit—“

“God, Holland!” You gasp, throwing your head back as you cum around his cock. “Oh, oh, god, god—“

Holland finishes inside you with a low moan, one that bounces around your skull. “Yeah, baby, oh, yeah…”

“Holland,” you whimper softly, lifting your head to stare at him through teary eyes. You’ve never cum so hard in your life, not by yourself, not with any of the stupid guys at school who disinterestedly finger-fucked you and didn’t know where the clit was. “So good, mmh…”

“Yeah, baby, so good, fuck…” Holland pulls out, cum dripping down the front of his slacks. “Shit.”

You look down, letting out a sputtering, wet laugh. Your knees are weak and your brain feels like mush. Holland March, as taboo as it may be, was the best lay you’d ever had.

The back door slams, and Holland looks out the window. “Mother fuck—“ He drops you, tugging his pants up and tucking his dick away. Your knees give out, and you nearly crash on your ass. “It’s your dad, it’s your fucking dad—“

“Holland. Holland!” You almost slap him, your hand a sharp spike of pain against his bicep. “He’s not coming out here. He doesn’t even keep the lawn tools in here, they’re in the garage. He’s probably picking up from the party or something.”

Holland swallows, his heart pounding in his chest. “Are you sure? Okay, okay…” He nods, anxious.

You pull your clothes back together, and by the time you’re dressed, your father is back inside. You push the shed door open, peeking out, then step into the yard. Holland makes a break for it, sprinting across the yard to his own. He hops the fence and doesn’t look back until you call his name.

“What? What?” He asks, looking around wildly. “What’s wrong?”

You plant your hands on the fence, leaning over it to press your lips against his. When it breaks, he grins stupidly, then straightens your shirt’s strap. “Bye, kid.”

“Babe,” Colt says, materializing out of thin air and swinging an arm around your shoulders. “I love you.”

“I love you too?” You say, your voice rising like it’s a question. Colt grins idiotically, leaning into your space. 

“So, what’s up?” He asks, eyes falling to your lips. “You’re pretty.”

“Thank you,” You say, leaning back. His breath reeks. “What… are you on?”

“Oh, I had a pill. And a bottle of champagne. C’mon, babe, it’s a wrap party.”

You nod, putting your hands on his shoulders and pushing him away. “I know where we are. Do… are you okay?”

Colt nods brightly. “I’m so good. I like your shirt.”

“We’re wearing the same shirt, Colt.”

“You wear it better! Here, take my jacket. You look cold.”

“I’m not cold, Colt.” You push the hoodie back over his head. “Keep it. I really don’t need it.”

Colt nods, pulling the hoodie down and running a hand through his hair before looking back at you. He always looked at you like that—like the world was spinning around you, like nothing else mattered. 

God, you loved him.

“I love you,” Colt says quietly, bracing his forearm by your head. “I really love you.”

“I really love you, Colt,” You tell him, just as gushy as him—even if you’re nowhere near as close intoxicated. “I really love you so much.”

Colt nodded, leaning into your space and slotting his mouth against yours. His hand found your waist, the other one curling around your head as you leaning into him. His mouth tasted like champagne bubbles and cookie cake. Your lips parted against his, your hands curling into his shirt. 

Sex with Ryland was always an experience. He was slow and nice, then rough and fast. His lips would trail down your neck, whisper sweet nothings against your heated skin, then dig into your shoulder, silencing the grunts that wanted to escape him.

The sun was dying. Slowly going out. Dimming.

But you were going to go out in a blaze of glory with a pleasurable peak.

His length dragged against your walls, putting pressure and pleasure in all the right places. Your legs hooked around his hips, your hands clung to his shoulders, and his hips met yours, over and over again.

He gasped your name, barely pulling out before he came and painted your stomach and thighs. “Jeez…” He muttered, lowering you back to your feet. He slipped to his knees, pressing needy kisses to your hips and pelvis before his tongue was on you, sucking at your clit and teasing your entrance. You hadn’t cum yet, and he needed it to happen.

“Mmh… Ry…” You mumbled, hand finding his hair as your head leaned back against the shelf that was just digging into your spine. “God, so good…”

Ryland groaned against your folds, his fingers replacing his tongue and curling inside you. You gasped, back arching, while he kissed your clit, practically begging you to cum.

Your thighs tensed, squeezing around his wrist and jaw, and Ryland moaned into you again. “Fuck, baby!” Your orgasm hit you like a truck, crashing into you and leaving you trembling against the wood. “Ry… Ry, god… fuck…”

Ryland rose to his feet, his hands finding your hips and stroking your skin. “I love you,” he murmured, wiping his mouth before kissing your lips. “I love you. There’s nobody I’d rather hide in a janitor’s closet with.”

“I… I love you too,” You say back, a little surprised.

He’d let down his walls for you. He loved you.

“I love you so much,” He repeated. “I love you. I love you.”

Your bed, the one Holland and your father had built for you, creaked from the force of Holland’s thrusts. Each one was deep and buried him inside you, making the bed knock the wall quietly. Your legs were around his hips, ankles locked at the small of his back to keep him close. 

