Home > More Than Her (More Than #2)(7)

More Than Her (More Than #2)(7)
Author: Jay McLean

 Shit.

 Not again.

 

 ***

 

 I'd been packing to go home for the weekend to catch up on some studying, but mainly because Nathan, Jake's dad, had been blowing up my phone, which meant that something important was—or was about to—go down.

 Dad had called and we'd spoken briefly, but he didn't know what was happening either. It was different now than it was when I was younger, because now I was an adult. And even though Nathan worked with kids mostly, he made an exception for me. Nathan didn't want to discuss whatever it was over the phone, so we'd made plans for me to go to his house and talk there. Jake wouldn't be at his parent's this weekend, in fact, he was having a few people over before the season started.

 

 At least, that was the plan, until Nathan called. He had to fly out to an emergency job, so whatever it was he had to tell me could wait. He said it wasn't urgent in a time sensitive manner, just a need-to-know kind of thing. Whatever it was, I honestly didn't really care. It could only be about them. And I stopped giving a shit about them a long time ago.

 

 ***

 

 So now I was at Jake and Micky's party, buzzed, up against a wall, with some girl's mouth on my neck. Go to any college party and it's the same scene. Only here, it was a little toned down, because these guys were almost pro athletes.

 So. This girl on my neck was doing some crazy shit. It was definitely having the opposite effect of what she was intending, but I didn't care enough to pull her off. My attention was on my phone, trying to match up these three colored pieces of fucking candy. It felt like I was trying to work out the next move forever. I chuckled to myself, causing uh, Cindy? Britney? Tiffany? Oops. Anyway, she pulled back a little, her bright red lipstick smeared around her mouth.

 "What's funny?" she asked with that high-pitched baby voice that I hated.

 I shook my head, switching the screen off and placing it back in my pocket.

 When I brought my eyes back up, I saw her.

 Amanda.

 She glared at me, mouth partially open, looking hotter than I'd ever seen her.

 Stomach. Floor.

 

 

EIGHT

 


 *Amanda*

 

 Logan. Fucking. Matthews.

 I hate him.

 I hate his stupid smug ass of a face and that perfectly messy brown hair.

 I hate those stupid green eyes and those perfect teeth, and that hot as fuck panty-dropping smile.

 I hate his stupid deep dimples that show whenever he smirks from being an asshole—which is all the fucking time.

 I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

 I hate him so fucking much, I want to push him up against the wall and punch him in the face.

  And then I want to lick it.

 Then rip his fucking shirt off and finger his abs while he does that annoyingly manly chuckle that I love.

 I hate him.

 Stupid Fucking Logan Fucking Matthews.

 Shit. I'm drunk.

 And I've turned into Lucy.

 

 

NINE


 -Present-

 


 Logan

 

 She turned to leave and instantly I was moving what's-her-face out of the way so I could get to her. I caught up and pulled her by her arm, into the hallway and into the spare room, closing the door behind her.

 She leaned against it, her eyes wide.

 I moved so I was in front of her. I took her in from head to toe. "Holy shit, you look good."

 She stayed silent.

 I stepped closer. So close our chests were touching. I could hear her breathing heavily, her boobs rose and fell with each breath.

 Our eyes locked. Our breathing got faster, heavier. I could feel my dick growing and I hadn't even touched her. She closed her eyes and licked her lips and that was the fucking turning point. My mouth was on hers so fast; she didn't have time to react.

 At first it was quick and messy, because I wanted to fucking devour her. But then I calmed myself down enough to realize that she was kissing back.

 She was fucking kissing me back.

 So I deepened the kiss. My tongue came out, asking for permission. She opened her mouth for me. And instantly my mind filled with memories of when we did this last.

 She made a moaning sound, as our tongues came together and I moved closer, pushing myself into her.

 We kissed for a few more minutes, not saying a word. Each second that went by—I felt myself losing control with this girl. I had no idea what she was thinking, or how she was feeling, or why she was even letting me have this. But I didn't care.

 Because I wanted her.

 So. Fucking. Bad.

 She clutched my hair with both her hands and moved me to her neck. I resumed my kissing there. I could hear her trying to catch her breath. One of my hands moved to her thigh, creeping up and under the hem of her short dress, and onto her ass. Her amazing fucking ass; barely covered with whatever panties she was wearing.

 "Holy shit," she whispered, bringing my mouth back to hers. Her legs went around my waist.

 I pinned her to the wall.

 Fuck. Yes.

 

 Amanda

 

 Oh. My. God.

 What the fuck is happening right now?

 He had me up against the wall pushing in all the right ways. My legs were wrapped around him while my hips jerked towards his. I was two-seconds away from losing it. His mouth moved from my lips, down my jaw, and onto my neck. I inhaled deeply a few times, trying to calm myself down, but his mouth kept moving lower, and his dick kept grinding harder. Then his mouth was on the swell of my breasts and I knew I should be stopping this but it felt so fucking good. His hand reached up, pulled the top of my dress down, and before I knew it, my nipple was covered with the warmth of his mouth. I threw my head back against the door. A moan escaped from the pleasure of what he was fucking doing to me. He stopped and pulled back from my breast, causing a popping sound. I look down at him; his eyes rose to mine. "Fuck, Amanda. I've thought about this for so long."

 I froze.

 And the memories came back.

 My feet landed on the ground and I adjusted my dress.

 He took a step back.

 "I'm sorry, Matthews. I shouldn't have let it get this far." I shook my head. "It's my fault."

 I turned to open the door but his hand in the crook of my elbow stopped me.

 He spun me around to face him and bent so his eyes were level with mine. "What are you doing?"

 "Nothing." I cleared my throat "I'm sorry."

 We were both panting, trying to catch our breaths.

 Then he had me up against the wall again, his mouth on mine, and I started kissing him back, again.

 Fuck.

 I pulled back.

 "Stop." I pushed him off me. "Look, I said I'm sorry. I don't want to do this." I motioned my finger between us. "I don't want this."

 "Well, that's not really what your body is telling me."

 I blew out a breath. "I know, I'm sorry. Okay? It's just the beer and the moment. I just got caught up."

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