36. The kids are gonna be alright. It’s me. I’m the kids.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
the kids are gonna be alright. it’s me. i’m the kids.
PRESENT
When I open the door to our little dorm room at the edge of the DCU campus, I can’t help but think of how different my reaction is now to seeing the one bed than it was just a couple short weeks ago at Mountain Sunrise.
In fact, looking at the queen-size mattress, I think it might be too big for my liking.
They should have left one of the little dorm room twin beds in here.
I want to koala all over that man—morning, noon, and night.
The room is small, but clean and functional.
There are two rooms that I imagine used to be two single dorms connected by a bathroom.
One is still a bedroom with a bed, dresser, and two nightstands, but the other has been converted into a sitting room with a couch, television, and a table with chairs.
I expect the room mostly houses visiting high school students or families during parents’ weekend based on the heavy DCU décor they chose to put in here.
Maybe it’s just for us and is otherwise used as a student dorm. Who knows?
I turn toward Forrest to find him looking apprehensively at a large, framed image of Prickly Pete cheering for who knows what. I suppose at us… since it faces the bed.
“I don’t know how I feel about having an audience,” Forrest says out of the corner of his mouth, like Pete can hear him. He drops his wallet and phone on the dresser but keeps an eye on Pete.
He pushes our bags against one wall, having carried all of them inside, and I step around him into the bathroom. I return with an extra towel a second later and drape it over the frame.
“Sorry, Pete. Exhibitionism isn’t my thing either,” I say. I haven’t even released the towel when Forrest’s arm snakes around me from behind, pulling me back against his chest.
“So what exactly is your thing then?” he whispers in my ear before holding my short hair aside and kissing the place where my neck meets my shoulder.
“Forrest,” I scold with a sigh. “I have to meet my professor for orientation.”
He follows his kiss with a bite, and I hum low in my throat.
“When’s that?” he asks, his lips still brushing my skin.
“Two,” I whisper, my eyes fluttering shut.
“And you probably want to shower before?”
“Mmhmm.” I think I nod. We were rushing to pack our old room this morning and disposing of all the birthday streamers in time for check out. A shower would be good.
“Excellent,” Forrest whispers before turning me around and hoisting me up, long fingers spanning my thighs under the skirt I chose this morning.
“What are you doing,” I ask slowly, looking over my shoulder as he starts walking us toward the bathroom.
“I’m helping you get ready for your meeting. You seem tense,” Forrest says, kissing me before I can retort. He releases one hand just to reach into the standing shower and turn on the water.
I start squirming when I realize he has no intention of setting me down so we can undress. We’d both taken off our shoes but are otherwise still fully clothed.
“Forrest,” I warn as he pushes the door further open, but his grip on me only tightens, his second hand returning to keep me from wriggling out of his grasp.
I gasp and arch into Forrest when the water hits my back, not having had enough time to warm up yet.
“Music to my ears.” Forrest hums, a mischievous tilt at his lips. He steps forward again and water rains on our heads when he curls over me to claim my lips.
Only when he’s backed me against the shower wall does he release my legs, pinning me there so my toes can barely touch the ground. As I slide down, my lips pull away from his, and I blink up through wet lashes to find dark eyes looking down at me. Heat shoots through me, settling between my legs.
Forrest must see the shift in me, because his smile spreads as his hands come to the buttons on my shirt, nearly tearing them off in his haste to undo them.
“God bless,” he mutters when he sees my front-clasp bra, hooking a finger behind it and twisting until it snaps open.
With the cold wall at my back and steaming water now cascading down my front, my nipples tighten to hard peaks. Forrest wastes no time lowering to pull one between his teeth and shoving a knee between my thighs.
“Forrest!” I cry out when the rough material of his pants presses against my slick underwear.
His leg pulls back just enough so he can slide a hand between us.
He shoves my underwear aside and slides a finger inside me without warning, and my head swims trying to keep up with him.
He pulls it out and then presses two back in.
I’m not sure I’ll ever not be ready for him.
He rolls his forehead against my chest, his breath hot against my wet skin.
