by Lynne Silver
Obediently, her mouth opened, taking him full in her mouth. She pulled back a second to coyly ask, “Can I use my hands now?”
From his position above her, leaning heavily on the headboard, he groaned, “Definitely. Use your hands.”
Immediately, she reached between his legs to cup his sac as her mouth opened again to suck him deep. His groan told her she was doing it well.
“Not going to last long,” he said, and let his hips nudge gently at her mouth.
As she squeezed his testicles gently, his thrusts grew stronger until he was fucking her mouth and shouting his pleasure. Suddenly, her mouth filled with his hot seed and she swallowed it back.
“End,” he groaned. “End.”
She smiled into his chest as he scooched down to lie next to her and wrapped his arms around her sated body.
“Stuff of fantasies,” he said, “and it was even better in real life.”
She glanced over a second later, and he was out. Eyes closed, lips parted, brain in dreamland. Men. Typical. Even…
“Stop staring at me and go to sleep,” he said with his eyes closed, but a slight smile on his lips.
With an inward sigh, she obeyed his order.
Chapter Ten
University of Maryland, Freshman Year
Casey stalked across campus, head down, seeking out the library. A bitter January wind bit straight through her thick coat, freezing her flesh underneath. Funny, she’d always been told a little meat on her bones would help keep her warmer. Well, she was as fat as she’d ever been and not one bit warmer.
She’d taken the previous semester off to stay home and heal, as her mom said. Mostly it was a lot of visits to a nutritionist and group counseling. There were also regular weight checks, which she freaking hated.
A large group of girls all wearing pale blue ski caps with pink Greek letters walked by, forcing her off the path not to run into them. They were the pledges of one of the sororities, and Casey should have been one of the group. Heck, she should’ve been their leader, not the loser having to avoid them on the path. Unfortunately, by having to drop out her fall semester, she’d missed sorority rush and any chance of having a fun social life on this campus.
Tears sprang into her eyes, and she told herself anyone who saw them would assume it was because of the cold, but Casey knew better. It was because, for her, college sucked. It was supposed to be the best time of her life, and instead she hated it.
Her mother was forcing her to live at home and commute, because supposedly she couldn’t be trusted to eat properly if left on her own. Whatever. Her therapist said she should pick and choose her social activities very carefully. If joining a sorority was going to bring back all her emotional triggers like she had in high school in her attempts to be the most popular, then she had to avoid sororities.
But, oh, it hurt, especially when they walked past her as a cohesive unit, leaving her lonely in their wake. She had no friends at college yet. The acquaintances she’d made during her first two months living on campus had forgotten about her due to lack of proximity. Out of sight, out of mind.
“Hey, Casey.”
A male voice startled her out of her self-pity party. She looked up to see she was nose to nose with Sam Cooper, who was holding open the library door for her. Or rather, she was nose to chest, because some time in the last few months, Sam Cooper had grown several inches.
“Hey, Sam.” She paused to chat, eager for any friendly face, even if it was Sam Cooper’s, but a girl with long dark hair and a bulky red coat came up and hooked her arm into Sam’s.
“Honey, we have to get going if we’re not going to be late to class.”
Sam smiled down at the girl, and Casey suddenly hated her with all the rage in her that was usually reserved for the image of her body in the mirror.
“Okay,” Sam said, and grinned at Casey. “Bye, Case. Good seeing you.” He walked off with the girl without a backward glance.
Casey stood on the cold library steps and watched them go, this time allowing the tears to fall and freeze onto her nose. There was a time, less than a year ago, when Sam Cooper would have stopped to chat. He wouldn’t have cared if he were late to something if it meant he got a chance to talk to her. She’d taken it for granted that Sam Cooper would always have a crush on her.
That world was obviously gone, and now Sam had some new girl to obsess over. Casey was old news, not the girl he’d dared to kiss at graduation. Probably because she was fat and wretched and Sam could spot that a bazillion miles away. He’d moved on and she should also. Casey entered the building and headed to the bathroom to wipe off her tears and reapply her eye makeup, determined to find some friends at this stupid school. Screw sororities and screw Samuel Cooper.
