“You are, Jerimiah.”
His laughs under his breath. “You think spending time with you is a punishment, Birdie?” A beat passes. “I spent yesterday worried I might never find you. Then last night…you were crying. Thinking the worst of me. I wouldn’t move from this spot for anything. Not with you smiling and talking to me. This is the furthest thing from a punishment I could get.”
“Jerimiah.” I have to swallow several times. “I don’t know what this is, but…”
He turns to me and waits.
“Let’s be friends, okay?” Unerringly, my eyes stray to the branches of the mural that are mostly covered in white paint, and Jerimiah follows my line of vision, frowning. “Can you just be my friend for now?”
His attention returns to me, and I can tell he has questions, but he only nods firmly. “I am your friend,” he says. “And I’m going to be more, when you’re ready.”
With that, he returns to painting.
He said when. Not if.
Why does that confidence make my panties so damp? I blow out a breath and go back to working on my pond, viewing the vivid color through a lens of horniness.
“Did you eat breakfast, Birdie?”
“Um…” Shoot. I can hear my brother growling at me all the way from Florida. “No. I’ve been kind of distracted.”
Jerimiah throws me some worried side eye and crouches down to rummage through his backpack. I watch with a tight throat as he removes a sugar-free breakfast bar and a can of Diet Coke. “I know you’re not supposed to drink juice, unless your blood sugar is low—”
“That’s perfect,” I interrupt breathlessly, watching as he stows the paintbrush under his arm and unwraps the bar, handing it over. “Did you bring…this stuff for me?”
He shrugs. “I was hoping you’d show up sooner or later, either to yell at me or let me apologize. I wanted to be prepared either way.” He eyes my purse where I’ve left it on the ground. “You need to check your blood sugar first, right?”
“Yes.” He holds my brush as I go through the quick, practiced motions of pricking my fingers and leaving a tiny sample on the test strip. There’s a beep and the number blinks up at me. Eight-seven. “I’m good to go. Thank you,” I whisper, hitting the buttons that will send the correct amount of insulin to my pump. “That was really thoughtful.”
And seriously, I’m not sure my defenses can take too many more hits from this man. Already he’s disarmed me by trying to repair the mural damage. Now he’s brought me a diabetic-friendly breakfast and I’m gasping for air on the battlefield croaking requests for a medic.
“Um.” I replace my meter in my purse and take a huge bite of the breakfast bar, swallowing. “W-was it your dream to play college football?”
“I like the sport. I wouldn’t say it was a dream.” He shifts beside me and touches his brush back to the wall. “I’ve always wanted to coach, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, I don’t talk much. Coaching requires a lot of it.”
“You talk the normal amount.”
“To you, Birdie. Just to you.”
Okay, he’s making it really hard to stand by that whole let’s be friends business. “Well, we’ll keep practicing and it’ll get easier. With other people.” His thighs flex and I try not to make it obvious that I’m staring, wondering what that slide of muscle would feel like against my palm. “If you want to coach, you should coach.”
It’s almost visible, the way Jerimiah seems to tuck that away for further review later. “Why are you painting every corner of this mural except your own?” He tucks his tongue into his cheek. “Seems you would know that section best of all.”
“I do. I know it by heart.”
There’s a rumble overhead and we both look up at the darkening clouds. He raises an eyebrow at me, I shrug and we keep working. But the conversation we were having before lingers between us unfinished. I’ve spoken to Jason and Naomi a lot about Natalie, but I’ve never let them all the way in. I’m not sure what holds me back from telling them I’m living halfway for her, but whatever that hesitation is called, I don’t seem to have it with Jerimiah.
“The tree I painted has two branches. One for me. One for my sister.” I hear droplets of rain begin to land on the pavement behind me, but thankfully none of them reach the mural, thanks to the decent overhang above us. “Everything I do…she kind of comes along with me, you know? I’m still taking her into consideration. If she were still here, she would be doing the same for me.”
There’s enough sympathy in Jerimiah’s eyes to fill the clouds above. “How?”
