Chapter Eight #2
I glance around the room, but Olly’s choice to sit in the front row means no one can see what’s happening beneath the desk except Professor Gibson—if he ever looks my way again.
“Being your wingman.” He taps my inner thigh. “Now open.”
What is he planning?
Olly is so comfortable doing everything anywhere; it could be anything. His pinky slowly stretches higher up my thigh. What he is about to do will be even less appropriate than my bigmouthed comments.
But I’m not sure I care.
Each brush of his finger leaves a trail of sparks that sink into my flesh, spread up my thighs, and bloom into a decadent flame beneath my clit.
Slowly, I let my legs fall open.
My shameless tormentor leans closer. His breath paints my neck in silky heat that slips between the open buttons of my shirt and tightens around my nipples until they are solid pebbles. “Ignore me.”
I want to laugh at how impossible that command is.
Olly’s fingers begin a deliciously dirty dance on my skin, tiptoeing up my thigh only to dip back to my knee in an intoxicating swirl.
“When I say your name, call out the number you selected for the first assignment.” Professor Gibson’s voice sounds distant compared to my own shallow breaths thundering in my ears.
Names are called, answers stated, but Olly’s slow, torturous touch doesn’t end.
If I were drafting this scene, the lover’s fingers would slide closer to the protagonist’s underwear, teasing before pushing them to the side and dipping into her wet heat.
Is that what Olly plans to do?
“Olly Peterson.”
“Hmm?” Olly murmurs.
“What ques…” Professor Gibson’s voice stutters as his eyes lower and focus beneath my desk, “…question did you select?”
Skin swirls against skin, my antagonist tracing a slow, seductive figure eight up my inner thigh, turning me from diligent student to infatuated addict.
But I don’t want him to stop.
“I’m having difficulty choosing between one…” Olly presses one finger to my panties, “or two.”
I swallow a surprised gasp as he increases the pressure with a second finger.
Olly’s touch ignites me like a match. I grip the edge of the desk, trying to center myself and not combust in front of a roomful of people.
I can’t believe he’s touching me like this.
I can’t believe I’m letting him… in public.
He slumps back in his chair, nonchalantly tapping the table with one hand and dangerously close to fingering me with the other.
I can’t tell if the professor is looking our way, but at the moment I don’t care. I need Olly’s fingers to push my panties to the side and ease the ache he created.
“Sex…” Professor Gibson chokes on his answer. “Six. Six would be interesting.”
“Six it is,” Olly purrs, a sly smile curling his lips.
Professor Gibson clears his throat, looking as red as I feel.
“Lacey Wright,” he calls, looking around the room.
Olly presses down hard on the cotton just above my clit.
“Three,” I squeak, as hot, sticky arousal leaks from my core, dirtying my panties and soaking into Olly’s skin.
The professor’s wide eyes find my half-lidded ones.
Snap.
I jump at the sudden, unexpected sound. Blinking away the glassy haze of arousal, I notice the professor’s laptop closed on the desk.
“I have… an appointment,” he announces, his voice unusually loud. “The rest of you, email me your chosen question. See everyone next week.”
Professor Gibson holds the rectangular device low in front of his hips and slips from the room within seconds.
Questions and confused comments bounce from student to student, but no one wastes the early release opportunity. Bags shuffle and students pile out. The class is over, the room empty, and the professor is gone. I don’t need my wingman anymore, but neither Olly nor I move.
Last night, while kissing, we played it off as research. This feels like so much more.
His finger moves to the edge of my panties, his nail lightly scratching where cotton meets skin.
I hold my breath.
The door opens, and new students start filling the room, seeing the empty classroom as an opportunity to settle in early for the next class.
I stiffen, but Olly’s eyes flare with something dark and dirty before he drags his hand from between my legs.
I miss his touch as soon as it’s gone, but I barely have time to grab my things before he’s dragging me out of the building, over the campus lawn, to a barely used walkway between two buildings.
He leads me into a small garden and tugs me behind a tree, hiding us from view.
He slips my bag from my shoulder and holds my gaze as he lowers it to the ground.
