He pulls his fingers out and comes to a standing position, whispering by my ear, “Are you sure you can handle it?”
“Please, I can’t wait any longer,” I beg.
He grabs something from his jeans pocket on the floor and fumbles with a crinkling condom wrapper. A moment later, he grabs me by the hips and thrusts his thick, hard cock inside me with enough force to knock the breath right out of my lungs.
He forces himself deeper, much farther past the point I thought I’d be able to take, but it hurts in the most orgasmic way. I can barely breathe. Stars dance before my vision as Dean fucks me for everyone to hear. He pulls himself out and thrusts again, our thighs slapping against each other, his hands tightening with every shove. Dean’s deep, manly grunts fill the air, and our breathing grows labored and heavy.
“You feel so good,” I moan.
“Say my name,” he tells me.
I smile, glad to hear the hoarse desperation in his voice. “Dean,” I breathe towards the mic.
“Louder.” He forces himself deeper inside me, and it hurts so good.
“Dean,” I moan, louder and louder. “Dean, don’t stop.” The louder I get, the harder each thrust hits, until a phenomenal orgasm rips through me. My body shudders against Dean, still pumping himself into me. Moments later, he grunts my name, coming to a climax of his own.
We stand in silence, me folded over the counter, Dean’s hands still on my hips, the only sound our heavy breathing. Once we catch our breath, Dean pulls out and turns me around, planting a soft, sweet, lingering kiss on my lips, totally opposite in intensity of what just transpired in this sound booth.
“You’re amazing,” he says.
“That was…” I search for the right word.
“Fun.” Dean smirks.
I smile, nodding in agreement. “Very.”
A soft pinging noise permeates the air. Dean and I exchange a curious glance before realizing it’s coming from the computer. We inspect the screen to find forty, forty-five, forty-nine, fifty-three messages continuing to pour in from our listeners.
“Our listeners are texting in!” I open the most recent ones to see what they say.
Call him Daddy
You should play music at the same time!
Could you tell us your health tips first, and then get to the sex? My boyfriend and I like to meal prep and then fuck on the kitchen counter!
I bring a hand to my mouth, shocked at the requests, and totally enthralled that we have listener participation.
“Looks like we have a fan club.” Dean reads the messages over my shoulder, grinning like a fool. “Ooh, I like this idea.” He points to the kitchen sex comment. “What do you say we make some dinner and then…?”
I smile up at him. “Are you finally asking me out?”
He plants a kiss on my lips. “Finally.”
“I can’t wait.”
He turns to the mic and clears his throat. “Sorry for missing your messages, everyone. We, uh, got carried away again.”
PING! PING! PING!
More messages pour in, all in enthusiastic support of our show (including one from our professor, who says he never saw this coming but commends us for our creativity and acting chops).
Excitement builds in my stomach. It’s crazy how just a few days ago, I was so not looking forward to the rest of this semester, and now I can’t wait for the next show.
I watch as Dean, still entirely naked and unbelievably handsome, signs us off. We grin at each other like idiots, still beaming in our afterglow.
“I could go for that dinner date right about now,” Dean says, grabbing his pants from the floor.
I shimmy myself into my leggings, enjoying Dean’s eyes on my breasts as I wriggle into place. “Already? Someone’s hungry.”
“For you.”
I roll my eyes. “Does tacos and ice cream sound good to you?”
He pulls his shirt back on and hands me my bag like a gentleman. “Only if I get to lick the ice cream off your body,” he says in a low voice.
His words send a shiver down to my toes. “I can’t wait.” I plant one last kiss on his soft, sweet lips before sauntering out of the Radio Room toward our first date. Dean slips his hand in mine, and a stupid smile spreads on my face.
Who knew Radio Club could be so life-changing?
Slippery Slopes
Slippery Slopes is an enemies to lovers college romance with a sassy, innocent heroine and a strong, sexy hero. It is the third book in the College Club series and can be read as a standalone.
