by Teagan Kade
Willow looks up at the Quincy Jones Memorial Library, the front of it lit by floodlights. “A bit late for studying, isn’t it?”
I take out the after-hours key all scholarship students receive, Willow included. “Who said anything about studying?”
Willow swipes the key from me. She’s quick when she wants to be. “That’s mine, I believe.”
I take her hand. “Come on. Live a little.”
I run a finger down the side of her cheek, across her lips.
She rolls her eyes. “Fine.”
We use the side door to access the building. I always thought it was quiet during the day, but at night, with no one inside? A tomb.
“Where to?” asks Willow.
“I was thinking Study Room 1B.”
She steps aside. “Lead the way.”
I pull her up the stairs to the second level. Only the auxiliary lighting is on and it’s like navigating around a submarine—a submarine full of books.
We come into the study room, my cock twitching with muscle memory.
“Take off your panties,” I tell her.
She obeys, hooking them off under her skirt and letting them fall to the floor.
I can smell her arousal, her need. “Get on the table and spread your legs.”
She’s smiling as she climbs onto the table. “This really isn’t my thing.”
I take hold of her ankles and drag her to the edge, her bare pussy perfection below. “What’s that?”
“Public sex. Breaking the rules.”
“Rules are made to be broken.”
“Said every asshole ever.”
I place my thumb on her clit and begin to stroke it. “I can leave if you want?”
Her eyes flutter closed, her mouth loose. “No, it’s okay. I think I’ll let it ride this once.”
I remove my thumb, unable to get enough of the adorable frustration on her face when her eyes snap back open.
“I thought…” she begins, soon growing quiet when I lower myself.
I drink her in, kneeling and bringing my head between her legs. She flinches when I breathe out on her slick skin, leaning back and closing her eyes once more.
I watch her chest rise and fall as I gain ground. She’s hypersensitive, wired for my touch.
I let my tongue stroke her outer lips. She tastes fucking amazing. She twitches again when I work my tongue inside her pussy, screwing it into her slick hole.
“Don’t stop,” she moans.
I lick and taste her deepest flesh, letting her grind up against my mouth, her clit rubbing against my face until I bring my tongue up to the tender button and lick it back and forth, working at it until she’s bucking on the table.
“Oh god.”
I wrap my tongue around her clit, pull it into my mouth and suck before lashing it, my tongue flicking back and forth until she’s quivering with desperation.
But not yet.
No.
I circle the edges of her pussy before dragging my tongue right down the hot center of her slit, licking her in long, maddening strokes until all she can do is say my name over and over, begging me to release her.
“I’m close,” she notes, her voice a strained whisper.
I don’t stop, moving back to her clit and running over it in soft figure-eights with the tip of my tongue.
She clutches at the edges of the table, her thighs closing around my head and her breath hitching. I place my hand on her stomach to hold her in position.
She clenches, paused, trembling on the edge before, with a final flick of my tongue, I push her over completely.
She comes hard, crying out my name, singing it.
When she’s done, aftershocks continuing to beat through her body, I stand, my face wet with her arousal. “You’re fucking delicious, you know. I could lick your pussy all day long.”
She sits up on her elbows still trying to recover her breath. She reaches forward and takes hold of my belt, pulling me towards the edge of the table. “Shall I return the favor?”
I gently push her back down. “No. I’d rather take you, right here, right now. Can you come again for me, for my cock?”
Her eyes are ink pots in the dark. “I can try.”
I press my pants and boxers down, taking hold of my thick shaft and lining up the head of my cock with her entrance.
I lift her legs over my shoulders, my fingers clenched on her hips as I sink inside her.
“Unnnhh,” she stammers, head snapping back.
Two strokes in and I’m moaning myself. Her perfect pussy wraps around my cock, clinging to it when I pull back.
She lifts her shirt and bra and I reach forward to cup a breast, the extra level of pleasure it provides turning my entire body electric.
I shift back and forth, faster, driving into her hard, the table shifting on the floor, obscenely loud in this church-like environment.
There can be no better feeling than this, I think, buried deep inside her, her pussy slick and warm, enveloping me whole.
I fill her over and over, ramming into her harder and harder. My hips move faster to compensate, pounding into her backside, balls lightly tapping against the edge of the table as I try to run deeper still.
Finally, with her nipple in my fingers, I feel it happening.
It starts with a deep groan that reverberates in my chest and runs all the way down to my cock. I tighten, hold, and explode. It triggers her second orgasm, the constant clench-and-release of her body forcing my own to pulse out inside her until I’m near delirium.
Spent, I collapse on top of her, my head on her chest, her nipples diamond hard against it. She rakes her fingers through my hair and I let my eyes close, savoring the sensation, never wanting to pull away from her.
Our fingers interlock as if to cement the thought.
I pull out and she sits up, hands on the edge of the table.
Her cheeks are burning and her eyes are glazed over in heat. Her chest bellows furiously in and out. I look down at my cock, streaked with her juices.
“You’re still hard,” she questions, a little astonished, and I am—rock hard, in fact. My cock stands tall and proud, throbbing for more.
