Cross Stroke

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Cross Stroke Page 21

by Elizabeth Hartey


  He sucks on my attentive nipple and I can’t hold back the loud groan escaping my lips. The aching need between my legs throbs. When he moves to my other nipple, giving it equal attention with his mouth and tongue, the sounds of pleasure pushing out of me become even louder.

  “Shh, baby. The guys are all home. Use your inside groans,” he whispers and I can feel his smile against my skin. “Mmm, you taste so fucking good. I could swallow you up.”

  “Dak. I’m… Dak. I’m going to come.”

  “Yeah, you are, baby girl. That’s the idea.” And then he slides my panties off.

  “Fuck.” He groans. “I love how wet you get for me.” He bends my legs and brings his head down between my thighs. It only takes one long lick of his tongue down my center and I go off, moaning his name and other ecstatic prayer-like words.

  “That’s it, baby. I want to feel you come all over my tongue.” He doesn’t even give me time to come down from the first orgasm before he’s licking, sucking, and talking me into the next one. “Mmm, Bambi. You taste like coconut and oranges, like a tropical dream.”

  He uses his tongue and teeth to take turns teasing my clit. I weave my fingers through his long, silky hair and rock into him. I can’t get enough of the way he tastes me, consumes me. And then he sucks on me like a starving man, like he can’t get enough of me either. He slides two fingers inside of me and begins to pump in and out, first at a slow pace and then faster and harder while continuing to lick and suck. The aching pleasure I’m experiencing is almost too much to bear.

  I push into him, my rhythm matching the thrust of his fingers. Tipping over the edge, I explode again, and before I come back down I’m detonating for the third time, unable to hold back my scream. I’m confident the rest of the guys in the house won’t believe our Marine Bio research project was this exciting.

  My bones are molten putty. The release I experience is unlike anything…there are no words.

  “Oh my God, Dak. That was…did you see what happened?”

  “Uh, yeah. I was right here.” He chuckles, sitting back on his legs with a pleased grin.

  “I mean, I didn’t get all weird while you were doing it and I came two times. I never had multiple orgasms.” I sit up and throw my arms around his neck.

  “I’m pretty sure it was three times, and that’s because you’ve never been with the right guy, baby girl.” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around me.

  When I gaze down to admire his magic lips, he wipes his fingers across his mouth and licks them. He. Licks. His. Fingers. Just like he did with his ice cream last night, like he’s trying to get every last drop of me.

  “Mmmm, Bambi. I could spend the rest of my life without any other nourishment but going down on you. You taste so delicious.”

  Oh. My. God. I’m getting all hot and bothered again from his words and the way he’s worshiping me with his eyes. He pushes me back, crawls over me again, and brushes his lips along mine with a tender kiss. I can taste myself on his lips and it’s so hot.

  “I want you,” I purr and reach toward the thick bulge still confined within his jeans.

  “I love that you want me and you’ve got me baby, but it’s getting late and we’re scheduled to be at the rink at five.” Without another word, he rolls off me and moves off the bed. I’m overwhelmed by an immediate sense of loss. “Let’s record this freaking data and then I’ll walk you home so you can get some sleep.”

  “You want me to leave? But you haven’t…you’re still…” I reach out toward his erection, which is clearly straining inside his jeans.

  “No, I don’t want you to leave, but one step at a time, remember? I want you to be sure of what you’re doing.”

  Ugh. He’s so frustrating. Couldn’t he tell how sure I was, how much I wanted him?

  “And we’ve got an early start,” he adds, with more exasperating words.

  His cell phone pings and vibrates on his nightstand with an incoming notification. A few seconds later the muffled sound of a bird chirping comes from inside my backpack as my phone notifies me of my own incoming message. He picks up his phone, swipes his finger across the screen a couple of times, and his face lights up with a huge ear-to-ear smile.

  “What’s up?” I ask and roll on to my stomach to reach for my backpack on the floor next to the bed. Dak groans again behind me and when I look back at him, he’s staring at my bare ass.

