Confessions of a Bad Boy Read Online Free Page B

is up again.
    But at the same time, I feel pretty fucking awesome. The kind of beat-up, bruise-wearing triumph that I imagine boxers feel when they’ve taken a hell of a thrashing but still won.
    It lasts about four seconds. About the time it takes me to realize that the pressure on my bicep is Jessie’s head. About the time it takes to realize I’ve just fucked my best friend’s little sister. About the time it takes to realize I’m a dead man. If he finds out.
    Slow and tense, as if defusing a bomb, I pull my arm out from underneath Jessie’s head, and shift slowly away from her. Maybe it’s the way my ears are ringing, or the fear of what might happen if she wakes up, but everything seems as loud as if it’s amped up; the rustle of the bedsheets, the soft moans in her breathing, the brush of my stubble against the pillow.
    After pulling myself out of bed like the slowest ninja in the world, I start moving around the room and picking up my discarded clothes from the night before. I find most of them, but either my left shoe decided to go for a walk on its own, or I’m going out of my mind. I decide to risk one last look under the bed before I put it down as a casualty of war, and get down on all fours on the same side as where Jessie’s sleeping.
    “Shit,” she says, and I realize she’s awake, looking at me.
    I swallow, and wonder if the bad taste in my mouth is the hangover, or the guilt.
    “Uh…yeah,” I say, slowly getting up. “Shit.”
    Jessie shifts up and back in the bed, sitting up against the headboard, the top half of her body out of the sheets – naked. Her tits are luscious and perfect, and suddenly a rush of memories from last night hit me with all the relentless power of a freight train.
    I look away and clear my throat loudly until she realizes she’s exposed, quickly pulling up the sheets to cover herself.
    I go to the end of the bed, as if unable to trust myself if I get any closer to her, and sit down, rubbing my forehead roughly.
    “This is bad,” I say, breaking the awkward silence between us.
    “Yep,” Jessie replies.
    “We shouldn’t have done that.”
    “Nope.”
    I get up and start pacing.
    “If Kyle finds out about this—”
    “He won’t find out,” Jessie interrupts quickly.
    “But if he does—”
    “Why would he?”
    “I’m a fucking dead man.”
    “Nate!” Jessie says, making as if to get out of bed before realizing she’s still naked. “Calm down. I thought you did this kind of thing all the time?”
    I turn around to glare at Jessie, pressing my hands together and pointing them at her.
    “I do. When I don’t know the girl. When I’m never going to see the girl again. When I haven’t been friends with the girl’s brother since I was out of diapers. This is not something I do all the time.”
    Jessie sighs and slumps back against the headboard as I continue to pace.
    “Do you even remember anything?” she says, after a while.
    I stop for a second. “No,” I lie, flashes of Jessie’s ass swaying in my hands immediately playing themselves out in my mind. “I don’t remember a thing.”
    “Okay,” Jessie says, tightening the sheet around her body as she gets up out of the bed, “then maybe we can just forget this ever happened.”
    I look at her as if she’s just solved the secret of life.
    “You think we can do that?”
    She shrugs, her bare shoulders making me immediately remember how she went down on me, my hands in her hair as she bobbed back and forth, sucking me hard into the back of her throat, her moans reverberating against the head of my cock. Fuck, snap out of it.
    “Here’s what we do,” she says, with the determined slyness of someone explaining a robbery, “I get in the shower, you leave. We don’t see each other for a month – no, two months. Then when we do see each other again, and for as long as we live, we never bring this up again. It never happened. No excuses. No apologies. No explanations.”
    “What