Reapers and Bastards: A Reapers MC Anthology - Wylde Joanna - Страница 6
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I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
The sound of a condom package opening reached my ears. Boonie caught his dick in his hand, pumping it twice before smoothing the rubber down its length.
I shifted, meaning to slip off my thong. He didn’t give me the chance, catching my hips and jerking them just off the edge of the tomb. I fell back on my hands. His fingers shoved the narrow strip of fabric to the side, then I felt the head of his cock pressing into my opening.
“So fuckin’ good,” he groaned, sliding into me with an endless stroke that stretched the limits of my capacity. Reality narrowed, every part of me utterly focused on the feel of him deep inside. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back.
Strong hands caught my hips, sliding me closer to him.
His hips started moving faster, but it wasn’t quite enough. I needed more. Reaching down between us, I found my clit and started rubbing it in time with his strokes.
His cock swelled and he moaned.
“Keep doing that,” he gasped. “Hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”
Didn’t have to ask me twice. I rubbed harder, the pulsing waves of pleasure just out of reach. Boonie’s hands slid down around my ass, grabbing my cheeks and squeezing them roughly. That changed his angle. Suddenly his cock was slamming into some spot deep inside that I’d never felt before.
“Oh, shit . . .” I whimpered, fingers flying against my clit. So close. So. Fucking. Clo—the orgasm exploded through me, my back arching as I clamped down around him. Hard. Boonie’s cock thickened and pulsed as he came, grinding his hips against mine.
I opened my eyes slowly, looking overhead to see a thousand stars floating above. Reality filtered in. In the distance I heard faint music and shouting.
Boonie leaned down, kissing me soft and slow.
“Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening now,” he whispered. “You should’ve dumped his ass earlier, before I signed papers.”
Stretching like a cat, I savored the ache between my legs. Who knew sex could be that good? And to think, I’d thought sleeping with Farell was nice . . . he had nothing on Boonie.
“Signed papers for what?” I whispered, wondering how long it would take him to recover. I definitely wanted to do this again. Soon.
“The Marines. I leave for San Diego the day after tomorrow. Basic training.”
My breath caught.
“Why?” I asked, wondering how the thought could hurt so much. We weren’t dating. I had no hold on him—hell, up until an hour ago I’d been with someone else. Someone I was supposed to love. But how could you love one guy and then sleep with another?
Boonie gave a harsh laugh.
“Because there’s nothing for me in Callup,’’ he replied, his tone bitter. “You’ve made that pretty fuckin’ clear this year, Darce. I finally got the message. My dad was a jarhead, figured if it was good enough for him, it’ll be good enough for me.”
I had no idea what to say. More shouting cut the air, louder this time, and the music stopped. Shit, that was Farell. I recognized his angry, drunken ranting. A truck door slammed, and I heard the sound of wheels spinning out on gravel and the roar of an engine.
Boonie leaned his forehead against mine.
“I want you in my bed,” he said. “I want—”
A sudden, horrific crashing noise filled the air, all shrieking metal and shattering glass. Boonie pulled away and I sat up, adrenaline surging.
“What was that?”
“Accident,” he muttered, zipping up his pants. I heard screams in the distance. “Stay here.”
Boonie took off down the hillside toward the road. I followed him, lurching through gravestones in the darkness, hoping I didn’t fall and break my neck.
When I reached the embankment overlooking the road, I nearly fainted.
The pickup truck from the party—the one holding the big speakers that they’d used to haul the kegs—had rolled sideways down the bank from the cemetery driveway, crashing across the road below to land in the creek.
“Dear God . . .”
Someone was screaming in the wreckage, and I heard shouting all around. Boonie was already climbing down to the shattered vehicle.
More boys followed him, falling over their own feet as they ran.
I slid down the bank on my butt to find Boonie peering inside the cab of the upside down truck. High-pitched, horrific cries came from inside.
“Jesus Christ,” Boonie shouted, looking up to find me. “Stay back, Darce. You shouldn’t see this.”
“Who is it?’’ I asked, my throat tight. He shook his head, refusing the answer. The screams turned to a pain-filled keening.
“Who is it?!” I shrieked. “Tell me!”
“We need an ambulance,” he yelled back. “The trailer park’s less than a mile away. Someone needs to get down there, make the call.”
“Answer my fucking question—who is it?”
“It’s Farell,” he said, unreadable emotions flashing across his face. “He was driving. Allie’s in there, too. It’s bad, Darcy. Real bad.”
________
I wasn’t sure if I should go to the hospital—what are you supposed to do when the guy you just broke up with gets in an accident? Even though Farell and I weren’t together any more, when Boonie asked me to come home with him, I said no. My head was too confused, a mass of emotion, guilt, and raw terror that Farell would die.
I hadn’t been driving the truck, but I knew my boyfriend. Knew how he was when he got drunk. I’d humiliated him publicly and then left the party with his biggest rival—I should’ve seen this coming. Stopped it somehow.
Instead I’d been busy fucking Riley Boone on a grave. Jesus. What the hell was wrong with me?
Shanda offered me a ride, which I took over Boonie’s protests. I couldn’t look at him right now. Not that he’d done anything wrong—I just felt so guilty. What kind of girl sleeps with another guy right after breaking up with the boy she loved?
We planned to go back to the trailer park but found ourselves driving around aimlessly instead, neither of us sure what to say. Eventually I couldn’t stand it anymore—I had to know if he was all right—so we drove to the hospital in Kellogg. But when we pulled up to the emergency room I wasn’t sure it was the right move.
“Should I go inside?” I asked Shanda, feeling sick to my stomach. “What if he’s dead?’’
The thought was almost unbearable. Yes, I’d broken up with Farell—after dating him for eighteen months. He was my first and I’d thought he’d be my last. Oh, God . . .
“I’m here with you,” Shanda said, reaching over to catch my hand. “We’ll just check and see how they’re doing.”
I nodded, unfastening my seat belt. The sliding ER doors gaped obscenely as we walked in together, holding hands.
Half the high school waited in the lobby.
I saw Bryce and Erin huddled together along the wall. Both were crying. Clumps of young people I’d grown up with surrounded them, wiping their eyes.
“Bitch,” someone hissed as I walked past. Shanda spun around, glaring, but everyone looked away.
“Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up,” Colby said, striding toward me. Wow. Hadn’t seen that coming. He caught me up in a tight hug, and I felt myself start to tremble. Finally I pulled free, and swallowed.
I had to know.
“Tell me,” I said. “Are they . . .?”
Colby swallowed, his eyes red and puffy.
“Allie is gone.”
The words cut through me. No. It couldn’t be true.
“But she was screaming,” I said, shaking my head. “She was awake. We all heard her. How can she be . . . dead?”
My throat choked as I whispered the word. This was too awful, too real. How had a stupid party turned into Allie dying? Suddenly I didn’t care that I’d hated her, or that she’d slept with my boyfriend—we’d known each other since kindergarten, and now I’d never see her again. Not even a bitch like Allie deserved that.
And if she was dead, what about him?
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