  “You’re killing me, Bambi. Did I ever tell you how much I love your ass?”

  “Really?” I twist around like I need to get a good look at the ass in question. “It’s a skater’s ass,” I offer, like it’s perfectly normal to be discussing my bare ass.

  “Yeah. Trace Hayward’s skater ass.” He teases while ogling my ass. “‘And all I can say is thank you to whoever it was invented the sport of figure skating. It’s the perfect little round apple bottom.”

  “Apple bottom.” I giggle. “Between the coconut, oranges, and now apples, I guess I’m like a fruit salad, huh?”

  “Yeah. And I intend on pursuing a steady diet of fruit.”

  He does?

  I thought he was only supposed to be helping me get past my anxiety of being touched by a guy. We accomplished our mission. But I’m more than okay with the idea of pursuing further treatment sessions with him.

  He bends over me and licks and then nibbles on my available rear end. I moan as he licks places on my body that have never been licked before. How is it possible? In a few weeks I went from not wanting to be touched intimately by a guy, to not wanting Dak to ever stop touching me. But he does stop, stands up again and moves around the bed to retrieve the laptop he had pushed onto the floor. Hopefully the rugged armor case he has on it did its job.

  He blows out a big breath. “You need to put some clothes on or I may never do any kind of schoolwork again.”

  “I don’t know. You seem to be showing some pretty phenomenal restraint at the moment.”

  I can’t help noticing the huge bulge in his pants pushing against his zipper.

  “I’m good.” He adjusts his pants and smiles, even though it has to be so uncomfortable. I don’t know how guys do it with those things between their legs. I sit up and look around the room to see where my clothes ended up. He opens a drawer and tosses me one of his hockey t-shirts.

  “Here you go. Slip this on.”

  “Shouldn’t I get dressed? You said yourself it’s getting late. We can finish the report tomorrow night.”

  “We’ve got all night. You should stay over and we can get it done tonight.”

  “All night? What are you talking about? We’re scheduled at the rink at the ungodly hour of five a.m. Did you forget?” I ask while slipping his shirt on, since I can’t locate my sweater.

  “That message was from the university alert system. They haven’t gotten all the electricity back online. Classes are cancelled tomorrow. That means public skating sessions will be cancelled too. We can go to the rink later than five.”

  “Will there be ice if there’s no electricity?”

  “They keep the backup generator running at the rink at all times. But they’ll cancel all the sessions except for hockey practice. It’s happened before. It’s how they preserve the ice conditions. Good news, right? We can get things done tonight and sleep in a little later.”

  Hmmm. Get things done tonight.

  “Yeah that’s great, but we may not need the ice tomorrow anyway. We should start practicing some of the lifts and jumps off-ice.”

  “No problem. The dance rooms at the rink will be empty any time we want to use them. So you want to stay over and get this research project out of the way?”

  “Sure.”

  But what I actually want to do is him.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  Dak

  “I’ll text Nikki to let her know I’m not coming home.”

  Trace gets her phone and taps out a message. The responding message comes back almost before Trace is finished sending hers. She
sends another, and another lightning speed response chirps back. I’m sure Nikki is warning her to stay away from all of us asshole hockey players. Ever since her and Dalt had a falling out, she’s not too keen on hanging out with any of us. Trace sends one more message and doesn’t get any response so I guess she’s convinced Nikki it’s cool. Or it’s possible Nikki is on her way over here to beat down our door and rescue her friend.

  Except I’m not sure it’s her friend who needs rescuing. I don’t know how it happened. Trace has gotten under my skin and inside my mind to the point I can’t think about anything but her. She’s turned my world upside down and inside out. The way she responded to my touch was incredible.

  She seemed cool with everything. In fact, she was so responsive, I almost came without even removing my pants. That’s never happened to me before. I’ve never wanted a girl the way I want her. I’m still so rock hard I don’t know how I’m going to keep my mind on Bio data.

