Chapter 13 #2
My breath catches when he dips closer. “Now’s a good time to start.”
As his mouth finds mine, I grow tense. This time, those expectations have me in their chokehold because I want to know if it’s better than at the bench, where shock and hurt diminished a good heap of the delight that stemmed from Zach kissing me.
Gentle pecks, soft pressure. Tender movements of his head, rocking back and forth as he anoints my lips with pecks that steal the air from my lungs and make me want more. Deeper. Faster. A variety I never anticipated.
It fills my heart with a want I didn’t permit myself to feel past the age of fourteen, when I realized the stinky boy who was also my best friend had the face of a demigod.
Until recently…
Until invite-only night, booze, and Freya reopened the flood gates.
Throwing caution to the wind, I tilt my head and dive into us. This strange new universe where this is happening. Where this is a thing. And it’s good. Oh, so freakin’ good.
In fact, no. That’s doing his mouth a disservice.
Calling this ‘good’ is a crime.
My lips tingle. My core feels fuzzy. Muscles clench inside me. They’re not alien or uncharted, but my body’s response is different than when I watch porn. His scent and the feel of him, the heat and the sheer presence of Zach make this experience infinitely more tantalizing.
When his hands grip my head, tangling in my hair to tug me the way he wants me, I surge forward, not content that our mouths are the only point of connection. My fingers stroke over his scalp too, and I savor the crisp lines of his fade against the sensitive tips.
God, there’s so much sensation. It’s everywhere and in everything and in every touch and kiss and—
“Denver,” he moans.
And my heart stutters.
My name… He said my name. No. He moaned it. “Sweet Home Alabama,” I had no idea my name could sound so hot!
As our torsos meet over the massive console between us, I mewl, further dissatisfied by our present location.
Pulling back, he nips at my bottom lip when I attempt to seek another kiss. “We have a couch upstairs.”
There’s no stutter. More confidence. But there’s something to his timbre that sets me at ease. Enough that I rasp, “We also have a bed. Multiple beds, in fact.”
His eyes flare. “Not until you’re ready—”
“I’m not saying we have to… you know. But it’d be more comfortable.” It’s my turn to brush my thumb over his cheek. “You make me feel good. Is that so wrong?”
“Oh, gorgeous, there’s definitely nothing wrong with that.”
“Gorgeous?”
He shrugs.
I study him. “Don’t call me anything you’ve called anyone else. I’m not anyone else, Zach.”
“You’re not anyone else, I agree. Gorgeous is you. It’s us. Our friendship. I used it on you when you were drunk and it’s been on the tip of my tongue ever since.”
The pained note in his voice makes my pulse soar. “You’ve genuinely been thinking about me for a while?”
“Yes.” The word’s more of a croak.
“Since when?”
“I-I-I guess invite-only night. You wore that black dress with the thin straps. Y-Your…” A finger swoops down and traces an imaginary path where they sat on my shoulders before merging into the neckline.
He runs it along the upper slope of my breasts, urging a shiver out of me.
Which is a miracle considering how much polyester is between me and his bare skin.
“You looked beautiful. I told you but I couldn’t tell you that as soon as you left, I jacked off on the couch. To your picture.”
“What?!”
He licks his lips. “Couldn’t help it. Apparently, I’m as dumb as Pecan because I knew how gone I was for you. As far back as then.”
And I can’t help clambering higher onto the seat so I can lean deeper into him, letting my tongue tangle with his.
The groan that filters from him lights me up inside.
My nipples bud from his simple touch, but it’s the thought of him jacking off over me on one of the most bizarre nights of my college career, the most mortifying and soul-destroying one too, that brings me to my knees.
“We need to go upstairs.”
“Definitely,” I mewl.
As one, we retreat. He jumps out of the SUV first, and my door’s halfway open before he tugs it wider, stepping into the space between it and me to unfasten my belt. Then, he grabs my knees and forcibly turns me toward him.
