Amanda
With every word that comes out of Dean’s sexy lips, our radio show ratings plummet. I stare at our computer screen, which continues to display the abysmal stats of our listenership, and my eyes glaze over. It’s not like he’s saying anything particularly terrible. I do love his deep, alluring voice, it’s just that not everyone who listens to the Tempt University student radio channel is as passionate about chassis and pistons as he is.
I roll my eyes, annoyed by our situation despite how attracted to him I am. Dean and I got paired together because we joined the radio club after all other streaming slots were taken. It was either one of us didn’t get to host a show this semester, or we co-host. Typically, I wouldn’t give two craps about hosting a radio show, but this class could be the deciding factor in whether I graduate this year or next. And the same goes for Dean. We’re both three credits shy of achieving the minimum required to graduate, and the radio club teacher offers a full three credits to any show that can maintain an average listenership of one hundred by the end of the semester. Easy peasy, right?
Wrong.
One hundred listeners doesn’t sound that difficult until you pair two people together who couldn’t be more opposite. Here’s a guy who wants to talk about cars and I’m a girl who’s obsessed with exercise. Since we couldn’t compromise on a single topic, Dean and I have been switching off hosting each show. Last show, I talked about proper running techniques and meal prep for college students. Today, Dean’s going on about spoilers and gear shifters. I think. To be honest, it’s hard to pay attention when your co-host is hotter than a Bikram class.
I steel my eyes away from the disappointing stats to sneak a glance at Dean. His short, messy blond hair juts out in every direction around the set of bulky headphones he’s wearing. Boy, do I want to run my hands through his bed head and mess it up even more. Dean’s bright blue eyes dance with enthusiasm as he talks about chassis, or whatever he’s explaining to our twelve listeners. I love the way his lean arm muscles are accentuated by the athletic cut, white T-shirts he wears, and every time he stands up, I have to hold myself back from smacking his perfect ass in those fitted jeans.
But what’s even more attractive than the way his sexy body fills out his clothes are his hands. Dean has the most handsome, angular man hands. Whenever he gets excited, those hands accentuate his words with animated gestures that drive my imagination crazy with all the ways I’d want them to explore my body.
Dean flashes me a sexy smirk when he catches me staring. It’s a look that makes me wet in an instant. My attraction to him has made these recording sessions bearable, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the only reason I’m continuing with this stupid class. Well, that and the whole “I need three credits to graduate,” thing. I wonder how many more tight-ass yoga outfits I’ll have to wear before Dean asks me out. Judging by his complete lack of interest in me, I’d say at least a hundred.
He catches me staring, and I turn my head to the computer screen on our tech board before he can see the blush spread across my cheeks.
“So, yeah. That’s the basics of the Spaceframe chassis.” He checks the clock. We have five minutes left in our show today. Five minutes and absolutely nothing left to say to our dwindling audience. “I guess we’ll use the last few minutes as a Q and A portion, so feel free to call or text in if you have any questions.” He leans over my shoulder to look at the screen, intoxicating my brain with the scent of his fresh deodorant. Not a single text or call comes in, and our listenership drops down to five.
Great.
We shake our heads at the screen. “This is terrible,” I mouth to Dean, so the mic won’t pick up my voice. Not that any of our five listeners would care anyway. Here’s to all the supportive grandparents and aunts of the world. Major eye roll. Our show should be called The Shit Show.
Dean moves one of his earphones off and leans toward me. “I’m open to any suggestions,” he whispers.
Hell if I know. How do you spice up a disjointed radio show with two entirely different, almost nonexistent niche audiences? My eyes absentmindedly fixate on Dean’s lips while I try to come up with a solution. It’s not until they twist into a smirk that I realize I’ve been staring at him.
“I have an idea,” Dean says. “But, you’re probably going to hate it.” He stares at me with a mischievous grin that makes me wonder if my yoga pants are finally working on him. I shake my head out of the gutter and look at him expectantly.