  Now that I know what she’s dealing with, I want to take things slow. I want to make sure everything is right for her, make sure we don’t do anything she’ll regret later. But fuck, when I see her sitting there in my shirt and remember she’s naked underneath it, my cock throbs. I keep reminding him we’re trying to do the right thing here. He’s not happy.

  I resume my position leaning against the headboard.

  Holy fuck!

  Trace leans her back against the footboard, pointing her legs in my direction. She bends her knees and props her computer on them, like she’s completely unaware of what she’s doing to me. My t-shirt is long enough not to be able to see anything, but I know she’s panty-free, since I’m the one who slid the tiny strip of lace down her long, silky legs. My mind is making its own enticing images inside my head. If she spreads her knees and shows me that luscious pussy, I’m done. There will be no Marine Bio work going on in this room tonight, only human bio of marathon proportions.

  I’m thankful, sort of, that she keeps her knees clamped together and I manage to keep my eyes fixed on my computer screen. During the tedious process of recording data, she moves up to my end of the bed and slouches down so her head is resting on a pillow while she types in info. We succeed in getting our project done by two a.m.

  “That’s it.” I shut down my computer and yawn loudly.

  “I’m beat. Thank goodness we don’t have to get up at four. Oh man, it’s almost that time already.” She grimaces after checking the time on her computer screen before shutting it down and placing it on the floor next to the bed.

  “You staying or you want me to walk you home?” Technically, Trace lives close enough to walk her home, but we’re both zonked and I can’t think of anything I want more than to hold her in my arms while we sleep.

  And again, when the fuck did that happen? I normally don’t want chicks to stay the night and the girls I hook up with are fine with that. It can get too complicated in the morning. But with Trace, I want to take her in my arms and hold her for as long as she’ll let me.

  “If it’s okay, I’ll stay.” She yawns and stretches like a tired little kitten. And there goes my cock again, informing me it’s more than okay if she stays. I’m so fucked when it comes to this girl. Every move she makes and every sound escaping her lips sends all my blood flow between my legs. “I’m too tired to walk home. I’m almost too tired to get up and brush my teeth,” she says and nestles into the bedcovers.

  “The bathroom’s right there if you want to use it. There’s some new toothbrushes in the second drawer.” I point to the door leading into my private bathroom. Being the captain of the team had its advantages when it came to choosing bedrooms.

  “Thanks. Be right back.” Trace scoots off the bed and picks up her backpack to take with her into the bathroom. I hear the shower water running.

  I get up and get a pair of gray sweatpants off the back of my desk chair. When I slip off my jeans and boxers, I can almost hear my frustrated cock breathe a sigh of relief.

  A few minutes later the shower turns off and Trace steps out of the bathroom. The room fills with her signature scent of citrus and coconut and I’m intoxicated. She has my shirt on again and her hair is knotted on top of her head in a messy bun. “I took a shower. Hope it’s okay.” She pulls the elastic from her hair, flips her head over, and shakes out her hair. When she stands again, her long waves fall past her breasts. My breath catches. She’s so fucking beautiful. I stand there staring at her, wondering what I did to deserve this gorgeous, mind-blowing woman standing in my bedroom.

  “Don’t wait for me,” I say pointing to the bed. “I know you’re tired. I’m going to use the bathroom.” I drop my hands in front of me to try to hide the half-mast working its way back up.

  “Okay,” she says through another yawn and makes her way over to the bed.

  I decide to take a quick shower too. I already took one after practice, but…well…Trace is in my bed. Even though I’m only in the bathroom for a few minutes, when I come back out she’s making the sweet little sleeping noises she made the night before at the lighthouse. She’s snuggled under the covers, curled up on her side. After pulling on a pair of sweatpants, I turn off the lantern and climb into bed, trying to be quiet enough not to wake her. She’s already in such a deep sleep she doesn’t stir. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling wondering, again, how I got so lucky. Exhaustion overtakes my thoughts and it isn’t long before I drift off to sleep.

