Lessons In Losing It (Study Abroad Book 4)

by Jessica Peterson

  “Fred,” she says. “Don’t, please. I want to do this on my own. I’m super proud of the fact that I got the internship at Meryton—mostly because I did it all on my own. If I get the internship here, I want to feel just as proud. I want to know there was no favoritism involved.”

  “No favoritism?” I say. “Then what do you call the tour I organized for you? You would’ve never met Valentina if it weren’t for me. You didn’t do that on your own.”

  Rachel lets out a sigh. “Fair point. But when I accepted the tour, I had no idea that any of this,” she motions between us, “would happen. I had no idea the internship program at your club even existed. So would you pretty please butt out and let my stellar transcript speak for itself?”

  “Stellar transcript?” I tease. I don’t want this to turn into a fight. “Someone’s a little full of themselves.”

  “Hey, I worked hard for those grades,” she replies, grinning. “Just…promise me you won’t say anything to Valentina, okay? This is important to me.”

  I put my hands on my hips. Look down at Rachel for a long beat. Then it’s my turn to sigh.

  “I promise,” I say. “Although I don’t agree, not for a moment. I want your dreams to come true, but it’d be even better if they came true here. With me. And for that to happen, you need to get this internship.”

  She looks away. “I know. It’s a risk we’ll have to take.”

  “We’ve been taking a lot of risks lately.”

  Rachel doesn’t reply. A beat of silence passes between us, full of all the things we haven’t said. All the things we’re afraid of.

  “You wore your glasses,” she says at last, looking back at me.

  “You liked them.” I shrug. “They also make me smarter, and you seemed to like that, too.”

  “Smart is sexy.”

  “Want to get going?” I motion to the car. “I imagine it’s quite chilly in a dress.”

  “The dress,” she says, wiggling her brows. “I’ve been wondering all day what that’s about.”

  It’s about me being able to fuck you the literal second we walk through my front door. I’ve got it all planned: I’ll unzip my fly and wrap her legs around me and push aside her panties and then I’d be in.

  I’d be so fucking deep inside her she’d cry out, and I’d struggle not to come, and we’d fuck hard and loud against the wall like the animals we are.

  “That reminds me,” I say, hustling to open the passenger side door for her. “I have something to send you.”

  I close the door behind her and get in the car. I start the engine, and right away the heat comes on. I made sure it would for Rachel. Then I unlock my phone and hit a few keys. It makes a whoosh sound through the speakers of my car—I’ve got it connected via Bluetooth—when I send her the text.

  “That was for me?” she says, holding her phone while she locks in her seatbelt.

  “It was.” I glance over my shoulder before merging into traffic.

  “Ah,” she says, scrolling down. “Your health exam. Says you’re 1.83 meters tall—that’s what, six-one ish?”

  “Don’t be stingy, love—that’s six-one and a half.”

  “Right. Can’t forget the half. So you’re six-one and a half, one hundred seventy one pounds…Greek god levels of body fat…blood work looks good, except for…oh! Says you have an incurable and particularly virulent case of syphilis.”

  I nearly swerve into the next lane. “It does not!” I say, leaning over to look at her screen.

  She keeps it just out of my reach, laughing. “No it doesn’t, but I couldn’t resist busting your balls.”

  “My syphilis-ridden balls. Nice, Rachel. Really nice.”

  We both laugh at that. I’m always laughing with her. Makes me realize how little I’ve laughed in general up until I met her.

  “But really, thank you for this. I appreciate you being so up front about things,” she says. “Here, I’ll send you mine—should have it in my email somewhere…”

  I glance at her, shifting gears. “I trust you.”

  She looks at me. “You do?”

  “I know you better than I’ve known any girl. Ever.”

  “Well, yeah, you know me like that—”

  “I do,” I say. “I can’t wait to keep knowing you like that. But I’d like to think I’m a good enough judge of character at this point in my life to know you wouldn’t lie to me.”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you,” Rachel replies.

