Chapter 13 Carrie
You look stressed again,” he whispers.
The look in his eyes says it all. Whatever you do, don’t answer that… Easier said than done, though, when your skin is on fire the way mine is right now.
Pinned between him and the wall, I gasp for air, every muscle in my body taut and primed for action.
“I’m pretty chill, actually,” I drawl.
“You look like you’re about to explode, Carrie.”
Not true. I was doing just fine, until he started flirting with me.
Sleeping with him was… a very enjoyable experience—better than I would’ve liked, honestly—but it was a one-off, and I plan on keeping it that way.
It’s bad enough we did it a second time on my damn rug of all places, like I’m some hapless, hopeless fangirl.
There’s no way we’re going down that road again—no matter how much I really, really fucking want to.
It’s hormones, Carrie. It’s all just hormones.
I take a deep breath in and duck down, slipping under his arm, my key fumbling in the lock.
I step into the room and spin around to push the door shut behind me, pausing to whisper through the crack.
“Night, Wolinski.”
He pulls a sad face. “What if I recited a poem? Showed you a little of that vulnerable side?”
I laugh. “You think that’d be enough for me to let you in?”
“It sounded plausible in my head.”
“Sweet dreams.”
I slam the door shut and lock it tight, leaning my head against the cool wood as I catch my breath. Great work, Carrie!
His voice rings out on the other side of the latch. “Notice how I’m wearing jeans?”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” I call back.
“It’s got back pockets, and all…”
“Wow. You know how to get a girl excited, huh?” I deadpan.
“Pockets, Carrie…” he murmurs. “Think about it.”
I rack my brains, trying to figure out what the pocket obsession is all about, when it hits me. I burst out laughing.
Fuck it. I swing open the door but stay planted in the doorway, blocking him from coming in.
“And what did you put in these pockets of yours?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
He raises his eyebrows at me and glances down, inviting me to see for myself.
I pause. This is so weird, and I know I shouldn’t fall for this ridiculous game, but my hand has a mind of its own, and before I know it, I’m feeling my way across the denim, my fingers edging at the seams and along to what is unmistakably a condom wrapper. I hold it up to the light.
“You passed your exam with flying colors,” I concede.
Did he plan this whole scene out? For me? I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that.
“How many points do I get?”
I pretend to think. “I’m gonna go with six for effort, plus an extra ten for the safety aspect.”
“Sixteen points, huh? Not bad.” He grins at me. “But you forgot to check the other pocket.”
I play along again. No, his butt is not perfectly perky under those jeans.
“A condom in each pocket—that’s gotta be worth a bonus, surely,” he adds, wearing that infuriating smirk.
“I’m deducting five points,” I say sternly. “Either you’re way too cocky, or you’ve got more than one girl lined up.”
“Both are for you, actually.”
Don’t…
I decide to play dumb.
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you—you didn’t need to replace the ones we used yesterday.”
My hand is still there in his tight, warm pocket. I feel for the second condom, my fingers darting as I pluck it out and up.
“But thank you, though,” I add.
I go to whip the condoms behind my back, when he grabs my wrist, stepping closer.
“You need me to spell it out?”
“Let go, or I’ll scream.”
“You know I love it when you do that…”
I shake my head. “I knew it. I knew I’d regret using your body for sex.”
“You sure about that?” Gently, he pushes me back. “You know we’ve got a good thing going on here…”
“Once was enough,” I whisper unconvincingly.
“It was twice,” he corrects. “But yeah, I hear you—the first time was more like a fumble.”
“Eww, that makes it sound so gross—”
“You need to unwind, and I need to focus on being better,” he interrupts. “I can’t do that if I’m sex starved.” He leans into me. “Help me be a better student. The sooner I improve, the sooner our little partnership ends.”
At what point did my life derail so badly that I’m standing here, listening to Donovan Wolinski pitch the benefits of sleeping with him? And when exactly did I undergo a full personality transplant that makes me actually consider saying yes?
“You managed to survive for a whole three months,” I remind him. “I’m sure you can carry on not getting laid for an extra semester.”
He sighs, finally letting go of me.
I sway on my feet as he retreats, holding his hands up in defeat.
“Fine. Have it your way.” He takes a few more steps back down the hall. “I get it. You think you’re gonna end up falling for me, and then—”
“Trust me, if there’s one guy I won’t ever fall for, it’s you,” I snap.
“You’re probably worried you’ll end up totally obsessed—”
“Just goes to show how little you know me.”
“Wearing one of my basketball jerseys to bed, clinging to my pillow when I leave in the morning…”
He’s messing with me, but deep down, he’s hit a nerve. Should I be concerned? I shouldn’t, I remind myself. This is a low-risk, low-stakes situation, because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Donovan will never be on my radar. Not really.
“Okay, you win!” I step aside and gesture for him to come in. “Happy?”
A second later, and Donovan is slamming the door shut behind us, a victorious smile spreading across his face.
“Are we still doing the clothes-on thing?”
I nod.
“How do you feel about putting that sleep shirt back on?”
“That sounds doable.”
I slip into the bathroom and tug off my clothes, taking a few quick seconds to freshen up. Back in the room, Donovan is standing in front of my bookcase, rifling through a book.
I lean against the desk, watching him.
“Looking for inspiration?”
He turns around, eyes still glued to the page, and I can’t help but laugh at his unzipped jeans and the flash of blue boxers underneath.
“Since we’re getting in a little hands-on practice, I might as well use our sessions to try out some of the theory.”
He shuffles over onto my bed and sits with his back pressed to the wall, flicking through the pages. All I can see are his eyes over the top of the book as he beckons me over. I grab one condom—one!—and crawl across the mattress.