  ***

  I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep before the stroking of a tongue brushes across one of my nipples. I can’t hold back the sound of a growl coming from the back of my throat. Reaching down, I run my fingers through the silky waves of Trace’s hair which are spilling across my chest. Somehow I managed to become the luckiest motherfucker on the planet. Trace is running her tongue down my abs. Christ. She slips her fingers into the waist of my sweatpants and tugs.

  “Trace? What are you doing, baby?” I ask in a thick-tongued voice. I want to make sure she’s awake and completely aware of what’s going on this time.

  “I want to taste you,” she whispers, looking up at me with those big round eyes. Jesus Christ. Maybe it’s me who’s dreaming.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

  Yeah. I’m pretty sure this girl will never do anything she doesn’t want to do again. And at this moment what she wants is to slide off my sweatpants. I lift up and let her pull them down my legs and over my feet. My cock springs up in front of her face and when she licks her lips, I don’t think it’s possible to get bigger or harder than I am right now.

  I’ve had plenty of blowjobs in the past couple of years, but when Trace looks at me like she’s about to devour me, I become Thor, Superman, Hercules, and any other superhero I’m assuming has a superpower dick.

  Fuck. I want her. I want to bury myself deep inside her. But she’s studying my dick like it’s the most luscious treat she’s ever seen and I intend on becoming her all-night candy shop.

  “Wow,” she says, and sucks in her bottom lip. She’s doing the nervous chewing thing again.

  “It’s okay, babe. Like I said. You don’t have to—”

  “It’s so big.” She runs her fingers down my shaft. Oh fuck. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.

  “Uh. Thank you?” I grunt.

  I may not be Thor, but I can’t complain. I’ve been somewhat blessed in that department. It’s not the first time a girl has given me the acknowledgement. However, after resisting my craving for Trace for so long, I’m not sure I can handle much more admiration of my assets before I go off. And then she bends her head down and licks the drop of pre-cum off the head of my dick.

  “Fuck. Tracey,” I groan. She wraps her hand around my shaft and takes me in her mouth, an inch at a time, like she’s testing to see how much of it will fit.

  When I reach the back of her throat, she starts sucking and moving her tongue in ways I never felt before. I fist my fingers th
rough her hair to direct her where I want her. But she needs no direction. She takes a long lick, from the sensitive spot at the base of my cock to under the tip of my head, like she knows all the most sensitive spots to get me crazy. Then she starts licking and sucking like I’m her own personal candy cane while her hand works up and down and around my moistened cock.

  “Jesus. Fuck. Trace. It’s so good…so good.”

  She starts making these sounds like I’m the most delicious thing she’s ever had in her mouth. Normally I can go for a while with a chick’s lips around me and her tongue working me. But this is Trace, and I’ve been doing some serious prohibition for a while now, holding myself back from her. Not to mention the way she’s working me feels like nothing I ever felt before. I can’t hold back another minute.

  “Trace, I’m gonna come.” The gravelly words push out from deep in my core. I try to pull out of her mouth but she holds on to me like a kid fighting for her favorite lollipop.

  Her sucking intensifies, gets faster and harder, and I explode into the back of her throat, groaning “Trace,” “fuck,” and some prayers of thanks. The whole time she keeps me in her mouth, swallowing every drop and moaning like she’s the one getting all the pleasure.

  When she finally sits back, she licks her lips like she doesn’t want to waste one drop.

  “Mmmm. You taste so good.”

  Holy fuck. I swear, that gesture, and the sight of her sweet, flushed face is making me hard again.

  “Fuck, Trace.”

  “Was it okay?” she asks as she crawls up over my body and then rolls on to her side to face me.

  “Okay? That was…it was…there isn’t a word invented yet.” I turn toward her and brush my lips against hers. She tastes like a mixture of salt and peppermint. Like me, I guess.

  “But it was good?” she asks me again like it was a test and she needs to know her grade.

  “Incredible,” I whisper and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Good.” Her voice drifts off into a slur, and her eyes flutter closed.

 

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