At this very moment, I think Dak is numb to the point where he’s going to suffocate me. I run my hand down his back trying to get his attention. “Dak?”
“Yeah, baby?” He lifts his head and starts placing little kisses along my face and neck.
“I…I can’t breathe.” I push against his chest.
“Oh sorry,” he says and rolls off of me onto his side, facing me. “I think you used up every drop of me. I can’t even move.” He runs his fingers through my hair.
“I hope that’s not true.” I giggle. “What will we do with the rest of the day?” I tease.
“You keep talking like that and we may never leave this bed again.” He pushes into my thigh and it’s clear I haven’t used every drop of him because I can feel he’s already thick and hard again.
“Can we leave the bed long enough to take a shower?” I joke, but I’m not hating the idea of staying in bed with him forever.
“Only if we’re taking it together.” He flips onto his back, stretching his arms over him and resting his head onto the palms of his hands. “Holy shit!” he roars so urgently I sit straight up in concern.
“What? What’s the matter?”
“Your bed! It’s pink and white stripes!”
“Oh that.” I smile and roll on top of him, straddling him. “Is this the first you’re noticing, Sherlock?” I kiss along his neck and breathe in his peppermint vanilla, now mixed with sex, scent.
“Yeah. I was a little too preoccupied to notice your Barbie Dream House bedroom before.” His sultry eyes are saying everything I want to hear and then he rubs both hands over my breasts and squeezes.
“Mmmph.” I roll my hips into him.
“Great idea.”
“What, the shower?” I moan as he continues to knead my breasts and pinch my attentive nipples.
“No. You riding me.”
Oh my God.
I love the way he uses his words. If I stay around him long enough I may be in a permanent state of orgasm.
“Unfortunately, four o’clock practice. Remember? For now we have to settle for that shower.”
“Nooo. Really? Can’t we stay here like this all day?” I pout and rock my hips against his thick cock again.
“Oooh fuck, Trace. You’re killing me,” he groans and I love it. I know he has to go to practice and I wouldn’t let him miss it. But the truth is, I’m loving the way he wants me. I love the power I hold over him to make his body shake in pleasure and I’m enjoying teasing him.
“Dak?”
“Trace,” he says, squeezing my tits to the point I need to force my brain to focus and my ass to stop wiggling into his hard shaft.
I tilt my head and look straight into his captivating eyes. “Thank you.”
“For what, baby?”
“For doing this for me. For helping me.”
“For doing this for you? Are you kidding me right now? Tracey, I’m the one who should be thanking you. You’re the most incredible woman, in every way. You’re…perfect. That’s it. Perfect.” He places one hand around the back of my neck and pulls me down. My breasts press against his hard chest and he crushes his lips into mine. And have I mentioned? This boy can kiss.
“Tell you what, baby doll,” he whispers between kisses. “You hold the thought of riding me like a cowgirl until tonight. For now, let’s take that shower and I’ll worship your sweet pussy until I can’t feel my tongue. Okay?”
Um…okay. Yes please.
***
He didn’t lie. After lathering each other with soap and running our hands over every inch of each other’s body, Dak pushes me against the cold, wet tiles and drops to his knees in front of me.
“This is where any guy who’s with you should be all the time. On his knees in front of you.”
I can’t speak. I’m so lost in the passion in his eyes.
“Watch me, baby. Watch me adore this sweet pussy.”
I can barely breathe. I’m soaked, and not from the shower water.
He drapes one of my legs over his shoulder and licks at me with a hunger that drives me insane. I thread my fingers through his hair and hold on to keep the one leg supporting me from buckling.
He’s licking me like he’s a starving man and I’m his meal, thrusting his tongue in and out of me.
Oh God.
It’s almost too much.
“Dak. I’m…Dak… I’m…I’m going to come.” I drop my head back against the tiles and he makes these rapid flicks with his tongue against my clit. “Yes…yes…just like that…yes!” I come so hard, I may be the one suffocating him this time. I can’t stop myself from screaming his name again.
He doesn’t stop licking me until I stop trembling and I may scream again because the pleasurable sensation is too much for my post orgasm throbbing clit.
“So fucking sweet,” he says, standing up. He licks his lips.
When I can feel my legs again I drop to my knees and take his thick cock in my hand. This is the first time I’m seeing him in the light of day and he’s even bigger than he appeared last night in the dimmed lighting. “Geez.” I tilt my head back and see the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen focused on me.
“You certainly know how to stroke a guy’s ego, Bambi.” He flashes me the sexy grin that had my panties soaked the first time I saw it.
Hmm, that’s not all I know how to stroke.
My mind flashes back to Sean and his directives during the act. “Not like that, Tracey. Do it like this.” I smile at the irony of having this expertise because of that selfish prick.
