Climb on My Stepfather (Ashley and Alex)

Chapter 81

13: Stella.

I'm not the only one waiting outside of the test room.

Half the school is here in red and gold, our official colors. Some people even have their faces painted or hold signs with encouraging messages for Gage.

When it was just the two of us studying, the pressure to help him pass was more than enough, but this? So much is on the line. If Gage doesn't pass, he won't play in the championship and we will lose. It's a given.

No. He's going to pass. Not only that, he's going to get an A.

He worked so hard and he's a lot smarter than he gives himself credit for.

Remembering his directions to me before we left the apartment, I close my eyes and recall him beneath me last night, the way he rode me on his bucking hips, sweat dripping off his abs, jaw clenched tight, shuddering, trying not to come. How he groaned my name so brokenly. How he threw himself off the bed and took a cold shower while I lay panting, my underwear clinging to my skin. It's almost over. The waiting is almost-

My thoughts burst like a bubble when II hear a door creak. Slam.

My eyes fly open. The mass of students is deadly silent as Gage walks out, backpack slung over one shoulder, a backwards hat on his head. He's holding a paper in his hand, but I can't read his expression. Oh God, he's not smiling.

What happened?

He's focused on me, jaw set.

He stops in the center of the courtyard, holds up the paper. "I got an A."

Utter pandemonium breaks out. Deafening cheers, screams of joy. Male students chest bump as they watch their hero stride toward me. Somewhere in the distance, a marching band begins to play, but my heartbeat drowns out the noise almost immediately. Because my boyfriend very clearly does not care about the fanfare whatsoever. And if I had any doubt about that fact, he rids me of it a second later when I'm thrown over his shoulder and carried out of the courtyard.

smile is so huge that

My laughter is watery-and delivered to the muscular swells of his butt. "You did it.

slow

open the passenger side of his truck and tosses the stapled papers into the footwell, then sets me down on the seat, buckling me in with shaking hands. It's impossible to miss the growing ridge

"T-Gage? Are you okay?"

No answer.

the windshield like a hundred-mile-per- hour wind. My legs scoot together on the seat in an attempt to suppress the spreading ache there. I'm growing hotter by the second, muscles tightening like the cogs of an engine. And the wetness. It comes on so fast, it's almost embarrassing. By the time he climbs into the driver's side of the truck and starts the engine with a violent twist of his wrist, my nails are

five minutes

or I'll tear

orders. Some undiscovered part of me is thrilled by the fact that I've pushed him to the edge, even if his intensity concerns me. Makes me fearful that he won't go slow like he promised. I barely recognize him

reach up beneath my skirt and work the panties down my thighs, his

ocean filling the cab of the truck, along with his harsh panting. I twist the panties in my hands nervously, but he takes them

I'm freed of the seatbelt and pulled into his arms, carried around to the rear bed of the truck. He settles me on the lowered grate, returning briefly for the blanket in the

"Gage?"

He doesn't answer me.

blanket and pushes

features and the towering trees above us. "Don't," he

on the button and zipper of his jeans.

say my name

"Like what?"

being me as soon as I can get this one fuck, honey. I'm dying. I need to bang you-hard and rough

could go

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