Chasing Rhodes (Rock Falls #1) (3 page)

“What the fuck, Hannah? Watch my car. Jesus Christ. What’s wrong with you?”

“I left Michael at Mr. Hunnam’s,” I whine and do a face-plant into my hands.

“Mr. Hunnam, eh?” She snickers. I turn my head and give her a glare, leaving my head in my hands. “Well do you want to go back and get it?”

I mull it over briefly. Everything is inside my Michael; house keys, wallet, truck keys. Speaking of truck keys, I really need to find Clifford today. I like to name my things. So what?

“No, I’ll figure it out later.”

“Oookay then, grumpus.” She hands me her house key and I head inside.

Hitting the button for the garage door, I wait to see that she’s pulled in before I head straight to the bathroom. After a shower and two Advil, I’m closing my blinds and climbing under the covers. My thoughts drift to a tattooed man with pale-blue eyes before sleep quickly pulls me under.

“
S
PREAD YOUR LEGS
for me, sweetheart,” he says, reaching down to cup my pussy.

I moan and thrash under the weight of his body, doing as I’ve been told and spreading my knees for him. He nips and kisses his way from my neck to my collarbone. Oh God, I just want him inside me. Fuck.

“You have the most gorgeous tits, Hannah.” He sucks my right nipple into his mouth as he pinches and rolls the other with his hand.

I throw my head back. I fucking love it when he plays with my tits. He’s alternating between sucking, biting, and blowing on my nipples, and I think I could come from this alone. He kisses his way down my flat stomach, biting my side. Equal parts pleasure and pain. I’m so wet I’m probably dripping onto the bed.

I gasp as he runs his thick tongue between my folds. “You taste fucking unreal, Hannah.” The stubble on his face is rubbing between my legs; it feels amazing on my already sensitive pussy.

“Oh God. Please. I need more,” I beg. I’m so close, just hovering on the edge.

“Do you want me to bang you, sweetheart? Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers until you come all over my face?” Jesus Christ. His dirty talking is making me drip. All I do is nod. “Say it, Hannah. I want to hear you say it.” He’s teasing my entrance with two fingers, rubbing his thumb on my clit. Just light enough to drive me crazy, giving me no relief.

“I want you to fuck me with your fingers until I come. I’m begging you. Please. Don’t tease me. I can’t take it.”

He slams his fingers into me. I hear someone moan loudly, and I think it’s me, but all I can focus on are the muscles in his forearm as he pumps his fingers in and out of my pussy. He nips at my clit just as his fingers curl up to hit that sweet spot inside me and I scream, my hips bucking off the bed as my release comes crashing down around me.

“I could eat you for breakfast every day, Hannah. So fucking sweet,” he says before lapping up the rest of my juices.

He looks hot as fucking hell with his head between my legs, licking my come off his lips. Jesus, I just came and I already feel unsatisfied. I need to feel his cock inside me...

I’m ripped from sleep when I hear my phones text tone go off. I ignore it, hoping that whoever it is will go away and I can go back to my naughty dream. I’m almost dozing off when I hear my phone again. I groan and blindly reach toward my side table, slapping around until I feel my phone. It takes my hungover brain a few minutes to adjust to the light of my screen before I can read the message. It’s from Jami. His full name is Jamison, but nobody calls him that. Not unless they’re trying to piss him off, anyway. Which I am, because I think I was having the hottest wet dream of my life with my Hunnam and he fucking ruined it.

Jami
– Wake up, Hannah Montana! Martha and I are going jogging and we want you to come.

Me
– Piss off, Jamison! I’m hung to the tits.

Jami
– Well that’s a gross mental picture.

I smile to myself because of course Jami would think it’s gross. We’ve been close friends for so long, I’m practically his sister. It’s how I met Jackson actually. My thoughts instantly start to drift to Jackson and our breakup when another text comes in.
Bastard knows I read his last message. Stupid iPhone and its read function. I really need to turn that off.

Jami
– Seriously, though, Martha misses you.

Me
– It’s pretty sad that you have to use your dog to guilt trip your friends into hanging out with you Jami.

Jami
– Martha’s crying now. You’ve really upset her.

Me
– Oh good God. Fine. It worked. But you have to help me find Clifford after. Pick me up in an hour.

Jami
– Only you could lose a bright red truck. See you soon.

I roll out of bed and put on a pair of long running tights and my favorite old Rock Falls Lacrosse hoodie. It was actually my brother Kai’s, but I stole it when he left. Kai’s in Ontario going to school on a hockey scholarship. I miss him a lot, but I’m so proud of him. I smile to myself as I pull my hair into a ponytail, thinking I should call my brother soon. It’s been a while. I grab my Nikes and a pair of socks then head into the kitchen to make some breakfast. Or, well, lunch. I hate breakfast food. It’s probably why I love to sleep in. Then I can just skip the god-awful meal altogether.

I’m sitting at the breakfast bar, eating my non-breakfast—a tuna sandwich and a can of Coke Zero—when Lennon comes sneaking in the front door. She hasn’t seen me yet and thinks she’s getting away scot-free on having to do the walk of shame.

“Morning, butthead!” I say a little too loudly for my own headache, making me wince.

“Takes one to know one, butthead. Good morning to you too,” she says with a smile and climbs onto the barstool next to me. “You look like shit, by the way.”

