Chapter 2 #2
“Then don’t,” I say, grabbing her panties off the floor and scrunching them into a ball.
“Zach, what are you doing?”
“Keeping you quiet.” I show her the panties and pause to gauge her reaction to the unsaid suggestion.
Her lips part. She doesn’t hesitate. She opens wider.
Fuck. I think I’m going to come in my pants.
I push the panties into her mouth, and her lips stretch around the fabric, her cheeks flushed with heat. It’s filthy, but so fucking perfect.
“Do you taste how wet you are?” She nods, and it damn near breaks me.
“Good.” I drag my mouth down to her thighs, spreading them wider with my hands. “Now be a good girl,” I murmur, my eyes locked on hers, “and stay nice and quiet… while I make you come all over my fucking face.”
She drops her head back and moans around her panties.
I go down on her again, hungrier this time as I latch my lips onto her clit. I suck, lick, and flick it with my tongue as I push two fingers inside her, and then fuck her with my hand like she’s the only thing that matters.
Because she is.
“So wet. So good,” I say into her swollen flesh, making out with her clit until I feel her vibrate with pent-up pleasure.
When I add another finger, she squeals, but the panties muffle it.
I pump my fingers into her. Slow at first, savoring the slick sound while my tongue never lets up. She’s soaked, dripping, all mine, and I don’t plan on wasting a single drop.
Her hips twitch, lifting off the floor just enough for me to know what’s coming. I slow down, curl my fingers upward, and wait for the magic to hit.
She’s gripping my hair now as her orgasm builds quickly until her whole body locks up.
I wait.
Then she bursts into movement, her hips thrusting against my mouth as she fucks my fingers with reckless, unrelenting urgency.
Keeping my tongue at a sharp point, I let her writhe against it until her orgasm subsides.
When her hips drop to the pillow and her legs fall to the floor, I kiss her center one last time before pulling away.
Until I see you again, dear friend.
I stand, shoving my pants and boxers down as quickly as humanly possible. My cock is so hard—I doubt there’s a single ounce of blood left in my brain.
I crawl over her, lining myself up with her entrance.
She hasn’t opened her eyes yet; still too drunk on her orgasm. Her lips are parted. The panties she spat out lie crumpled by her cheek.
Beautiful, and all mine.
I slide the tip of my cock along her slick heat and press against her entrance, making her eyes open. Good. I like to watch her expression when I push inside her.
I push an inch in, and her thighs fall open wider.
“Zach,” she breathes, and just like that, I’m gone. I drive into her in one clean, brutal thrust.
Fucking hell.
Her body clamps around me, warm and tight and so wet I feel like I’m losing my mind.
“You like that?” I ask, grinding in deeper with ruthless, deliberate strokes. “Because I sure as hell do.”
“Yes,” she pants, her voice breaking as her body jolts up the pillows with each thrust. “But. I. Think. We're. Making. The. Floorboards. Squeak.”
Each word is punched out on a thrust, and I huff a breathless laugh. She’s not wrong, but I don’t care. Not when she’s this wet. This warm. This fucking perfect.
“Zach,” she warns, “we're being too loud.”
“Too loud?” I echo, pulling out of her with a low groan before flipping her over onto her stomach in one smooth motion.
I lean into her back and brush my mouth across her ear.
“You want to talk about too loud right now?”
My hands slide past her breasts, down her hips, before hauling her onto all fours. I back up just enough to admire the way my jersey rides up her spine, then slide three fingers inside her again, just to watch them disappear. Her honey-brown hair falls to the side, revealing the back of her neck.
Revealing my name in faded letters on her.
The one thing I’ll never get tired of seeing.
“You know we could be at the house,” I say, thrusting my fingers deeper. “Fucking as loud as we want. But no. You chose this dorm because your mom doesn’t approve of it.”
I take my fingers out of her, place both my hands on the globes of her ass, and slam my cock inside her, groaning as I do.
“You know my name looks real good on you,” I say, admiring the way her back arches as I thrust into her, slow and hard.
She tries to speed things up, rocking her hips into mine, but I slow down again. Torturing her. Reminding her who’s in control tonight.
“Maybe we should make this a permanent fixture,” I mutter as I drag one hand along the curve of her back, up to her spine, then grab her beneath the ribs and haul her upright until her back is flush with my front.
She grips the edge of the bed for support, breathing hard.
“Please don’t tell me you just proposed to me while you’re fucking me?”
Her head falls back. Her eyes are closed. If she's pissed off about the question, then she's not showing it. In fact, it seems like the exact opposite. Her hips roll, and there's a small smile on her face while I continue to thrust into her.
“I've asked you plenty of times before. This should come as no surprise.” I lick away the sweat at the nape of her neck, kissing her skin before letting my hand trail up the jersey so I can play with her nipples.
She groans, and I nibble at the section of her collarbone that I know elicits the loudest moan. I've done this so many times—I’ve practically memorized every part of her body now.
My balls tighten, and I can feel a tingle of my climax starting to build, but she needs to have another orgasm first, so I let my other hand slip to her front and toy with her clit.
I work my hand faster, thrusting deeper.
“Are you going to come for me, Honeycomb?” I whisper. I only get her choked cry as a response.
I can feel it. Her body is like a tightly stretched rubber band ready to break, so I keep going.
Slipping my hand out of the jersey, I cover her mouth, and she immediately bites down on it, trying to stifle any moans. It works.
