Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
COOPER
Sutton told me to go celebrate with the team after our win; she wanted to get ahead of some schoolwork before our parents get in for the conference championship. But being here without her felt wrong. She’s the only person I want to celebrate with—big or small wins.
I sneak out, leaving my full beer on the bar, before walking back to my house. We were at one of the campus bars, and it was nice for once not having everyone packed into our place and knowing that in the morning I won’t have to clean up after everyone.
The right side of my body is sore from a hit I took in the third period. An angry bruise is already working its way to the surface of my ribs, the skin sensitive and tender.
It took me an extra twenty minutes to strip off my gear. The pull of my jersey over my head frustrated my side with each lengthening of my muscles. Now, convincing my quads to lift and lower my legs, working my way up the stairs to my bedroom, all I can think about is pancaking myself on my bed.
My phone died, and I need to charge it so I can call Sutton to come over. I thought about walking to her place, but I genuinely didn’t know if I’d make it.
At the top of the stairs, I contemplate lying down right here. Could roll or army crawl to my door.
You’re a big boy, Cooper. Go to your room. Sometimes the nags from the voice in my head are beneficial.
I reach for the doorknob to my room when I hear a soft pattering of feet behind it. Peeling the door open, the pain in my side is reduced to an ache that relocates itself to a different region of my body. I collapse to my knees at the sight of her on my bed.
There’s no controlling the whimper that works its way out of me.
Wrapped in a jersey like a present, is Sutton. I spy the navy and white underwear she has on underneath.
I fall forward, bracing myself with unsteady palms. My dead phone hits the floor like a brick.
The area rug burns against my palms as I’m completely hypnotized by her.
Sutton wouldn’t say I’m patient, but she doesn’t know how long I’ve waited to see my name on her back, or the fantasies I have of giving it to her one day.
Her chin tilts up. “Hi, Superstar.”
“Sutton baby, please.” I bring one fist to my mouth, biting on a knuckle. “Tell me that’s my name on your back.” I caught a glimpse of the number, but I crave confirmation.
She turns around. Knees spread wide, Sutton pushes up on them, pulling her curls across her back. Letter by letter, she reveals my name.
Carmichael.
I force myself in a staring contest with my number. Twenty plus sixteen. Ours combined. Does she know I changed it? Has she realized the combination? Understand the meaning?
Sutton turns back around, sitting on her knees. An innocence to her. An answer to my questions. No she hasn’t.
“Looks good, right?” I nod robotically, my mouth hanging open. Drool is probably collecting on the floor. “Come here,” she beckons.
I crawl across the floor. The scrape of the carpet burns into my knees. She’s staring at me like a lioness does her prey. Hungry. Calculating. Unwavering.
When I’m at the edge of the bed, I push up on my knees and circle her ankles. It takes nothing to tug her to the edge of the bed.
“How much do you care about these underwear?”
“Not much. Why?”
I rip them down the front and toss the scraps to the side. Silently curse at the surprised sound that comes out of her. She closes her knees, but I open them back up.
Fingers curl into the bottom of my jersey. “Stop.” There’s no way she’s taking that off tonight. “Leave it.”
Sutton listens. Leaning forward, I teasingly blow on her center, before planting kisses up her right thigh.
I relish in Sutton’s soft mews when my grown out facial hair scrapes the inside of her thigh.
It’s so sweet that I repeat this up her other leg before kissing her where she’s trying to drag me by my hair to.
Her hands turn desperate after her release. Standing in front of her, Sutton is undressing me quickly. My jeans and long-sleeve joining the shreds of her underwear.
“Do you trust me?” I lick my barely there mustache, tasting her on me. Sutton watches the movement of my tongue. “Want a taste?” Her nods are quick and fast, slightly disjointed. “Come here.”
She pulls herself up to me, the comforter bunches between her legs and she hisses, still swollen and sensitive. When I think she’s about to kiss me, she licks my mustache instead, eyelids fluttering.
“More?” I gently take her wrist, guiding her hand down between her legs. Aiding two fingers inside of her, I bring her hand back to her mouth. “Open.” She follows each command, always eager to learn.
Her cheeks hollow out, and I need her now.
“Do you trust me?” I ask again, since we got distracted before.
“Yes,” she verbalizes.
My heart surges. She might be saying yes in this moment, but I know she’s saying yes in general. She trusts me again. Sutton’s trust is a prized possession. I’m going to care for it this time like I didn’t before.
“Lie down, back on the bed. Let your head hang off the edge.”
Again, she does as she is told. My words landing somewhere between a request and a demand. I’m doing my best to maintain control.
Auburn curls are a waterfall over the side. Long enough that they brush against the ground. I adjust my position. Her eyes sparkle with realization. Giant gemstones gleam with need. Her mouth falls open, tongue darting out and tasting me.
Sutton’s cheeks hollow out as she takes me into her mouth. Slowly. Tears brimming in the corner of her eyes from the position.
“Breath,” I tell her, giving her a moment. “Relax.”
She takes an inhale and releases it all as I touch the back of her throat. Sutton has drool forming at the corners of her mouth, tears now trailing down her cheek, as I move in and out of her. I reach a hand forward, circling her neck just above her collarbones.
“Such a good girl for me, Sutton baby, taking me like this. So so so good.”
She whimpers, then sucks hard, and I curse.
I don’t last much longer, when she reaches down to play with herself.
After, I’m spent and all I can do is lie down next to her. We both roll on our sides and stare at each other. I trace the outline of her face. So many years of wanting her, wanting this, and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.
Eventually, Sutton excuses herself to the bathroom, and I exchange places with her when she exits in sleep shorts and a cami. She climbs in on her side. Curled in my bed, hair wild across the pillows, and reading a new book. I lean against the side and drink her in.
When she notices me, she lights up. I know it then.
I love her.