“We’re broadcasting dead air here,” I whisper, animatedly gesturing to our mics.
He presses a button to mute us and says, “We pretend to have sex. On-air.”
My heart rate hikes, and my breath catches in my throat at the mention of sex with Dean. The familiar images of us entwined in each other’s bodies flash before my eyes in a live replay of every dream I’ve had since meeting my devilishly handsome co-host.
Then I realize we’re talking about simulated sex, and my breathing returns to a somewhat reasonable rate. I sit upright in my rolling chair, scooting a bit closer to him. “You mean like, moans, and stuff?”
Dean chuckles, removing his feet from the counter and leaning toward me conspiratorially. “If that’s what you sound like when you have sex.” The corner of his smile twists into the most seductive smirk I’ve ever seen on his handsome face. I have to hold myself back from jumping on him. “What do you think?” he asks.
We’re inches from each other now, and though his posture is cool, calm, and collected, Dean’s blue eyes are electric with excitement. He’s just as titillated by this idea as I am, and it has me bubbling with anticipation. I fight hard to keep my heart beating in my chest and my mouth from salivating at the chance to simulate sex with Dean.
With a calculated response meant to convince him I’m not as desperate as I am, I purse my lips and say, “I mean, it’s not exactly against the rules.”
“Professor O’Brien is always telling us to think outside the box,” he says. “Make radio interesting. What’s more interesting than sex?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, seriously considering this. Besides the fact that my grandmas will think I’m losing my virginity on air, there’s really nothing to lose. All I’d have to do is close my eyes and pretend I’m having sex with Dean. And it’s not like I haven’t done that before. If our ratings actually do go up, then hallelujah. If not, we’ll come up with another idea.
Plus, the insanely horny part of me can’t help but get excited at the thought of Dean hearing what it’d sound like to get me all hot and bothered. Maybe it’ll inspire him to finally make a move.
What the hell.
“Let’s do it.”
Chapter Two
Dean
I’ve watched porn. I’ve had sex. I know what it sounds like. But when Amanda starts moaning in her chair just a foot away from me, I have to remind myself how to breathe. Never in my life have I heard more sensual sounds come out of a woman.
“Oh, Dean, that feels so good.” She smirks to herself, keeping her forest green eyes closed. I watch in total shock as Amanda arches her back and grips her chair’s arms, letting her wavy blonde hair cascade down her back as a cry of pleasure escape her throat. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen, and even though I know it isn’t real, my cock immediately hardens.
Fuck, I want it to be real. I have since the first day we sat in this small recording booth together. Even without her yoga-instructor body or tender muscles and curves, I’d still think Amanda is the most attractive chick I’ve met. Not only is she beautiful, but she’s also smart and exciting and dedicated like no one’s business. Every time Amanda hosts her portion of our mixed-up radio show, I find myself entirely fascinated by her in-depth knowledge of all things health. She runs a blog dedicated to helping college kids stay healthy, she’s a yoga instructor, and she just started an Instagram channel featuring cooking tutorials for busy people. She really has her shit together, which is both inspiring and intimidating, especial
ly considering I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m going to do after college.
I watch her with my jaw slightly agape as she puts on a performance like no other. I’ve always enjoyed listening to her smooth voice on air, but it’s never entranced me like a fucking spell. This was just a cheap idea to get sex with me on her mind, but now I’m the one sitting here staring at her beautiful body imagining what it would be like to fuck her in this very recording booth.
Amanda clears her throat, pulling me out of my thoughts, and I realize she’s staring at me expectantly, gesturing to the mic.
Shit! I haven’t made one sound this entire time. I’m suddenly propelled into action by the ridiculous notion that my performance in the next two minutes will somehow be Amanda’s deciding factor in whether or not she’d actually have sex with me. And after the performance she’s given, I have a feeling sex with Amanda would be a fucking religious experience.
The only problem is, I seem to have lost the ability to function as a human.
