You Said I Was Your Favorite (A Lancaster Prep Novel)
You Said I Was Your Favorite: Chapter 39

After school is finished, Arch and I go to the library where we do our homework. There are a lot of students in the library, lots of conversations happening, and while Arch is easily distracted—and untouchable thanks to the librarian loving him so much—he keeps wandering off to talk to his friends.

Me? I have to concentrate. Once we get through this semester, I can relax. By then my grades won’t matter as much. I’ll have all of my college applications sent in and some of that pressure will be relieved.

Still want to come out on top though. If I have to lose to anyone, I wouldn’t mind it being Arch.

“Want to go back to my room?” His voice is casual as we exit the library, but I can hear the subtle meaning behind his question.

Go back to his room and mess around is what the plan is.

“Yes,” I tell him firmly, because that sounds perfect to me. A little reward for getting my work done. Even Arch settled down eventually and completed a few assignments.

His grin makes my heart trip over itself. “That’s the answer I was looking for, Daze.”

We hurry back to his room, not talking much. The two of us eager to be alone. I love that this doesn’t feel one-sided.

He seems just as into me as I’m into him.

The wind has picked up and the sky is heavy with dark clouds. A storm must be rolling in and I swear right before we enter the building, I feel a couple of rain drops hit the top of my head.

The door clangs shut behind us, shrouding us in silence, the only sound our clipped footsteps on the floor. I follow him to his room, taking everything in, wondering where Edie might be.

“Where’s Edie’s room?” I ask once we’re in his.

He locks the door and turns to face me, leaning against it. “Just down the hall on the right side.”

“Ah.” I nod, going to his desk and setting my backpack on top of it before I start to take off my uniform jacket.

“Already stripping?” His teasing tone has me looking over at him again.

“Tired of the jacket,” I say as I slip it off and drape it across the back of his desk chair.

“Same.” He shrugs out of his jacket and lets it drop on the floor.

I drink him in as he approaches. He ditched the sweater earlier, I’m not sure when, and I enjoy how his shirt fits a little snug across his chest, the sleeves emphasizing the sheer size of his biceps. I rarely hear him speak about working out beyond going for a run here and there, but he has to go to the gym. There’s a two-story one on campus where all the boys like to go and I’m sure he’s one of them, lifting weights with his friends’ encouragement and posing in front of the mirrors afterward.

I’ve seen the stories on social media. I know what they like to do in the gym.

“How long until you have to go home?” He comes to a stop in front of me, just out of reach.

Reaching behind, I clutch the back of the desk chair, hoping I look nonchalant. Like what’s about to happen is no big deal. “I don’t have to be home until later.”

His brows lift. “Define later.”

“Sometime later in the night.” He frowns. “My dad is going to Kathy’s tonight for dinner.”

“Ah.” The frown is gone, just like that. “So we have hours to ourselves?”

I nod, clutching the back of the chair tighter. My heart starts to beat faster at the look on his face. “I’m thinking I should be home around nine.”

He checks his phone. “It’s four-thirty.”

I nod again, not saying anything this time.

“That’s over four hours.”

“Glad to see you can count.” I smile, unable to help myself from giving him a hard time.

“All those math classes over the years, you know?” He steps closer, his arms sneaking around my waist, trapping me. Not that I mind. “There’s a lot we can do in four hours, Daze.”

“You think so?” I tip my head back, the heat I see in his gaze taking my breath away.

Arch nods, touching my face. His fingers drift across my jaw, his thumb pressing gently into my chin. “You tortured me in the library.”

“You tortured me too, you know. But I had to get my homework done,” I remind him. “I would’ve felt too guilty otherwise.”

“Always such a good girl. Doing what she’s supposed to.” He leans in, kissing me and it’s shockingly dirty. His tongue is thorough, searching my mouth in a way that leaves me breathless and when he breaks away, I’m grateful I’m still holding onto the chair. “With the exception of being with me.”

His words make me think of my father’s disapproval, and that’s the last thing I want to focus on. “Don’t worry about that.”

“I look good on paper. Don’t see what his problem is with me.” He’s joking. Or at least he’s trying to sound like he’s joking, but I can hear the hurt there, lingering beneath the words.

“He just doesn’t know you,” I say, and he frowns.

“Why don’t you ever wear the earrings I gave you?” The hurt is still there in his voice, stronger now and I shrug, feeling bad.

“They’re so beautiful. I’m afraid I’ll lose them.” It’s not just that. The earrings are expensive, so obviously not fake. My father will see them and question me. Anyone would ask about them, they’re that stunning. Vivian. Matthews. Any of my teachers. Maybe even Edie. And I wouldn’t know how to answer them. Wouldn’t know what to say.

I keep the earrings in the box they came in, stashed in my sock drawer, and I pull the box out almost every day, staring at them, remembering how he gave them to me. How pleased he was when I put them on. They’re beautiful.

Too beautiful.

“You won’t lose them,” he starts but I cut him off, not wanting to have this conversation anymore.

