Defending Donovan

by Jillian Quinn

  “Good night, beautiful,” I whisper in her ear.

  She closes her hand over mine and holds it over her stomach. “Night, handsome.”

  Within seconds of my head hitting the pillow, I’m out, and I sleep so soundly I don’t even remember dreaming about anyone other than Taylor.

  Chapter Eleven

  Taylor

  When I wake up, I’m facing Drake. His arm is hooked around my back, molding my body to his. Our faces are inches apart, his warm breath softly brushing my lips. He’s beautiful when he’s sleeping, so damn perfect I feel inadequate compared to him. It still blows my mind that someone this perfect can have so many insecurities, and that he let me into his world.

  He opens one eye, his long, dark lashes caressing his skin. “Are you staring at me?”

  I slide my thumb along his cheek and smile. “Yep. You got a problem with it, buddy?”

  “No.” He laughs, rolling onto his back to reveal his chiseled abs and strong arms that instantly distract me. “Go ahead and look. Maybe take a pic while you’re at it.”

  “You do love having your picture taken, don’t you?” I stick my tongue out at him. “When it comes to your body, you’re never shy.”

  “Go ahead,” he urges, a smirk turning up the right corner of his mouth. “This way you have something to look at when you play with your pussy at night.”

  “Drake,” I shout and smack him on the arm. “You’re so dirty.”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t touch yourself.”

  “I do, but—”

  “But what? You either do or you don’t.” He grabs his cock that’s hard. Of course, it is. I have to get used to waking up next to a man. Following my line of sight, he pulls his cock through the slit in his boxers. “Here, take a pic. You’re my girlfriend now. You should have something to look at while you get off.”

  I snort at his comment. “Like all the other girls? You know, now that we’re together, I wish I could go around campus and delete those pics from all of their cell phones. I don’t want anyone to see you but me.”

  “You’re so possessive.” He strokes his cock, his eyes fixed on me, a wicked expression crossing his face. “C’mere.”

  I suck on my thumb for a second, leaving just enough spit, and then lean over to roll it over the head of his cock. Drake groans as I make slow, circular motions. He’s circumcised, his skin so tight and soft I could touch him all day.

  Staring into his eyes, I continue massaging him while he pumps his shaft. “What do you want, Drake?”

  “Give me your mouth,” he hisses. Taking my hesitation as a no, he adds, “Please, Taylor. Just lick my cock. I want to feel your mouth.”

  “I can’t fit all of you in my mouth.”

  He shoots me a look that says, No, shit Sherlock. “I know, baby. Just the tip.”

  I move my hand above his to fist his cock, helping him work his shaft, and then I get on my knees to lick the tip. He groans so loud it sounds animalistic.

  Peeking up at him, I glide my tongue along his sensitive skin, tasting a little bit of precum. “Feel good.”

  “Fuck, yeah,” he grunts. “A little more, baby.”

  Doing as he commands, I stop giving him tentative licks and take a few inches of him in my mouth. No one could ever fit all of him. It’s scientifically impossible. If I tried, I would literally choke to death.

  Drake’s free hand falls to the back of my head. His fingers dig into my hair, and he pulls me closer, sliding me further down on his cock. I can feel him everywhere. My cheeks are puffed out, my lips definitely cracked. I can’t stop wondering how hard it will be for us to have sex. And then I wonder why I’m even thinking of having sex with him. Maybe it’s because I have this gut feeling that Drake will be the one. I just know it. I’m already starting to care about him more than I thought possible.

  With both of our hands working in harmony, we have a nice rhythm paired with my mouth. We’re a good team in the bedroom. Right before Drake comes, his entire body trembles, his big, strong legs shaking me in the process, causing me to lose my balance for a second. He must feel it because he tightens his grip on me.

  After he comes, I sink back on my heels and wipe my mouth. He blinks a few times, staring down at our hands on his cock and then back up to my eyes.

  “Good morning to you, too,” he says with a wink and a crooked grin.

