Chapter Eleven
Raven .
I kept my head down when Jonas and I entered Professor Harrington’s class.
We signed in, sat together, Jonas kept his arm on the back of my chair and he’d play with my hair, twirling the silver strand in his fingers, and he’d lightly pull sometimes, sending little prickles of pain on my scalp that both hurt and felt good.
Everything this man does to me feels right.
I looked up at him once only to catch Maverick watching us during his lecture, green eyes piercing mine, a heat in them so hot I felt a blush crawl up my cheeks.
The memory of what we did in his office was so fresh, still crisp like the leaves that were now beginning to turn and fall outside of the window I would peer out of every now and then.
It was when Jonas leaned over and pressed a kiss against that particular spot under my jaw and I squirmed while we were reading over a specific paragraph in my textbook because he so conveniently “forgot” his, my shoulder went up, unable to control my smile I peered up at Jonas.
Maverick was in my periphery over his shoulder, watching us with a scowl. He cleared his throat and Jonas pulled away. I was able to see him clearly but Jonas pulled my focus back to him. “Will you be watching the game on the student portal? ”
I blinked at him, smile still on my face. Like I’d miss it , I wanted to say. I took my pen he stole from me on Wednesday and wrote #19 on the back of my hand.
Jonas grinned from ear to ear, eyes sparkling.
It was the first time I’d seen him smile so broadly, every tooth showing.
I could tell he had dental work done, but his smile wasn’t freakishly perfect like the twins.
His incisors were a little large and pointy, giving him a predator-like look.
I decided then and there I love his smile and I’d do anything to make it happen again.
Even with his glares from the front of the class, Harrington didn’t bother us, even though I knew he had watched the entire exchange.
“We’re leaving at four. We have to be at Turner Falls’ stadium and in uniform by six. The game starts at seven. We’re going to stay there but we’ll be back on Saturday morning. Could I take you to brunch?”
I blink at him, smile still on my face. Of course . I slip my hand in his and squeeze. We hold hands for the rest of the lecture. We ignore the whispers behind us and I bask in the feeling of holding Joans’ large, warm hand in mine.
After my last class, I go to the library and check out a few old alumni yearbooks from the seventies then head back to my room to get ready.
______
Before he leaves for his game, he stops by my dorm room for a good luck kiss, the twins in tow and I surprise him by wearing a Yellow Jacket’s tee with his number I used a permanent marker to write with on the back, black biker shorts, twin braided pigtails, and #19 on my cheek I wrote with eye liner and added glitter.
It’s what I used to do for Axel when I was a cheerleader, and it felt so right to do it for Jonas.
Jonas picked me up, I wrapped my legs around his torso and once again, like before, he devoured my lips, this time in front of his friends with abandon.
When I open my eyes, I find Chase looking right at me with a scowl that rivals Professor Harrington’s.
I reach out and give them each a half hug, lingering a bit on Riordan.
Before they leave, I hold an imaginary football under my arm, put the other out like I’m bracing for a tackle, throw down the ball and do a little touchdown dance, swaying my hips.
Riordan and Jonas burst into fits of laughter, Chase’s eyebrow quirked up, and I can tell he’s fighting his own laughter with the way his eyes sparkle.
Jonas pulls out his phone and snaps a selfie of us, immediately putting it as his lockscreen wallpaper, sends it to me, and does the same on my phone.
“She’s funny.” I hear Riordan tell Jonas behind my closed door when they leave.
“Isn’t she great?” Jonas replies.
“She’s defective . Of course she’s funny. She has to be. Ugly and/or fat chicks are funny and have a personality. They have to be to keep our attention somehow.” Chase replies. I’m about to open the door and smack the living shit out of the brawnier Prescott twin but then I hear:
“She’s not fat or ugly, you idiot. She’s healthy and proportional. And fuck it. She could gain fifty pounds and she’d still be hotter, smarter, and funnier than the bitches you pull.” Jonas bites back. “She’s definitely way cooler than your bride to be.”
“You think Goth Metal Barbie back there is hotter than Priscilla? You’re fucking delusional.”
“Priscilla has the fucking personality of a wet paper towel. She’s pretty.
But my girl?” I gasp inaudibly. My girl .