“Saddle up, Carrie.”
He pats his thigh, and I glance at the swell between his legs. I don’t need too much encouragement. I straddle his lap and unzip him all the way down. As I roll the condom onto him slowly, I feel his gaze glued to my face.
“What?” I ask, tugging up my shirt.
“Does my ‘throbbing member’ look throbby enough for you?”
“You’re exhausting.”
“Well… Does it?”
I look down and tilt my head.
“Is it me, or does it kinda curve to the left…”
“Say no more.”
His penis spasms and jumps to the right, before settling back into place.
“Better?”
“Nope.”
“The people who write this stuff are liars,” he mutters, tossing the novel to the side, and I shriek when it almost falls to the floor.
“Do that again, and the penis gets it.”
“Forgive me, mistress.”
His back slides lower against the wall, just enough to adjust our angle for what comes next. Despite the completely inappropriate conversation, I’m ready for him.
His hands grip my hips, and I brace myself for him, but instead of pulling me down, one of them slips between my thighs.
When his fingers approach my center, my whole body goes rigid.
This is not what I planned. I’m about to tell him to skip straight to the main event—preliminaries were not part of this questionable arrangement—but some strange curiosity roots me in place.
My eyes stay locked on his as he slowly finds my core, gathering wetness before pressing gently on my clit. His thumb circles once, and my body jolts like I’ve been shocked. His other hand clamps around my thigh, holding me open for him.
Then he pushes two fingers inside me, and the intrusion has a sharp, involuntary whimper clawing its way up my throat before I can swallow it down.
My own fingers are now grasping at the sheets as I struggle to keep my eyes from closing, desperately reaching for some semblance of control. He’s working faster now, more insistent, and it has me losing my grip.
His eyes keep flashing from my face to between my legs and back again. I think it’s the hottest thing I’ve seen in a while.
My hips buck against him, and I have no idea whether I’m grinding back and forth, or whether he’s moving me with his other hand. All I know is I’m blinking so fast I can barely see, and he’s good, he’s really good, I’m nearly there, nearly done when—
“Do it, Carrie,” he whispers.
What? It’s like a needle skipping off a record.
I stare at him and frown. He’s got that look on his face, the one he gets every time he’s about to come out with some dumbass comment, and I can tell he’s picking up on the fact that I’m getting the ick, because he turns things up a notch, kneading my hips, pressing harder with his fingers.
The feelings all come flooding back as I let myself fall into the moment again, and—
“Come for me, baby.”
Oh. My. God.
“Are you for fucking real?” I yell.
I shuffle off his lap and grab his arm in an attempt to pull him off my bed, but he’s not budging an inch, and as he throws back his head and starts to laugh, my mind suddenly fills with images of cold-blooded murder. Okay, funny man… I should crush his balls for this.
I struggle to my feet, swaying a little as I tug down on my shirt, shaking off the last of my failed orgasm.
“What’s the big deal?”
“Get out!”
“Oh, come on!” he protests. “I couldn’t resist—”
“Get the hell out!”
“You can’t blame me for wanting to try it at least once,” he says. “It’s like a book-boyfriend classic.”
I look up at the skies. “Why me?”
“Well, I can’t try it out on a real girlfriend, can I?”
Bitch, please!
I glare at him, folding my arms over my chest. “Quit the laughing, or I’m throwing your sorry ass out on the street.”
He jumps out of bed and reaches me in three quick strides, his jeans still hanging open.
“Keep that dick away from me!” I scream.
His eyes widen. “Did you just say ‘dick’?”
“That’s when you know I’m genuinely mad.”
When I feel my desk pressing into my back, I realize he’s got me cornered.
“ ‘Come for me, baby’? Really?” My eyes meet his.
“Don’t hate me—”
“I was about to come!”
We stare each other down, until finally I let out an exhausted sigh.
“Come on.” He takes a step closer. “It was kinda funny—admit it.”
Any other time or place, maybe.
I shake my head.
“Okay…” He rests his palms on my desk, his arms stretched out on either side of me. “I guess I’ll just have to find some way of making it up to you.”
There’s a fire smoldering in the pit of my belly. I hate myself so much right now, but I hate what I say next even more.
“I guess you will,” I whisper, shuddering as I feel his hardness nudging at me. “I’m going to make you work for it, though.”
Jesus. This is like a trashy novel…
He smiles. “Well…”
His hands slide their way under my knees, and before I know it, he’s hoisted me onto the desk.
“I’m really…”
He spreads my legs open, sinking to his knees between them.
“Really…”
His breath skates over my inner thighs.
“Fucking…”
He shoves my shirt higher, fingers gripping my hips as he pulls me to the edge of the desk.
“Sorry.”
His mouth is on me before the word even finishes, his tongue dragging a slow, devastating stroke from my center right over to my clit. A broken sound rips out of me. And he groans—actually groans—then his hands tighten on my thighs, pinning me to the desk, and he licks me again, and again.
The desk trembles under us as Donovan sucks gently, then harder, then seals his mouth around me like he’s starving. His tongue flicks, circles, slides—every movement deliberate, relentless, dizzying. I’m gripping the edge of the desk so hard my knuckles ache.
When he slips a finger inside me—then another—curling them just right while his mouth works my clit, the pleasure hits way too hard.
I lean back, and shameful uncontrollable moans pour out of me as the pressure spirals higher, higher, until it releases in a white-hot rush that arches my back clean off the desk.
I come apart on his tongue—shaking and breathless—while he holds me through every last shudder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And when the world finally stops spinning, one horrifying truth settles in:
Donovan Wolinski just gave me the best orgasm of my life.