Crap.
“Uh, you like that?” I ask in the deepest, sexiest voice that I can muster. But instead of George Clooney, I sound like Justin Bieber. Amanda stifles a laugh, her face turning red.
Fuck.
She regains her composure and closes her eyes once more. “Mmhm. Do it again.”
Uh-oh. I wasn’t paying attention. What am I supposed to be doing again?
But before I can freak out, Amanda takes the reigns.
“Unh, don’t stop. That feels so good,” she breathes, totally tricking me into thinking that I’m the cause for her sensual groans. I’m frozen in my seat, totally enamored by her performance. “Faster. Faster,” she repeats, her voice getting higher, her breathing more labored. Heat floods my veins, and it takes every bit of restraint within me to hold myself back from jerking off.
I could come in my pants just from watching her, it’s so fucking erotic. She slightly rocks her hips in her seat, and her head rolls back, revealing a beautiful long neck that I’d give anything to kiss right now. I watch as Amanda fakes an orgasm that has me dying to be inside her, wishing it were me that brought those sounds from her lips. She cries my name and then slumps back in her chair, out of breath.
When Amanda finally opens her eyes, she turns to me and, with a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, she says, “That was amazing, Dean.”
Fuck yeah, it was. I’m so taken aback that I can’t form words yet. I just watch, still dumbfounded, until I realize Amanda’s tapping her watch.
“Time to sign off,” she mouths. Oh, right.
I clear my throat and speak into the mic. “Uh, thanks for listening everyone. We’ll be back tomorrow with some meal prep and… um…” I glance sideways as Amanda bends over to grab her bag, her tight workout shirt riding up, revealing a hot pink thong threaded between her muscular ass cheeks. My brain turns to mush and blood pounds to my dick. “…Bye,” is all I manage to spurt out.
Wow. Great job, Dean.
I mute our mics as Amanda logs us off the computer. She checks our stats once more. “Oh, shoot,” she says, shaking her head at the screen. “We’re down to three listeners.”
Fuck, I’d forgotten all about our damn stats. “Bummer,” I say, remembering that Amanda’s entire performance was for the good of our show. Not that my body knows the difference.
We both stand from our seats at the same time and do that awkward thing where you try to walk around the other person, but you still walk right into them.
“After you,” I gesture her toward the door like a fucking nerd. Jesus Christ, what has Amanda done to me?
She giggles, then stares up at me with a sexy smirk and says, “Thanks.”
I nod back silently before Amanda slides past me and heads for the door, totally unaware of the wreck of a man she’s leaving behind her. “Too bad it didn’t work,” she says over her shoulder, before heading out.
The door shuts behind her, and with one glance at the raging hard-on in my pants, I realize she couldn’t be more wrong.
Chapter Three
Amanda
A flurry of jitters explodes in my stomach, spreading to every extremity. I played out my fantasies not only right in front of the very person they’re about, but on-air for an audience.
Granted, that audience was only three people, but still. It was thrilling.
My mouth twists into a smirk as I recall the sight of Dean’s erection as I exited the recording booth. He’s always one to make a sly comment, a witty joke, a fun sexual innuendo. But yesterday, he could barely form words as we parted ways.
And I thought I’d be embarrassed by the end of the show.
Being on air was intimidating at first, but as soon as I closed my eyes, images of Dean and me tangled up in each other flooded my head. All I had to do was replay every fantasy I’ve ever had of Dean, and before I knew it, I got carried away imagining him inside me.
Any doubt I may have had about my “performance” immediately vanished upon seeing the expression on Dean’s face, and the erection in his pants. I practically skipped all the way to my Yoga lesson afterward, briefly wondering if I’d make a good phone sex operator.
Today, as I head through the door to the Radio Room, jitters electrify my muscles at the thought of what might transpire between Dean and me in today’s show. Though the phone sex apparently didn’t work for our audience, it worked for Dean’s attraction to me, and that’s much more exciting.
