The fluorescent lights of Miami's elite St. Andrews Academy buzzed overhead like a swarm of angry bees, casting a harsh glow on the polished marble floors of the bustling hallway. Students hurried past, their uniforms crisp and starched, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne and whispered gossip, but all that faded into the background as Hunter Anderson rounded the corner. There she was—Amelia Park, her brunette hair tied back in a neat ponytail that accentuated the sharp angles of her face, her hazel eyes flashing with that familiar mix of defiance and intelligence. She clutched a stack of books to her chest, the fabric of her white blouse stretching taut over the subtle curve of her breasts, and for a split second, Hunter's gaze lingered there, unbidden, before he snapped back to the rage that always simmered just beneath his surface. "You fucking think you're better than everyone, don't you, Park?" he snarled, his voice echoing off the lockers as he closed the distance between them, the tattoos on his left arm flexing with every step.

Amelia whipped around, her lips curling into a sneer that only made her more intoxicating to him, the black rose tattoo peeking out from the collar of her shirt like a secret promise. "Oh, please, Anderson," she shot back, her voice laced with venom, "you're the one strutting around like some untouchable god, but we all know it's just a front for your pathetic need for attention." The words hit him like a slap, but instead of backing down, Hunter felt that familiar heat coil in his gut, a mix of anger and something darker, more primal. He lunged forward, his hand shooting out to wrap around her throat, his fingers pressing just firm enough to feel the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath her soft skin. Her books clattered to the floor, and she gasped, her body pressing against his in the struggle, the warmth of her breath mingling with his as their faces hovered inches apart. He could see the flush creeping up her neck, the way her chest heaved under his grip, and for a heartbeat, he was lost in the sensation—the rapid beat of her heart mirroring the chaotic rhythm of his own, making him question if this was hate or hunger.

But as his thumb brushed the delicate skin just below her jaw, feeling the wild flutter of her artery, doubt crashed over him like a wave. What the fuck was this? His mind reeled, the anger twisting into confusion, his cock twitching involuntarily in his pants at the proximity of her body, the scent of her shampoo—a mix of vanilla and something sharper—filling his nostrils. He released her abruptly, stepping back as if burned, his dark brown eyes locking onto hers, searching for the same turmoil he felt inside. Amelia's hand flew to her throat, rubbing the spot where his fingers had been, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, but she didn't back down. "You're a fucking animal," she hissed, her voice shaky, though the way her eyes darted to his lips betrayed a flicker of something else—desire, perhaps, buried deep under layers of denial. She scooped up her books and stormed off down the hall, her hips swaying with purposeful strides, leaving Hunter standing there, his heart pounding in his ears, that signature smirk plastered on his face to mask the storm raging within him.

By the time lunch rolled around, the cafeteria was a cacophony of laughter and clattering trays, the aroma of greasy fries and fresh salads wafting through the air, but Hunter could barely focus. Freshmen girls hovered around his table like moths to a flame, their giggles piercing the din as they fawned over him, one bold one even trailing her fingers along his tattooed arm, cooing about how "mysterious and hot" he looked. "You're like, the king of this school, Hunter," she purred, her eyes wide with admiration, but all he could think about was Amelia, the way her body had felt against his, the heat that had radiated from her skin. It fueled a jealousy in her that he could almost taste, knowing she was watching from across the room, her hazel eyes narrowing as she sat with Hailey, her best friend, who whispered something in her ear with a knowing smile. Tyler, Hunter's twin brother and unwavering sidekick, clapped him on the back, smirking. "Dude, you're eating this up, but I see the way you look at her. It's written all over your face." Hunter brushed it off with a laugh, but the words gnawed at him, stirring up that forbidden attraction he couldn't shake.

The rest of the morning dragged on in a haze of lectures and stifled yawns, the clock ticking interminably in the stuffy classroom where Hunter sat near the back, his knee bouncing restlessly under the desk. Mr. Ramirez droned on about historical revolutions, but Hunter's mind was elsewhere, replaying the hallway encounter in vivid detail—the feel of Amelia's throat under his fingers, the way her breath had hitched, her body so close he could almost taste the salt on her skin. Fuck, he needed a break. Excusing himself with a muttered excuse about feeling sick, he slipped out and made a beeline for the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind him with a echoing thud. The air was cooler in here, tinged with the faint metallic scent of cleaning supplies and the lingering trace of cigarette smoke from previous trespassers. He locked himself in the farthest stall, sinking onto the toilet seat, his heart still racing from the morning's events. Pulling a crumpled pack from his pocket, he lit up a smoke, the flame flickering in the dim light as he inhaled deeply, the nicotine hitting his system like a warm rush. But as the smoke curled around him, his thoughts zeroed in on Amelia again—her defiant eyes, that flush on her cheeks, the way her uniform hugged her curves, imagining what lay beneath.