  I look away, focusing on the road. “I’ve met a lot of girls, Rachel, but you—you’re different. I knew that right away when we met.”

  A smile flutters at the edges of her mouth. “I’m different?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Obviously. You’re my girlfriend, remember? And I don’t have many girlfriends.”

  “I know,” she says. “By the way, I just sent you my physical exam results. If you want to read them.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I know you’ve been struggling with which direction to take in your life, but the fact that you’re struggling at all shows you’ve got something inside you that’s genuine. Something that tells you to stop trying to be someone you’re not.”

  “Wow. That’s really lovely of you to say—thank you.” She curls into her seat. Sighs. “You know, it took meeting you for me to finally grow the balls to choose sports medicine over plastic surgery. It took having someone who’s unconditionally on my side—someone who’s been through the same thing—for me to get here. So thank you, Fred, for being such a wonderful friend.”

  I smile. I smile so bloody hard it hurts.

  Out of all the things I’ve ever wanted in a girl, I never considered wanting a friend. But now I see how important friendship is. How it should come first and foremost, because that is where the magic is. Not to say there isn’t magic in the bedroom, because holy hell, there certainly can be. But it’s the magic that comes from being friends—listening to one another, being there for one another, having fun with one another—that really glues us together. That makes what we have special.

  “You’re an even better friend to me,” I say, softly. “What can I do to return the favor?”

  When she turns to look at me, her eyes are dark. Saucy.

  “You can fuck me,” she says.

  My pulse hiccups. “I was going to do that anyway. But if you’ve got a lot on your mind—if you need some time—”

  “I don’t need time.” Her hand falls out of her hair. “I need you to have sex with me. Now. Fred, please. Last night, I felt so—I don’t know. Amazing. I want to feel like that again. Get out of my head for a little, you know?”

  I look at her. She looks back at me.

  I nail the first turn I can. We’re somewhere in the old town, Madrid’s medieval quarter; here the streets are narrow, quiet, a labyrinth of cobblestones and shadows.

  Perfect.

  It’s loud driving over the cobbles, but I don’t slow down. I take a left, then a right, working my way further into the labyrinth. It gets quieter. Darker.

  I pull into an alley and, seeing that no one’s around, throw the car into park and turn it off.

  “Get in the back,” I murmur, unbuckling my seatbelt.

  “Wait,” Rachel says. “Are we—the sex—are we going to do it here?”

  “You said you wanted me to fuck you. Now.” I look up at her. “So that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “But we’re in public!” She gestures out the windshield, a smile of disbelief breaking out on her face. “Someone will see us—”

  “No they won’t,” I say. “But it could make things a bit more exciting, yeah?”

  “I didn’t know you were an exhibitionist.”

  “I’m not. I just want to repay the favor, remember?”

  She looks at me for a beat. Then another. “You’re fucking excellent, Fred. You know that?”

  “I do. Get in the back.”

  “Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

  Rachel unbuckl
es her belt and, putting a hand on my shoulder, climbs into the backseat. I’m too big to manage the same maneuver, so I turn off the car and get out. Glancing around one last time, I open the car door and slide onto the back bench beside Rachel.

  It’s dark back here, the only light coming from a nearby window. I can just make out Rachel’s face. She’s breathing hard. Looking at me with parted lips. Her dark eyes aren’t wet anymore, but I hope—I think—she’s wet somewhere else.

  Her eyes flick to my mouth. She runs her tongue along her bottom lip.

  This girl. This fucking girl.

  I reach for her, putting my hands on her neck. Her head falls back when I bring my mouth down on hers. I lean into her and her hands go to my chest. I drink her in, opening her to me with my tongue. She kisses me back, hard, her breath coming hot and fast against my face. She tastes clean, like water, a hint of gum.

  I’m hard in the space of a single heartbeat. My dick throbs against the crotch of my jeans, seeking her tight heat. Seeking release. Christ, I’ve been dying for this all day. Dying for her.

