Page 97 of Chasing Headlines

My no-longer-innocent brain wandered off, conjuring images of Bailey kneeling between my legs.

“Yes, after college.” My mom nodded as she sat across from me.Shit!

“Need more orange juice.” I knocked my chair over as I stood up. It hit the floor with a loud bang.

God, I wanted to see Milline on her knees, with her infuriating mouth wrapped around my cock. My hand fisting in her hair, guiding her along my length.

I groaned as an urgent, primal need burned through my veins. It wasn’t enough—to think of her naked and willing to suck me off. Iwantedher . . .

My hand curled around my hardened shaft and slid along the rigid surface. My horny, alcohol-soaked brain became a jumble of images as I worked my erection. I nudged the faucet handle to add warmer water. My hand moved to a slow rhythm as sexual fantasies tumbled and splashed through my aching skull.

She kneeled over my legs, bouncing, stroking, coaxing my length. I reached for her, tugging her hair to pull her closer. She hissed through her teeth.

I pulled her slick, naked form against me in the shower, demanding her kiss. Pressed her back against the wall, I stroked her between her legs. She gasped and her gaze smoldered.

“I want you, Breslin . . . Please.” Her voice mewled.

Pressure mounted and compressed inside my abdomen. I braced myself against the wall as I pumped faster, rougher. I panted for air, sucked in a breath and held it.

Another flash: the image of me, on my knees, with her legs over my shoulders. She arched and whimpered and begged. Her folds quivered against my tongue.

“Please, Breslin, fuck me.”

I hit the pinnacle, that instant where I was empty and nothing, but it didn't hurt. Didn't matter. Then consciousness ripped through my body. It fractured and broke through the emptiness, lighting the world from the inside out. I convulsed, came, and spilled onto the tile below. Relief pounded through my body, soothing every cell as it went. I gulped in air and let thewarm water wash over my skin. It collected along the ridges in the floor before rinsing the evidence of my need away.

After dressing in a clean pair of shorts and my Strikers-issued gym shirt, I used all the paper towels I possessed to tackle the nastiness on my floor. I knew better than to leave the mess in my trashbin, so I pulled the garbage bag and dragged the thing down to the dumpster. It was Wednesday and we had a later start to training, but time was no doubt tick—Dammit. Phone!

A search of my dorm turned up the device in my kitchen sink. Dead. The red sliver of battery light assured me it wasn't “dropped in water” dead. I let out a long breath.

I got it plugged in. As soon as the bare minimum amount of charge blinked on the main screen, a missed phone alert popped up with its annoyingly peppy chime.

I stared at the number. A calendar reminder buzzed. The only alert I had— “Ah fuck.” I'd missed my community service shift.Shit.I cringed and tried to remember to breathe as I played back the message from the Director. My already abused stomach smushed into a gooey knot. I hoped to God it wasn’t about to repeat the earlier attempt to jailbreak.

“Hello Mr. Cooper, was just calling to check in on you. Mrs. Schreiber informed me that you were feeling under the weather. I hope it's not serious enough to miss out on practice. Pro tip: Schorr requires a doctor's note if you do. Anyway, it occurred to me I hadn't provided my cell number in case something came up. Call me back tomorrow when you get a few minutes and let's figure out how to make sure you don't fall behind in your hours. Get some rest.”

I sat on the floor of my small kitchen area and leaned back against the cabinet. I ran a hand over my forehead. My stomach unknotted, but I still felt like shit. Except, now I was also a colossal asshat. Dotty told her I was ill.It's not a complete lie, you do feel like leftover garbage.This was a time I couldn't be honest. Dotty'd probably be in the least trouble. I'd be up shit's creek with the Deputy for drinking, missing my community service hours, and he'd no doubt issue citations to the bar for serving me. And then whatever Schorr decided . . .

I hung my head. I had no idea what the hell was wrong with me, but I’d apparently sunk so low that a reporter had to save my academic life and someone else’s grandma had taken pity on me.Fuck.

The only thing to do was to thank her later. I made a note. Maybe I still had enough credit on my student card to get her flowers. I pulled myself off the floor, got dressed and made it all the way to the training room before I remembered: I wasn’t supposed to be there.

Shit.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Olivia POV

Of all the places a delinquent freshman could go while skipping class, I'm pretty sure the local senior center was . . . nowhere on that list. And yet here I was, ringing the little desk bell. No idea whether Dotty would even see me, much less give me an interview, but, I was out of options. Sort of. At least, I don't know. Maybe I should just suck it up and go back to?—

“She says you can come on back,” the not-Coop desk clerk said. He was young and a little gangly. Maybe an intern from the local high school? I smiled at him and actually had the experience of a normal person opening the door for a visitor.

I huffed under my breath as I moved though the hallway and found Dotty’s unit.

She let me in with only a small smile. “I’m not prepared to be interviewed today.”

I held in a groan. Game face time. “That’s ok. I wasn’t here for the interview. I’d kinda hoped for, you know, a little advice.”

“Not sure I'm in the know these days, dear. You young people's lives are so different. But happy for some company for tea.”