Page 8 of Make You Beg

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It’s been the go-to party spot since before I was even born. A place where we come to get high, get drunk, and fuck shit up. We’re here every Saturday night, and also Friday nights during ball season after the football games. And they sometimes have exclusive fights throughout the week.

I stumble across the uneven lawn, wanting to get some fresh air. My shoes dig into the earth, making it hard to walk. No one maintains it anymore. It’s been abandoned for years. A fire broke out and caused so much damage that they couldn’t afford to rebuild. Not to mention all the lives that were taken that night. Legend is, no one survived. Not sure how a place so big burned, killing everyone, yet the structures are still standing. I’ve always questioned how the concrete walls and floors managed to catch fire, but I’m not an expert on that sort of thing. So what do I know?

“Hen, wait up.”

I hear a familiar voice call out behind me. When I spin around, I lose my balance. I close my eyes and fall. It feels like I land on clouds, but when I open my heavy eyes, I look up to see Scout standing over me. He has a glass with amber liquid in one hand and his cell in the other. A smirk spreads across his face as his eyes sweep over my body.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks with a chuckle before tipping his cup back.

I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows the drink, fascinated by the simple movement. He looks back down at me, waiting for a response, and I tilt my head back, looking up at the sky. It’s full of a thousand shining stars. They’re so bright that they’re almost painful to look at. “Admiring the sky,” I slur.

He falls onto his side and lies down next to me. “How about some company?” Propping himself up, he cups my cheek. I lean into him. His hands are cool from the drink he was holding that now sits next to him. They feel good on my hot skin. “Hey, don’t do that. Not here.”

“Hmm?” My eyes roam his chiseled jaw and stubble that he didn’t shave off today.

His gaze falls to my chest. The corners of his perfect lips are tilted upward in a grin. “You moaned. You know that makes me hard.”

I did? I didn’t realize it. “What would you do if I did this?” My hand falls to his jeans, and I run my palm over his crotch.

He throws his head back and closes his eyes. “Hen …”

“Or this?” I sit up and straddle him, throwing my hair over my right shoulder. I get a head rush from moving too fast and am thankful I’m not standing. “What about this?” I run my hands through my hair, gathering it up and throwing my head back. I let out a moan, rocking my hips back and forth on him. I can feel him grow inside his jeans, and I moan again; only this time, it wasn’t fake. “Oh, God” I cry out dramatically. “Scout …”

“Henley.” He grips my hips, bringing me to a stop. “Not here.”

I look around at the kids littering the area, but no one is paying us any attention. A group of about twenty are over to the right, standing around a roaring fire made of car tires. Which is totally illegal and leaves you covered in a black residue, but no cops patrol this area. They’re all sipping their alcoholic drinks, and the black lifted Chevy has all the windows down and its speakers blaring. “No one cares what we do.” This is why kids come out here.

“Doesn’t mean people aren’t watching us.” He sits up and pushes me off him.

I pout. “You embarrassed all of a sudden to be seen with me?” I arch a brow. “Afraid of what people will say if they find out you’re fucking me?” No one knows what we do. Kids at school suspect it because he’s one of my best friends, but there’s a difference in rumor and fact. No one has yet to prove it. And the ones who can, won’t.

Ryan grips my hair in his hand, tilts my head back, and slams his lips to mine in a possessive, dominating kiss. Our teeth hit, and our tongues dance. I whimper into his mouth, and my pussy pulses while my thighs tighten.

He pulls away and growls. “I don’t give a fuck what they think.”

“Then why?” My hand falls to his hard dick again, but he pushes it away.

“Just … not here,” he snaps, jumping to his feet.

Grabbing my hand, he yanks me up as well. We face the back of the main building. It stands five stories tall. I can see how back in its day, it must have been gorgeous, but now it’s depressing. Windows no longer have glass, and graffiti covers the concrete walls and cracked bricks. Moss grows up the side in places. Such a shame.


Tags: Shantel Tessier Romance