  Her hands are on my face now, and she’s climbing on top of me, straddling my lap. The front slit in her dress falls to the side, revealing the top of her thigh.

  I groan when she settles her weight on me. I curl my fingers around her waist, slide them to her hips, and I guide them in a slow, grinding circle against my dick. She gasps. Bites my lip.

  She’s got her arms around my neck now, moving against me in a steady grind. My dick is throbbing. I lift my hips, just a little, roll against her.

  I reach around her neck and gather her hair in my fingers, pulling it across her back to drape it over one shoulder. This leaves one side of her throat completely revealed—completely vulnerable. I sink my teeth into the soft skin there, gently sucking it until she cries out.

  “Fred,” she moans. “Oh, please. Please.”

  With my other hand I tug her dress up her thighs. Reach between her legs.

  I pull back when I encounter the thin lacy strap of a thong.

  It’s soaking wet.

  I meet her gaze. “Oh my God, Rachel.”

  “All day,” she pants, closing her eyes. “I’ve been wet like this all day, thinking about you.”

  I swallow, hard. I knew Rachel and I had chemistry. I didn’t know our attraction would go this deep. Would haunt both of us like this.

  I’m so fucking turned on it hurts.

  “My jeans,” I grunt. “Unbutton them.”

  Rachel goes right to work, reaching between us. She pops the button and tugs down the fly, reaching inside my jeans. She cups my dick through my boxers, giving it a squeeze.

  For a second my vision goes blank. I can’t resist the idea of fucking her raw, without a condom, but I’m also worried I’ll last all of three seconds. Everything about her just feels so bloody good.

  I hook my first two fingers in the center strap of her thong and yank it aside. The tip of my middle finger meets with her center. She’s hot, pulsing, practically dripping with arousal.

  “Jesus Christ, love, I thought you were wet last night, but this—”

  Her face hovers above mine. She smirks. “This is insane. I know.”

  I guide my finger up to her clit and she gasps, her eyes going dark. “I want to make you come first.”

  “I’m—” Another gasp when I work her clit between my knuckles and give it a tug. “I’m already so close, Fred. Let’s just go.”

  “You sure?”

  In reply, she reaches inside my boxers and grabs my cock. I suck a breath through my teeth at the strength of all this sudden contact—skin on skin, her palm on my length. She rears up on her knees, her hair falling in my face as she positions her pussy over the head of my dick.

  I reach between us and put my hand on hers. I want to be here for this—for the moment when I slide inside her.

  “Wait,” she says, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes. “You didn’t look at my exam results.”

  “I already told you,” I reply. “If you say you’re clean—if you say you’ve got birth control covered—then you’re fucking clean. We’re all right.”

  Her eyes contract, but in a pleasant way. A surprised way.

  “All right,” she says.

  Together we position my dick at her entrance. My head grazes her heat. Then she cants her hips, rolling them back just the tiniest bit.

  Her eyes never leave mine as she sinks down on me, slowly. They’re glazed over with pleasure. Satisfaction.

  Her mouth falls open.

  I want to fucking howl as her grip on me, hot and wet and so bloody soft, intensifies. She takes me in, one inch at a time. She’s wetter and tighter than before—I don’t know how, but she is, maybe because we’re bare this time, maybe because we know each other. Whatever the reason, it’s so good it’s almost painful.

  Her hands are on my shoulders. She goes still, an inch or two from swallowing me whole.

  “I can’t,” she whimpers. “Fred, I can’t. It’s too much—you’re too big—”

  I brush the hair out of her face, reaching up for a kiss. “Do you want to stop?”

  She closes her eyes. Shakes her head. “I don’t ever want to stop with you.”

  I help her the rest of the way, lifting my hips as she sinks down the last little bit. She winces.

  “Does it hurt?” I ask.

  “A little,” she says, going still. “It’s really—intense this way. And I’m still a little sore.”

  “I am, too.”

