The Sophomore

by Monica Murphy

  Sounds familiar, is what I want to tell her. Gracie really likes men—all sorts of them. “He’ll be a hard man to tame.”

  “Maybe he shouldn’t be tamed. Maybe he should run wild and free,” Gracie says, sounding thoughtful.

  I think of Jackson. He’s a little wild and free himself. And if he really pursues the rock star life, is that something I want to deal with? It’s one thing to be one of his adoring fans. His good friend.

  I’m pretty sure I’m about to step into the next level and become his actual girlfriend. How will I deal with those adoring fans? Can I handle them? Will I want to? And what if his career actually takes off? Will I end up getting left behind?

  All things I really don’t want to focus on right now.

  Long minutes later, I’m in the kitchen, munching from a bag of tortilla chips, when I feel someone approach me from behind. A very tall, broad someone, who slowly wraps his arms around my waist and presses his body to mine.

  “Time’s up,” Jackson whispers in my ear. “It’s been an hour.”

  “No way.” I’m still munching on the chips, shivering when he nuzzles his nose against my neck.

  “It’s actually been over an hour. I got stuck in a conversation with Eli and Caleb about our game next week.” His lips move against my sensitive skin when he speaks. “I don’t give a shit about football.”

  “You don’t?” I frown, settling my hands over his.

  “Don’t really give a shit about the music either,” he adds, his teeth grazing the spot just beneath my ear.

  “You’re lying.” I melt against him when he shifts his arms lower, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my shirt, touching my bare skin.

  “It’s true.” His mouth is at my ear once more, his husky voice making me throb between my thighs. “The only thing I care about right now is you.”

  I slowly turn within his arms, so I can face him, my expression somber. The effects of the alcohol I consumed earlier have seemed to wear off. I am completely sober. “Do you really mean that?”

  He grabs my hand, resting my palm against the center of his chest. I can feel his rapidly beating heart. “Feel that?”

  I nod.

  “That’s what you do to me.” His fingers encircle my wrist and he shifts my hand lower, to the front of his jeans. “Feel that?”

  I curl my fingers around his erection, hoping no one is paying attention to us.

  “You do that to me too. Now let’s go to my room,” he says, his expression, his tone so, so serious.

  Only his eyes are lit with a fire that I recognize.

  The same fire that burns inside me.

  We don’t say anything to announce our departure. We just leave, Jackson leading me down the short hall to his bedroom. We slip inside the room, Jackson reaching over and turning on the lamp that sits on top of his dresser before he pulls the door shut and locks it. I glance around his room, taking it all in. It’s clean, nothing cluttered on top of every available surface like my space. His bed is neatly made, and I go to sit on the edge of it, anticipation curling through me at what is about to happen next.

  Along with a healthy dose of fear.

  He must’ve taken a shower before he came home, because he’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt, his tank and jeans long gone. I watch as he toes off his shoes, kicking them to the side. He whips his shirt off next, pulling it off with one hand in that casual way guys do. My mouth goes dry at the sight of his bare chest. It’s lean. Sculpted with muscle that stretches smooth and taut. A flat belly with a golden trail of hair that leads from below his navel and far past the waistband of his shorts.

  “I realized that last time I got to see you naked, but you’ve never seen me naked,” he says, his voice casual. Like it’s no big deal, that the man of my dreams is stripping in front of me. “Figured you were curious.”

  I say nothing. My voice has completely left me.

  He rests his hand against the center of his chest for a brief moment before it goes sliding down. Over the flat terrain of his stomach, until his fingers are toying with the waistband of his shorts. “Do you like watching me, Ellie?”

  I realize I do a lot of that. Watch Jackson. When he’s out on the football field. When he’s on stage. He’s my favorite thing to look at, bar none.

  “I do,” I whisper.

  His hand slips beneath the front of his shorts, and he palms himself. I wish I could see everything. Witness him stroking himself. What a sight to see. So much on display for me to look at, I don’t know where to look first.

  So I watch his busy hand moving beneath his shorts, and I fantasize what he looks like naked.