“I must be fucking blessed,” he says, the words sounding like they’re tearing from his throat as his fingers keep pumping into me.
I press my head back against the glass wall behind me, driving my hips forward in time with Forrest’s thrusts.
“Ride my hand, Cam. Come undone for me,” Forrest says, letting me use him for my own pleasure and loving every second of it. His free hand kneads my breast, rolling my nipple between his thumb and finger.
I reach forward, needing to grab something, anything, and wrap my hands around his biceps, feeling his muscles tense and pull as he plays me like an instrument.
I blink through the drops falling against my face, most of the water blocked by Forrest’s body covering mine, and I see him staring down at me.
His appraisal is raw and unfiltered, and when our eyes lock, he shifts his hand to press his thumb against my clit, rolling confident circles right where I need to tip over the edge, and I come hard, squeezing my eyes shut and gripping Forrest’s arms like my life depends on it.
I think I hear my own voice, but none of the sounds I make are close to English words.
I feel like I would float away if not for Forrest’s weight against me—hard and safe and warm.
As I come down, my head falls forward, dropping to his shoulder while I try desperately to catch my breath. Forrest gently lifts my head, pressing a kiss to my temple, my cheek, and my lips. My body feels electric. I press against him, moving my hands to his hair and pull him down.
I could drown in this man.
Forrest pulls his hand out of between my thighs and shifts his knee forward. When I roll against him again, I feel Forrest smile against my lips.
“Are you ready for more, Camilla?” Forrest says when we part.
I nod, pushing against his chest so I can shrug off my shirt. I drop it with my bra in a sopping heap before sliding my skirt and underwear down my legs and kicking my clothes into the corner. Forrest is still undressing when I turn to face the wall, place my palms on the glass, and arch into it.
“Fuck,” Forrest draws out. When I look over my shoulder, he’s gripping his cock, stroking it slowly.
He turns up the temperature of the water before taking my hip and pulling my ass toward him, gently pressing me forward with his other hand between my shoulder blades until my cheek is against the wall.
“Cam, I think you might be my salvation,” he says as he glides his hand down my spine and pushes his cock between my thighs and through my wetness.
I gasp at the sudden, sharp sting of him slapping my ass.
His soft touch on my back, the hard glass against my chest, the warm water running over both of us, and the torturous stroke of his length between my lips sets me on fire.
It’s perfectly overwhelming, lighting up every one of my nerve endings, and I’m needy for Forrest to be inside me.
“Are you begging for me?” Forrest asks when I press back against his cock.
“Mmhmm,” I hum desperately, words feeling beyond my capabilities.
Forrest lifts my hips until I pop up onto my toes and notch his head inside me. Even without the shower, I can tell I’m positively soaked for him.
“Ask nicely,” he says, gripping me firmly so I can’t back onto him.
“Forrest, please,” I sob, and he thrusts forward, driving into me in one smooth stroke.
“You take me so goddamn well,” he grits out, pulling back and driving forward again. I feel him everywhere from his bruising fingertips to his cock deep inside me.
“More,” I beg. And I fear I will never get enough of this man.
I might spend the rest of my life wanting him.
Forrest moves with purpose, burying himself to the hilt every time, pulling me to him so I can barely tell where he ends and I begin.
“I love fucking you so much,” he says before reaching around me to pinch my clit, another sharp shock of perfect pain that has my knees weak, making every inch of me aware of every sensation Forrest is making me feel.
It’s so much. In the best way. It’s too much.
“Forrest, I can’t,” I start to say, feeling like I’m going to combust.
“You can,” he urges, leaning over my back to change angles, to bring us closer, and making me fall completely against the wall.
He wraps an arm around my middle to hold me up, never slowing his pace, and when he slides that hand down to my pussy, I come, falling hard and fast, pulsing around his cock as he speeds up, murmuring a stream of encouragement into my ear as he comes inside me.
“Perfect,” he says when he pulls out of me. He runs his fingers through the come I can feel spilling out of me before pushing it back into my wrecked pussy. I jerk at the sensation, sensitive, satiated.
He has completely ruined me.