Brawler by Tracey Ward Page A

right then, more than I ever had before.
    “I hate when you call me baby,” I reminded her. “I told you that.”
    “But you like it when I do this.” She reached out and shoved her hand down the front of my pants. Her fingers wrapped around me like a vise before I could stop her, and my mind immediately slammed into the darkness to escape it. “Please, come on.”
    “No, I told you a hundred times, Lane,” I replied irritably, feeling disoriented. “I’m eighteen and you’re underage.”
    Her hand went slack inside my pants. “You’re serious? We’re not having sex for two years?”
    “Unless you can turn eighteen sooner, no. We’re not.”
    She threw her head back against the seat in frustration. “God, you are so lame! I’m begging you to have sex with me and you’re just going to say no? We’ve done it before a million times.”
    “When I was seventeen, yeah.”
    “Unbelievable.”
    This was becoming a common argument. Ever since last month when I turned eighteen and dropped the bomb that we were done doing it, she brought it up at least once a day. I didn’t even understand how we were still together. Somewhere over the summer we had crossed some invisible line from casually fucking to grudgingly dating and I didn’t know when it had happened, but lately neither of us seemed overly excited about it.
    I looked around the interior of the car again, feeling sick with myself for being in it with Laney lying underneath me. How did we always end up like this?
    “I’m thinking about buying a motorcycle,” I heard myself say.
    I had never in my life considered buying a motorcycle. It was a complete lie. One she absolutely loved.
    “Seriously? What kind?” she asked eagerly.
    “I don’t know. Something though. I’ve been talking to your dad about it.”
    Another lie. They were coming easier now. And I had no idea why I was doing it.
    “You should get a street bike. Ellie’s brother has one and it is sick! I love it.”
    “You’ve been on it?”
    “Once or twice,” she shrugged.
    The movement of her shoulders reminded me that her hand was still in my pants. I reached down to pull it out, so I could come to the surface again and pay attention, but she grinned and took firm hold of me again.
    “Tell me more about the bike,” she whispered, stroking me.
    I smirked down at her. “That does it for you, huh?”
    “You do it for me.” She sat up on her elbow to put her face in front of mine. “Everything about you,” she whispered, kissing me softly as her hand continued to move, “makes me so hot I can barely stand it.” Her lips trailed down my chin and onto my neck. “I want you all the time.” She bit me lightly, sucking on my skin and rolling it between her teeth. “I don’t want to be with anyone else ever again,” she unzipped my jeans, giving herself more access to me, “because no one in this world feels as good as you do.”
    Laney was a liar too. I knew it. It was a line, one I was pretty sure I had fed to a girl before. That didn’t mean it didn’t work. My ego and penis swelled, responding to her words and touch. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against hers as she stroked me gently.
    She kept to feather light touches until I started to move. I thrust into her hand harder and faster and she responded by taking a stronger hold of me, flexing and releasing her grip over and over again. Moisture leaked from my tip and she used her thumb to roll it over my head, down on the underside where the pressure of her touch made me crazy, jolting like lightning through my nervous system. My breath caught in my throat and I groaned, low and deep as she repeated the motion. Even as my pace quickened, she kept her forehead pressed to mine. She breathed against me and when my breaths started coming harder, hers did too.
    The car began to fog with our sweat as I pushed faster and faster into her hand. Her tongue darted out from her mouth to lick my lips but I kept our foreheads