Lauren
I’ve finally saved up enough money to join the Tempt University Snow Club on a weekend trip to the mountains.
Skiing with my friends is as fantastic as I’d hoped it would be, except that Adam Baylor is here, too.
He’s a spoiled rich kid who spends every weekend on the slopes while I’m busting my curves to maintain my scholarship. We’ve been trash-talking each other since we met two years ago, but this is the first time I’ll get to put my sass to the test and beat his ass. And when I do, I’m hoping it will shut him up for good.
There’s just one problem: I may not hate him as much as I thought I did.
Maybe it’s the high altitude or the hot toddies, but I have a feeling this trip is going to lead to some slippery slopes…
Adam
Lauren is a fiery red-headed skier and the first to challenge anyone who claims they can beat her down the slopes.
I’m the only person fast enough to keep up with that speed demon of a woman, and to me, her sassy trash-talking is the highlight of my day.
Lauren may act like I’m the cockiest jerk in the world, but I see those secret smiles she tries to hide. She wants me as badly as I want her.
The only problem is, she’s as stubborn as she is adorable. She’ll never admit it to herself, and she definitely won’t admit it to me.
If I want her, I’m going to have to earn her—to prove I’m not the ass she thinks I am.
Which is much easier said than done when it comes to Lauren. Knowing us, there’s only one way to do that.
These are going to be some Slippery Slopes.
If you love witty banter, steamy sweet romance, winter sports, and happily ever afters with a dash of humor, you’ll love this book. No cliffhangers in this fun short college love story!
This story takes place at Tempt University, where academic tensions run high and everyone is overdue for a sizzling, lust-fueled fling to get back on track (even the professors).
Welcome to Tempt University!
Chapter One
Lauren
The fresh mountain air smells divine as I take a deep breath, savoring the beautiful view of the snow-capped mountain trails before us. The chocolatey warmth of my hot cocoa spreads through my body as I sip it down, chewing on the squishy marshmallows left behind. I let out a satisfied sigh, savoring how my spent muscles burn in the afterglow of a tiring day on the slopes. The calming quiet of the evening and the beautiful mountain view makes me want to melt into this cozy rooftop couch and become part of the scenery. I’m so glad I could finally save up enough money to join my friends in the Snow Club on this weekend trip.
Now that I’m here, it’s clear just how much fun I was missing out on. This cozy townhouse is apparently the Tempt University Snow Club’s go-to location for weekend trip digs. It has an outdoor hot tub, a full kitchen, multiple bedrooms with bunk beds built into the walls, a shared living room with a real fireplace, a ginormous stainless-steel refrigerator, a rooftop fire pit, and (my personal favorite) twinkle lights. I take it all in as I snuggle up between the cushions of the outdoor couch. The fire pit nearby provides a nice warm contrast to the cool mountain breeze rustling my hair. The ski lodge across the street stops running its lifts, and I smile as a pair of black silhouettes race down a trail, getting in their last run for the day.
It’s my first trip with the rest of the Snow Club crew, even though I’ve been going to club meetings since I jo
ined. Though everyone’s friendly on campus, they’ve all been skiing together for years by now and have obviously formed their own friend clicks. But I don’t mind. I watch everyone else chats nearby, drinking beer and rehashing their adventures from earlier today. I watch silently, simply happy to be present and enjoying my peaceful, quiet bubble.
“Still mentally replaying your defeat, Lauren?” Adam Baylor’s voice cuts through my wandering thoughts, and I almost choke on my drink. So much for peace and quiet.
I roll my eyes, and he flashes me his signature cocky grin before plopping on the couch next to me.
“Actually, I was just thinking how stupid you’re going to look tomorrow when I beat your ass.”
His blue eyes sparkle in the dancing firelight as if I just gave him the biggest compliment. “So much sass coming from someone who can barely keep up. You’d think that with two skis you’d be twice as fast as me. But I guess that just means I’m twice as good.”