“Why thank you. So do you. Care to explain why you let me leave the bar with the Hunnam lookalike from Jackson’s party? The one whose bed I woke up naked in this morning.” I finish off the last of my sandwich then get up to put the plate in the dishwasher.

“You did not!” she exclaims and covers her mouth with her hands. I just nod my head and try to keep from blushing. “I swear to God I have no idea. If I were sober, I would have stopped you. I woke up at mom’s house, in my old bedroom, surrounded by Furbies. It was creepy as hell. We drank way too much last night.”

“Yeah. Well, I woke up surround by two hundred and thirty pounds of solid, tattooed male.” Lennon smirks at me and I shake my head at her just as Beth comes into the kitchen. “Don’t even ask. I know what you’re thinking. I already told Beth. I don’t remember how it was because I don’t remember anything! At all,” I huff out, waving my arms for emphasis.

“Nothing?” she says, looking disappointed. Beth isn’t the only one who enjoys juicy gossip.

I’m about to answer her when I hear a knock at the door. “That’s probably Jami. We’re going jogging.” I slide my feet into my Nikes, figuring that I’ll lace them up on our way to the trail. I’ve almost reached the door when I decide ah, what the hell? I might as well throw my girls a bone. “Oh, one more thing, girls...” They turn around to look at me. “He has the biggest cock I’ve ever seen,” I say before opening the door and closing it to their gaping mouths.

“Well you look happy with yourself,” Jami says as we’re walking toward his lifted Jeep Wrangler.

I smile at him but don’t say anything. He definitely doesn’t need to know about the size of Mr. Hunnam’s cock.

He just shakes his head at me and motions to the Jeep. “Get in, Hannah Montana. It’s torture time!”

I groan. I hate exercise. I only do it because I love food. In fact, if it weren’t for my friend and his stupid obsession with running all the goddamn time, I’d probably be on that show
The Biggest Loser
.

After opening the door, I grab the Jeep’s ‘oh shit’ handle and use it to pull myself up.
He must have to use a stepladder for any of his dates that are under my height,
I think to myself. This is a typical problem in Rock Falls. Everyone has big trucks—girls, guys, old people, and young people. It doesn’t matter. We’re all completely obsessed with big vehicles. You could try and blame it on the fact that we get so much snow, but that would be a crock of shit. Any vehicle with four-wheel drive would do fine up here. Even Beth’s Mazda can hack it. I buckle myself in and let Martha give me a few sloppy kisses, and then we’re on our way.

Jami’s nattering on about some cooking show and how he just has to try and recreate the lamb chops they made. I’m happy to listen to him ramble. Mostly because I’m distracted with playing my dirty dream on a mental loop in my head. I can’t believe I had sex with this guy and had him go down on me in a dream, but I don’t even know his name. I smile to myself, but that’s just so ridiculous. I must have missed something important though because now Jami’s staring at me with a look that says, ‘Are you even listening to me?’

“Sorry. I was distracted. What’s up?” I ask, giving him my full attention now.

“I said how does Lennon like her new job?”

Lennon. What the hell? I swear something’s going on with these two. They’re constantly fishing for information about each other. Well, Lennon only mentions him when she’s drunk.

“She loves it. The group of girls at this place is much better than the last one.” Lennon is a hairdresser—a damn good one at that. She can do wonders with my mop of hair. She recently just moved to a new salon with a more upper-class clientele. She doesn’t have the patience for catty bitches. “Why?” I ask.

It’s not that I don’t love Jami. I do. He’s insanely good-looking. He has dark-brown, almost-black hair and a strong, chiseled jaw that is always sporting scruff. Jamison Henley doesn’t do clean shaven. He has lots of tattoos, none of which you can see unless he has his shirt off. He has women falling all over themselves day and night just to keep his bed warm for a few hours. He’s not exactly a one-woman guy, which is the nice way of saying that he’s slept with most of the female population in our town, and I’m not sure I want his first run at monogamy to be with Lennon. She might be tough as nails on the outside, but being cheated on would destroy her. I make a mental note to ask her about him later on.

“No reason. We’re here.” He pulls the Jeep into a stall on the far end of the parking lot and hops out, effectively ending my line of questioning.

It looks like we’re running the forest trails today, which is fine by me because they’re gravel and the big trees keep most of the snow off them. The last thing I want to add to my day is a bruised tailbone. That would make me a very big grumpus, as Beth likes to say. We head out onto the trail, starting off at a slow pace to warm up. Martha is running out in front of us, making sure not to miss a single opportunity to pee on something and having a grand ol’ time doing just so.

After about thirty minutes, I can feel my lungs starting to burn. Running in the mountain air is hard enough, but doing it hungover it’s a bitch. I know Jami’s running slower than his usual pace, but he likes the company, so he doesn’t complain. We finish off the loop, and about another thirty minutes later, we are back in the Jeep and headed across town.

“So where’s Clifford? I still don’t understand how it’s possible for you to have lost him.” Jami is rolling his eyes at me; I don’t have to see his face to know that he’s doing it.

“It’s not that I lost him per se. I just can’t remember where I put him before I got drunk off my ass.”

We both laugh and I let him know that I need to go home to get my spare key before we go looking for my truck. All of my keys are still at
his
house.