I’m thankful I’m able to use my skills on a man who doesn’t take me for granted, who appreciates me. I run my hand up and down Dak’s wet length and he groans and braces his hands on the tile wall behind me. The steam from the hot water swirls around us. Dak towers over me. He’s all ripped muscle and rivulets of water are streaming down the valleys of those muscles. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
I lean forward and trace my tongue over every ridge of his cock, licking down to the base and back up, circling the tip. He doesn’t take his eyes off me, his gaze both vulnerable and carnal. He groans with every flick of my tongue. I take him in my mouth as far as I can, devouring him like he did me, keeping one hand on his thick base. He’s wet silk over iron and he tastes soapy and musky and so good.
I keep working him with my tongue and hand, sliding up and down and around his length. His eyes are closed and I can tell by the strained look of pleasure on his face he’s going to come. The power of the control in making him come this way, the vision of him being so turned on by my actions, is almost enough to make me come again with him.
He drops one hand and threads his fingers into my wet hair to hold my head in place—like I would ever let him go right now. I take him in all the way, licking and sucking hard. His moan of my name pushes out from deep within him when he explodes into my mouth. Every muscle continues to shake as he keeps himself braced against the wall with one hand. I keep swallowing and drinking him in until he comes down from the pulsing waves of pleasure.
“Jesus…Bambi. Your mouth,” he moans. “I’m ruined.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Dak
I never believed it was based on actual science, but I may be forced to reluctantly agree with those people who claim it’s not a good idea to engage in the act of sex, sex involving several mind-blowing, body draining orgasms, before trying to perform some kind of athletic endeavor.
Let’s just say I’m not at the top of my game at practice today. Then again, it might not be the marathon of sex we had this afternoon or the fact Trace may’ve sucked every drop of cum out of me with those luscious lips that’s the problem. It may be because I can’t think of anything but her.
“Where the fuck’s your head today, man?” Dalt snarls as he skids to a stop next to me. “That was the perfect set up and you’re gazing off into space, out in lala land somewhere. What the hell happened to you today? Where
were you?”
“Had practice with Trace this morning. What’s your problem?” I push my mask up off my face.
“Practice. Is that what we’re calling it now?’ He smirks. “Dude, you know there’s no one happier than me you’ve found someone you’re into again, but focus man. We want to go out on a winning season.”
“I’m focused. Relax. It’s nothing like that.” I’m not about to tell him I can’t get Trace out of every single one of my thoughts. “We had practice for our skating routine. I’m kind of sore…from all the lifting.”
“You’re doing what now?” His brow creases in bewilderment. He gives me a sideways glance, like from that angle my words will make more sense.
“I’m doing a skating routine with Trace in the Winter Fest. We need to choreograph and practice it. That’s what I was doing today.”
Right before we fucked each other’s brains out.
“Stop fucking with me, Andersen. No fucking way are you doing a figure skating routine.”
Wolfe sprays shaved ice all over our legs when his blades screech to a stop next to us. He spits his mouth guard into his hand and growls, “What the hell are you guys doing over here?”
“Get this.” Dalt jabs his stick in my direction. “Andersen claims he’s skating in the Winter Fest.” He shakes his head in disbelief.
“I didn’t know they did hockey demonstrations in the Winter Fest,” Wolfe says while using the stick in his hand to readjust his…uh…jock strap.
Batt and Erik pull up next to us in time to hear Wolfe’s comment. “They’re doing a hockey demonstration in the Winter Fest this year?” Erik asks.
“No, man. He says he’s doing a figure skating routine with Trace,” Dalt spits out the words, like they taste foul in his mouth.
“Yeah, right. Good one.” Batt snorts.
He pats me on the back like I just told him the best joke he’s ever heard.
“It’s true. I’m doing a pair routine with Trace.”
“Get the fuck outta here, bro. You can’t do a figure skating routine,” Wolfe gasps. “You’re fucking captain of the hockey team.”
“What the hell does that matter?” I push my chest into his to demonstrate I manufacture as much testosterone as he does.
“Wait a minute, Wolfe,” Erik interjects. “Just because he’s captain of the hockey team doesn’t mean he can’t figure skate too. They’re not mutually exclusive, you know. I mean, can you figure skate, dude?” Erik wrinkles his brow in disbelief.
“Yeah, I can. You assholes got a problem with that?”
“No…no…guess not…whatever,” the guys all mutter over each other.
“Good. Because when you see how frickin' hot our routine is, you guys are all going to want to find yourselves a partner to do a routine too.” I flip my mask back down. I’m done defending this shit. I love these guys, but all their macho bullshit can be a pain in my ass sometimes. This routine is more athletically challenging than most things in my experience. So screw whatever anyone thinks.
“No thanks, bro. I’ll stick to doing the horizontal mambo with my partners, if you don’t mind.” Wolfe shoves his mouth guard back in.
“Excuse me for interrupting, but if you ladies are done having tea over there, would you mind getting the fuck back to practice?” Coach De Luca’s voice booms across the ice.
He can be harsh, but he’s an awesome coach. He’s brought us to more championships than any other Ivy League team in the ECAC. He knows how to get the best out of us and we respect the hell out of him for it.
“Make sure you get tickets, assholes, because it’s gonna be fucking lit!” I yell over my shoulder to them, as I skate away.
