I see the openness on her face, a transparency that makes me want to shout to the world. She knows about my anxiety and she doesn’t think any differently of me.
“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” I say as I get on the bed. I push her legs together and up to her chest, parting them just a little as I position her upper thighs until they rest against her torso. It’s a confining position, but she allows the awkwardness.
“Feel like a pretzel?”
She nods.
“I’ll make it feel good,” I growl.
“I know.”
Kneeling over her, I turn her hips so they’re pointed to the wall. I hold her prisoner with one forearm on top of her then crouch down, turn, and run my tongue over her sex, the folds pink and stretched and open to me. I lap at her, the taste perfect as I tongue her clit. She gasps and squirms against my mouth.
“I could spend all night in this one spot,” I say. “I’ve thought about you every day since the Kappa party. I sit in my classes dreaming of ways to fuck you, how to make you come, how to make sure you never want anyone but me.”
She moans.
“I think about how much I want to teach you everything you don’t know, and I want to erase every guy from your head.” The fingers of my free hand explore her sex, working her until she’s gasping. “You’re mine and I want…”
Her—so goddamn much that it terrifies me.
She arches her hips for more but can’t really move. Her tits are under her folded legs, but my insistent finger reaches up and finds her nipple, pinches it, tugging it down. She groans, her face reddening as I alternate between her breasts and tonguing her sex from top to bottom. My thumb traces the outline of her rosebud, tapping and using the wetness to dip inside. She’s hot and gasping, her head tossing on the pillow.
My eyes take in her every nuance, the little things I’ve come to expect when we’re together, the warm scent of her skin, the way her hair gets in her eyes and she blows it away, the way her body hitches when I touch her pussy. I lick her again and suck her clit into my mouth. Her name is a litany on my lips as I play with her, and I tell her how beautiful she is and how much I love how she tastes. She lets out a deep groan and comes, her body barely able to move as she spasms, clenching around my fingers.
I rise up and hover over her, my arm pressing her down on the bed. “Hang on.”
My cock pushes inside her and goes to the hilt, her sheath slick and sweet, earth-shatteringly tight with her legs pressed together. “So perfect.”
She pants, her body quivering.
I come back out and slide right back in, picking up the pace, my free hand kneading her hip and pinching her nipple as I fuck her, and it’s all me because she can’t move. I hold nothing back, pistoning in and out until the bed scoots on the floor, giving her everything I have left from the deluge of emotions we’ve built up in these past weeks.
My fingers dig into her skin, and the sounds of our sex and her pleading moans build and build, and I feel the tingles in my spine as my hips hit a deep, sweet spot that makes me tremble.
“Z,” she calls out as her body clenches around mine again, and my length hardens, expanding.
I don’t want to come. Not yet. I want to keep taking her, owning her. I love the control. I love that she’s looking at me like I’m her whole world.
I swivel my hips in, going deeper and her lashes flutter against her cheek.
“Z,” she moans, her hands gripping the bedpost.
I lean down and take her mouth and her tongue sucks mine and that’s all it takes. Sweat drips from my face as I roar my release and collapse on top of her then quickly roll away, not wanting to squash her. I reach up and untie her hands, and neither of us speaks, only a quiet hush in the room along with our bellowing breaths. I lean over and look at her outstretched legs, and her skin is tinged red from where my forearms pressed against her. I touch them softly and kiss the lines. I work my eyes over her body, seeing fingerprint marks on her hips and breasts. I lick her nipple.
“Will it bruise?” she asks.
I look up at her. “I don’t know.” I’ve never held a girl down before.
“I’m up for more,” she says, and I huff out a laugh, not knowing how to tell her that doing this with her is the most intimate experience I’ve had with a girl.
I kiss each mark and crawl back to where she’s lying on the pillows. I lie down and she rolls over, easing into my embrace as if she’s done it a hundred times. I rock us, I don’t know why, and I kiss her, exploring the warm recesses of her mouth as if she were a fine piece of china.
Finally it’s her who breaks the silence. “Z…is it…is it always like this with you?”
“Look at me.”
She does.
“Let me set this straight in case there’s any question about how many girls I’ve had or this whole girl-of-the-month thing that keeps popping up. It’s a rumor people like to perpetuate because of who I am. I date girls and we break up and I really don’t think about them much again. This isn’t that. You aren’t them. Never in a million years.”
She kisses me.
And shit, the world is golden.
30
Sugar
“Movie drinking games. Wahoo,” I say as I toss back the sip of tequila Z poured for me earlier. We’re standing in his kitchen, barely keeping our hands off each other as everyone—a few of his friends plus Taylor and Poppy—waits in the den. Tonight we’re mixing our worlds together, and we’re laughing about how interesting it’s going to be.
He grins and leads me back into the den. My eyes run over him, taking in the broad shoulders, long legs, and blond hair. He looks relaxed and I feel a burst of joy.
He turns and takes a sip of his water, watching me too, and I shiver as I think about the things we do to each other.
There’s no denying it—we have this whole when I see you, I want to get naked with you thing going on, and it’s intense and I’m giving in to all of it. I’ve never wanted a man this much. I’ve never given over so much control, and while a small kernel of me is scared, I don’t care. I’ve pushed my reservations aside for now and just…going with it.
Over the past weeks, February arrived and now it’s almost March, and he spends more time at my place than his. During the day we barely see each other because he runs, goes to class, goes to hockey, and then does more training. Toss in three days of therapy and he’s a busy guy. I’m still popping in at Mara’s in the mornings and grabbing an early night shift here and there tending bar.
But the late nights in my bed…
I’m his.
I own his darkness.
Tonight is Sunday, the guys are fresh from a win on the road, and I haven’t seen him since Friday when they left. My body is craving his.
“Get your drinks ready. Who’s ready for movie games?” Z says to the small group of people dotted around the den.
They all clap or shout.
Eric is on the couch with Eleanor, a cute girl with bouncy brown hair and a bright smile. Boone is here too, and he keeps giving Z awestruck looks. A pretty girl sits next to him, another freshman, but Boone’s all about his hero. Poppy is on his other side, and I see the heated side-eye she gives him, but I don’t think he notices. Taylor is sitting on a kitchen chair he pulled from the kitchen. Looking fabulous as usual in royal blue skinny jeans and a cream cashmere sweater that contrasts beautifully with his brown skin, he’s all about the man candy, eyes wide, a pleased look on his face as he talks to everyone. Brice, another hockey player, is kicked back in the recliner. I haven’t been around him much, but he’s familiar from the games I’ve been watching on TV.