  “It’s only fair,” I point out. “I had a very good sleep because of your skilled tongue and fingers.”

  He grabs my arm and in one fell swoop, he has me on my back, his big body covering mine. “What do you want, Taylor? You want me to make you come again?”

  I peek up at him and just about melt from his beautiful blue eyes and those long, perfect lashes. As much as it kills me to feel something for him, I do. That much, I can’t deny. But how does this relationship work? Every girl on campus has seen his dick. They think he’s a manwhore. What does that make me, his actual whore?

  We stare at each other for several seconds without speaking before I break the silence. “I’m hungry. I think I need to eat something. My stomach is still a mess from last night.” He almost looks disappointed, so I add, “But you can make me come later.”

  With that, his smile brightens. He slides off the bed, fixes his boxers back into place, and then holds out his hand to me. My eyes travel over his thick, muscular thighs to a pair of black boxer briefs that hug him in all the right places. His legs are so solid they look indestructible. I can’t imagine facing him on the ice. He’s a wall of man, most of his body blocking the net.

  By the time I reach his chiseled stomach, I’m licking the drool from my lips. A low rumble echoes from his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s used to girls gawking at him. And why wouldn’t they? Look at him.

  He opens a drawer and throws a pair of black boxers in front of me on the bed. Does he own any other colors? “Put them on.”

  Clutching the cotton in my hand, I stare at him like he’s crazy. “Why?”

  He sits next to me, the mattress dipping from his weight. “Because Shannon makes us breakfast every morning, and I thought you’d want to wear something else beneath my shirt.” He extends his hand to me. “C’mon. If we don’t get down there soon, we won’t have anything to eat.”

  I slip into Drake’s boxers, and then he tugs on my hand to lift me off the bed. Once we’re in the hallway, I start to get stage fright. Nerves creep up the back of my throat, the bile almost choking me.

  Drake notices my hesitation and stops. He cups the side of my face with his big hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “Bex told me your friends slow clapped for her the first night she slept here with Preston.” I lean my back against the wall, and he lowers his hand. “I don’t want them to slut shame me for sleeping over.”

  “One…” he says, holding up his long index finger, “… you’re not a slut to shame you. And two,” he says, adding another finger, “You’re with me. And I’ll kick their fucking asses if they even think about it.”

  “Technically, that was three things,” I point out. “Not two.”

  He shakes his head, his laughter filling the air. “What am I gonna do with you, woman?” It’s more of a statement than a question.

  After a quick peck on the lips, he drags me by the hand downstairs and into the kitchen. Bex is at the table next to Preston wearing his clothes. She looks at me, shocked to see me wearing Drake’s. I grab the hem of Drake’s shirt. Bex does the same with Preston’s Strickland Senators tee. A silent communication is exchanged between us, and then we’re both laughing. No one in the room has any idea what’s so funny.

  “Morning, twinsie,” I say to her, joking as I sit at the table next to her. “I see you have on the sleepover attire they must hand out in this house.”

  We’re literally wearing the same hockey T-shirt. Except Drake’s boxers are black and Preston’s are navy to match the color of the shirt. Otherwise, we look identical.

  Drake and Preston look at
each other, confused until they realize what we’re talking about.

  “Oh, shit,” Drake says, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, this was definitely accidental. We don’t have clothes lying around for when girls sleep over.”

  “Oh?” I cock an eyebrow at him. “How often is that?”

  He sits next to me and lowers his voice. “Never. You know that.” But when Preston glances over at him, he raises his voice and adds, “Because they don’t last that long.”

  I pat his knee, deciding to play along. “Well, when you put it that way, I feel like I made it to the end of The Hunger Games.”

  Bex snorts. “More like The Hooker Games.”

  Laughing, I slap her on the arm playfully. “Shut up, bitch, or I’ll take out my bow and arrow and shoot you in the ass.”

  Drake and Preston laugh at our exchange.

  “You sure know how to pick ‘em,” Preston says to Drake talking about me. “I like this one.”