Holland’s eyes flicked down your body, watching and wild. “Feels good, huh?” He mutters, leaning down to trail his tongue up your neck. “Love fuckin’ you.”

You let out a whimper that he silenced with his mouth, his tongue sliding against yours. Your hands tightened in his hair as he kissed you, and when he pulled away, a strand of spit followed, clinging to his mustache and making you wetter. 

“Don’t want Dad to hear you,” he grunted, hand snaking down to find your clit. “Say my name, baby.”

“Hol—Holland,” you groaned, hips rising to meet his as his thrusts got a little sloppier, chasing his orgasm. “Holland, don’t stop, god…”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” Holland muttered, planting his hands beside your head and angling his hips to be flush against yours. “C’mon, baby. Shh, shh, Dad’s next door, don’t want him to catch us, do we…?”

You tightened around him as his pelvis ground against yours, his hair giving your throbbing clit a little much desired attention. “Holland!” You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Cumming?” He asked, pounding into you. The bed was knocking against the wall aggressively now, surely leaving dents if not waking up your parents. “Shh, shh, shh… shit!”

You nodded, your lips pressed together to keep quiet. Holland watched you in the dark, throbbing inside you. You squirmed as you came, your orgasm washing over you and driving Holland to his. Neither of you could suppress the whines that escaped you as you finished, and Holland slowed to a stop, resting his head against your shoulder. 

“Shit, baby,” he muttered, lips brushing your collarbone. 

“Was really good, Holland,” you mumbled, panting quietly. “God…”

The hall light flicked on, and Holland sat straight up as if electrocuted. He rolled off the bed, thudding on the carpet on the side opposite the door. 

“Where are my pants?” He hissed, fumbling in the dark. 

“Just get out!” You snapped back, pulling the blanket to your chest and sitting up. “Go, go!”

There was a rap on your door, and Holland caught his breath. 

“Sweetie?” Your mom’s voice came through the door, high but tired. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Mom,” you called back, your voice cracking. “Just fell out of bed!” You winced, but the hall light shut off a moment later, and Holland finally breathed again. “Get out!”

Holland found his pants draped over your bedpost and hopped into them, nearly falling over. You pulled the window open and he climbed out, falling off the ledge and into the flowerbed. “Fuck,” he muttered, then coughed as he stood up, dusting dirt from his ass. “Bye, baby.”

“Bye, Holland,” you said quietly, leaning over the sill to kiss him. 

Your first release, one he’d given you with his tongue, still stained his mustache.

“Tomorrow?” He asked hopefully, doing up his belt. 

Rafe rolled his eyes, loading up with bags. "You put it all on my card, right?"

"Of course I did!" You lay a sticky kiss on his cheek. "That's okay, right?"

"Sure, sure, it's fine," Rafe said, somehow managing to put a hand on the small of your back to guide you into the house. "But--"

"Oh!" As soon as he'd put the bags down, you dropped to your knees on the carpet, looking up at him with a sultry grin. "I have to make it up, right?"

Rafe grins, his hand threading into your hair. "That's my girl."

You trailed your hands up his thighs, undoing his belt as his cock began to harden. Rafe's hand tightened when you palmed him over his expensive slacks. "Gonna let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours, baby?"

You looked up at him from beneath your lashes, unzipping him. "Whatever you want, Daddy." You pushed his slacks down, nuzzling your nose into his hard cock. Rafe barely managed to keep his hips from thrusting as you sucked at his cock over his boxers.

"Shit, baby," Rafe groaned, clenching his jaw. Your mouth watered when you pulled his boxers down and you didn't waste a second, fitting your hand around his sizable length and sucking on the tip. Once your wet mouth was around him, licking and sucking, Rafe couldn't take it.

You take him into your mouth, the tip of his thick cock hitting the back of your throat, and begin to bob your head ever so slightly. Rafe, having grown impatient, thrusts, making you gag around him and grab his thighs.

Rafe threw his head back, fucking your throat with bruising force. It was all you could do to keep yourself from having to pull off, but you knew you needed to make up for all the money you'd spent, so you moan around him.

His thrusts speed up, getting sloppier, and drool trickles down your chin. Rafe's able to spare a glance at you, meeting your eyes. They're full of tears, but you manage to hold it together, hollowing your cheeks.

Rafe's hips jerk and he moans. "Cumming, baby, shit--"

His cum hits the back of your throat, hot and thick, and you swallow around him. He pulls his softening cock out of your mouth, giving himself a moment to pull it together before tucking himself away and helping you up.

"But you didn't even let him hit yet--"

"I'd do him," One of the quieter girls says, looking down at her lap. All the other girls laugh uproariously as she turns red.

"You're only good enough for sloppy seconds."

"As if he'd ever even get with you--"

"Like, if he's into her, there's no way you're his type."

You stand from the table and all your friends immediately shut up. Rounding the table, you pull the quiet girl from her chair, and all the other girls watch, hoping you're about to slap her.

You don't. Instead, you take her to the bathroom and dry her embarrassed tears, telling her that it's okay and she will find someone, that if she wants JJ that you'll help her get him.

When you go back to the table, you have her sit next to you and fix each girl with a glare. "Well?"

