Page 44 of Spiral
Sitting on his lap suddenly seems much more intimate when we aren’t wrestling and joking, when his body isn’t pressed against mine. I realize just how close I am to him, just how much of his body I can feel beneath me. I stand, clearing my throat and gathering my journal and pen.
Flip to an open page, Georgia. Start writing. Don’t think about Henry’s–
“You know the cap’s still on your pen,” he remarks, smirking smugly as he rocks his hips forward to adjust his sitting position.
My cheeks redden. “Thanks. So, my first question is–”
Before I can finish, Henry stands and crushes his lips to mine.
I’m instantly lost in him. His rugged arms wrap around my torso and lift me, pressing the whole of my body against his own. He breathes in sharply as my chest makes contact with his bruise, but doesn’t pull away. As he gently bites my lower lip, a groan of pleasure escapes my throat, and I instantly feel a smirk curl against his lips as he kisses me.
God, he’s so arrogant.
The thought is fleeting as I feel his hand restlessly travel up my back and grip the base of my hair. Our bodies fully entwined, I notice his heated erection digging into my stomach and realize just how desperate I am to feel him.
I haven’t felt like this over a guy in years. Or… ever? Yeah, ever.
My nails rake down his back as he gropes my ass, lifting me off the ground with one arm and allowing me to wrap my legs feverishly around his taut waist.
He sets me gingerly on the couch, pressing his weight into me and pinning me against the soft cushions. He kisses me hungrily, a desperate moan escaping his lips as I press my hips into his erection. He pulls away, trailing his swollen lips across my cheek and down to my neck.
“Fuck, Georgia, you’re so beautiful–”
“Aye-yo, dude!” an unfamiliar voice yells from across the room.
Henry instantly pulls himself off of me, raking a hand through his messy hair and straightening his clothes. A panicked look spreads across his face as he grabs a couch cushion to conceal his erection.
His roommates.
25 | HENRY
FUCK. WHAT TIME is it?
I glance at the clock in the kitchen – 9:37.
Why the fuck are they home so early?
We have a house rule that you don’t hook up with girls outside of your bedroom – and it is strictly enforced. It was implemented two years ago, on the same night that Danny hooked up with this cheerleader that he met at one of our freshman playoff games. He got drunk as hell off of cheap beer at Mason Field, took her back to the house, and started fucking her on the couch.
The joy of the moment was ruined when Jonah’s mom, who had been staying with us for a few days to watch the big game, walked back into the house after dinner to the sight of Danny’s bare, thrusting ass. Ever since then, no living room hookups.
God damnit. I don’t even want to think about the punishment wheel.
“Guess we’re breaking out the punishment wheel,” slurs Jonah, a drunken smile curling across his lips.
Shit.
“Hey, Georgia!” Danny exclaims, soberly ambling into the living room behind Jonah. “Still working on your column? It’s pretty late.”
He checks his watch, a confused look on his face.
“Hi, Danny.” Georgia replies, quickly running her fingers through her curls in an attempt to tame them.
“She’s w-working on a lot more than a column,” Jonah remarks, a devilish smirk on his face.
I groan. “Fuck off, Jonah.”
“You s-fuck koff!” he garbles, stumbling slightly as he steps towards me.