Chapter 24 Launch Sequence （Kieran） #2
The sound she makes when I angle her head just right nearly drops me.
My cock surges against my fly, swelling as I slide my tongue between her lips, while she grips my shoulders.
The warm give of her sex and the drag of friction makes me curse, wishing we were anywhere but an empty classroom.
The twenty-minute walk to my house seems insurmountable.
I should have waited until we were home—my bed, my couch, hell, even my car would be better than here—but the second her fingers curl in my hoodie, I’m gone.
I kiss her like I’ve been starving, like knowing her has rewired me. I know every place she softens, every spot that makes her breath catch, every shift she makes when she wants more. And she does want more. She’s chasing my mouth now, little pulls and needy sounds I already know by heart.
“Rules,” I rasp against her throat, trying to get air, trying to get control and failing at both. “I can’t fuck you here. If we don’t stop, this is going to turn into something we absolutely cannot explain to the dean.”
She looks up at me, flushed and dazed and unreal, fingers tugging at my collar with quiet desperation. “I need you, Starboy.” The whisper lands between us, soft and wrecking. “Now. Please.”
That single word detonates in my chest.
Please.
I’d do anything she asked with that voice. Anything at all.
That’s the moment I know I’m finished. Done for. Past any point of pretending otherwise.
She could say, “Walk me to Antarctica,” and I’d be in line at REI for a parka.
She could say, “Steal the moon,” and I’d be Googling ladder heights.
She says, “please,” and my entire life tilts toward yes.
I shove the door all the way shut. Thank God the corridor is almost empty, because with her thighs locked around my hips, rocking her pussy against my rigid length and moaning into my mouth, there is no way I’m not getting inside her right now.
I forget where we are for a second, and how reckless this is.
All I can think is that no one else gets to see Wren like this. She is for my eyes only.
“Don’t move,” I say, forcing myself to break away as her legs slide shakily down mine. I steady her, then grab the nearest chair and jam it under the handle. Two strides, and I am back in front of her, framing her face in my hands, greedy for the wild, urgent look in her eyes.
She slides her hands under my sweatshirt, palms warm, fingernails dragging lightly down my chest. “Will you take this off for me?” she whispers, rubbing over my stomach like she is memorizing every line. “Please? Your body is so beautiful.”
My laugh comes out rough. “That’s my line, baby.”
Yeah, I have an athlete’s body. But it’s nothing compared to hers.
Strong, sculpted legs. Smooth skin. Curves that fit against me like she was made for it.
And the worst part is, she has no idea. She is not flaunting any of it in tiny tops or painted-on skirts like half the campus. She just exists, and it wrecks me.
Maybe I should be grateful. No one else gets this view.
I haul the sweatshirt over my head in one quick move and catch her mouth again, hungry and a little desperate. Her kiss turns fierce, hands already at the waistband of her yoga pants. We fight with the elastic together, shoving them along with her panties past her hips until she can kick them away.
I tug at the zipper of her hoodie, shoving it down her arms, revealing a snug cotton T-shirt and hard points of her breasts poking through the thin material.
She isn’t wearing a bra.
Christ.
“You go to an advisory meeting without wearing a bra, Wren?”
She bites her bottom lip. “I felt like it today.”
The knowledge starts a rumble in my chest, sending a rush of white hot desire to my groin. My cock is so hard I can’t hold back any longer. I retrieve a condom from my pocket, and once I sheathe myself, I hoist her up and waste no time plunging inside of her.
Her thighs are locking around my waist, her weight settling against me as I press her back to the wall, my hips punching forward to get my cock inside her heat.
Lifting up the material of her T-shirt, I bare her breasts and lower my head to feast on her nipples while I pound into her. I am in so deep, I can’t even tell where we are anymore.
“Kieran,” she moans, her heels digging into my back.
“Say my name again,” I growl, the obscene, wet sounds of our fucking filling the empty room.
“Kieran, please. Harder, please.” Her chest heaves with shallow breaths. “Ah, God,” she cries out as I thrust into her with wild abandon, her scream melting into a shaky sob. She grips me desperately as she tightens around me, riding out her orgasm, pulsing.
Once the waves subside, she buries her face into my neck. My balls tighten, and I let out a curse, lights exploding behind my eyes, my loud grunts mixed with her quiet sobs, our bodies pressed against one another in a sweaty embrace.
My brain is blissfully, beautifully blank.
When I finally step back, her legs slide down mine, shaky. Her eyes are unfocused, wide and dark, her mouth flushed from being mine. A pulse beats hard at her throat. She sways for half a second before she steadies herself against me, forehead brushing my shoulder as she’s catching her breath.
“Data point collected,” I manage, voice rough. “Conclusion: team morale is excellent.”
“You’re such an idiot,” she breathes. It comes out low and wrecked, like she has not quite found her footing yet. “We literally just…in an empty classroom.”
“We did,” I murmur, my mouth at her ear. “And I’m trying very hard to be a functional member of society right now.”
Her inhale is ragged, hand lifting to my chest as if she means to push me away, but it lands there and grips instead. Her thighs press together in a small, involuntary motion that makes my vision go sharp.
“Kie—” she whispers, and it is not a warning. It is a plea she didn’t mean to let slip.
That sound is devastating.
I force myself to step back. We fix what we can with shaky hands, straightening clothes, smoothing hair, grabbing her backpack off the chair, making ourselves look just normal enough to pass. I pick up my sweatshirt, tug it on, and then I’m in front of her again, thumbs brushing her cheeks.
“You good?” I ask, softer.
She nods once, still pink, still wrecked, still trying to pretend she isn’t.
I crack the door and listen. The hallway hums with distant voices and footsteps, nothing close. I tug her gently after me, and she lets me lace our fingers together again.
We merge into the flow of students like we did not just break every rule in the handbook.