The more he dwelled on it, the harder he got, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants until he couldn't ignore it any longer. With a low groan, Hunter unzipped his fly, freeing his thick, throbbing dick, the head already slick with precum that glistened in the low light. He wrapped his hand around it, stroking slowly at first, savoring the building pressure as images of Amelia flooded his mind—her lips parted in that sneer, but in his fantasy, they were wrapped around his shaft instead, sucking him deep into her warm, wet mouth. "Fuck, Amelia," he muttered under his breath, his strokes growing faster, his grip tightening as he imagined her tongue swirling around the tip, tasting the salty precum leaking from him. His balls ached with need, heavy and full, and he spat into his hand for extra lubrication, the wet sound of his fist pumping his cock echoing in the stall. He pictured her on her knees, those hazel eyes looking up at him with a mix of hate and lust, her tits bouncing as she bobbed her head, taking him deeper until he hit the back of her throat. The thought made him throb harder, his hips bucking involuntarily as he stroked from base to tip, feeling the veins pulse under his fingers, the raw craving for release building like a tidal wave. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and he bit his lip to stifle a moan, imagining her pussy instead—tight, dripping wet, clenching around him as he thrust into her, pounding her hard and deep until she screamed his name.

In his mind's eye, the fantasy shifted, Amelia's imagined mouth releasing his cock with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her swollen lips to his glistening shaft, her hazel eyes never leaving his as she rose to her feet, pushing him back against the stall door in his delusion. He could almost feel her hands on his chest, nails digging into his tattoos, as she turned around and bent over, hiking up her skirt to reveal that black rose tattoo on her lower back, her ass cheeks spread just enough to show the slick folds of her pussy, dripping and eager for him. Hunter's hand moved faster now, slick with his spit and precum, the friction burning deliciously as he pictured sliding into her from behind, his thick cock stretching her tight entrance inch by agonizing inch. "Take it, you little tease," he whispered to the empty air, his voice hoarse, imagining her cunt gripping him like a vice, hot and wet, pulsing around his invading length as he drove deeper, the head of his dick pressing against her inner walls, hitting that sweet spot that made her gasp and arch her back.

The sound of his fist slapping against his skin echoed in the stall, mingling with his ragged breaths, as he envisioned the rhythm of their bodies colliding, his hips slamming into her ass with brutal force, each thrust sending shockwaves through his own body. He could hear her in his head, moaning his name like a curse—"Fuck me harder, Hunter, you bastard"—her voice dripping with that same venom from the hallway, but now twisted into raw, unfiltered lust. Sweat trickled down his neck, mixing with the ink on his skin, and he gripped his balls with his free hand, rolling them gently at first, feeling their heavy weight, then squeezing harder as the pressure built, imagining her fingers there instead, teasing and tormenting him while he pounded into her. His cock throbbed violently in his grasp, the veins bulging, precum leaking steadily now, coating his palm and making every stroke messier, wetter, the lewd squelching sound driving him wild. He bit down on his lip until he tasted copper, stifling a groan as he thrust upward into his fist, picturing her pussy clenching around him, her juices soaking his balls with every deep, punishing stroke, her body shaking from the force of his hips slamming home.

As the fantasy intensified, he imagined flipping her onto her back, spreading her legs wide to expose that dripping cunt fully, her tits heaving under her blouse, nipples hard and begging for his mouth. He leaned his head back against the stall wall, eyes squeezed shut, stroking himself with long, deliberate pulls from base to tip, feeling the head swell even more, hypersensitive and aching for release. "God, your pussy's so fucking tight, Amelia," he muttered through gritted teeth, the words spilling out like a confession, his mind flooded with the sensation of her inner muscles milking him, her walls stretching to accommodate his girth, the heat enveloping him completely. He could almost smell her arousal, that musky sweetness cutting through the stale bathroom air, hear the wet slap of skin on skin as he fucked her relentlessly, her moans turning to screams, her nails raking down his back, drawing blood on his tattoos. His hips bucked erratically now, chasing the edge, his free hand pressing against the stall door for leverage as if it were her body, the fantasy so vivid he could feel the ghost of her breath on his face, her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper.

