The Forever Crew (Adamson All-Boys Academy, #3)

by C.M. Stunich

The next morning, I wake up in a puddle of drool with my hair stuck to my face, just like Anna

misinterpreting my emotions. I'm not afraid of him, I'm just afraid I'll make an ass out of myself. “Don't

“Meaning I was going to throw you over the counter, slap your ass and leave a flour handprint, and then probably fuck you in that apron.”

“You take almost as long to get ready as we do,” the twins say, pointing across at one another. “Being a girl is hard.”

It's one thing to suspect something, and it's another to have it confirmed. Fantastic. Senior year, in a skirt, five boyfriends, three murderers on my tail. This should be fun.

Ranger makes a growling sound that draws our collective attention … straight over to his cock. It’s not erect currently, which is probably a good thing for me, but is he butt naked, and his muscles are, like, chiseled by the gods. “Wipe the drool off,” Tobias whispers, reaching up to dab at the corner of my mouth with the end of his blazer sleeve. I slap him away as Ranger swings a white apron with ruffles and an adorable lemon pattern over his neck. He turns, flashing that tight ass of his to the rest of us. “Chuck, if you wouldn’t mind …” he grinds out, as I blink in surprise at his glorious backside. “I’m not touching your balls,” I choke back, gesturing at the other boys. “Especially not in front of them.” “Oh god, Chuck-let,” Spencer groans, running a hand down his face. Church and the twins just smile as my face turns a brilliant ruby red. “He wants you to tie his apron, my sweet little micropenis.” “But it’s nice that you’re thinking about my balls,” Ranger deadpans, looking over his shoulder at me, eyes dark. “I wasn’t though,” I murmur, even though my protests are a lost cause and I’ve already made a total ball sack … I mean ass out of myself.

“You want us to leave?” the twins ask in unison, exchanging a look. “If you need space, that's under—” I start, when Ranger grabs me around the wrist and yanks me toward him, looking down at my face with a searing heat that has my throat closing up and my pulse pounding. Uh-oh. That's not a good look, not a good look at all. “Out,” Ranger repeats, holding me close and giving the other boys one of his signature glares. “You can wait in the hall, if you want.” “Wait in the hall for what?” I choke out as Spencer sighs and rakes the fingers of both hands through his hair. “Five for five,” he murmurs under his breath, giving me a look that says good luck, Chuck. “I'd rather you guys didn't get murdered on the way back to the dorms, so we'll wait. Just don't take too long.” “Don't take too short either,”

Ranger pulls me off the counter and spins me around, putting his hands on my hips and then kissing his way down the side of my neck, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. When he lets go of me briefly to retrieve the bag of flour from the island, my jaw drops open. “I thought you were kidding,” I whisper as he dumps some out on the counter and then powders his hands in white. “I want to see all the places I've touched you.” His voice is dark with a possessiveness that I'm not sure I'm going to like … until he touches me again, putting white handprints on my hips. When he pulls back and cracks me across the ass with his palm, my breath hitches, and my fingers curl against the surface of the stone countertop. “Jesus, I've been wanting to do that for an entire year. You're such a brat, Chuck. You needed a good spanking.”

They’re living it up in SoCal, dressed up as Darryl Whitefeather and Josh Wilson (aka White Josh) from the TV show Crazy Ex-Girlfriend for Halloween. I accused Ross of making the costumes too easy—he’s

“Well? We know all about the Fellowship of the Divine now, so what can you tell us that we don’t know?” “Jesus Christ, man, keep your voice down,” Jack hisses, looking around like he expects a monster to leap out at him at any moment. If one did, I mean, we’re appropriately dressed. I’ve got on the Witcher costume, and the boys are prepped to tear off a mask so the villain can shout stuff about meddling kids. “Who told you that shit? And do they, by chance, have a freaking death wish?”

“I always wanted a boy who’d love me in a ballgown and a face full of makeup, but also love me just as much in sweatpants with a pimple on my nose.” “Like the one you have now?” Spencer says knowingly, and I balk at him. “I do not have a pimple! What is wrong with you, Spencer Hargrove?” he grins at me, and then reaches up to brush back some of my hair. After that talk with Jack on Halloween, I was sure he was going to draw into himself. Spencer’s always said he hates lies more than anything else, and Jack’s clearly been lying to him for years. But instead of freaking out and running away, he’s here, and he’s dealing with it. I’m proud of him. “I’m trying to be poetic and romantic and—” “I was getting ready to suck your dick, Charlotte Carson. I was looking up the ins and outs of anal sex, and if silicone lube was better than water-based—it is.” He pauses and smiles at me in a way that breaks my fucking heart and sews it back together all in a single glance. “If you think that I wouldn’t love you in sweatpants and pimples, then you’re just not paying attention.”