My heart slams against my ribs as his muscles bunch with the movement, strong enough to dominate me as he pushes me against a wall with his body.
I flatten my palms, focusing on the cold roughness of the bricks as an anchor—this is reality, not some fantasy I’ve dreamed up in my head and spilled onto paper.
Olly rests one hand on the wall near my head and slides the other beneath my skirt.
Air stalls inside my lungs, the mechanics of breathing forgotten as his skin touches mine.
He hesitates. Is he waiting for me to tell him to stop, that we’re just friends and this is a bad idea?
I let out a ragged breath and spread my legs.
His nostrils flare, and he slides his fingers higher until they find the edge of my panties. Pushing the elastic to the side, he slips two fingers beneath and touches me.
Is swooning a real thing? Because I’m about to.
He swirls his fingers around my slick entrance with teasing strokes, the tips of his fingers dip and retreat but never slip inside.
My head knocks against the bricks as I arch my hips, telling him what I need without words.
He reads my meaning.
Two fingers part my lips and connect us in one smooth thrust.
My knees buckle.
Olly grips my hip with his free hand, holding me steady as his fingers slide in and out in slow, deliberate strokes.
“You’re so fucking tight.” He moans, wetting his lips with his tongue as he struggles to keep his breathing even. “How long has it been since a cock stretched this pussy?”
“Too long,” I whimper.
I reach for the button on his jeans, pop it open, and drag his zipper down.
Everything about the situation screams stop—we’re in public, anyone can walk past, and we’re friends… just friends.
But his fingers curl, touching a spot that makes my insides liquefy, melting all rational thought. The reasons we shouldn’t do this don’t matter; he just needs to keep touching me like that.
My fingers are clumsy as I reach into his briefs, touching his solid flesh for the first time.
I’ve heard Olly talk about his cock when recounting his hookups. I’ve seen the photos and watched thick ropes of cum shoot from the tip in a video call, but nothing compares to the silky glide of his erection in my fist.
Laughter rumbles in my chest at the absurdity of our situation. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be holding my best friend’s cock and riding his fingers against a brick wall in the middle of the day.
My stomach knots in arousal, and my walls flutter as his cock fills my palm. I drag my hand up and back, stroking. Olly’s grunt is loud and guttural in my ear.
His fingers find my clit and press, the threat of my laughter dwindles to a moan, and I melt against him.
We move in sync, my fist pumping him faster, his fingers pulling me closer until the head of his cock brushes the inside of my thigh.
“Oh, fuck, Lacey.” His teeth graze my neck. “I didn’t plan this when I touched you.”
“I know.”
“We should stop.”
“We should.”
His hips rock closer, brushing the length of his shaft against my thigh.
A low moan fills the space between us—his, or mine, maybe both of us.
“We’re researching,” I whisper, barely enough oxygen left in my lungs to form words.
He half laughs, half groans against my neck as I squeeze his shaft. “This is research?”
I don’t trust whatever is spilling out of my mouth, but I’d say anything in this moment to keep him touching me. “There’s only so much I can learn from a video call.”
At the reminder of me watching him fuck someone, Olly’s movements become more intentional, hips pumping his cock in my fist and aiming his mushroom tip toward my greedy little bud.
I push my underwear out of the way until his cock head kisses my aching clit. My hips arch and rock as he slides down, brushing the two fingers joining us.
Olly pants against my neck and lets out an incoherent mumble. Dragging his fingers out of me, he grips his cock and holds it at my entrance.
“Can we do this?” he asks, but it sounds less like a question and more like a plea. “Without screwing up our friendship?”
I don’t know the answer, but I’m beyond stopping now. If I walk away, I’ll be forever tortured by the unknown. I need to know what it feels like to slide my body over his, to come apart on his steely length… “Just once?”
I’ll deal with the consequences of my own heart later.
Olly’s chest heaves against mine, but he doesn’t move.
Desperation claws at me. Did he hear the uncertainty in my voice? I think of the one promise I can make that would be enough to ease his fears and give us what we need. “I promise I won’t fall in love with you.”
The lie burns on my tongue and in my chest, but it’s one I have to conjure into reality.