“She didn’t wake up.” I give a jerky shrug. “She went to bed healthy, so there’s no way to be satisfied with any explanation. Sudden Death Syndrome.” I force myself to smile. “Very in character for Natalie. She was really into drama.”
I feel Jerimiah’s lips in my hair and the turbulence inside me stills, like the smoothing of ocean water after a wave passes. “I feel her around when you talk. I’m sorry we can’t see her.”
The wind rushes out of me. “Thank you. For saying the exact perfect thing.” I use my wrist to swipe the dampness from beneath my eye. “How do you do that?”
“‘They should be scared by their lack of good judgment.’ You said that to me.” His fingers trace my cheek, gently turning me to face him. “You’re not so bad at saying the right thing. Remembering that made it a lot easier to paint a shitty rainbow in front of two hundred people.”
My laugh is watery and lacking in oxygen. How am I not levitating right now?
Jerimiah drops the paintbrush in his free hand, stepping closer. I see in my peripheral vision that we’re alone now, the rain having driven the students away—and then I see nothing but him. Blue eyes that brim with tenderness and a definite edge of heat. A rough-cut jaw. My name on his lips. If I let myself, I think I could float up to meet his mouth in a kiss, but there is still one strand of my reservations keeping me planted on the ground. In limbo.
“One of the offense coaches is retiring this year,” Jerimiah says. “Since I graduate this year and I don’t think I’ll fit into a cubicle…or a desk for that matter…I was thinking of applying. Sticking with football, but in a way I like better.” He sifts his fingers into my hair, seeming fascinated by the texture. “I don’t want to go somewhere where I can’t practice talking with my friend.”
“Talking,” I whisper. “Practice. Right.”
Jerimiah’s gaze drops to my mouth and his jaw bunches.
That strand holding me to the ground frays a little more, more, before snapping. “There are other things we could practice. Just to help each other out. You know, as friends. And all.”
His chest shudders. “Like what?”
The words are barely out of his mouth before I go up on my toes, his mouth coming down to meet mine halfway…
Chapter Four
Jerimiah
I don’t know a lot about women. Or friendship. But I’m pretty sure Birdie isn’t kissing me like a buddy. And thank God for that. I can’t help wanting to be every last thing to this girl, including her friend, but I don’t want our relationship to end there. As she goes up on her tip toes and couches my swelling cock between our bellies, relief collides with my lust. No, she wants me the way a woman wants a man. But there’s something in the way. I feel that, too.
Stop and talk to her about it, pleads a voice in the back of my head. I’m too addicted to her kisses, though. Too consumed by the feel of her body plastering itself to mine. Our size difference is so vast that one of my hands spans half of her back, my fingertips brushing the flare of her ass—and when she whimpers and rolls her hips, I allow myself to grip those tight cheeks in my hands and massage them roughly, the hem of her dress getting gathered up with the movements. And when my knuckles graze her bare backside, her eager mouth tells me it’s okay to explore. To learn the texture of her bottom, then knead it and make it mine.
That’s what she is. Mine. There’s no ques
tion when we’re together. The way she looks at me when we break apart for oxygen is proof enough. She’s as lost in this mental and physical attraction as I am, but she’s a lot more scared to stay here indefinitely.
“Birdie—”
She presses our mouths together with a lot more ease this time, and I realize I’ve lifted her off the ground, leaving her feet dangling a good foot above the concrete. “There’s a spot behind the wall,” she whispers, pressing her lips to my chin, my cheeks. “Take me where no one will see what you do to me.”
That need to find out what’s holding her back from me is still mighty, but my sexual urges have been unmet for so long. They were manageable until I met Birdie and now, I swear to God, it feels like I’m going to die if I don’t bury my cock inside of her. At the very least, I need my tongue between her thighs. I need. I just need to fulfill her so damn bad and I need the pressure between my legs to go away. She’s the only one who can do it, so I find myself forgetting the unsaid words and striding behind the wall we’ve been painting, groaning at the way she shifts around on my dick, her thighs rasping around my hips like a taunt.