Sam walked about twenty feet away from the library with Elissa hanging on his arm. She was chattering about something, but he didn’t hear a word. He’d walked away from Casey Cooper, whom he hadn’t seen in months, and he’d said nothing more to her than “Hey.” Obviously college had changed him more than he’d thought.
Sometime over Thanksgiving break, Sam had decided to lose his futile crush on Casey and try to experience everything he was supposed to be doing during college. Like finding a girlfriend and maybe losing his virginity. It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought to give up on Casey, since she was MIA. He hadn’t bumped into her on campus even once, and after tracking down her dorm room and heading there one night, he’d learned she’d moved out. To where, the unhelpful roommate didn’t know.
So he’d moved on. He’d flirted with the girls in his classes and started asking them out on dates and had been together with Elissa for just over a month now. Sex was as amazing as he’d imagined. He liked Elissa. Really, he did, but running into Casey Cooper had nearly made him forget Elissa’s name. Had it been his imagination or had there been tears in Casey’s eyes?
Sam stopped walking. “I think I left something in the library. You go on to class so you won’t be late.”
Elissa smiled up at him. Finally, he’d grown enough that people looked up to him. “Okay, baby. I’ll save you a seat.” She blew him a kiss and walked off.
Sam hustled back to the library and burst through the doors, but Casey was no longer in the entrance. He looked around, but it was too late. She was gone.
Casey opened the door to her apartment to greet Sam. “How do I look?” She spread her arms to give him a good look. It was less than a week since their high school reunion, and Sam was taking her out for a midweek date. To where, she didn’t know. As usual, Sam liked to surprise her.
“Perfect.” He ducked down to give her a proper greeting, lip to lip.
She wasn’t fishing for compliments. It was that he’d told her he was taking her out and she shouldn’t wear her usual duds, whatever that meant. She thought men appreciated that she was nearly always in a dress or tight skirt with high heels. Tonight, under Sam’s instructions, she was in a tight T-shirt, jeans, and—gasp—ballet flats.
Sam pulled back from the kiss. “Were you always this short?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’ve see you out of heels since high school.”
“And the other night,” she said coyly, reminding them both of how he’d brought takeout dinner after work and they’d eaten it on her couch in their underwear.
“Don’t talk about the other night, or we won’t make it to our destination, and I’ve got something fun planned.” He grabbed her purse off the small table in the entrance of her apartment and handed it to her. “Ready?”
She gave a last glance into the mirror and fluffed her hair around her shoulders. “Ready.” She wheedled and teased him on the way to the elevator. “No clues about where we’re going? Pretty please.” She lowered her lashes and gave him her most practiced seductive look. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Instead of falling to his knees and being her willing slave like most humans with a penis would do at her offer, he laughed and tickled her. Tickled her! Like she was his
little sister or something. Unacceptable. She trailed her fingers over his navy polo shirt from his abdomen up to one nipple.
“I don’t like surprises, Sam. Please tell me.”
The elevator arrived, and he hauled her inside with him and caged her against one wall of the confined space. His breath was hot on her neck when he said, “You love my surprises.”
She bent her neck, granting him better access to continue the line of tiny kisses he was planting. “Maybe.” He refused to budge on his stance and wouldn’t tell her what was on his agenda for the night, even after he’d pulled into a parking spot in a lot in suburban northern Virginia.
“We’re in a whole other state, Sam,” Casey said, looking around the parking lot toward the strip mall where they were parked. There was a bank, a yogurt place, and a yoga studio. None of them seemed likely places for a date.
“Come on.” He caught up her hand and tugged her along the asphalt toward a small shop near the bank.
“The Kozy Kitchen?” Casey gave a sidelong look at Sam, but he’d already opened the door and was ushering her inside. She entered see a typical kitchen supply store with very expensive pots and pans hanging on one wall. Racks and racks of knives, spatulas, and whisks lined the center aisle.
