Chapter 2
The second the door opens and I see her, I lose all control. The flowers fall to the floor, and I step in, grab her face, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of her.
How can I not when she looks like this?
The messy top bun. The oversized jersey. Her bare legs.
My jersey. My girl.
Home.
That’s what she tastes like. Honey-sweet, with a hint of stubbornness and cinnamon gum. My lips part hers, deepening the kiss until her knees soften, and her hands cling to my wrists.
She moans just as I slam the door shut with my foot, the sound echoing through the room and no doubt down the hall.
I ease her toward the bed, my hands moving on instinct alone. I don’t have to look. I know this room better than most of my plays.
Her breath comes in short bursts, and her eyes are slow to meet mine.
When they do?
I’m ruined.
My cock throbs, insistent and impossible to ignore. When she’s wrapped in my jersey, curled up in her bed, I swear she’s never looked more like mine.
“Hello to you too,” she manages between gasps, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Can’t help it,” I rasp, crawling over her, losing what little control I have left. “I’ve missed you.”
She tries to scoot higher on the bed, but it’s too fucking small, and the whole room is basically a shoebox. Her head knocks against the wall with a soft thunk, and I wince, but she laughs.
I slide between her thighs, pushing them open with my hips as I brace my palms on either side of her head. When I kiss her this time, it’s slow on purpose, hungry in a way that tells her exactly what I’m about to do to her.
Her fingers fist my shirt, then slide underneath. She drags her nails up my spine. It’s a sharp little scrape that makes my cock throb and my hips rock against her center.
“Fuck,” I groan.
“Zach, you’re acting like you haven’t seen me in months,” she breathes, tilting her head to give me access to her warm, perfect neck.
I take the hint. My mouth finds her jaw, then the space under her ear where she always melts. She sighs, and it turns me the fuck on.
“It feels like months,” I growl.
My hand slips under the jersey and cups her breast. No bra. Just perfect, soft skin, and a nipple that hardens under the pad of my thumb.
She lets out a sexy little laugh as her hips rock against mine. Again and again. It’s slow, deliberate, and it’s going to be the death of me.
“It’s been twelve hours, Z,” she teases.
“Twelve hours. Twelve minutes. Twelve seconds. It all feels the same when I’m not inside you,” I mutter.
“You're insatiable,” she says, still teasing, but she keeps grinding against my erection— which I have no doubt she can feel since she’s only wearing cotton panties.
“And you're incredible,” I whisper, pinching her nipple just enough to make her back arch. I take in the fucking beautiful sight.
“Zach,” she whimpers and it’s so fucking hot I nearly come undone from the noise alone.
I kiss down her neck again, and my hand moves lower, my fingers teasing at the waistband of her soaked panties.
Squeak.
I freeze. Just for a second.
Then I move my hand down further, pushing the fabric aside so my fingers graze across her skin.
Squeak.
“Zach,” she sighs. Her voice is urgent, but I can’t stop myself. Her body is too damn perfect under me. I slide my hand between us and press my fingers to her clit. She arches instantly, her head knocking against the wall.
“Ouch,” she yelps, grabbing at her head.
That does it.
I pull back immediately. “Shit. Are you okay?”
She doesn’t answer right away. She just sighs. It’s low, breathy, and somehow still the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
“I’m fine, but we’re being too loud,” she whispers. “Everyone knows you’re in here, and if they hear… this… they’ll know what we’re up to.”
“And?” I growl. “I damn near came in my jeans the moment I touched you, Honeycomb. Let me make you see stars before that happens.”
Her mouth flattens in mock disapproval, but her cheeks flush. She likes it when I talk like that. I know she does.
“You might not care about everyone hearing you get me off, but I do,” she says, her voice quieter now. “I live with these people, and they don’t exactly like me as it is.”
Her gaze drops, and something inside me twists. Honey was never built to fit in, and she shouldn’t have to. It’s not her fault that these girls envy her. For her money. Her beauty. For being mine.
I press my lips into the crook of her neck and grumble a string of curses I don’t mean for her to hear.
“Can we talk about how much I fucking hate this dorm?” I half groan, half plead. “You could be living with me. I finally got the house, Honey. We’d have a bed that doesn’t squeak every time I breathe, but instead, you picked this all-female prison block where blinking past nine is a crime.”
Her body goes still beneath me. She hates this topic. Always has. I’ve pushed it so much that she won’t even step foot in my new house. I know if I eased up, she might come, but wanting her in my bed has a way of overriding my restraint.