“Fuck, natural curves for days, luscious hair, funny, smart, kind, and those eyes? Fuck me, those eyes… I’d do anything for her.
I’d even let her peg me, bro. She can have all of me. ”
“Fuck you. It doesn’t matter anyway. Priscilla has one job and one job only: to breed more Prescott heirs. We already came to the resolution that we’ll have a don’t ask, don’t tell open marriage as long as the kids are mine.”
“Guys, can we not have this conversation here?” Riordan whispers into the hallway.
“Fuck, Chase that sounds fucking miserable.” Jonas replies.
“Guys, seriously. You aren’t exactly being quiet. She can probably hear us. ”
Chase must reply in a silent manner because I hear their footsteps go down the hallway.
What the fuck was that entire conversation even?
______
I have a bowl of popcorn in my lap, the game on, watching in absolute suspense as Chase throws the ball to Jonas, who I now know is a wide receiver, with only seven seconds left in the game.
Jonas catches it and runs, faster than I’ve ever seen anyone run in my entire life, and when he makes it to the end zone just as the timer blares.
The camera zooms in just as he throws down the ball and does the same end zone dance I did in my room.
The crowd fucking roars so loud, the announcers are practically screaming over the noise.
The Yellow Jackets win their first game, 49 – 14.
The players all run onto the field, and grab Jonas, hoisting him up onto their shoulders, the camera zooms in again as they set him down, he pulls off his helmet, and he sends a kiss to the camera, knowing I’m watching him, his win.
Even through the screen he’s beautiful. Forty miles away and Jonas Anderson has me blushing like a schoolgirl.
I grab my phone, angle it where it shows his face and take a selfie, shooting it to him. If I’m his, then he’s mine too, right?
I put the bowl of popcorn on my coffee table, go to my bathroom to get ready for bed, turn on my sleep light, turn off the remaining lights and then open the window to let the cool night air in. I take a full pill and once I’m under the heavy blanket, I fall immediately to sleep.
______
A loud crash of thunder wakes me from my slumber and throws me into a pit of darkness.
My breath hitches in my throat, heart pounding, the howling wind from the open window sending me into a full panic.
I leap out of bed to close it, and then back to the other side of the room to turn my night light back on.
The lavender glows softly just as a dash of lightning hits and I hit the ground .
Something I can see – my lamp. Touch – my hair. Hear – the rain against my window. Smell – popcorn. Taste – my toothpaste.
I clamber back into bed like a child, sleep still weighing my eyelids heavily. I close my eyes, heart rate down, I touch the comforter, breathing as silently as possible, lulling myself back to sleep, fingers running over the blanket, grounding me.
The blanket turns so soft. Softer than ever.
Like silky strands between my fingertips.
My sex is so swollen, hot. The need to orgasm so intense.
I pull Damon closer; this dance we’re doing nightly is perfect.
His finger wiggles inside of me, not painful but the stretch around him is still enough to feel so good.
In my dreams, I always want to ask for more, but before I can, his lips caress my clit, kissing my pussy, licking all around, sucking in my lips, praising me.
I want more. Need more. And he knows just how much to give.
I spread my thighs wider and reach for my nipples, only to find he’s already there, twisting and pinching.
We do it together, my inexperienced fingers over his expert ones and my hips rock against his strong, expert tongue.
“Take it, little bird,” he tells me. “Take your pleasure from me.”
My back arches and he laps at me, turning his finger to hit a spot deep inside. I love it when he does that. My orgasm rips through me, continuing, descending into another one, and he licks it all up, moaning through his praises.
In my dream he licks me until I’m a whimpering mess. It’s safe to make noises here, in my dreams. He climbs up my body, nudging the tip of his cock into me, but I always want more. I need more. “Not yet, little bird. I need to stretch you out more so you can take all of me, I’m not a small man.”
I reach between us and wrap my hand around his thick, rigid length, and pump in succession with his hips as his tip stays inside of me. He’s right. Even in my dreams I know it would hurt to feel all of him like this. But I want it. Want him. Closer. More.
His lips meet mine, the faint taste of me and the brutal force that is his tongue fucks into my mouth, taking every gasp, every moan and whimper, desire burning through me at the knowledge that in my dreams, I’m his and he is mine and it brings me so much closer to heaven than death ever did .