Who Laughs Last: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Clearwater University Book 2) by Eva Ashwood

Author:Eva Ashwood [Ashwood, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

12

Trent

The woman beneath me moans in pleasure, and the sound goes straight to my dick. I’m hard as fucking steel, and I pound into her over and over, holding one leg in a firm grip and pressing it forward, folding her nearly in half as our skin slaps together.

I feel manic, almost out of control, teetering on the edge of reason as my need consumes me.

It’s beyond all rational thought, beyond love or hate. It’s primal and visceral and all-consuming.

And finally, like a roaring tidal wave, it pulls me under.

“Fuck. Emma!” I grunt out, coming hard inside her tight, sweet channel. She comes with me, gripping me so tight I think I might fucking die, her pussy walls clamping around me as she milks my cock, drawing every last drop of cum from me.

My eyes fly open, and I jerk awake, sitting up quickly. Light streams through the window, and the brightness feels like a thousand blades piercing my retinas. I close my eyes and flop back onto the bed, draping an arm over my face.

Fuck.

I feel like shit.

My mouth has that cottony taste of too much booze and not enough water, and my head throbs out a steady beat in time to my heart, my temples aching with each pulse. My cock is so hard it fucking hurts, and I realize I was about to come in my sleep. Reaching my free hand under the blanket, I fist my dick and stroke it a few times, taking the edge off of the consuming need that’s built up inside me. My mind floats back to the dream I was just having, and I jerk myself harder, lost in vivid memories of what it feels like to be buried inside Emma Holloway.

Then new memories begin to trickle into my brain, and my hand freezes as nausea churns my stomach. My dick begins to soften as the trickle of memories turns into a torrent, and horror fills me.

The party.

The drinks.

The dancing.

Oh, fuck.

I remember Reese and West both looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. I remember more and more guests arriving, and I remember seeing Emma’s roommate Leslie walk through the front door. I remember scanning the room for Emma, searching for a glimpse of soft blonde hair, a burst of hope rising in my chest that I would see her.

I remember being furious with myself for even having that thought, and furious with Emma for still being under my skin.

I remember resolving to get her out of my head and my heart once and for all.

Then…

Drinking. Dancing. Grinding up on some girl in the midst of sweaty bodies and loud music.

That girl—what the fuck is her name? Shit, I can’t even remember. I recognized her from our Anthropology class, and somehow that seemed fitting. That class was the beginning and the end of whatever might’ve developed between me and Emma, so it seemed grimly appropriate that a girl from that same class would be the final nail in the coffin.

So I pounded a few shots and invited her onto the dance floor.

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