  He must see the need on my face, because he gets rid of the shorts, kicking them away when they fall to his feet. He’s just in his boxer briefs now. They cling to him like a second skin, the pale gray fabric outlining everything.

  Everything.

  Jackson walks toward me, leaning over as I tip my head back, our lips meeting in a deliciously dirty, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue plunders, wrapping around my own, his hand sliding into my hair, gripping the back of my head, fingers tugging on the strands. It hurts, but I like the sting, the hungry way he kisses me, how he’s not holding anything back. I can feel his energy washing over me, making me hungry too and I reach for him, my hands landing on hot, bare skin, my fingers immediately exploring.

  I want to explore every inch of him.

  He abruptly pulls away, his hands at the side of his briefs as if he’s going to pull them down at any second. “Want to see?”

  “Yes,” I whisper without hesitation.

  He smiles. “Show me what you’ve got first. Let me see you, El.”

  I take my camisole off, revealing my lacy bra. My nipples poke against the fabric, hard and tingling, and I reach behind my back, undoing the hook so they spring free. I discard the bra, letting it fall to the floor and I sit in front of him, naked from the waist up.

  His gaze never straying from my breasts, he murmurs, “Show me more.”

  As if in a trance, I rise to my feet and undo the snap of my jeans, sliding the zipper open before I push the denim down my legs, kicking them off. My panties are pale yellow and cheeky and I hesitate, not about to show him all the goods, even though he’s already seen them.

  “Your turn,” I tell him, my voice husky.

  “At the same time?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “You go first. You’ve already seen me.”

  “Got me there,” he says with a closed-lipped smile, right before he sheds the briefs.

  Revealing himself in his full naked glory.

  And what a sight it is to see. His cock is huge. Pointing in an arc, the head toward his flat stomach, the muscles in his thick thighs defined. My mouth pops open, I can’t help it, and I stare at him for a little while, caught up in all this male beauty on display just for me.

  “You’re making me nervous,” he says after too much silence.

  I lift my gaze to his. “You’re beautiful,” I say truthfully.

  He reaches for me, the two of us toppling on top of the bed, his mouth finding mine as his hands find my breasts. He strokes and teases, his fingers and his tongue, trapping me by slinging a heavy leg over mine, so I can’t move away.

  Not that I would. I want this. I want him. His hands on me, his mouth on me. All over me. His hot skin pressing into mine. He rolls me over on my back, hovering above me, the heavy weight of his cock resting against my stomach, leaving a wet spot. Feeling brave, I reach for him, circling my fingers around his thick girth, giving him an experimental stroke.

  Jackson moans into my mouth, his kisses turning ravenous.

  Bolder, I do it again, eliciting another agonizing groan. I pick up my pace, confidence racing through my veins as I stroke him in earnest. His hips start to move as he devours my mouth and I want to laugh in triumph, I feel so good.

  He wants this. He wants me. All these years I didn’t think I mattered to him and look at him now. All over me, his c
ock in my hands, his mouth locked with mine. I always fantasized about this moment, never truly believing it would happen. And look at us now. We’re finally doing this.

  It’s happening. And it’s everything I could’ve ever dreamed.

  “Fuck,” he rasps against my lips, shifting his pelvis away from my seeking hand. “You keep that up, I’m going to come all over your fingers.”

  “I want you to,” I say, sounding greedy—because I am. “Please.”

  He lifts his head, staring down at me with a knowing glint in his gaze. “How about you come all over my face instead?”

  I should be embarrassed. Tell him to stop. But I don’t. I nod eagerly instead, smiling up at him. “Okay.”

  He laughs, shifting down my body, blazing a trail of hot kisses all over my skin. I lie there and take it, my body seemingly melting into the mattress, resting my hand on top of his head, threading my fingers through his hair. He kisses and licks at my breasts, drawing one nipple into his mouth and sucking, his cheeks hollowing out. I watch, fascinated, breathless as he takes his time, lavishing equal attention upon both of my breasts, every pull of his mouth causing an answering pull between my thighs.