The build-up was excruciating, every stroke sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core, his balls drawing up tight against his body as the pressure mounted, unstoppable now. He spat into his hand again, adding more lubrication, the cool saliva contrasting with the searing heat of his cock, and he worked himself faster, twisting his wrist on the upstroke to mimic the way he imagined her tongue would swirl around him. In his head, she was begging for it, her voice breaking as she cried out, "Cum inside me, Hunter, fill my cunt up," and that thought pushed him over the brink, his body tensing like a coiled spring. With a strangled growl, he felt the first wave crash through him, his cock pulsing wildly in his grip as ropes of thick, hot cum erupted from the tip, splattering against the inside of the stall door in viscous streaks. It kept coming, wave after wave, his hand milking every drop as he shuddered, his vision blurring with the intensity, the release so powerful it left him gasping, his muscles locking up as pleasure ripped through him like a wildfire.

As the aftershocks faded, Hunter slumped back, his chest heaving, cum dripping from his softening dick onto the floor below, the acrid scent of it mingling with the smoke from his earlier cigarette. He wiped his hand on some toilet paper, his mind still hazy, the fantasy lingering like a forbidden promise, but reality seeped back in—the bell would ring soon, and he had to pull himself together. He tucked himself away, flushed the evidence down the toilet, and splashed cold water on his face in the sink, staring at his reflection in the grimy mirror, that signature smirk returning as he tried to shake off the vulnerability gnawing at him. The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes and forced nonchalance, but by the time the final bell rang, dismissing them into the humid Miami evening, his thoughts kept drifting back to her, the unresolved tension simmering just below the surface.

Later that night, the sprawling Anderson-Park family home loomed large under the glow of streetlights, the air thick with the salty breeze off the ocean and the faint hum of crickets. Their parents had left that morning for a week-long business trip, leaving Hunter and Amelia to share the massive estate—five bedrooms, a pool, and too many awkward silences to count. Hunter tossed his bag by the door, the house feeling emptier than usual, the echo of his footsteps on the marble floors amplifying the strangeness of it all. He headed to the kitchen, cracking open a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, the ice clinking as he poured a generous glass, the burn sliding down his throat like a familiar comfort. Upstairs, he could hear Amelia moving around in her room, the soft creak of doors and the rush of water from the shower, and despite his best efforts, his mind wandered back to that morning's fantasy, the memory of her body in his thoughts making his pulse quicken again. He settled on the couch in the living room, the dim lights casting shadows across his tattoos, nursing his drink and waiting for the inevitable—whatever collision of hate and desire the night would bring, with her just a hallway away.

The dim lights casting shadows across his tattoos seemed to pulse with the rhythm of his racing heart, the whiskey warming his veins as Hunter sat there on the couch, the faint echo of Amelia's movements upstairs taunting him like a siren's call. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, the ice clinking softly, but the burn in his throat did nothing to quench the fire building in his core—the same fire that had ignited in the hallway earlier, leaving him hard and restless. Fuck it, he thought, his cock already stirring in his pants at the mere idea of her, that defiant hazel gaze and the curve of her body etched into his mind. He couldn't just sit here, not with the house empty and her so close, the sound of water from her shower earlier replaying in his head like a tease. Downing the rest of his drink in one gulp, he set the glass aside with a clatter, his feet carrying him up the stairs before he could second-guess himself, the wooden steps creaking under his weight, amplifying the tension coiling in his gut.

The hallway was dimly lit, the air heavier up here, carrying the lingering scent of her vanilla shampoo mixed with something more primal, like the faint musk of her skin after a long day. Hunter paused outside her door, his hand hovering over the knob, the tattoos on his arm seeming to itch with anticipation. He could hear her inside, the soft rustle of fabric as she moved around, perhaps changing into something more comfortable, and the thought made his dick throb painfully against his jeans. With a deep breath, he turned the handle and pushed the door open, the hinges whining softly in the quiet night. There she was, standing by her bed in a thin tank top and shorts that hugged her ass, her brunette hair damp and tousled from the shower, those hazel eyes widening in surprise as she spun to face him. "What the fuck, Hunter?" she snapped, her voice laced with that familiar venom, but he could see the flush creeping up her neck, the way her nipples hardened against the fabric of her top, betraying her own simmering desire.

He crossed the room in three strides, his heart pounding as he closed the distance, the heat radiating from her body drawing him in like a magnet. "Can't stop thinking about you, Park," he growled, his voice low and rough, the words spilling out before he could stop them, his hands reaching out to grab her waist and pull her flush against him. She gasped, her breath hitching as his fingers dug into her hips, but she didn't push him away—instead, her eyes locked onto his, a mix of anger and lust flickering in their depths. He slid one hand up her side, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin material, until his palm cupped her tit, squeezing the soft, full flesh through her tank top. Fuck, it felt better than he'd imagined, her nipple poking against his palm like a hard little pebble, and he couldn't help but groan, his thumb brushing over it in slow circles, feeling it tighten even more under his touch. Amelia's breath came out in a shaky exhale, her body trembling against his, but she bit her lip, trying to hold back, her hands balling into fists at her sides as if fighting the urge to give in.