All of Adam’s “snowboarding-is-better-than-skiing” trash talk has been annoying the hell out of me since we met two years ago, and now that I’m finally here, beating him could be my one and only chance to shut him up. Adam may be a great snowboarder, but he’s a cocky jerk who acts like he’s better than everyone else. Because his parents are rich politicians and he doesn’t have to work for anything, Adam gets to spend every weekend on the slopes while I’m busting my ass trying to maintain my scholarship. If only I could afford the pricy lift tickets and lodging, I would be right next to him. More specifically, I’d be ten feet in front of him, spraying snow behind me each time I beat him to the finish line.
A smile starts to form on my lips at the thought, and I quickly squash it away. It’s ridiculous to think I would enjoy spending every day racing down a beautiful mountainside with that ass.
Even if it is a fine ass.
Adam leans in close to look into my practically empty mug, and his proximity has my skin crawling. Or is tingling?
“Can I help you?” I twitch my nose as a whiff of his freshly shampooed shaggy blonde hair makes its way past my nostrils. Despite the number of times I tell him he’s a turd, I have to admit he smells great.
Adam holds out a fancy temperature-maintaining coffee mug steaming with fragrant dark liquid. “Care to try a Hot Toddy?”
“What is that?” I ask, wondering why he’s being kind. It’s probably got his spit back in it. Not exactly how I’d imagined swapping spit with Adam Baylor.
Just to be clear, I have not imagined that.
He smirks and takes a sip, making a dramatic show of how delicious it is. “Whiskey, Earl Grey tea, honey, cloves, and cinnamon. Oh, and a dash of lemon, ‘cuz I don’t like things to be too sweet.” He winks.
I roll my eyes. Again. I can’t help it. “Is that why you’re so sour?”
“Just take a sip,” he smirks.
What the hell. I suck in a big gulp of the liquid, averting my eyes from Adam’s focused gaze and almost choking on the sharp-tasting juice. My body involuntarily shudders. Adam laughs at me.
“Delicious, amiright?”
“Not exactly my cup of tea,” I say.
He chuckles, then takes another sip, staring at me all the while. For some reason, there’s a shimmery glint in his eyes that makes me wonder what he’s thinking. “For all that trash-talking back at school, I was surprised to find you’re not as fast as you claimed to be,” he says. Adam raises an eyebrow in a silent challenge, shifting in his seat to stare at me face on. His thigh touches mine. I don’t know why I notice that, but I do, and it sends a wave of heat through my body.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit. I am not attracted to Adam Baylor. This has to be some sort of reaction to that disgusting Hot Toddy.
I force myself to respond, ignoring my ridiculous inner thoughts. “You’re just upset that I’m better on skis than you’ll ever be on that shoddy piece of wood you call a snowboard,” I say. There. That’s better. Give him shit. It’s what we do best.
“Is that why I was ahead of you on every trail?” He smiles playfully, placing his Hot Toddy on the ledge of the fire pit in front of us.
I shrug. “Maybe you had me confused with another redhead on the mountain.”
Adam flashes me a grin that any other woman would call sexy and says, “I’d know those red braids anywhere.” He reaches out to touch my braids, the style in which I always wear my hair on the slopes. And, well, everywhere. It’s gotten more and more difficult over the years to handle my frizzy mane of curls, so I usually keep them as tame as possible by wrangling them into some sort of braid or updo. But the way Adam eyes my crazy hair now makes it seem like he’s admiring a piece of artwork. Like he thinks I’m as beautiful as the scenery around us.
I watch, entirely beside myself, as he traces my left braid down to my purple hairband. His fingers graze the sensitive skin just above the hem of my long-sleeved shirt, and I pray to God that he doesn’t notice the goosebumps break out on my body.
“You looked pretty good out there today,” he says, his breath tousling a loose curl at my temple.
I fight to keep my head in check. “You looked… okay,” I tease. Adam smirks. My stomach does a backflip without my permission.