  He moves lower, his lips skimming my stomach. A shaky sigh leaves me and he glances up, those blue eyes seeming to penetrate my soul as he stares at me, his hands reaching for my panties and tugging downward. He pulls them off my legs, and without warning, his fingers find me, parting my folds, stroking my delicate wet skin. A choked gasp sticks in my throat.

  “So wet,” he whispers, just before he ducks his head and continues on the journey he started at my chest.

  I part my thighs, eager to feel his mouth on me. He settles himself in between my legs, searching me with his fingers, his eyes never straying from the spot he sang about onstage mere hours ago.

  “Just as pink as I remember,” he murmurs, his warm breath wafting across me, making me jump. I’m dying to feel his mouth on my flesh and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as I try to calm my racing heart.

  His lips touch me. Gently at first. Exploring. I slowly open my eyes to find he’s still watching me, the lower half of his face buried against my pussy. All I can see are those beautiful blue eyes watching me, making me feel beautiful too.

  I see him.

  And he sees me too.

  He licks me. Laps at me gently, searching, teasing. A tremor moves through me when he flicks at my clit with his tongue, reminding me I’m already so close to the edge, and it would take nothing for me to fall. I reach up behind me, wrapping my arms around a pillow to anchor myself, but it doesn’t help. I’m floating. Rising above the bed, my entire body made of air, my heart racing so hard I’m scared it’ll fall out of my chest.

  At the same time he wraps his lips around my clit, he pushes a single finger inside of me. A low moan fills the room, and I realize it’s me. I’m moaning as he begins to thrust. In and out. Over and over. Driving me wild with his tongue and lips, that finger.

  Oh shit, that finger.

  “Tight,” he whispers, slowing his movements. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You’re not—” a whimper leaves me when he sucks hard on my clit, “—hurting me.”

  He lifts away from me completely, his finger still inside my body, his knowing gaze watching me carefully. His lips and chin are shiny with my juices and he seems very, very pleased with himself. “You close?”

  I nod. “I-I think so.”

  He smiles. Sticks his tongue out and laps at me, the gesture lewd. Dirty. Leaving me breathless. “You like it when I do that?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, closing my eyes so I can savor the sensations racing through me. Opening them once again so I can watch him.

  I always want to watch him.

  “I’m going to add another finger,” he tells me, just before he does. I squirm, the stretch stinging only for a moment before my body relaxes. I start to move with his hand, enjoying the rhythm. Chasing it. He rises up, his fingers still between my legs, his mouth finding me as we kiss sloppily, his tongue thrusting into my mouth. I suck on it eagerly.

  “That’s what you taste like,” he says after he breaks the kiss, his molten gaze making me shudder.

  I’m probably going to hell for enjoying this so much, but it’s too late for regrets now. And when he resumes his position between my legs, diving in once more to eat at me hungrily, I’m all in. Grinding against his face, reaching for that orgasm that hangs just out of reach. Desperate to come. I lift my hips, my feet flat on the mattress so I have better leverage. He slips a hand beneath me, clutching one ass cheek to him as he continues his assault with his tongue and fingers, his lips and tongue working a delicious rhythm.

  It slams into me out of nowhere. Everything stills. My breath. My heart. My entire body. Just before I fall completely apart, a shaking, gasping mess as the orgasm sweeps over me. He holds me to him, never letting up, his mouth a form of exquisite torture as he draws out the climax as long as possible. Until I’m pushing him away, my body too sensitive, my pussy literally throbbing from all of his devoted attention.

  “Holy shit,” he says after he slides up the mattress to pull me into his arms. He holds me close, his hands running up and down my back as I press my face to his chest, trying to calm my agitated heart. “You came hard.”

  It’s all because of him. All of my feelings, my emotions that have been wrapped up in him for all these years just came flowing out of me. It was amazing. Almost scary.

  I want to do it again.

  Twenty-Seven

  Jackson

  She’s so damn beautiful, lying in the middle of my bed, completely naked and so open. Watching her come was a sight to see. One I want to witness on repeat.