"Sorry."

"Yeah, we're sorry."

"You're pretty, Bree, and I didn't mean it."

You roll your eyes, squeezing the girl's hand under the table. Over at the bar, you can see a blonde mop of hair, sending a smile your way. Across from him, a girl scoffs, and you can practically hear her indignant speech from here.

"JJ, she's awful! She doesn't care about anyone or anything, and she'll turn you into a lapdog!"

"Kie, you're wrong. Didn't you see what just happened?"

"But she doesn't care about you, JJ. Not the way you care about her. I just... I don't want to see you hurt."

"I can handle it myself, Kie, okay? Don't worry about me."

You have to hold back a laugh. Kiara's right about you not caring about JJ, but his confidence is admirable.

Admittedly, you think he's less charismatic twenty minutes later when a waiter sets down a sweetheart martini at your table and a text pops up from JJ.

>> meet me in the bathroom in fifteen minutes. (sent 1:08pm)

>> is that a request or a command? (sent 1:09pm)

Reminding them to throw beer cans in the trash and not on the floor.

"JJ," You nudge him with your foot, making him stand up a little straighter.

"Yeah?"

"Throw the can out, boo."

"But--"

"That's how John B sprained his ankle. Get your ass up and chuck it. Please."

Telling them that when they spill water they actually have to mop it up.

"John B, man, I'm sinking into the floor here."

"Wood's probably rotted, don't worry about it. Gonna get this whole place redone once we get the gold."

"Didn't the girlfriend tell you to stop leaving water on the floor--oops."

"Dude!"

"This is why we listen to her. Fuck."

"There's a hole in my floor, JJ!"

"That's not my fault!"

"You jumped on it!"

"How was I supposed to know my foot would go through?!"

Not-so-subtly showing them that if they don't make dinner, they won't eat.

"Hey, Ma, when's dinner?"

"I told you that I wasn't cooking tonight."

"But I'm hungry."

"I told you it was your night to cook, Jay."

"Yeah, but--"

"No buts. If you cook, John B does it tomorrow. We rotate, that's how this works."

"John B! The lady says make dinner!"

"No, I didn't!"

The second is that there's no changing the fact that you're becoming a little bit more of a slob yourself.

Leaving your clothes out and on the floor--it's just sucky to go back and pick them up after your boys get down and dirty, stripping you in the living room.

"JJ, have you seen my favorite panties?"

"No! Ask JB!"

"John B--"

"Back of the couch, and if they're not there, ask JJ! I told you to get 'em!"

Leaving your beer cans stacked up on the porch.

"Baby, what's with the, uh... collection?"

"I'm gonna make a mural."

"Out of beer cans?"

"Hey, I don't trash your beer-can lightsaber."

Hanging out bathing suits to dry until you have none left and have to collect them all.

"Baby, you dropped your top."

"Yeah, I-I can't get it. Will you grab it for me?"

"Sure. Oh, shit, I remember this top! This was the bikini you were wearing when I first met you."

"That's nice, John B."

"Does it still fit?"

"JJ, you're such a pervert!"

"What?! Honest question, Mamas!"

Right.

To say he wasn't glad he'd gotten your attention that day would be a lie. He didn't care if you degraded him, called him a poor loser or said dirty Pogue boy like it was a slur, because you were like heaven on earth.

>> hey it's jj (sent 10:37pm)

>> cute pogue from the country club yeah (sent 11:14pm)

>> can you be here in fifteen minutes (sent 11:15pm)

>> hell i'll be there in five (sent 11:15pm)

>> [current location] (sent 11:21pm)

He'd pulled up at 11:30 on the dot, parking his bike on the sidewalk in front of your massive house. His knocks on the door were frantic, to say the least, and when you opened the door in next to nothing, your hair mussed and lipstick smeared, well...

He didn't care. He knew who you were, he knew what you did. He, stupidly, naively, thought he could change you, even as he laid in your rumpled bed, shirtless, with you straddling him.

Your hand trailed down his chest to his belt, deftly undoing it like you'd done it a hundred times--and maybe you had--and opening the fly of his cargo shorts, stroking his hard dick over his boxers.

He moaned against your swollen mouth, bucking his hips into your hand. "More, please, gotta--shit, take it out, lemme make you feel good--"

You pulled away, taking your hand out of his shorts and smirking down at him. "Come on, Pogue. You didn't seriously think that I was gonna let you hit on the first night?"

His head fell back against the pillows, his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you. "I--no, but--"

You sat back on your heels, eyeing his bulge from under your lashes. "Want you to stroke it for me. Get loud with it, show me how much you need it."

JJ nodded, struggling to sit up. He pulled his dick from his boxers, wincing a little as you looked on. You couldn't help yourself, reaching over to thumb some of the pre from his tip and licking your finger, locking eyes with him.

JJ grunted, insanely turned on by your action, and brought his hand to his mouth to spit. You leaned closer, letting a dollop of saliva drop from your lips onto the head of his cock. It ran down, mixing with his precum, and JJ fisted his cock again, letting his head fall back, eyes closed as he jerked himself.

"Shit," He mumbled, imagining that his hand was yours, bringing himself close, so close--