Page 465 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

Maybe it’s part of it too, but for some reason, I don’t feel half bad about uprooting my entire life to stay in this shitshow of a therapy ranch for the next six months. I’m actually...well, saying that I’m looking forward to it is pushing it.

I guess I’m curious to find out if they reallycanfix us.

We follow Kierra through the property, passing several groups of buildings scattered across the sprawling land. The cafeteria and admin office are in one cluster, the dorms in another, and a row of classrooms past that.

Eight bungalows connected via concrete walkways huddle beneath the boughs of an oak tree grove. “The boys are on the left, we’re on the right,” Kierra says. “Curfew’s at nine, lights out at ten.”

A woman I estimate to be in her thirties steps out of the girls’ dorm rooms, but she doesn’t see us. A second later she disappears into the boys’ dorms.

“That’s Angela, our den mother. She’ssuuuupernice.” Kierra looks back at us, rolling her eyes.

Christ, I hope I don’t have to deal with her. Harper gives me a sour look. “Told you this was going to be awful.”

Kierra stops on the stretch of lawn separating the two sets of buildings. “You guys have about an hour before lunch. Might as well unpack.” She points at one of the bungalows. “You’re in the Mustang Lodge.” Then she beckons Harper. “You’re with me in the Sparrow Lodge.”

She glances at us, her eyes lingering on me just a second longer than Harper. “So I’ll let you guys unpack then. Your bags are inside.”

I meet Harper’s eyes as she turns to watch Kierra leave. The anticipation in her eyes is blatant and arousing as fuck. I’ve been keeping close to her whenever I can, inhaling her scent, trying to memorize every strand of her hair. I didn’t know what the setup was here, didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. Even knowing we’ll be sleeping a stone’s throw away from each other, the need to consume her is overwhelming.

“You probably want me to help you with your bags since you packed so much shit.”

She plumps out her lips but says nothing as I head for her bungalow, only following when I slip into the shadows under the thatch eaves. We glance around before I pull open the carved wooden door for her.

We’re standing in a big room, two bunk beds against opposite walls and a doorway leading off that no doubt goes to the en-suite bathroom. It smells like straw in here, and dust motes sparkle in a beam of light cast from one of the windowsset high on the peaked wall. There are normal windows too, but their shades have been drawn.

With no air conditioning, I guess they don’t want too much sunlight getting in here during the day. The air is already stuffy and a little warm...and with the shades closed there’s a tempting gloom inside.

Harper walks toward her suitcases stacked by one of the bunk beds. I grab her wrist and spin her around to face me. She gasps when she hits my chest, but her hands immediately slide up my neck and into my hair.

I grab a fistful of her hair and wrench back her head, forcing my lips hard against hers. She moans into our kiss, twisting her fingers painfully in my hair. I was already sporting a semi when I opened the door—I grind my now rock-hard cock against her belly, pushing her backward until she slams into the wall.

We don’t need to speak. What the fuck would we even say?

All that’s left is to surrender to each other, to finalize our truce.

I grab her waist and lift her against the wall. She hooks her legs around my hips and pushes her cunt against me with a low groan rumbling out of her throat. I buck my hips, keeping her in place with a hand under her ass as I slide my length over her entrance. She’s wearing jeggings and another one of her floppy cable-knit sweaters, one shoulder bare. The seam of her jeans scrapes over the thin fabric of my slacks, almost as painful as the way she twists her fingers in my hair.

“Hurry,” she whispers urgently, her hands falling to my belt and tugging at the catch. “Before someone comes in here.”

I pluck her hand away, slam it into the wall above her head. When she tries again with her other hand, I do the same. I lean back, watching her face contort as I slowly grind my dick against her split open legs. “I don’t want to rush,” I murmur. “I’m going to take my time with you.”

She moans, pushing her hips forward to increase the friction between us. Christ, if she keeps humping me like this, I’ll come in my fucking pants. But I can’t pull away. It feels too fucking good.

So imagine when you have her all to yourself? When you can torture yourself,her,as long as you want?

I snatch up her mouth with mine, groaning as I kiss the air out of her lungs. I shove a hand down the front of her jeans, stroking her clit, sliding a finger inside her, making her all fucking hot and bothered.

And then I step back and gently set her on the ground.

“What? Why...? Fuck you, Jude,” she pants, reaching for me with clawed hands, like she wants to rip out my heart.

Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t stop myself. I surge forward, one hand on her chest to keep her pressed to the wall, the other diving into her jeans again. She gasps and grabs my wrist, forcing me harder against her. I kiss her again, my tongue wrestling against hers as I finger her into a climax.

She comes on my hand, gasping against my mouth as her body goes rigid.

If there hadn’t been that moment of breathless silence, neither of us would have heard the footsteps on the paving outside.

“Fuck!” she gasps, dragging my hand out of her jeans.

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