Twenty-Three #2
I’m not sure anything I get from Stacy will ever be enough.
Stacy’s hands wander down to the gray sweater I’m wearing, gripping the collar in between her hands like she wants to rip it to shreds. She twists the material, a frustrated little whine coming from her throat like she wants my shirt on the floorboard of my car instead of on my torso.
I wish the same.
Stacy tastes just how I remember her tasting at the football party.
Sweet, almost like cinnamon, with the softest, most torturous lips I’ve ever kissed.
They move against my own with conviction, like she knows exactly what she does to me with just her mouth.
She’s not shy or anxious when she’s kissing me.
She’s cocky. Just like she should be.
I feel my pulse spread throughout my entire body as Stacy crawls over my center console without breaking our kiss.
She swings her leg over my lap to straddle me as she melds her mouth to mine and I nearly come undone.
My hands slide down her body to hold her at the waist in response and my fingers tingle where they touch her midriff.
Our lips are desperate, messy, and I’m positive that we’re not rehearsing anymore.
My thoughts are confirmed when Stacy’s hips notch forward, grinding on me as she tugs on my bottom lip with her teeth.
Oh. Fuck .
I groan and let my hands slide down to grip her ass. “Fuck, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me, angel?” I gasp around her kisses, my tongue sliding against hers.
Stacy lets out a needy moan against my mouth by way of answer but I know she knows. I know she can feel that I’m getting harder by the second beneath her and I can tell she’s reveling in it as she moves her hips a little faster.
I break away from our kiss just long enough for my lips to find the skin at the hollow of her throat. She gasps as I lick and bite at the sensitive skin of her neck, throwing her head back and tangling her fingers in my hair.
All of my surroundings have faded to black. All that I know is the smooth skin of Stacy’s collarbone, the feel of her ass cupped in my hands, the smell of peaches and sweat. I can only hear her breathy moans and only feel her fingers tugging at my hair. I am wholly consumed by Stacy Dunn.
“Shit, Reece, do that again. It feels so good,” she begs after I suck on her collarbone.
A guttural sound leaves my throat as I place my hands on her hips, encouraging her to grind harder against me. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. Fuck, that’s hot,” I mutter, nipping at her collarbone again before trailing my lips down her chest to kiss her cleavage.
Stacy’s whimpers and sighs fill my car and I’m not sure I’m going to survive this night if I don’t get inside of her. I’m so fucking hard it hurts. Every fantasy I’ve had involving Stacy has been subpar compared to the real thing and we’ve only kissed.
I bring my lips back to hers, quick, fast pecks interrupted by long, languid kisses. She hangs onto every single touch, getting her body as close to mine as possible as she digs her nails into my traps.
It seems that Stacy shares my sentiment.
“You know, I could always get you off. Right here,” I say breathlessly in between kisses. “Right now. It’d be easy. And quick.” My promises sound cocky but they come from a place of authenticity.
I know women. I know women’s bodies and what makes them tick.
And I especially know what makes them come.
Stacy hesitates, her body stiffening against me as she pulls back and puts some distance between our faces. She’s deathly quiet and I start kicking myself for going too far when there’s a rasp at my foggy window.
We both jump, Stacy even shrieking as she ambles off of me. Our heavy breathing fills the car and it takes me a minute to collect myself before rolling my window down to find a campus security officer standing outside my door.
He’s a stout and short man with a bald head and an eyebrow raised. He takes one look at the inside of my car before pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers .
Whoops.
“Not in your car, guys,” he groans, closing his eyes like he’s warding off a headache. “Take it inside, yeah?”
“Yes, of course.” I nod, heat flooding my face. “So sorry, sir.”
He shakes his head and mumbles something about not getting paid enough for this shit before meandering back to his patrol car.
Talk about a mood kill.
After he drives off, I turn back to Stacy and embarrassment starts to creep in. She looks apprehensive, on the far end of the passenger side like she suddenly can’t put enough space between our bodies.
Shit. Talk about one step forward, three steps back.
I suck in a deep breath and settle in to have an uncomfortable conversation. “Stace,” I start.
“Thanks for the practice,” she says before I can continue, opening the passenger door and ambling out without another word.
I’m too dumbfounded to do anything but stare after her as she climbs the steps and disappears into her apartment. I’m so stunned by the night’s events that I’m pretty sure my jaw doesn’t shut until I make it back to my building. And even when it shuts, the shock remains.
Fucking practice.