The room seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with tension as Hunter's other hand joined the first, both of them now groping her tits roughly, kneading the pliant mounds with a hunger that made his cock strain painfully against his zipper. "These are mine tonight," he muttered, his voice a gravelly whisper against her ear, his breath hot on her skin as he pinched her nipples through the fabric, rolling them between his fingers until she let out a soft, involuntary moan. That sound was his undoing, igniting something feral inside him, and he yanked her tank top up in one swift motion, exposing her bare breasts to the cool air, the sight of them—full and round, with those pink buds standing erect—making his mouth water. He leaned in, capturing one nipple between his lips, sucking hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak while his hand continued to torment the other, squeezing and pulling until her back arched, pressing her chest closer to him. Amelia's hands finally moved, threading into his hair and yanking roughly, a mix of protest and pleasure, her hips grinding against his involuntarily as she whispered, "You bastard, don't you dare stop."

Things escalated fast, the hate between them fueling the raw intensity as Hunter pushed her back onto the bed, his body covering hers in a tangle of limbs and heavy breaths. He ground his hips against her, his hard dick pressing insistently against her thigh through their clothes, the friction making him groan into her mouth as he kissed her fiercely, their tongues clashing in a brutal dance. Her shorts were soaked already, he could feel the dampness seeping through as he slipped a hand between her legs, cupping her pussy roughly, feeling the heat and wetness there that made his own arousal spike. "You're fucking dripping for me, aren't you?" he taunted, his fingers pressing against the fabric, rubbing circles over her clit until she bucked beneath him, a wet, needy sound escaping her lips. He tore her shorts down, exposing her bare cunt, the lips swollen and glistening with her juices, and the sight made him lick his lips, his cock throbbing with the need to be inside her. But first, he wanted to taste her, to make her scream, so he dipped his head between her thighs, his tongue lapping at her folds with long, slow strokes, savoring the salty-sweet flavor that coated his mouth.

As his tongue delved deeper, thrusting into her tight hole, Amelia's hands gripped the sheets, her moans turning into ragged gasps, the wet sounds of his mouth on her echoing in the room. He worked her clit with his thumb, circling it firmly while his tongue fucked in and out of her, feeling her inner walls clench around the intrusion, her hips rocking against his face in a desperate rhythm. "That's it, you little tease, cum on my tongue," he demanded, his voice muffled against her flesh, the vibrations making her shudder. Her pussy was so wet now, juices dripping down his chin as he lapped them up, the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils and driving him wild, his own cock leaking precum in his pants, begging for release. He didn't stop, not even when her thighs clamped around his head, her body trembling on the edge, every lick and suck pushing her closer to that brink, the raw, vulgar intensity of it all making the air between them electric with forbidden desire.

He didn't stop, not even as Amelia's thighs squeezed tighter around his head, her body shaking with the kind of desperate need that made her hips grind against his face, her pussy clenching and releasing in rhythmic spasms that coated his tongue with even more of her slick, tangy juices. Hunter's tongue delved deeper into her folds, lapping at the swollen lips of her cunt with long, deliberate strokes, exploring every inch as if he were mapping out her most secret pleasures, the tip flicking against her clit in teasing circles that had her back arching off the bed. He could feel the heat radiating from her core, the musky scent of her arousal filling his nostrils and driving him wild, his own cock throbbing painfully in the confines of his jeans, leaking precum that soaked through the fabric and made his balls ache with unfulfilled desire. Her moans grew louder, raw and unrestrained, echoing in the dimly lit room like a forbidden symphony, each one spurring him on as he sucked harder on her clit, his lips sealed around the sensitive nub, pulling it into his mouth with a wet, slurping sound that mixed with the slick noises of his tongue plunging in and out of her tight hole. She was so close, her body teetering on that razor-sharp edge, and he wanted to drag it out, to make her beg, to show her that this hate-fueled fire between them was as addictive as it was destructive.