She jumps down off the table and looks at my cock quizzically as it swings there in heat, twitching involuntarily.
She bends at the waist and extends her tongue, swiping a single drop of cum off the slit and locking her eyes upwards.
Maybe it’s the drink, maybe something else, but Willow the Sex Goddess has arrived.
She licks her lips, standing up. “Maybe Taylor was right. Maybe you should put it in my ass.”
The thought is too much. “Have you ever had anal before?”
“There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” she replies, hand between her legs.
Who am I to argue with such sound logic?
She takes the initiative, pulling out a chair and taking position. She kneels upon it, pushing her ass out until her skirt slides over her back and her ass is revealed in all its splendid beauty.
I place my hands on her ass cheeks and spread them apart. Her asshole pulls open pink and smooth. I run my finger upwards and press this natural lubricant into her hole, massaging her anus with our mutual desire. She whimpers and sighs as I do so, reaching behind herself to hold her cheeks apart so I can attend to her with both hands.
I press my cock downwards between her buttocks until it sits comfortably at the hot gate of her ass.
Holy shit. This is happening.
I run my hand under her, cupping her mound and pressing my palm against her clit as her asshole relents and I start to sink inside.
If her pussy’s tight, her ass is a god-damn vice.
“God,” she moans, breathing heavily.
She grunts as another inch slides inside. My temples are beating so hard my vision’s curling up at the corners.
I instruct her to pull her ass wider apart and she complies, allowing me to run balls-deep into the fiery confines of her m
ost private orifice.
I pull back and bury down again, driving my cock into her.
Over and over I run into her ass, feeling it loosen and stretch around my member. I rest my head against her back, taking in the smell of her hair, the flowery, vanilla undertones of her perfume tonight.
I fuck her ass brutally, balls drawing tight against her cleft as I reach a crescendo.
“Cum in my ass,” she whispers, and I do, letting out a long bellow as I eject everything I have left into her.
“I’m going to—” she calls, the muscles inside her ass beginning to clamp and release, forcing the final remnants of my desire free.
Cock in hand, I pull out and collapse onto the carpet, actually struggling to breathe. “That was so fucking hot.”
I feel the welcome warmth of her body sliding over mine. She rests her head on my chest, her breath pushing in and out between us. “You’re telling me. I didn’t know you could come doing, you know…”
I laugh. “This is a place of learning.”
She lifts her head up to whisper in my ear. “Looks like I’ve got a lot to learn then.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WILLOW
Binge study—that’s what I’m calling this phase. I’ve been having nightmares that my head is a giant balloon filled with exam answers. One of my ears pops a leak, the answers flowing out. I try to plug it with a finger, to no avail.
I’d so rather be dreaming about Asher.
“Ugh,” stammers Amy, throwing her textbook to the floor. “How the hell am I supposed to remember this crap? There aren’t enough hours in the day.”
There are if you’re not attending toga parties and doing body shots off the football team, I’m tempted to tell her, but I simply nod and concentrate on my own study. I’ve hinted more than once to her the library might be more conducive to her needs. “And murder my image?” she replied. “No, thanks.”
I’d be down there myself if the place wasn’t jam-packed. Yes, a day out from final exams and campus is on study lockdown. I almost expect to see tumbleweeds when I look out the window.
I receive a text from Asher: I could study a whole lot better if I was inside you right now.
I squeeze my thighs together. Soon, my pet. Soon. I’ve been two days holed up in here and ‘horny’ doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling. After exams I’m pretty sure I’m going to slam-tackle Asher and have my way with him in the middle of the quad.
“Is that lover boy?” Amy queries.
“It is.”
“I bet he doesn’t have to study.”
I open my mouth to unleash, but hold back, taking a moment to consider my words. “He’s got a lot going on.”
She winks. “So I’ve heard. What’s it like?”
“It?” I question.
Amy draws her hands out. “You know, Uncle Remus, Vlad the Impaler?”
I think this is the most Amy and I have conversed all semester. All it took was Asher’s penis to bring us together. What next? World peace? “It’s… fulfilling.”
She laughs. “The best bat in the world doesn’t mean shit if you don’t know to use it.”
“Oh, he knows how to use it.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say Amy was looking a little green. She gives a short “Hmpf,” and returns to her study.
I send a text back to Asher: I want your cock in my mouth.
I giggle to myself once it’s sent, pushing my cell under my pillow as though it might start glowing red and screaming ‘Shame! Shame! Shame!’ over and over, a bell ringing in the distance.
My cell beeps again with another message received, but I resist the temptation, sliding it under the pillow.
I’ll save you for later.
*
I meet Asher in the food hall for dinner. We agreed a nice, public place was our best bet—if we were alone we’d probably be ripping each other’s clothes off right now.
Asher’s chugging down a milkshake.
“How the hell do you get away with it?” I ask, shaking my head.