Laughing, I demand, “What are you doing?”
“What I’ve also been thinking about for weeks,” he answers, a determined cast to his jaw.
Taken aback, I let him do what he wants as he parts my thighs and steps between them. When he slides his hands under my ass, I glare at him, suddenly realizing what he’s going to do—
“Zach, I’m too heavy!”
“Shut up. You weren’t too heavy that night and you’re not now.”
When he hoists me into his arms, I half-expect the veins in his neck to burst, but they don’t. He doesn’t complain about his back or tell me I’m better than a weight-lifting sesh at the gym.
No, he hauls me around like… well, I don’t know what.
I love my curves but a feather I’m not.
When he hitches me higher, that’s when I get it.
He hisses as his dick brushes against my jeans-covered pussy. “That night, I carried you like a…” His cheeks flush. “A bride. But all I could think about was this.”
His words stir a strange panic in me, but when his hands find my ass and knead it, the rush of arousal that triggers makes me sag into him.
“That’s it, gorgeous.”
He pushes me against the side of the SUV this time.
When he grinds his dick into me, my head falls back against the cool metal. Small, rhythmic pumps of his hips have me whimpering, unable to believe how good this feels.
And it’s Zach.
My Zach.
The deep, guttural groan that he releases sends tingles of wonder scuttling along my limbs.
“You need to get the keys out of my jeans’ pocket, Denver.”
Dazedly, I pat him down and snag the keys. He kicks the door closed with his booted foot and I lock it.
“We need our things.”
“They’ll be fine until tomorrow.”
“Your ride’ll stink by then.”
He grins. “I won’t complain if you don’t.”
“We can always open all the windows,” is my wispy retort as every step has his dick nudging me where I need it most.
I let my forehead meet his as he carries me to the elevator. Sure, I could walk, could argue, could do a thousand things, but he wants to do this and I’m not going to stop him.
It’s nice to feel little.
To not feel like a burden.
Nicer than I never even dreamed of imagining.
The doors to the elevator open and both of us blink when we see Wynter Kinnock standing there, lips parted in surprise.
“Oh, hi,” I squeak.
Zach just nods.
Wynter glances at us, the garage, the elevator floor, then she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, hi.” When she dashes out, I can hear her giggling.
At first, I grow tense. Thinking she’s laughing at me. At us. At this.
That she was being a Pi.
Then, I recognize that it’s not mean. It’s flustered. Giddy.
She peers back at us and, over Zach’s shoulder, I see her shoot me a wink and two thumbs-up.
I hate that my smile’s relieved as I peep at her over the hulking mass of Zach’s delt, but mean girls burn me a lot.
It’s kinda nice to know that my instincts about her track—Wynter’s not like that.
And then, my mind’s not on Wynter. On mean girls or kind ones. On sororities.
It’s where it should be—on Zach.
The minute we’re in the elevator, I’m being pushed into the wall again, and when his head angles to the side and his mouth is suddenly on my throat, a keening cry escapes me when he nips and bites the tender skin there.
His tongue palpates it before he sucks, hard then gentle, interspersing with kisses that fill me with the best kind of tension.
Because tomorrow, he’ll have left a mark there, one I’ll get to study in the mirror and dissect the memory.
I angle my head back, giving him greater access, desperate for him to continue what he’s doing. In fact, I may never let him up for air again. I’ve read about this and seen it in movies, but I didn’t realize how delicious it is.
Then there’s the fact that his moans are the best soundtrack ever. I need a playlist commemorating each of them.
When the elevator dings, neither of us realize we’ve arrived at our floor until the doors close and we idle.
Ten minutes, hours, days later, through lips that tingle and burn and feel swollen and sensitive, I mouth, “I think we’re here.”
With a slow rock of his hips that hits all the good spots, he settles my feet on the floor.
Then steps away.
And when I reach for him, he avoids my hold.
A thousand fears rush through me.
Did I suck?
Did my breath taste funky?
Was I—
“Zach?”