  “Me, too,” Jamie says, dropping a plate of crispy bacon at the center of the table. “She actually knew what VR meant. Not like you losers.”

  Drake squeezes my hand over his, pinning it against his thigh.

  “I hope you like waffles,” Shannon says from the island at the center of the kitchen. “I made tons of them.”

  “Yeah, love them. They served them every morning in the chow hall when my dad was stationed in Europe.”

  “How many places have you lived?” Shannon asks, walking over to the table with Jamie, who’s carrying a plate of Belgian waffles.

  “Umm…” I have to think about all the cities I’ve lived in over the years.

  They take their places at the head of the table and pass out plates. Jamie and Shannon work as a team until every person has food in front of them.

  “Ten cities,” I think. “I was born in North Carolina when my dad was stationed at the Marine Corps Air Station at Cherry Point. Then, we moved around the U.S. until I was around ten years old before my dad got a promotion and moved us to Panzer Kaserne in Germany. Of all the places I lived, that was my favorite. The Exchange was really big, sort of like a mall in the U.S. Every Friday after school, my dad would take my brother and me after work.”

  Shannon shoves a piece of waffle in her mouth and stares at me intently. “What’s school like on a military base?” She chews her food and then finishes, “I bet it’s different than here.”

  I shake my head. “No, not really. In Germany, they still have elementary, middle, and high school on base. It’s like a small city in its own right. You don’t ever have a reason to leave. But not every base is the same.”

  “That’s also where Taylor learned martial arts,” Bex interjects.

  “Oh, really?” Shannon’s voice creaks. “Was that part of your schooling?”

  “No, it’s required in the Marine Corps. My dad taught my brother and me. At one point my dad was real big into boxing.”

  Bex snorts. “He was on the All-Marine Boxing Team. I’d say he was a little more than into it.”

  “You’re kidding me?” Preston says. “That’s no joke. Some of the best boxers in the world were on that team.”

  I nod. “Yep, he’s a three-time All-Marine champion. My dad doesn’t mess around.”

  I glance over at Drake, who’s rubbing the back of his neck again, this time looking worried. Drake might be a big guy, but my dad could outwork him no problem. He should be concerned, especially if he ever meets my dad. My dad would whoop his ass up and down this campus if he ever did anything to hurt me.

  “Taylor could easily take all of you,” Bex says with laughter in her voice. “Don’t let her fool you, I’ve seen some of her moves.”

  “Well, I don’t know about all that,” I say. “But I do know jujitsu, Muay Thai, Judo, and Kung Fu.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Drake deadpans.

  I shoot him a wicked look. “You better be careful, buddy. You never know when I might surprise you.”

  He stuffs some bacon into his mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “So, what’s the deal with you two?” Shannon points at Drake and me.

  She’s full of questions today. Damn, I feel like I’m in a police interrogation room right now. Everyone is staring at us, and when Trent and Tucker stroll into the kitchen, we have two more sets of eyes on us.

  Tucker stares hard at me, and then gives Drake a thumbs up paired with a cocky smirk. At least he didn’t slow clap. I would have shown him my moves real fast if he tried that shit on me. Trent just nods and then grabs two plates from the counter before taking his place next to his twin at the table.

  With the growing number of people in the kitchen, I start to worry the entire house will be here any minute. I’m a little bit panicked about dating Drake. He draws so much attention at all times.

  “We have practice in a few hours,” I tell Bex.

  She nods. “Yeah. Jackie already texted me to say she’s gonna be late.”

  “Jackie…” I say while turning to Drake, “… is the girl you thought was Becky. You know, that girl?”

  Tucker laughs. “The one you made me stop—” He doesn’t finish his thought as Drake shoots daggers across the table at him. As if nothing happened, Tucker chuckles and then shrugs his shoulders.

  “You made him do what?” I ask Drake.

  He sighs, dropping his fork onto his plate. “Wait for me to send those pics to Becky… Jackie… whatever the fuck her name is.”