***
I don’t think I ever showered or dressed faster in my life. The only thing on my mind is getting back to Trace’s house. Back to her. I crave her like a dying man on a desert craves water.
I don’t know what’s happening. Technically, we fulfilled what we said we were going to do. She’s no longer afraid to be touched by a guy. But the thought of another guy touching her the way I did has my stomach roiling and my muscles clenching. I’m not ready for this to be over between us. She could be, though. Maybe she’s ready to go back to being ‘friends only.’
The vibration of my phone in my back pocket snaps me out of my deliberation. The text message lights up my screen.
Trace: Nikki messaged me. She’s having dinner at the TW at 5:30 with some of the people from her football game. She asked me to come. You want to go?
Me: Yes. I definitely want to cum with you. ;D
Trace: You’re such a pig :P
Me: So I’ve been told by the world’s most amazing woman.
Trace: Anyone I know? And can that ride you promised me wait ‘til after dinner? I’m starving!
Okay, so she’s not ready to go back to being just friends either.
Me: When you put it like that I’m not sure it can wait! Might need to take matters into my own hands. ;)
Trace: OMG! Now I can’t get that image out of my head.
Me: Good. Hold that thought. See you at the TW in ten minutes.
***
When I walk into the pub it’s not hard to find the table full of grass and mud-stained students. They pushed a few tables together to accommodate the number of people and they’re laughing and chattering louder than the music streaming through the bar.
My eyes lock on the only person I want to see. Trace laughs at someone’s comment and flips her hair over her shoulder. As I watch her, my heart beats faster against my ribs. The word mine runs through my head. The thought makes my pulse beat even stronger against my temples. I don’t deserve her.
She glances toward the door and sees me standing there. Her face lights up with an ear-to-ear grin matching the size of my own. She waves to me and I swear to Christ my heart flutters, something I thought only happened to chicks in romance novels. I can now attest to the fact a dude’s heart can indeed fucking flutter.
She moves her backpack off the chair next to her so I can sit down. The simple act of having saved the seat next to her for me has my ridiculous heart rippling again. Christ. I’m becoming a Jane Austen character. A female Jane Austen character.
I take a seat and I don’t even hesitate to lean into Trace and place a kiss on her cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Except all the chatter at the table goes quiet and everyone is staring at us, making it seem like the most unnatural thing in the world.
“Uh huh!” Nikki shouts. She points her finger and glares at Trace from across the table. “I knew it!”
I snicker under my breath because in that second Nikki reminds me of Hercule Poirot solving the unsolvable mystery.
Trace shifts in her chair. It’s obvious she’s not loving this unwanted attention. I place my hand on her thigh to reassure her and her muscles relax.
“So how was the game? Did the girls whip your ass?” I tease the guys from the football and soccer teams seated around the table. The question succeeds in diverting the attention right back to the anecdotes they’re sharing about what went down in their touch football game and who was better.
“Our first game’s tomorrow. Can you come?” I ask Trace while the others are preoccupied with their stories. I can’t explain my overwhelming need for her to come watch me play. Even if I can’t see her, I want to know she’s in the stands supporting me.
“Sure. I might be a little late though. I got a GA position with one of the Bio professors. There’s a late afternoon lab class I’m helping with.”
“Okay. Hope you can make it. I really want you there.” I regret my last comment almost before it comes out of my mouth. There’s a chance she’ll think I’m pushing her too hard. Maybe it sounds too much like a boyfriendy thing to say and we promised no messy relationship.
She leans into me and whispers, “Eat fast.”
Hmm, I don’t think she minds.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Tracey
I don’t know what’s happening. The intense level of want is a new experience for me. We’re trying to make our way up the stairs while at the same time unzipping clothing and plundering each other’s mouths.
When we get to my bedroom, Dak slams the door closed behind us and pushes me against it. He pulls my sweater over my head and tosses it. In a matter of seconds he has my bra off and then he drops to his knees, pulling my shoes off, with my jeans and underwear following in quick succession. Staying on his knees he tugs his own shirt over his head, drops his head back, and scans his hungry eyes over me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says in a hushed voice. God. I love the way he makes me feel so cherished. Then he begins to stroke me into ecstasy with his tongue again. I lace my fingers through his hair and hold him against me, greedy with need. When the tease of his tongue has me right on the edge, he stands up.
“Nooo,” I groan in frustration.
“Don’t worry. Just the warm-up.” He steps out of his shoes, jeans, and briefs. His erection springs free and I can’t take my eyes off of him as he turns and walks toward the bed.
I’m leaning back against the door trying to catch my breath and regain the use of my wobbly legs, a state I seem to be in ninety percent of the time I’m around him. I take the time to admire every cut groove of muscle in his back and wide shoulders. My gaze drifts down to his ass. The perfect ass. I was right. He has those slight indents on either side caused by the most toned, tight glutes I’ve ever seen. Not that I spend a lot of time studying booties, though I plan on spending some time studying that one.
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