“Kiss me,” I demand, trying to get his mind off the stuff that doesn’t matter.

The only thing that matters right now is me and him. In this room together.

Completely alone.

He does as I ask without hesitation, the kiss this time gentle. Almost sweet. Our lips meet and break apart over and over, leaving me needy. My knees wobbly. I finally let go of the chair and run my hands up his chest, savoring the hard, hot wall of his chest, burning my palms through the fabric of his shirt. When his tongue finally curls around mine, I whimper, returning the kiss, my body aching for more.

I want to feel his hands all over me. In all of those secret places only he’s touched. I grab fistfuls of his shirt, tugging on the fabric as he devours my mouth and his hands slide lower, gripping my butt. Gathering my skirt, lifting it and diving beneath, his hands now on my flesh.

“This skirt drives me fucking insane,” he murmurs against my lips, his fingers slipping beneath the thin fabric of my panties, brushing against my sensitive flesh. “Watching you walk all over campus in it. Knowing what it’s hiding.”

A throb starts lower in my belly. My panties are wet. Just by his words alone. His barely- there touch.

“Did you think about this all day?” His mouth shifts to my throat, his lips hot, his tongue wet as he licks me there. “Imagine me doing this to you?”

“Yes,” I whisper, his words reminding me of my earlier thoughts. Of us acting so normal when we share something so…intimate.

He cups the neediest part of me between my thighs, his fingers pressing, making me shiver. “Are you going to give this to me, Daze?”

I nod, my breath hitching in my throat. “Y-yes.”

“I want it.” He kisses my neck. Bites it, the sting of his teeth making me cry out. “I want you to be mine.”

“I am yours,” I say without hesitation.

He lifts away from my neck and I crack my eyes open to find him watching me, his searing gaze roaming all over my face, a pleased smile curling his lips. “I’m taking another one of your firsts.”

“I want you to be my first,” I tell him, my eyes falling closed when he pushes my hair away from my face, his fingers threading through the strands. My breaths are coming fast, everything inside me throbbing, and when he leans in, his mouth brushing against mine, I kiss him hard, needing more.

Needing everything he can give me.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” His compliment, the rough tone of his voice, makes my bones turn to liquid. “I could look at you all night.”

I don’t want him to look at me all night. I need him to touch me.

His mouth is still on mine, barely moving, almost as if he’s breathing me in. I’m trembling and he seems so in control. So perfectly composed. And when he grabs my hand, placing it on the front of his trousers, I curl my fingers around the hot, hard length of him, pleasure rippling through me at the physical proof that he wants me. “Feel that?”

I nod, squeezing harder, making him groan.

“It’s all for you.”

I part my lips, ready to speak, but I forget what I wanted to say when Arch kisses me, his hands moving to slide up and down my butt, making me shiver. We stand and kiss like this for what feels like forever, his hands never moving from my backside, my hands eventually going to the buttons on his shirt, undoing each one with shaky fingers. I touch his bare chest, streaking my fingers along his hot skin, smiling when his muscles constrict beneath my fingertips. I love that my touch affects him.

I love so much about him.

I’m in love with him.

Anyone would probably say I’m in love with Arch only because he’s the first boy to actually pay attention to me and maybe they’re right. Maybe he finds me a novelty, a mystery. The girl no one knows except for him.

But it feels like we share more than that. We’re more than that. I feel everything more intensely when I’m with him. He’s not just the boy I’m in love with. He’s also my friend. My confidant. He makes me laugh and he brings me pleasure and gives me comfort.

I didn’t know it could be like this. Feel like this. I’ve read enough romance books in the last couple of years to have a sense of what a romantic relationship might be like, but in the books it all feels heightened. Unbelievable. No one can find a perfect love like what exists in books. That sort of thing is for fairy tales.

What Arch and I share feels like a fairy tale. Fantastical. Unbelievable.

The best thing I’ve ever experienced.

He tugs my sweater off, tossing it on the floor before he picks me up and carries me over to the bed, carefully depositing me onto the mattress versus dropping me like he did last time. Something has shifted in the air between us. This moment we’re about to share feels serious and that leaves me more jittery than normal.

But he calms my nerves, joining me on the bed and slowly undressing me. Everywhere his hands touch, his mouth follows, delivering sweet kisses on each newly exposed piece of skin. I close my eyes, lost in the sensations only Arch’s lips and hands can give me, lifting up when he tugs my skirt around so he can unbutton it. He slips it off, murmuring, “Unbutton your shirt for me, Daze,” in this deep, sexy voice that has me automatically reaching for the front of my shirt.

I undo the buttons with shaky fingers, a trembling exhale leaving me when he takes over, removing the shirt from my body. I reach for him, eagerly trying to shove his shirt off of his shoulders and he shrugs out of it, tossing the fabric aside.

Soon we’re both naked, getting tangled up in each other, our mouths fused. He rolls me underneath him, his big body covering me as he rocks his erection against my throbbing center and I spread my legs wider, wanting more.

Needing more.