  But my body is aching. My cock fucking throbbing, eager to get inside her. I’ve been ready to fuck since the performance. Even after the disappointing meeting with the record label, I was able to put that all out of my mind, knowing what was possibly going to happen tonight with Ellie.

  My gorgeous, sweet Ellie. Watching me with glowing eyes, smiling at me as she drifts a hand down her front. She touches herself between her legs, her teeth sinking into her lower lip and I stare, fascinated as she strokes herself. She’s so wet, I can hear her busy fingers, and I clasp hold of her wrist, stopping her as I lean in to kiss her.

  “I can do that,” I tell her, slipping my fingers between her thighs once more. “But you have to return the favor.”

  She eagerly reaches for my cock, her fingers wrapping tightly around me. Whatever she lacks in experience, she makes up for with enthusiasm. She’s eager. Ready and willing. Surprisingly not shy. I never want her to stop touching me.

  “You have condoms?” she asks at one point, just before she shoves at my shoulder so I land on the bed on my back.

  “Yeah,” I say, waving a hand toward the bedside table. “A couple in the drawer. A box in the bathroom.”

  “Aren’t you prepared.” She climbs on top of me, shocking the shit out of me as she starts kissing my chest. “Your skin is so smooth.”

  I lay there and let her have her way with me. She kisses me everywhere she can reach, her tongue toying with my nipples, making me jump. Her hair dragging against my skin, tickling me. She rains kisses on my rib cage. My stomach. Her mouth draws closer to my dick, and I tell myself not to push. Not to ask for it. Maybe she’s not ready for that. She hasn’t done much. I need to remember that.

  She wraps her fingers around the base of my cock, dips her head and draws me into her mouth, so deep I groan. Loud enough for everyone that’s still in the apartment to hear me. She licks and sucks. Strokes. Wraps her lips so tight around the head that I almost explode.

  “Stop, stop,” I tell her, not wanting to come in her mouth. She lifts away from me, and I roll toward the bedside table, fumbling with the drawer. Her hands don’t leave me as I find a condom and tear the wrapper open, pulling the circle of rubber out and waving it at her.

  “Let’s put this on,”
I say roughly, my entire body feeling as if it’s being pulled taut, strung out with tension. One wrong move and I could come. And I’m not ready. I want to draw this out. For her and for me.

  She watches me roll the condom on with an eager gaze, practically pouncing on me once I’m done. We kiss and kiss, our movements sloppy. Reckless. Desperate for connection. I didn’t know it could be like this. Feel like this. As if I’m addicted and she’s the only drug that can satisfy me. I’m not bored or impatient. Ready to end it so the girl will leave and I can be alone. That’s how it’s been before with others. Quick and fast and get the fuck out.

  Not with Ellie. I want to savor her and I can tell she feels the same.

  I position her so she’s lying on her back, me hovering above her, my knees on either side of her hips. I stroke myself, watching her watch me with lust-filled eyes, her lids at half-mast. Releasing my grip, I reach between her legs, testing her. She’s wet. I slip a finger inside her, feeling her tense up.

  Tight. So fucking tight.

  “I’ll go slow,” I promise, removing my finger from her pussy so I can angle my cock right at her entrance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She takes a deep breath, her entire body rigid. “I’ll be fine.”

  I stroke her skin, rising up so I can drop a soft kiss to her lips. “Relax, baby. It’ll hurt worse if you’re all tense.”

  She nods. I can feel her trying to forcibly relax her muscles. Her shoulders. Her arms. Her legs. I rub her pussy with the head of my dick, back and forth, lingering around her clit, my mouth never leaving hers, and she relaxes more, seeming to sink into the mattress.

  This is when I try and sink inside of her.

  Slowly, I push in. Inch by inch, stretching her wide. Her eyes open, her pupils blown as she blinks up at me. Her mouth hanging open as I push my way in farther. There’s a hitch in her breath and she stills, making me pause too. Waiting her out.

  She exhales, her eyes falling closed, and I go farther. Deeper. It’s excruciating, how slow I have to go. How snug and hot she feels around my cock. I’d fuck her hard and fast if I could, but I restrain myself. I want to make this good for her.