“Just okay? Even when I aced that black diamond ‘round the backside of the mountain?” I purse my lips. I love it when he gets competitive, but there’s no way I’m going to admit he looked hot as hell shredding snow today. “I know you were impressed, Laura,” he continues, tilting his head as if he’s reading my mind. I shiver, terrified at the thought. Then he says, in a low voice, “I saw the way you looked at me.”
“Pshh.” I wave him off, forcing this very unusual onslaught of nerves to stay in my stomach. “Showboating doesn’t impress me, Adam.”
He raises an eyebrow. “If I don’t impress you, what does?”
“Action,” I say decidedly.
“Action?”
I smirk at him, relieved about the change of subject. “You’re all talk and no game.”
“I’ve been snowboarding my whole life, babe.”
I laugh, ignoring the shot of cortisone that course through my veins when he says, “babe.” “Interesting. I’d have guessed you just picked it up.”
A genuine smile spreads on Adam’s face, and he shifts in his seat, so his leg isn’t touching mine anymore, thank God. “Snowboarding is an art. A toddler could pick up skiing in less than an hour.”
“Exactly—its intuitive, classic, classy.” I cross my arms.
“Is the classy redhead skier claiming she’s better than me yet again?”
“Duh,” I say. We stare at each other for a long moment, silently one-upping each other with our increasing intensities. “Why don’t we put all this trash-talking to one final test?”
Adam eyes my lips, and when he speaks, his voice is low, and dare I say… appealing. “What’d you have in mind?”
“I say we settle this ‘who’s faster than who’ bet tomorrow morning, on fresh powder, before everyone else crowds the slopes,” I say.
I thought I was used to Adam’s witty banter and his cocky grins, but the way he looks at me just now feels entirely different somehow. Like he’s got a secret plan, and I’m not in on it. Or, more likely, he’s just thought of a joke at my expense.
An amused smirk twists into shape on his perfect lips. He leans forward as if he’s about to kiss me, and I’m frozen in place. “Deal,” he says, his voice practically a whisper. I tell myself to get my shit together and smack him already, but I can’t. Not when his lips lightly brush mine. All I can feel is the smirk on his mouth in response to my silent gasp. Damn those are soft lips… My eyes close themselves of their own free will. Just as I’m about to let myself melt into this moment, the twinkle lights above us go out.
I gasp and jump back.
“Oh, sorry!” A thin blonde girl calls from the entrance to the house. “I didn’t realize y’all were still out here.” She turns the lights back on, waves at me and shu
ts the door, not even trying to hide her “you were totally making out” smirk, even though we totally weren’t.
Yet.
“I’m gonna head in, too,” I say, jumping to my feet. If I act like that never happened, maybe he’ll believe it. I grab my empty cocoa mug and dash to the door, not looking back.
“Going to bed so soon?” Adam’s smug voice calls out. I must be the weakest girl ever because I can’t help but turn at the sound of his sexy smirk.
“Yeah, so I can wake up nice and early and kick your ass tomorrow. Goodnight, turd.”
“Goodnight, Lauren.” Adam flashes me a handsome smile to haunt my dreams. I shiver involuntarily and hurry inside.
Chapter Two
Adam
It’s pitch black in the guys’ bunk room, but the sound of Lauren laughing on the other side of the wall paints a clear picture in my mind. I love it when she smiles. Especially when she’s trying not to smile because of me. A stupid grin forms on my face at the thought.
BZZZZZ!
My phone silently vibrates somewhere near my pillow. I find it and grimace when I see the text.
Mom: You give us no choice, Adam.
Mom: Do you not understand how big this is for your father?
I take a deep breath until my heart rate goes somewhat back to normal. It’s the same bullshit conversation I’ve been trying to outrun for the past four years. My dad’s a politician, and my mom is his campaign manager. They’ve both got sticks so far up their asses they forgot what it’s like to be a human being. To actually be connected with the world around them, to the people they preach to every day. I’m so tired of their fake bullshit.
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