He continues teasing me, the head of his erection brushing against my wet flesh as he thrusts his hips. Like he’s already trying to slip inside of me. I tense up when I feel just the head broach my entrance, my hands going to his broad shoulders, holding him off.

“Relax,” he whispers against my lips and I nod, wishing it was that easy. I want him, but I’m also scared. It’s going to hurt. I know it is.

He continues kissing me, his mouth insistent. Needy. I slowly relax with every sweep of his tongue, losing myself, my earlier nerves dissipating.

“I have condoms,” he tells me at one point and I can’t help but smile.

“Condoms? Plural? Are you hoping for more than once tonight?” I tease.

“Always,” he says with a chuckle, kissing me deep.

He breaks away from my lips to kiss me everywhere. My shoulders and chest and breasts and stomach, his mouth lingering on the best parts, his hot tongue bathing my skin. I’m shaking from his attention, anticipation curling through my blood when he shifts lower, his mouth blazing a trail all over my stomach.

Cracking my eyes open, I watch, entranced by the sight of him kissing my body, his gaze lifting, meeting mine. We stare at each other as he licks at the sensitive skin just above my pubic hair and I swear my entire body throbs from the look on his face.

In his eyes.

I squirm when he slips even lower, his shoulders parting my legs. He spreads me wide open, palms braced on the inside of my thighs as he studies me there for a moment, making me sling my arm over my eyes, unable to take it anymore.

He’s torturing me. As if he’s getting off on driving me out of my mind with lust and I suppose he is. He has more experience, is always much more patient and in control compared to me, and when he finally licks me between my thighs, his tongue teasing my entry, testing me, I cry out, unable to help myself.

“You taste so good,” he tells me in between hot flickers of his tongue against my clit. “Look at me, Daze.”

I drop my arm to my side and open my eyes, caught up in the intensity of his gaze, unable to look away. His mouth on my flesh, his own eyes falling closed as if he’s completely enraptured with me, his lips closing around my clit. Sucking.

It’s too much. Not enough. I shudder and shake beneath him when I come seconds later, the orgasm sweeping over me, leaving me a moaning mess.

“I think you’re ready,” he murmurs against my still throbbing flesh, shifting up the length of my body to press his lips to mine before he leans over me, yanking open the drawer in his nightstand and reaching inside.

He pulls out a condom and I watch with blatant curiosity as he shifts into a kneeling position, his erection thrusting outward as he tears open the condom wrapper before rolling it on. When he catches me staring, he gives himself a stroke and I nearly pass out from wanting to watch him do that again.

Would he want to do that? Masturbate in front of me? I suppose he would, only if I did it in front of him, and I don’t know…

I think I’m a little too shy for that.

“You look scared,” he observes.

“I’m just…” I shake my head, trying to find the words. “A little overwhelmed, but not too scared to go through with this.”

“Yeah? Good.” He crawls back on top of me, kissing me soundly, his lips and tongue helping me forget any fear that still lingers within me. The more he kisses and touches me, the more I want him and when he rocks his hips, his cock nudging against me once more, this time I arch against him, feeling hollow. Needing him to fill me.

I want him. So much.

He shifts his position, grabbing the base of his shaft and guiding it slowly inside me. I immediately tense up, hissing in a breath when I feel him broach my entrance, so wide and thick.

“Relax,” he whispers in my ear before he blazes a path of hot kisses down my neck. “It’s going to feel good. I promise.”

I take deep, fortifying breaths, willing my bones and muscles to ease. The more he kisses me, the more relaxed I feel, and when he sinks deeper, I spread my legs wider, both of us moaning when that sends him even farther.

We both lie still for a moment, me needing to get used to him. His cock throbs within my body and I wiggle beneath him, an undeniable pinch making me twinge.

He’s so freaking thick, I feel as if I’m impaled on him. It’s not that it feels bad, it just feels…

Different. Being connected like this. His flesh in mine.

His hips flex and he lifts up, the slow drag of his cock withdrawing from my body, lighting off sparks deep within me. When he thrusts back in, I gasp at the delicious friction, needing more, and thank God, he gives it to me.

Our pace is slow at first as we learn our rhythm with each other. He’s so careful with me, his touch gentle, his thrusts not too hard. Like he doesn’t want to hurt me and I appreciate that.

But as we continue, I can tell he’s holding back. I bet if I had more experience, he’d be moving much faster, and I’m curious.

I want him to unleash on me. Lose all control.

That’s what I want to see the most. Arch losing control. On me.

With me.

I try to urge him on by racing my hands up and down his back, resting them on his very firm ass. I push him deeper and when he kisses me, I break away first, opening my eyes to find he’s already watching me.

“You don’t have to be so—gentle,” I say, my cheeks burning.

Everywhere I’m burning. I’m willing to ask for what I want despite my embarrassment. And I shouldn’t be embarrassed with him. We’ve done everything together.

Everything.

“You sure?”

I nod.

“Okay.” He visibly swallows. “I warned you.”

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