“Come,” I growl. “Let me feel you squeeze my cock while I come inside you.”
Her body stiffens, and I know I've gotten to her because with one final thrust, she breaks apart in my arms, coaxing my own climax.
I slam into her once, twice, before spilling inside her with a groan so low and guttural it makes her shiver.
I close my eyes, thrusting until the pleasure leaves my body and then gently guide her to the pile of pillows below.
Panting, sweaty and sticky, Honey relaxes into the pillows, and I drag the jersey over her ass before gently pulling out of her.
“The offer still stands,” I say, pushing off the floor and making my way to the tiny sink she insists on calling a “kitchenette.” I grab a clean washcloth, soak it in warm water, and return to her.
She’s sprawled on the pillows like a goddess. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips kiss-bruised, and her eyes are closed, but she’s smiling.
I kneel beside her and gently apply the warm washcloth to her center. She flinches, her body still sensitive.
“You know, if you lived with me, you could have your own bathroom and you could soak in the tub for hours after this.”
“Mhm, maybe. But then you wouldn't get to clean me like this.”
She rolls her hips into the cloth, and I press harder, my fingers teasing her clit again.
“Don't tempt me, Honeycomb. I'm riled up and always ready to rail you.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“This is your five-minute warning,” a stuffy voice from behind the door says. “All guests must be out of the dorm prior to checks.”
I roll my eyes and glare at my girlfriend, who just remains stone-faced and unbothered.
“I get that you wanted the dorm life, but why did you pick the strictest one on campus? It's like you're living at boarding school.”
She shrugs. “I don't know. I liked the rooms because they’re so much smaller than my room at home.” She pauses for a second before giving me a small, blissed-out smile. “And… I might also like the whole sneaking-around thing.”
I raise my brows in surprise. “Oh, you like this?”
She bites down on her bottom lip before nodding.
I bend down and kiss her languidly.
“I like it too,” I admit. “Reminds me of the first time I ate you out and your mom nearly walked in on us. Remember that?”
“Which time?” she giggles, and I drop a kiss on her lips. “You smell like sex,” she hums as I move away from her and look for my underwear and jeans.
“Something I could’ve fixed if you picked a dorm with a shower. Now I’ve gotta walk across campus with the smell of you all over me.” I look up, thinking about it for a second before licking my lips. “Actually, that doesn't sound so bad. Lets everyone know you're mine.”
“Stop,” she groans.
“What? If you won't let me put a ring on your finger, then your juices all over my dick and face is the best I got.” I pull my boxers and jeans on.
“What about the jersey?” She plucks at the fabric covering her delectable body.
“That's temporary. I want something a little more permanent… like a name change.”
She pushes me off and laughs.
“Come back to me when we're at least twenty-five. I've got things to do before I become 'Mrs. Zach Evans.’”
Well. That wasn’t a no. And yeah, I’m coming in hot, considering we just hit our first anniversary, but I’ve seen how easy it is for couples to break up in college.
I don’t want any chance of that.
I want to lock things down now.
“Next time, I’m hiding in your closet,” I grumble.
She smirks. “They’ll find you.”
“And I’ll scare the shit out of them with the giant boner I’ll be rocking.”
She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t attempt to move from the floor. Good. I screwed her so thoroughly that she’ll be thinking about me all night.
“What are you up to tonight?” she asks as I finish pulling my underwear back on.
Good question.
One I can’t answer without giving a few things away.
“Just watching some plays with Coach. I’ll probably call Mike, too. The guy texted me today saying he missed me.”
I turn back to her when I’ve got my jeans on, and yeah, I don’t think she’s moving from that spot for a while.
“What about you, Honeycomb? What are you doing?”
“I’ve got some work to do for my creative writing class.”
“Oh, yeah? What are you writing?”
“Nothing dramatic,” she says, shrugging. “Just a personal essay. I’m realizing I’m not great at putting real feelings on the page.”
I stop what I’m doing and really look at her. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” I say quietly. “You feel everything deeply, Honeycomb. That’s why your writing’s going to hit.”
She curls deeper into the pillows, tugging my jersey further down her thighs.
“Zach, I literally can’t feel my legs,” she mutters, covering her face with one hand. “Please don’t hit me with emotional stuff too.”
Her voice is muffled behind her hand. Her cheeks are flushed, and she looks wrecked, but so perfectly mine—it’s painful that I’m going to have to leave her.
I drop down to the floor before she can say anything else, brace one hand beside her head, and gently pull her hand away from her face. “Emotional stuff, huh?” I murmur.
Then I kiss her, slowly and deeply. Her lips part under mine, her breath catching, and I feel her relax into the pillows.
Fuck. I don’t want to go.
Her fingers wrap around my shirt, keeping me close. Maybe I will hide in the closet.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Zach!” Grace yells from the other side of the door. Whoops.
I smile against her mouth. “I’m sorry, Honeycomb, but I’ve gotta go.”
She groans as I pull away, and head to the door.
“Bye, Z,” she says quietly.
I give her one last look and reluctantly leave my girlfriend thoroughly fucked, lying on the pile of pillows, and still glowing.
As I walk down the hallway, girls stare. Maybe it’s because I’m still slick with Honey. Maybe it’s because we were loud as hell.
Either way, I smile.
Because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
And I’m not afraid to let the whole fucking world know it.