Page 36 of Wicked Little Secret
You have to stop.
“I have to stop…” I mutter under my breath, almost catatonic. Then my fingers clench tighter on the steering wheel. At my side, my phone buzzes with an alert for Nyssa’s iCloud. She’s received a text from Wicker. My glare darkens as the beat of my pulse pounds harder. “AfterI get rid of him.”
9
NYSSA
OLDER - ISABEL LAROSA
Samson Wicker isgood at several things. Football. Lifting furniture. Changing spare tires. Blabbing on and on about his brand new Ford F-150 truck. But kissing is far from one of those things.
I’m reminded of this sad reality as his teeth gnash against mine and slobber wets my lips. I draw back to end our kiss, but he pulls me more tightly against him. His hand’s heavy on my back, holding me where I am as his tongue launches its latest assault.
He groans lashing it against mine. He leans his weight into me, rearranging us on his sofa ’til I’m under him. His barreled chest heaves with his deepened breaths. His excitement becomes more than palpable.
It’s a hard bulge prodding at me.
I finally succeed in ripping my mouth away from his. “Samson, we’re supposed to be studying.”
“Mhmmm, babe. Later,” he mumbles. No less discouraged, he pivots to kissing my jaw and throat. Kisses that are just as sloppy and wet as his others.
I sigh, rolling my eyes. I’m stuck listening to theguttural sounds Samson makes and the music and screams coming from down the hall of his apartment. Unlike me, he lives a block outside of campus, right in the heart of the city, which means there’s never a moment of peace and quiet.
Bars and lounges are only a short walk away. Parties run almost nightly. It’s considered prime real estate if you’re into Castlebury’s nightlife and social scene.
All things I couldn’t be less interested in.
I would’ve never set foot inside Samson Wicker’s apartment in the first place had I not agreed to tutor him.
A few months of rocky dating later, I’m trapped on his sofa as he knocks our books aside and makes his latest attempt to get in my pants.
“Samson,” I growl. My hands grip his shoulders to push him off. “I’m serious. If we’re not studying, then I’m leaving.”
“Don’t be a mood killer. Just have some fun.”
His mouth covers mine again in his sloppiest kiss yet. Itliterallyfeels like he’s trying to swallow my face.
I’ve kissed my share of frogs in my short twenty-two years, but no frog has been as slimy and off-putting as Samson. If it didn’t serve me to date him, posing a means to an end, I would’ve dumped him a long, long time ago.
I never would’ve dated him in the first place.
Samson groans, pushing his slippery tongue back into my mouth. His hand creeps between us, hardly subtle as he wedges it down the front of my jeans.
It’s the final straw. I jerk against him and snap into defense mode. He might weigh twice as much as I do, but I took women’s self-defense during undergrad.
“I said get off, Samson!” My knee slams into his gut, making him choke on his next breath.
Before he can do anything more than sputter and cough, I’m rolling out from under him.
“What the fuck, Nyssa?!” he wheezes out. His face, neck, and ears all redden as he shoots a glare at me. “Really? Kneeing me in the gut like I’m a fucking intruder?”
“I told you I’m here to study.”
“And I’m your boyfriend! You forget about that?”
“What does that have to do with?—”
“I’ve got a severe fucking case of blue balls, Nyssa!” he barks over me. If his squat face was red before, it’s blazing scarlet now. He throws his arms up in frustration as he gets off the couch and crosses the space to the kitchen.