Story 1 Doin' Dirt
Caleb knew something was up with Hanna; she definitely wasn't telling him the whole story about where Lucas went and what had happened on the row boat the night of his surprise birthday party.
"Are you calling me a liar?" she pit at him.
"Just stop." He was so done with this. The foundation of their relationship was cracking and it had been for a long time. "Just tell me what you know." He tried to plead with her. "We have always told each other the truth."
"You know what? If you want to find Lucas then go. No one is stopping you." She got up off the barstool and stood about a foot away from him, with her back pressed against the island, pointing the exit to him.
"Maybe I should. Because you clearly don't care about someone who used to be your friend. You're so fucking selfish." He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Oh really. And you leaving me for weeks at a time to go to California. What is that?"
He scoffed. "That's different and you know it. I'm visiting my Mom." He'd stepped closer to her now, glaring.
"I'm so done with your double standards. You can do shit and when I do it, I'm being selfish or a bitch or whatever." She laughed icily. "Caleb, move." She pushed at his pecs, but he didn't budge. "Caleb, I'm not in the mood for this right now. Move."
"I'm not done with you yet." His tone hadn't softened, but his body was pressing lightly against hers. He was still being careful not to hurt her.
"Does it look like I care what you're done with? Now move." She tried to free herself, but his arms were wrapped around her like a cage.
"No." He whispered.
His breathing was heavy and his face was very close to hers, she turned her head away from his, avoiding eye contact and trying to ignore the ache that had begun between her legs.
"Move." She gritted her teeth.
"You're angry." He noted, his eyes scanned her face.
"Move." She repeated again, with a bit more force.
"No," He said simply, trailing one hand up her shirt, cupping her waist.
"Stop." Her voice was weak.
He trailed the tip of his nose from her jaw to her earlobe, before whispering, "Why were we fighting, again?" His breath was hot against her skin.
"Because-" he moved the hand that was cupping her waist, slowly down to her stomach, down over the hem of her leggings, and lightly traced between her legs.
"Huh?" He whispered.
"Because" he rubbed a little bit harder, causing her to sigh in pleasure. "I really" He used the other hand to slowly roll down her leggings. She was wearing the lacey pink thong that he'd gotten her (him) for her birthday. They drove him mad. "Can't." He again, traced the longitudinal line of her opening. She was already wet. "Remember.' He slowly entered two fingers inside of her, beginning to work her into a frenzy. She whimpered in response.
"Me either." She cried, squeezing her eyes shut as he used those gifted hands of his.