“They offer cooking classes in the back,” Sam said. “Come on.”
She squeezed in close at his side, clinging to his arm, feeling very much out of her element. There was also the expectation that there’d be a bunch of experienced home cooks, mostly female, who’d mock her when she didn’t know the difference between sauté and simmer.
Instead, they entered an airy room in the back with three rows of two stations apiece, totaling six stations. Most surprising was that she recognized two of the people in the room.
“Hey, Casey. Hi, Sam,” Arianna Rose called and waved them over. “We saved you a spot.” Lance stood next to her looking handsome as always, in an apron looped over his neck.
Casey glanced at Sam, who was smiling at her, but there was a hint of a question in his expression as if he was worried she’d hate this kind of class. She had to put him at ease immediately. She had no idea whether she’d like a cooking class, having never done it before, but it was incredibly sweet of him to go through the trouble of bringing her to one and bringing along friends for support. “This is great. Thank you.” She squeezed his elbow and hurried to the counter space next to Arianna, where she exchanged hugs with her new friend, former frenemy.
Sam shook hands with Lance, and then an older woman called their attention from her spot at the front of the room.
“Hello, everyone. It looks like all our registrants are present; let’s begin. Welcome to Cooking for Couples. This is a cooking class series we started last year for busy people who want to spend time with their loved one and learn a new skill. This class is more relaxed than some of our others, as it is designed to be a date night for you.”
Casey felt a smile form on her face and flashed it to the room at large. What a great idea. She’d have to talk to the manager afterward to see if they’d be willing to donate a cooking class to Montgomery Prep’s auction.
“I’m Chef Aliza.” The woman introduced herself a little more, giving her credentials and highlighting some of the dishes they’d be learning to prepare tonight. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Sam actually taking notes.
She poked him. “What are you doing?”
He frowned at her. “What does it look like?”
“Once a nerd, always a nerd?”
Instead of taking offense, he grinned. “Hey, there’s no cheating later. I won’t let you copy my notes.”
“Yeah you will,” she whispered.
“Not a chance.”
She leaned into him to say very quietly into his ear, “You’ll let me, because in exchange, I’ll…” and she suggested something that made him drop his pen and notebook.
“Hey, you two,” Arianna hissed. “Stop dirty talking each other and pay attention. And pour the wine.”
Casey’s cheeks heated, and for the first time, she noticed an open bottle of wine on every workstation along with four wineglasses. She poured four glasses and handed them out to Ari, Lance, and Sam.
“Just ’cause you two have lost your spark,” she warned Arianna, handing her the goblet, “doesn’t mean you need to be a curmudgeon.”
“Lost our spark?” Ari jokingly reached for the long knife in front of her, but Lance’s hand stopped her.
“No stabbings tonight, hon. It would be too much paperwork.”
Ari pointed a finger. “You got lucky. The day you and Sam have hotter sex than me and Lance is the day I turn in my stilettos and wear mom jeans.” She gave a pointed look at Casey’s feet. “Nice shoes.”
Now Casey laughingly reached for the knife, but Sam grabbed her. “I thought you girls were friends now. I’m having tenth-grade flashbacks.”
“We are friends,” Casey and Arianna said in unison.
“If you’re done comparing our respective love lives,” Lance intoned in his deep voice, “I’d like to hear the instructions.” Four pairs of eyes gazed back to the front of the room, where Chef Aliza was chopping some blue-gray raw shrimp.
“Ick.” Casey shuddered.
“I thought shrimp were pink,” Ari said, and Lance laughed while rolling his eyes.
“You get to clean the shrimp,” Casey whispered to Sam. She volunteered to go to the front and get all the raw food for their first course. Balancing two metal bowls of raw shrimp, she carried them back to her group. She and Arianna perched on the tall stools, drinks in hand, watching their sexy men wash and prep seafood.