  “You’re sore?”

  “You’re tight as fuck, Rachel. So yeah, I’m sore. Don’t think the half woody I’ve had all day helped much, either.”

  She scoffs at that.

  I take her chin in my hand. Swipe my thumb across her lips. She’s soft and wet here, too. She is soft everywhere.

  She’s making me feel soft, right in the center of my chest.

  “What can I do to make it feel better for you?”

  She opens her eyes and searches mine. Our noses are touching; our shared breath stirs the strands of her hair trapped between us.

  “This,” she says, and grabs my hand. We reach between her legs, and she guides my fingers to her clit. I let my fingers wander for a moment; she’s swollen, engorged with me. I fucking love it.

  Her forehead falls against mine when I touch her where she wants. She moans, whispers my name.

  Her pussy spasms around me, just once. It’s enough to have both of us cursing. My God I’m going to fucking die here. I’m going to die, and I don’t give a shit. This is so bloody good.

  She starts to move, rocking against me. I work tight, hard circles around her clit. I kiss her. She bites me.

  My heartbeat is racing.

  Headlights slice through the darkness, making me blink. Rachel goes still. Taking her by the nape of her neck, I curl her into my body, shielding her from any prying eyes that might be about.

  “Can they—did they—”

  I glance over her shoulder at the street in front of us. Nothing.

  I glance over my shoulder at the street behind us. Again, nothing.

  “We’re fine,” I say, releasing her.

  But the prospect of getting caught must motivate Rachel, because suddenly she’s moving against me, really moving, grinding her hips against mine. We’re gasping for air and we’re kissing, violent, messy kisses, and I’m playing with her pussy, my fingers slick with her arousal as I touch her everywhere she’ll let me. I wrap an arm around her waist, crushing her against me. We’re as close as we could possibly be right now, but it’s not close enough.

  Her legs start to shake. Her pussy contracts again, gripping me in hard, sudden spasms.

  “Fred,” she gasps. “I’m coming—”

  I grit my teeth at the spiral of sensation in my balls, the head of my dick. “I know. I think I’m going to, too. I’m gonna pull out—”

  “No!” Rachel grabs the front of my shirt. “You can come inside.”
/>   “Rachel—”

  “You said you trusted me,” she says. “The IUD—we’re good. I promise.”

  I look at her.

  She comes as our eyes meet, falling apart around me, milking me, making me come, a rush of blood and heat and so much searing sensation I feel like I really am dying, being burned up from the inside out.

  Rachel gasps, cries out, and I take the back of her head in my hand and press her face into the hollow where my neck slopes into my shoulder.

  She fits perfectly there.

  I hold her and I hold her, I hold her until the spasms subside and she releases her death grip on my shirt. She collapses against me, curling into my chest, breathing hard.

  I’m breathing hard, too. I can’t get a fucking hold on my heart rate. I run ten kilometers in any given match—I run like mad for ninety minutes—and I’m always able to recover quickly. I can always get back to where I need to be.

  But right now I’m struggling. With the warm weight of Rachel resting on my chest—with the smell of her hair in my head—my heart is beating so hard I worry it’s going to burst.

  I take a deep breath through my nose, let it out through my mouth. An old trick one of my coaches from way back when taught me.

  It works. A little.

  I still don’t want to let her go. I never want to. How do things keep getting better between us? More intense?

  “That clear you mind?” I manage.

  “Just a bit,” she says, laughing.

  ***

  We clean ourselves up with some tissues Rachel has in her bag. Bare sex is amazing, but Jesus is it messy. We leave more than a little DNA behind on the back seat, but I could care less. Who knew christening your car was so damn fun?

  Only when I duck outside and come back in at the front do I realize how different it smells inside it.

  My car has never smelled like anything except—well—a new car, I guess.

  Now it smells like sex. Like pussy and sweat and perfume.

  It smells like Rachel.

  Fuck. Yes.

  Chapter 16

  Rachel