Anyone But Me

by J.D. Frost

It’s always the same with him. Cheap shots, childish pranks. And if he can make me bleed, that’s just a bonus. It’s been that way since I first set foot in this school just shy of a year ago. Asher Brooks, Leighton Bay’s most popular citizen and resident asshole, set his sights on me and made me his personal punching bag. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it.

“Of course it fucking matters. Somebody hurt you, Oakley. Really hurt you. You have to tell me who did this.”

It’s just me and Asher, finally giving in to this pull between us that I’ve been trying to deny since the day we met. But then he grasps my face between his palms, spears his tongue past my parted lips, and the garbled moan and mumbled, “Farrow,” he lets out has me crashing back to reality.

I can admit it; as much as I hate it, I do want him. I have since the first time I saw him, even if he treats me like dirt.

As much as it kills me to admit it, that kiss the other night has only made me want more. More of him, more of… everything.

“Your skin tastes like sugar. So fucking sweet.” “This better not be another one of your games, or I swear to God—” “It’s not. I promise it’s not. I want you, Oakley.”

What would they say if they knew that their captain was on his knees for me, moaning like a damn whore?”

“Jesus, Oakley. I love it when you go all dominant on me.” I love it, too.

The fear, the excitement, the love. Fuck, the love. I’m in love with Asher fucking Brooks. Who’d have thought?

“Then, believe that. Because it was real. Every single fucking second of it, Oakley. It was all real.”

“Say it. Say you’re mine.” “I’m yours, Oakley. I’ll always be yours.”