“Are you two helping or what?” Lance asked, flicking some water in their direction.
“We’re enjoying the view,” Casey said, lifting her glass in a toast.
“Hear, hear,” Ari said and they clinked glasses.
Sam glanced back from his concentrated cooking effort to smile at her. “No interest in learning how to cook?”
“Why bother?” Ari asked. “You’re doing such a good job.”
“Hear, hear,” Casey said, and they tapped glasses again. But because Casey had a genuine interest in learning to feed herself healthy food, she scooched off her stool and joined Sam at the counter. “What should I do?” she asked.
“Pour a little olive oil in that frying pan and turn the fire under it to medium.”
“I can do that.” She obeyed the instructions and watched until the oil heated and took on a wavery glow.
“Drop the shrimp in,” Sam said, handing her the prepped shrimp in a bowl, and she slid it in.
“Ouch.” She jumped back as bits of oil spattered. Sam immediately pushed her behind him, lowering the flame on the stovetop.
“That will happen if the oil gets too hot,” Chef Aliza called from the front.
“Now she tells us,” Casey muttered, examining her forearm where the oil had spattered.
“Are you all right?” Sam grasped her wrist and held up her arm for him to examine.
“I’m fine,” she said, but since he was holding her tenderly, she couldn’t resist hamming it up a tad. “Well, maybe it burns a little.”
“Rub some butter on it,” Lance advised from his spot in front of his stove, where he was expertly tossing the shrimp in his pan, sans oil spatters.
Sam grinned at her and planted a tiny kiss over the burn spot. “Better?”
“Much.”
He released her wrist and stepped closer with a furrowed brow. “I think you got a little burn there too.”
“Where?” She touched two fingertips to her face, worried she’d actually been burned.
“Here.” His lips landed on hers for a gentle, slow kiss, and Casey forgot the rest of the class.
“Your shrimp’s burning,” called one half of the male-male couple from the stove behind them.
Sam pulled back, and they both looked wide-eyed at the once blue-gray shrimp, which had skipped over the pink-white stage straight to
blackened and charred.
“Shoot,” Casey said. “Maybe I’m not cut out to cook.”
“That was my fault,” Sam said. “I distracted you.”
“True, but I liked your distraction. But this is supposed to be our dinner; now what are we going to eat?”
They turned in unison to Lance and Ari. Lance brandished a long slotted spoon. “Don’t even think about it. I’m hungry and I’m not sharing.”
“Fine,” Sam said. “We’ll double up on the side dishes.”
Sam smiled at Casey as they drove away. “That was fun.”
“Yes, but I still don’t know how to cook,” she said ruefully. “I think Chef Aliza was disgusted with us.”
“She’ll get over it. Sorry.”
“No worries, but I love that you’re creative about the kind of dates you take me on. I appreciate the effort. The last guy I dated could barely be bothered to do more than take me for coffee to the place near Montgomery Prep.”
Sam’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel at her mention of the last guy she dated. He wasn’t a jealous kind of person, but this thing with Casey was too new and fragile for him to have much faith in it. When you’d waited your entire adult life for something, it seemed too big a gift to have it land in your lap, and dating Casey was a gift.
He kept expecting to wake up and find that the past few weeks had been a dream. In his experience, life wasn’t like the movies, and the girl about whom you’d dreamed never turned out to be yours. If by some fluke you did land the dream girl, she turned out to be stupid or mean, and you would end up wishing for the girl next door—the one to whom you’d confessed all your desires for the unattainable girl.
Instead, Casey was everything he wanted in a dream girl, and more. She was smart, gorgeous, and sexy as hell. All in all, Sam was feeling as if he’d hit the mother lode.
“Who was the last guy you dated?” he asked, feigning a casual interest. “That guy in the photo on your phone?” he said, wondering if she’d deleted it.
She shrugged. “Yeah. He was that guy who owns a tutoring company. We didn’t have much chemistry, and he was always traveling. It sort of fell apart.”