  All eyes are on me. Eek. They’re waiting for me to react, so I won’t. I already knew about the dick pics he sent to Jackie. She’s the one who showed them to me, tongue hanging out of her mouth in awe. Mine was too, to be honest, so there’s nothing to get jealous about. I can see every part of Drake whenever I want now that he’s mine.

  I roll my shoulders against my chair and go back to eating my breakfast. Drake piles more waffles onto his plate and shoves a handful of bacon into his mouth. He sure can eat.

  The table erupts into a fit of laughter once Tucker starts telling jokes. He’s a real character, that one. I don’t bother offering anything to the conversation, we’ve already discussed enough of my personal life.

  “Walk me home,” I whisper to Bex.

  Without looking over at me, she nods. “Give me five.”

  We have a lot to talk about on our way home. And even more for me to think about when it comes to Drake.

  “What are we doing for the break?” Trent says to the guys. “Other than the game on Black Friday.”

  “Dinner at my house,” Preston says.

  He asked Bex and her dad to come to his house for Thanksgiving dinner. I can’t break my tradition with my family, so I’m heading back to California for the long weekend.

  Drake leans into my ear and says, “Will you be here for Thanksgiving?”

  “No. My dad makes deep fried turkey. I never miss it. Already have my ticket booked.”

  He looks somewhat deflated. “We can still FaceTime with each other.”

  “Yeah, I don’t see why not as long as it’s just your face on the screen.”

  He laughs and then lowers his voice, pressing his lips to my ear. “Why? You getting sick of seeing it already?”

  I know he means his monster cock.

  “No, silly, but if my dad happened to walk into my bedroom while you were, you know, I would literally die from embarrassment, and you would be dead. So face only if you want to do video.”

  “I’ll save texts for the better ones,” he jokes.

  I think he’s joking.

  Who knows with Drake?

  He’s such a weirdo.

  A part of me believes he loves the attention he gains from his favorite body part. The other believes he has some serious body issues he needs to work out after what happened to him in high school.

  We all bear scars, so I get it. Even though mine are minor compared to his, I hope we can work through them together.

  Chapter Twelve

  Drake

 
; The Parkers living room is crammed with close to twenty people for Thanksgiving dinner. Tucker, Trent, and Ava are here with their parents. Tye, the second oldest of the Kanes, is missing this year. Jamie’s the only one of his siblings who showed. His older brother, Mike, runs the office for his father’s company in Silicon Valley and Grace heads the London office. Neither of them bothered to fly in for the holiday.

  My sister, Chloe, hangs out in the kitchen next to my mom, chatting with Aunt Kennedy and Aunt Charlotte. Thank God Uncle Alex is cooking dinner. He’s the only one in this room who can make a mean turkey. None of my aunts can cook worth a damn, my mom worst of them all. If anyone is stupid enough to let her as much as stir in seasonings, we’re all doomed.

  I walk into the kitchen to grab a few beers.

  My mom stops me, holding her hand out in front of me. “What’s wrong, Drakey?”

  Fisting a few bottles, I shrug. “Nothing. Just getting something to drink.”

  She gives me a curious look. “No, that’s not it. You look sad, baby.”

  “I’m hardly a baby anymore,” I quip.

  She smiles. “No, you’re not. But you’ll always be my baby, and I can tell when something’s bothering you.”

  “Probably a girl,” Chloe says, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder.

  Chloe looks almost identical to my mom, where I am the spitting image of our dad. It’s funny how that worked out. We each look like the person we have the most in common with.

  I sigh in frustration. She’s not wrong. I’ve tried to get a hold of Taylor all day and I’ve not heard a single word back from her.

  “I’m fine,” I lie. “Just tired and hungry.”

  “What’s your new girlfriend’s name?” Mom pops a chip into her mouth and smiles up at me. She’s so tiny compared to me, unlike Taylor, who compliments me perfectly.

  “Taylor.”

  My mom sips from her wine glass, studying the plate of snacks in front of her. “When do I get to meet her?”