There’s a thick copse of trees behind the mural wall and she was right, there’s no way to be seen here. Not with the campus deserted, everyone hiding from the rain. As I’ve rounded the wall, Birdie’s dress has gotten wet and it clings to her now, revealing a lack of bra and her sweet, hard nipples. My body knows what it wants to do, but I’ve never had sex, so while I want to throw her up against the cinderblock and suck her tits until she comes, I don’t know if that’s right. Or if it’ll give her an orgasm.
“I know,” she says unevenly in my ear, turning my head until we’re making eye contact, her brown sugar eyes dazed, pupils dilated. “I know it’s your first time. Will you trust me?”
I’m already nodding. “I just want it to be good for you.”
Her expression is pure exasperation. “Can you not feel me shaking, Jerimiah? I’m trying to wait until you’re inside me to—” She buries her face in the crook of my shoulder and laughs. “Maybe I should keep you in the dark about how hot you make me.”
My balls tighten at that admission. “Why would you do that?”
“You might start wielding yourself as a weapon,” she says, moaning when I use my hold on her ass to grind her lower body against mine. “A-and that’s not very friendly, friend.”
My confidence grows with every word out of her mouth. The blood pumps in my veins as I scrape my teeth up the side of her neck. “Friends don’t fuck in public during a rainstorm?” I punch my hips up once. Twice. “That’s too bad. I guess we’ll have to stop being friends while I’m sinking in and out of your pussy.”
Her thighs jerk around. “Not fair. Don’t throw in dirty talk on top of everything else.”
“On top,” I breathe against her mouth, visions of Birdie riding me filling my head. “That sounds about right.”
Birdie must agree with me, because she unhooks her legs from around my hips and slides down my body, planting both hands on my chest. “Do you care about your clothes?”
“I care about you a whole lot more.”
Her rain-dappled features go soft for a moment, then she’s guiding me to the damp soil. My back presses to the wall and Birdie straddles my lap, our mouths meeting on an urgent groan, the sound camouflaged by the rumbling storm. Yeah, all of this is urgent as hell. Her pussy is a soft, giving weight pushing down on my dick, writhing, writhing up and back—and I would be letting out a string of impolite curses if my mouth wasn’t kissing the sweetest mouth on the planet. I don’t need to kiss a single other one to know I’ve found it. Right here. It’s Birdie’s.
“I’m going to unzip your jeans,” she murmurs, easing back onto my outstretched thighs. Her teeth sink into her lower lip as she follows through, her tits rising and falling rapidly. For me. She’s breathing heavy for me. I’m still in the midst of being stunned by that reality when her fist wraps around my cock and I almost come, my back arching violently. “Oh my God. That’s so hot,” she says in a rush, watching me tunnel in and out of her grip. “You’re so hot. So big here.”
I don’t believe it when she slides back even farther and leans down, swiping her tongue across the tip of my erection. My fingers bury themselves in the wet earth, the muscles in my neck straining hard to keep from shouting. “Birdie, I need to last for you.” My body heaves. I have no control over it. “Please. Please.”
Am I begging her to stop or keep going? I have no idea. My hips push off the ground toward her mouth, even though I’m commanding them to stop. I want to stay hard until she’s satisfied, but the hot sensation of her tongue sliding down my inches, her teeth lightly catching on my ridges? I think I’d trade ten years of my life for the pure fucking pleasure of it.
Wait. No…no, now that I’ve found this girl, I want to keep all the years I have left. Look at her. She knows I can’t take too much of her mouth, so she’s sliding back up to my lap with total lust, total understanding. Jesus Christ, how did I get this lucky?
“I want you so bad,” she whispers against my mouth, her hand riding up and down the length of my cock. “A-am I…is this what you want?”
How is it possible she has a single doubt that I’ve lost my mind over her? I wipe my dirty hands off on my jeans and hold the sides of her face. “You told me you felt something in the kitchen. The night we met.” I kiss her softly, rubbing our tongues together. “That was me handing you my heart. You felt the weight of it. You knew. Give me yours now.”