Dean is already waiting for me inside the recording room when I enter. The moment he sees me, he jumps up from his chair.
“Hey,” he says. His blond hair and blue eyes are wild, and the perfectly fitted jeans and T-shirt framing his lean body has my body lit with energy. He looks even sexier than usual when he waves at me like a ten-year-old with a crush.
I bite my lip, holding back a satisfied smile.
“Hey,” I say, dropping my workout bag by my chair and taking a seat. I try to focus on the task at hand—booting up the computer—but it’s surprisingly tricky with Dean so close to me. It feels twenty degrees hotter than usual in this booth today, and the sparks of attraction between us are practically palpable.
“Holy shit. Is that real?” Dean points to the computer screen, and we both lean in to find we have a whopping sixty listeners already!
“I think so,” I say in awe. “And we haven’t even gone live yet. They must be left over from the show before us.”
“Actually,” Dean says, his signature mischievous smile melting me, “I think they’re listening because of your performance yesterday.”
I furrow my brows. “Really? But there was barely anyone listening yesterday.” Except for our grandparents, and I doubt even their avid knitting club has sixty members who would know how to work a radio app, let alone want to listen to a friend’s granddaughter do it on air.
“Not according to my roommates.”
“Your roommates?” Terror rips through my core. His roommates were listening?!
Dean shrugs. “Well, yeah. They broadcast every show to the Student Union, but it only counts as one of our listeners. My roommates were studying in the union when they heard our voices and, well…” he trails off, running a hand through his hair and exposing the underside of his arm muscles. “Everyone was talking about us last night.”
An odd combination of terror and excitement courses through my veins. I just exposed myself to the entire Student Union on campus. But then, I feel proud and excited to have drummed up interest in our radio show from something that turned out to be really easy to do. And, honestly… fun.
“Should we take advantage of the exposure and go along with our normal show?” I ask, knowing full well what needs to happen.
Dean smiles at me. “No offense, but I don’t think these listeners are here for your meal prep show.” I purse my lips. “I think we should do what we did yesterday and see how many more people tune in.”
“You’re right,” I say, reaching for my headphones, surprised at how eag
er I am to continue our little charade. It’s fun to pretend, especially with an audience. If the professional health world doesn’t treat me well, at least I know there’s a career in erotica audiobooks for me. “Just give me a sec, and I’ll be ready.” I take a deep breath and prepare to get into my sexy character, but Dean stops me short.
“Wait, we can’t just go right into it. We have to make it feel organic.”
“Organic?”
“Just do your usual show lead-in, and I’ll help you out.” He puts his phones on, then presses the button to make us go live, gesturing for me to speak.
“Hey guys, welcome back to Meal Prep Monday. It’s your host, Amanda Schringer, and my co-host, Dean Erikson.”
Dean leans toward his mic. “Hey, everyone.” Then he turns to me and holds up a finger, telling me to pause. “Amanda, before you go into your show today, I just want to apologize to everyone for getting carried away yesterday.”
I narrow my eyes at him, curious as to why he thinks this is necessary, but he continues.
“We didn’t realize we were on air.” Dean raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes to emphasize what he’s saying. “Go with it,” he mouths, then gestures for me to continue speaking.
I realize what he’s doing and decide its genius. Promoting the narrative that this was simply a passion-fueled moment of carelessness, that the audience got to hear something raw and real and sexy as ever, makes our story seem more believable and gives us a lead-in for today’s show. I follow in Dean’s example, excited about where this is headed.
“It’s true,” I say, getting into character. “But I have to say, Dean. That was the most fun I’ve had during one of our shows in a while.”
“Oh yeah?” He scoots his chair closer to me.
I nod. “It’s true.”
“What part did you find the most fun?” The corner of his mouth lifts into a cocky grin. I glance at our stats. We’ve jumped up to ninety-four!
Tempt University: Year One: A College Romance Collection Page 23