Skyler #3
“I hate pretending like I don’t want you,” I whisper. “But I don’t know how to do this. It’s dangerous, you and me. Being together. Like this.” I tell him, wishing I could tell him exactly why it’s dangerous.
But if he knew, if he really knew, he’d hate me.
I already do.
Kip is so close now, his hands reaching forward slowly until they cradle my face between them. I want to sigh, to lean into that touch, but I keep my eyes trained on his.
“This is about Erin, isn’t it?”
At that, my chest deflates like a popped balloon, my knees nearly giving in under the weight.
Shit. He knows. He fucking knows. Oh, God.
Kip shakes his head, his eyes still hard on mine. “Listen, Erin is in the past for me. I’m sure she’s telling you and everyone else to stay away from me, staking her claim — but she doesn’t have a claim over me. I am not hers.”
Another sickening wave washes over me the more he talks. I wish it was that simple, that it was just that she told me to stay away from him. I thought he knew, I thought he somehow figured out her plan, but he has no idea.
He has no idea how important my sorority is to me — my sisters, my line, my Big and my Little, my legacy as future president.
He has no idea how much power Erin holds, or how much I love her, how much I would do anything for her — even this.
Even as much as it hurts. Because she’s one of my best friends.
They’ve always said, sisters before misters. And it’s been easy, up until now, to follow that rule.
But staring at Kip, feeling his hands on me, I don’t know how not to break that rule now.
“You don’t understand,” I say, my voice shaking. How do I even begin to explain it to him?
“I do,” he interrupts, lifting my chin. “Are you going to let her dictate who you like? Who you touch? Just because she’s your Big, because she’s president of your sorority?”
“It’s so much more than that,” I try, ripping my gaze from his. “It would be easier if you just let me go, if we just stopped this right now. We could save a lot of hurt, a lot of pain.”
“Skyler,” he says on a huff. He lifts my chin again, forcing me to look at him when I’m trying to do anything but.
“I want you. If what you said is true just now, then you want me, too. I don’t care about Erin, I don’t care about your sorority or my fraternity — not right now.
Right now, I care about the fact that you’re here, with me, in my shower, and I want you. ”
The hand not holding my chin in place slips down, down, over my arm to hold my naked waist.
“Now,” he breathes. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you want me to stop.”
His hand drops a little lower, his fingertip brushing over my clit so softly, so lightly, I inhale a warm, steamy breath and don’t let it go.
“Tell me to let you go. Tell me to stop, Skyler.”
I can’t stop shaking, my eyes watching his as I try to find the right words to get me out of the hell I’m currently burning in.
Erin will be devastated if she even finds out this much has happened, let alone anything else.
I knew her well before Kip, before he came in and flipped my entire world upside down.
I owe it to my Big to stop. Right now.
But the truth slips from my mouth in a whisper, and I know I’ll have to suffer the consequences.
“I can’t.”
Kip shakes his head. “You have to tell me to stop, Skyler, or I won’t be able to. Once I feel you, once I taste you, I won’t be able to stop then. If you don’t want this, you have to tell me now.”
But I do want this.
And that’s all I hold onto, that simple truth, no matter how fucked up and selfish it is.
“I want this. I want you.”
And just like that, with those six, simple, unapologetic words, all bets are off between me and Kip Jackson.
My hands are in his hair before I can register that I told them to go there, pulling and tugging, his lips hard on mine as Kip pushes me against the shower wall.
He’s inside the shower with me in the next second, still in his board shorts, not taking the time to strip them off before letting the water crash down on him, too.
Steam swirls around us, our breaths making it heavier — hands touching, lips kissing, tongues licking.
We’re a mess of sighs and moans, the kiss without a doubt the most passionate one of my life.
I’ve never been a believer in love at first sight.
It sounds crazy to even consider that I could be in love with Kip.
But the way I feel with his lips on mine, the foreign, never-before-felt electricity that buzzes through me every single time we touch — it has to be a sign.
It’s not just because he’s forbidden, because he’s technically off limits to me — if it was, I wouldn’t have felt it that first night he sucked tequila off my stomach.
And it’s not just because he’s quite possibly the sexiest man I’ve ever known, with his icy blue eyes, his perfectly mussed hair, his strong, stubble-lined jaw.
No, it’s something more — something unexplainable, something I’m sure I’ll never quite figure out.
Kip feels like forever, and I can’t even call him mine.
Pinning my wrists above my head, Kip slides two fingers inside me quickly, the movement easy and fluid as he fills me to the hilt.
I suck in a breath, the rush of blood heavy in my head before it all rushes straight back to where his fingers are buried deep inside.
His cock strains against the wet fabric of his shorts into my stomach as his fingers work, steady and smooth, his mouth sucking and biting up and down my neck.
Thoughts are fleeting, all sense of time and rationality lost the more Kip touches me. I can’t even touch him back, not with my wrists pinned above my head, so I just wrap my hands into fists and hold on, letting everything I feel escape in breathy moans through my parted lips.
Kip moans his approval as his kisses fall lower, and his eyes find mine just as he sucks one tender, puckered nipple between his teeth. My back arches off the wet wall, into the hot stream of water, and the new angle of Kip’s hand has his palm giving my clit just the friction it needs.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathe, almost a whimper, maybe a plea. “Kip. Yes. More.”
The moment the word leaves my mouth, I realize that’s exactly what I want. What I need.
More.
Ripping my wrists free, I immediately grab the strings on Kip’s board shorts, untying them in an instant before I tug the shorts over his hips.
The deep V I admired from above the hem of his shorts shoots down farther, the lean muscle framing where I want to see him most. And when the shorts fall into a wet heap at his feet, his hard-on springs forward, granting my wish with more enthusiasm than I could have imagined.
I’ve seen enough cocks to know a good one when it’s in front of me, and Kip’s is so hard, so long and thick, the head of it glistening with just a drop of pre-cum, that I nearly lose my mind with the want to drop to my knees and take him inside my mouth.
I want to taste every inch of it, feel that perfectly mushroomed head hitting the back of my throat, lick up the thick vein lining the top.
When I reach forward, wrapping one hand around him with a firm grip, Kip’s hand stills inside me, his fingers immobilized.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans. His hips flex forward as I roll my hand from his tip to his base, slow at first before picking up rhythm as the water helps lubricate each pump.