“I’d rather die for love than live without knowing how bad it hurts,” Spencer says, smiling. “Now say you love me back, and let’s do it before those other assholes show up.” “I love you, Spencer Hargrove,” I say, and I mean it, I do. The thing is, I’m pretty sure I love all five of the boys. Equally. What’s a girl to do?

“He uses his cock, his tongue, and his fingers to bring me to pleasure over and over again, until I feel like I’m breaking apart. And then I let him put me back together with his body. That’s when I knew I belonged to him—fully and completely.”

“Less interesting than dead people,” Micah says as we cross the street and Church inquires with the woman in the gift shop about our tour. “Rocks sitting on top of dirt where dead people are buried. Yawn-fest.” “This was the one thing on my list, so slow your roll, dickhead,” Ranger says, tucking his hands into his black cargo pants as he studies the brick arch above our heads. “I like this kind of shit.” “No, you want to like this kind of shit,” Spencer says, turning his phone around and flashing a video of border collie puppies herding ducklings. “But in reality, this is your thing, man. Just accept it.” Ranger slaps the phone away from his face and pretends not to be interested, but there’s that twinkle in his eyes that

According to the tour guide, there’s a rare type of spider that lives in the tombs here that requires total darkness to thrive. “But don’t worry,” he says with a laugh and a wave of his hand, “they can’t come out during the day, so you’re perfectly safe.”

“It’s just a plastic spider this time.” “This time,” I groan, sagging in relief and then noticing the rather cool breeze across my midsection. “My bra is showing, isn’t it?” I ask, thinking of that scene in Mean Girls where the teacher tries to pull her sweater off and ends up taking her shirt along with it. Yep, that’s what’s happening to me now. “The one with the see-through lace and bows?” “That’s the one,” Spencer says, pushing the sweatshirt back in place and then kissing me quick on the lips as the twins high five each other and continue on up the path. “I’m going to murder those fuckers,”

“Go check on your milkshake-laden boyfriend, college student,” Ranger says, and I bounce over to the unisex bathroom, pushing in the door to find Church cleaning chocolate off of his crotch with a wet rag. “Do you need help with that?” I ask, but when I reach to take it from him, Church just leans in and kisses me hard on the mouth. “Please don’t. I’ll get a hard-on, and then we’ll end up doing it in this bathroom, and Merinda will never forgive us.” My cheeks flush.

“Give Church some time to look into things, and he always figures it out. We’re just the brute strength on the force, not the brains.” “Don’t sell yourselves so short. You remembered my birthday when I ran into you at the boardwalk last year. You saved my shitty day and turned it into one of my best. Church is good at mysteries, but that doesn’t make him better than you. You’re all stripes in my rainbow.” “Stripes in your rainbow?” Micah echoes, and then he grabs me under the armpits and drags me onto the bed, pinning me to the mattress with an arm on either side of my face. “Now that’s a cute phrase. I could get used to that.”

“You’re one tough bitch, Chuck Carson,” Micah says, looking down at his lap. I can tell he’s trying to be upbeat, but he’s still got tears in his eyes when he looks up and grins at me. “God, we hated you so much when you showed up at Adamson. Now we’re all, like, clinically obsessed. What have you done to us?” “I’m like a splinter—once I’m in, you can’t get me out without bleeding!” I say, trying to be funny but totally and utterly fucking it up because I’m a shitty comedian. Also, I got stabbed. That’s a great excuse for everything now, huh? I can just mess stuff up and say I got stabbed. Should work for at least six months or so.

“So, who’s going to be the first guy to bring me a strawberry milkshake from the Jaw Flapper? First one to do it gets to cuddle in bed with me.” “You think we’re actually to bother fighting over something like that?” Ranger says, and then pauses. “I better go get you something to eat though.” “Oh, no way, man, that shake is mine,” Spencer says, and they smirk at each other while the twins struggle to push each other back. “I’ll get the shake,” Church says, slipping out the door, but not before stopping to smile at me. “And anything else you want. Anything.”

We'd Actually bother......

This is Chuck Carson, the secret girl, with her ruthless boys, her forever crew, signing out. Peace, love, and pink cupcakes, my friends. Always remember: hug like you mean it, love with your whole heart, and naked-bake something every once in a while. Over and out.

Best ending ever