I nuzzle her neck, then brush my nose along her collarbone, trying to charm my way back into her good graces.
“You know why I picked it,” she murmurs, planting her palm on my forehead and pushing me back so I have no choice but to meet her eyes.
Her lips are puffy. Her honey-colored eyes are dark with lust. She looks like sin in my jersey, the kind of sight that wipes every rational thought from my head.
I grind my jeans against her center. Just once. So I can watch her breath catch.
“I know the reason you keep giving me, but it makes no sense.”
Without warning, I slip my hands under her and grab her ass, hauling her up against my torso before I drop us both to the floor.
Yeah. This again.
“Wait, wait,” she says, her arms flailing toward the bed. I lean down, letting her grab a few pillows before dropping them underneath her.
She knows the routine.
After a year of trying to fuck on a mattress that sounds like a dying seal every time we so much as breathe on it, the hardwood floor has become our unofficial sex spot.
“If I move in with you now, I’ll never get the full college experience,” she says as she purposefully plumps the pillows to create a makeshift bed.
I don’t have the heart to tell her that I’m almost certain doing it this way is just as loud for her downstairs neighbor, but hey, she doesn’t know them, so they don’t complain.
I smirk. “So you’d rather let me fuck you into some pillows on a hard wooden floor instead of at my house in the awesome bed I bought with you in mind?”
Once they are fully fluffed to her liking, she pauses, then looks back at me from over her shoulder.
“Would I like a little more privacy when we’re intimate? Yes. But if this is the price of living on my own, out of your shadow, then so be it.”
I want to laugh because I can’t fault her. Honey has always been headstrong. Hell, it was one of the traits that drew me to her in the first place. I just wish she'd have a little flexibility on this one point since it would benefit both of us.
She karate chops the pillows one more time, then turns and rests her back on them so she can stare up at me.
Still on my knees, I laugh down at her. If she thinks she’s going to lie there like a pillow princess while I do all the work, she’s out of her mind.
I smooth my hands up her thighs before slipping them under the jersey and peeling the underwear off her in one quick swipe.
That’s better.
I sit back on my haunches, letting myself look at her. My jersey on her is a problem; the fact that she’s naked under it is a full-on threat to my sanity. She squeezes her knees together like modesty is still part of our vocabulary. Cute. Useless.
Yeah, she’s not getting away with being shy tonight. I’ve seen every inch of her, and I want to see her again and again. I rest my hands on her knees and ease them apart, the jersey riding up as I move closer. I lift the fabric higher for a full view and… fuck me.
She’s already wet for me.
“I've missed you,” I say wistfully, leaning down and licking my lips.
“Zach, are you talking to my vagina?” she asks, giggling.
“Yes.” I squeeze her thighs as I lean in. “What can I say? When I’m not kissing her, I’m missing her.”
Then I suck her clit into my mouth, flicking it slowly as I watch her eyes flutter shut. Her head tips back, and I tease her with short, sharp flicks of my tongue, waiting for that little hitch in her breath.
Her fingers dig into my hair and tighten when I lick down and thrust my tongue inside her, angling so my nose brushes her clit with every stroke.
When I get what I’m waiting for—the moan, the gasp, the way her hips grind against my mouth—I smile against her.
She tastes like Honeycomb. My Honeycomb. But better. Sweeter. Fucking addictive.
“Zach,” she moans. Loudly. Too loudly.
I’m going to have to keep her quiet again. Although, if she really cared about who might hear, she wouldn’t still be in this dorm. Honey’s loud in bed, and I love that about her, but she’s the one choosing these thin walls over my house.
I raise my head and arch an eyebrow at her. She meets my eyes without blinking, her hips giving the smallest involuntary jerk under my hands.
My palms stay at the tops of her thighs, keeping her open, and the heat rolling off her pussy is impossible to ignore. She rocks her hips anyway, biting her bottom lip like she’s begging me to pay attention.
She should know better than that.
“I’m sorry,” she gasps. “I can’t help it. It just feels… so good.”
I trail my thumb across her slit, teasing her, watching her lose all her composure. Not that she had much left.
“You know, I love hearing you scream when I make you come,” I say. “But this place isn’t worthy of those sounds. So, unless you want your entire floor to hear how wet and needy you are, you need to stay quiet. Understand?”
She nods, but I can see the hesitation across her face.
“I know, but I nearly suffocated last time when I tried to use a pillow to keep it down,” she mutters.