Because Olly doesn’t fall in love, and I never will if I’m always wondering what if.
He stiffens. Is he going to pull away?
“Don’t stop, please,” I whimper.
My pleading snaps him out of whatever thoughts he’s lost in. He steps back and reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out a small foil packet and rips the condom open, sheathing his length in seconds.
I wiggle out of my panties and let them drop onto the leaves littering the ground.
He grips my thighs and hoists me in the air. Using the brick wall as leverage, he wraps my legs around his waist and lines up the head of his cock to my entrance.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
As if I’d say no now, when I’m so close to indulging in my own forbidden fantasy. I rock my hips forward until he slips between my lips. “Shut up and show me what I’ve only heard about.”
Olly’s eyes darken to an impossible shade of blue, and he surges forward, slamming me into the brick wall as he rams his cock inside me.
I don’t realize I’m moaning until his hand covers my mouth. “Shh…”
I don’t care about being caught. All I can focus on are the ripples of pleasure building inside me. I shift my hips, greedy for more.
He drops his forehead on my shoulder, his breath a hot shudder on my neck. He squeezes my hips, forcing me to stay still. “You’re so tight. Too tight. Fuck.”
I run my hands over his shoulder, up to his hair, clawing at it, feeling like a live wire, ready to spark. “I’m so close.”
“You’re fucking killing me, Lacey. Stay still or I’m gonna blow before you get there.”
He lifts his head, the look in his eyes as wild and feral as I feel. I want him to come, to watch his eyes glaze over as he pumps into me and shatters, but he grips my hips tighter, not letting me move.
The storm in his eyes settles as he gains control.
Holding my gaze, he smothers my mouth with his palm again and slowly drags his entire shaft out. My eyes widen at the slow, sensual torture, then grow hazy as he slides back in.
He does it again and again, our eyes locked the entire time.
It’s a slow, beautiful torment, pushing me closer to that blissful release with each thrust and teasing me with every retreat.
But I need more.
I want that hot, messy fuck he promised. I want him to leave me raw and aching so I feel him when I wake up tomorrow and wish we could do it again.
Arching my hips, I get Olly to understand. Dropping his hand from my mouth, he grips the backs of my knees and hoists me in the air until my legs hang over his elbows, my thighs wide open for him.
Then he fucks me.
His cock works me over, pushing and pulling us closer to climax until we’re panting and grunting, not caring who can hear.
“Is this what you need?” Olly grunts as his solid thighs smack into my ass with each thrust.
“Yes,” I moan.
His hips ram me into the brick wall over and over again. Sharp edges graze my skin, but his cock hits me at a perfect angle every time, turning pain into pleasure. “I’m so close.”
He slams his mouth onto mine, his tongue as feral as his cock, thrusting and taking. This kiss isn’t researching—it’s wild and desperate and sends me over that precipice in seconds.
Olly grunts into my shoulder, his teeth grazing my skin as he shudders.
My nails claw at his shirt. My walls flutter and grip, sucking him deeper as I ride out the intensity of our combined orgasm, draining his cock of every drop as he pulses inside of me.
I slump against him, too tired to keep my eyes open.
Minutes or hours pass as we stand there, catching our breath.
My eyes flutter open, taking in the image of my legs dangling from his elbows. Arousal leaks from where we are joined, and only a tree trunk stops us from being caught by faculty members and students.
A giggle bubbles up in my throat unexpectedly.
“Are you fucking laughing?” Olly growls, his voice vibrating on my neck and making my pussy clench.
In response, he squeezes my hips, the movement so sensual, so intimate—so not Lacey and Olly.
“I can’t help it.” I laugh again. “You’ve got me pinned to a wall with my legs spread and your penis in my vagina… This is not how I expected the day to turn out.”
He tilts his head on my shoulder and looks up at me, a soft, satisfied glow replacing the wildness in his eyes. “Are you going to turn it into a dirty story for your readers?”
His question brings a smile to my lips. For the first time in forever, I feel the confidence I’ve written about for years. I’m the lead character in my own life, and my story is just getting started. “Absolutely.”