He puts the shake down. “Being so damn devilishly handsome? Well, it starts with a moisturizing scrub, followed by—”
I roll my eyes. “No, how do you have a body like you do,” I say picking up his shake. “When you drink crap like this,” I add, grabbing his burger. “And eat that?”
He swipes the burger from my hands and takes a bite. “You’re the doctor. You tell me.”
I fiddle with my hands, my Cobb salad largely untouched. That’s how nervous I am about this damn exam. “I’m far from a doctor yet. I’ve got to pass this exam first.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Not everyone has a photographic memory like you, Mr. Clark Kent.”
He leans close, lowering his voice. “What about my other superpowers?”
I roll my eyes again but can’t help the hot flash that tightens my core. “Maybe later. For now, I’m all business. Pleasure can come later.”
“Something will be coming later, that’s for sure,” he says, leaning back.
“And what about you?” I ask. “How’s your studying going?
“As great as my superpowers are, I do have to refresh myself from time to time. This is the toughest exam of the year. A lot’s counting on it.”
“It’s a shame our exams are on the same day.”
He puts his hand on mine. “You’ll be fine, Willow. You’re going to kill this.”
“Not the kind of thing you want to be saying to someone studying to save lives.”
“Correct you are, Doctor.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“I like the sound of you giving me a physical.”
“After our exams.”
He picks up his shake again. “Are you coming to the game?”
I draw a blank. It seems there’s no room for anything in my brain other than study right now. “The game?”
“The game,” repeats Asher. “After my big exam. I don’t know, only the most important game of the year.”
“How’s that?”
“Because the team who wins takes home a funny-looking trophy proclaiming them the College World Series champions.”
It clicks. “Oh, that game.”
“You can bet your ass there’ll be recruiters there, looking to snipe the best players. It’s the single-most important game of my career.”
“I see.”
“So you’ll be there?”
I reach for his shake. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
*
I barely sleep. Instead, I lie there like some sort of study slot machine running through questions and answers still sure I’m going to screw this up somehow. And I can’t. It’s not an option given what Mom sacrificed to get me here. I’m not going to let her down. I’m not going to let myself down.
I struggle through half a banana come morning. Asher wishes me luck with about ten kiss emojis as I head to the exam hall. I find a quiet spot and sit, frantically running through my notes and telling myself ‘you’ve got this’ in a frenzied mantra. As I’ve learned, the last thing you want before going into an exam is to hang around fellow students asking ‘Did you study this? Do you think they’ll ask us that?’ I’m panicking enough as it is.
The heater runs quietly inside, but otherwise the hall is dead silent as we sit there.
“Begin,” comes the call.
I take a deep breath.
You’ve got this, but when I say it in my head, it’s Asher speaking, his warm smile following, and in that moment I know I can do it. I can do anything with him by my side.
Once I start, it’s not long before I slip into exam mode. The punishing hours I put in pay off. The exam passes in what feels like minutes.
“Pencils down, please,” says the head examiner, a mutual huff arising from the lines of desks, but I’m smiling. I’m smiling because I know I’m going to pass. I only hope Asher’s having as much luck on the other side of campus.
/> Like he needs it.
Outside, I swear to god the sky looks a little bluer, the grass a little greener. The feeling of freedom is so big and bold I wish I could bottle it.
I half-walk, half-run to the spot near the admin building we agreed to meet after our exams. Asher wanted to walk me to the game personally, make sure I got a good spot to witness the Hellcats’s ‘epic win.’
I turn the corner, smiling hard, but while there are people waiting in the open, none of them are Asher.
I take a seat under a spindly elm and check the time on my cell, but Asher’s exam should have finished fifteen minutes ago.
Maybe they’re running late, I tell myself.
I wait another five minutes, and another five after that, but still there’s no sign of Asher.
I pull out my cell again. No missed calls. No texts.
It’s odd.
I wait ten more minutes and dial, but the call goes straight to his voicemail.
He wouldn’t have forgotten. There’s simply no way.
I hang up tapping my phone against my hand. What’s going on?
I make my way to the exam hall Asher was scheduled to be at. I recognize a girl from his class.
I run up beside her. “Excuse me.”
She turns, a little surprised to find me talking to her. “I don’t suppose Asher Slade was in that exam just now?”
She nods. “Yeah, sure was, but he ran off when we got out, just bolted. I guess he’s, like, really keen to get to that game. Go, Hellcats and all that, right?”
“Right,” I reply, distant.
She walks away as I stand there clueless, dread creeping in from every side.
Asher Slade. Where are in the world are you?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ASHER
It’s the kind of call you never want to take. “Mr. Slade,” the woman began. “This is Belinda from Penbrook Memorial”.
“The hospital?”
“Yes.”
My first thought was Willow, my heart seizing, but then I remembered she’d texted me only a minute ago.
No, it was Coach Harris—dependable, steadfast Coach who looks the picture of health even though he’s in his sixties. He had a heart attack at home getting ready to take Bailey for a walk. The front door was open. Bailey could have run, but instead she stayed by his side barking at the top of her little lungs until one of the neighbors finally came around and raised the alarm. The hospital said another minute and he would have been dead.