The fear is still there in her gorgeous eyes. I can see it. But for the moment, she lets it go. She presses our mouths together, kissing me as I remove the condom from my wallet and cover myself with unpracticed fingers. With the rain trickling down through the trees and catching on her eyelashes, she takes me inside her tight body, slipping down to the root of my cock with tiny gasps, her fingernails breaking the skin on my shoulder straight through my shirt. Unbelievable pressure gathers in my belly and the base of my spine twists painfully with every inch she takes.
“Jerimiah.”
My name comes strangled from her throat when she’s fully seated and I can’t help it, can’t help it. I’m already jerking her hips up and back on my lap, rolling my lower body at the same time. Oh fuck. Fuck. She feels so good, I can barely stand it. If I don’t slow down, this is going to be over fast and I don’t want that. If I had my way, I’d keep myself in pain for hours just to watch her ride me, but that’s not a possibility with my body is speeding toward release. I plant my open mouth against her shoulder and groan her name—and she understands.
“Slow, slow…slow,” she says shakily, reaching down to remove my death grip on her hips. I’m still levering my hips involuntarily, incapable of stopping the perfect, torturous grind of our sexes, but I’m no longer moving her like a rag doll. She takes my hands and guides them under her dress, urging them higher until my hands are cupping her tits. Her little nipples spear my palms, she goes up on her knees and circles her hips, taking my dick in degrees, and I almost lose control again. Until she whispers my name against my mouth, rubbing our foreheads together. “Slow down and think about how I feel.”
“I can’t think of anything else,” I pant, thumbing her nipples and watching her eyes roll back in her head. “You’re small and hot and slippery. When I’m deep as I can go, your little pussy muscles seize up and make me want to throw you down on your back and pump myself even deeper.”
Her exhale rushes over my mouth. “Tell me how you really feel.”
I almost tell her I love her, right then and there. How could I do anything else when she calls to my heart, head and the basest parts of my hunger at the same time? I won’t lose her by pressing too hard too soon, though. We have forever. I have to believe that. My sanity depends on it. “Please, beautiful.” I pinch her nipples lightly. “Need to get a taste of these.”
“Yes.”
As soon as permission is granted, I lift the front of the dress up to her n
eck—and I almost come at the sight of her pink, puckered up nipples. “Christ, beautiful. So pretty. Fuck me while I suck on them. Please. Please.”
Birdie nods vigorously and arches her back, her body undulating on my lap, tempting the end of my willpower with every slick side of her pussy up and down my erection. She moves slow, but Jesus, so effectively, forcing me to experience the way our bodies fit together, ease apart, fit together. I even hear the shift of moisture between us as I lean in and wrap my mouth as far as it will go around her right tit. I take as much as I can, sucking, leaving her covered in moisture as I flick my tongue against her nipple.
“Oh, that’s so good. Jerimiah. Oh God.”
My sucking mouth keeps her dress lifted while my hands drop to her ass. It bucks now, letting me know how hot it makes her when I use my mouth on her tits. So I’ll do it forever. I’ll suck them any time she needs it. I’m rougher than I should be when I take hold of those writhing cheeks and lift, grind, lift, grind. Birdie releases a closed-mouth scream against my lips, and her pussy clasps me tight, her walls bearing down and giving me no choice but to thrust, thrust, humping her into the air and letting her slap back down on my lap. Over and over. I’m going to come. There’s nothing in the world that could stop me. Fuck, she’s so perfect. So warm and giving and snug and belonging to me.
I’ve never been possessive over another human being and maybe that’s why it rises up so completely now, as if it has been waiting in the wings all along. Waiting for this girl. This moment. She suctions her mouth to mine and whimpers, as if she senses how badly I need to make a claim. An irreversible one. There’s no holding back or watering down how I feel about Birdie, the kind of man she’s woken up won’t allow half measures. I barely recognize myself as I swat her backside and clamp my teeth down on her lower lip, but something clicks into place between us. It’s a dramatic homecoming and she orgasms her way through it, moaning and baring down on my cock, her legs trembling around my hips.
Halfway Girl Page 4