As Amelia's orgasm finally crashed over her, her pussy pulsing wildly around the invasive thrust of his tongue, Hunter didn't let up, savoring the way her juices flooded his mouth in hot, salty waves, her thighs trembling violently as she cried out, "Oh fuck, you bastard, don't stop!" Her hands fisted in his hair, yanking him closer even as her body convulsed, her hips bucking against his face in erratic, frenzied motions that smeared her wetness across his lips and chin. He lapped it all up greedily, the taste of her release igniting a primal hunger in him, his cock twitching with every moan that escaped her lips, the sound raw and guttural, like she was surrendering something she never wanted to give. But even in the haze of her pleasure, that spark of defiance remained in her hazel eyes, glaring down at him with a mix of loathing and lust that mirrored the storm in his own chest—his mind racing with how much he hated her for making him feel this way, for turning his body into a traitor that craved her touch. He pulled back slowly, his lips glistening with her essence, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking up at her with that cocky grin she despised. "Look at you, Park, coming undone like a needy little slut," he taunted, his voice rough and husky, laced with the same venom that always simmered between them, but his hands betrayed him, sliding up her thighs to trace the slick folds of her pussy, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm make her clench around nothing.

Amelia's chest heaved with ragged breaths, her tits rising and falling under the dim light, nipples still hard and begging for more, but she pushed herself up on her elbows, her hazel eyes locking onto his with a glare that could cut glass. "Fuck you, Anderson," she spat, her voice shaky but laced with that bold edge that always got under his skin, her body still trembling from the intensity of her release. Yet, even as she tried to summon her usual defiance, her legs parted wider, inviting him in, and Hunter couldn't resist, his hands roaming up to cup her breasts again, squeezing the soft, plump flesh roughly, his thumbs flicking over the hardened peaks until she gasped, a fresh wave of wetness seeping from her cunt. He leaned over her, his body pressing down, the weight of him pinning her to the bed as his mouth crashed against hers in a bruising kiss, their tongues battling for dominance, the taste of her own juices on his lips making her moan into him. His cock strained against his jeans, the thick ridge grinding against her thigh, leaving a wet trail of precum that made her squirm beneath him, her hands clawing at his shirt, yanking it up to expose the inked expanse of his chest, her fingers tracing the tattoos as if she wanted to mark him as her own. "You want this, don't you?" he growled against her lips, his voice dripping with crude desire, one hand sliding down to tease her entrance, a single finger dipping inside her tight, dripping hole, feeling the way she stretched around him, hot and velvety, her walls gripping him like they were starved for more.

With a low, animalistic growl, Hunter finally freed his cock from the confines of his jeans, the thick, veined shaft springing free and slapping against her thigh, the head already swollen and slick with precum that dribbled down in sticky beads, making her skin glisten. He stroked himself slowly, his fist wrapping around the base and pumping upward, savoring the friction as he positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his dick nudging against her soaked entrance, teasing her with just the promise of what was to come. "Feel that, you teasing bitch? This is what you've been fucking begging for," he muttered, his dark eyes locked on hers, watching the way her gaze flicked down to his length, her breath hitching at the sight of it—thick and hard, veins bulging along the shaft, the head flushed a deep red and leaking more precum that mixed with her juices. He pushed in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, the head of his cock stretching her tight pussy, the heat and wetness enveloping him in a vise-like grip that made him groan, his hips rocking forward with deliberate force to fill her completely. Amelia's back arched, a sharp cry escaping her as he sank deeper, the angle hitting that perfect spot inside her, making her walls clench around him in rhythmic pulses, her nails digging into his shoulders, drawing red lines across his tattoos. He set a punishing rhythm, thrusting in and out with long, deep strokes, each one pounding into her with a wet, slapping sound that echoed in the room, his balls swinging forward to smack against her ass, the sensation making his entire body throb with raw need.

As he fucked her harder, the bed creaking under the force of his movements, Hunter could feel the emotional undercurrent pulling at him, the hate that fueled their every touch twisting into something deeper, more vulnerable, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and desire. "Take it all, you fucking tease," he snarled, his voice breaking slightly as he drove into her, his cock plunging deeper with each thrust, the head hitting her cervix in a way that made her gasp and writhe, her pussy stretching to accommodate his girth, the tightness almost overwhelming. Amelia's moans turned to screams, her body moving in sync with his, her hips meeting his thrusts with equal ferocity, the raw, vulgar intensity of it all making the air between them crackle with electric tension. He leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth again, sucking and biting as he pounded into her, the dual sensations sending shockwaves through her, her cunt gripping him tighter, milking his shaft with every stroke. Sweat dripped from his forehead, mingling with the ink on his skin, the scent of their arousal filling the room like a heady perfume, and in that moment, beneath the crude words and brutal rhythm, he felt a flicker of something real— a forbidden connection that neither could deny, even as they fought against it. His balls drew up tight, heavy and full, but he held back, not ready to end this, not when her body felt so perfectly wrapped around him, every thrust pulling them deeper into the chaos of their rivalry turned passion.

Rivals' Forbidden Flames