Shep
Erin’s hair is splashed over her pillow and her cheeks have pinked to that rosy shade I love. The same shade I will be making her ass in the not-so-distant future. But for tonight, I’ll treat her with kid gloves, make her feel good. Earn her trust as she’s earned mine.
I hope she can’t tell my heart is pounding a mile a fucking minute, trying to beat its way out of my chest. Whatever adolescence I have left in me is giving a war whoop at the idea of finally getting to fuck a girl. While most of me is staidly thinking, No, you’re going to make love to your girlfriend who you’ve loved since the day you saw her, a horny eighteen-year-old who didn’t know I’d make him wait Four. Fucking. Years for this is screaming, Aw, hell yeah, man! and I let him, because goddamn.
She’s all soft and eager. I want so badly to be allowed into her warmth. An intimacy I’ve earned. And it’s not because of what she thinks she knows about me. Sure, we’d done the infatuation thing, but we’ve laid our cards on the table and what’s left is something that makes my heart steady.
I cup her face in my hand again. She likes that, it settles her, and she leans into me, closing her eyes. I run my fingers down her neck and over her chest, stopping to unclasp her bra to let her breasts spill out, as creamy and welcoming as the rest of her, her dark pink nipples already hard. I dip my head to take one in my mouth, licking around her areola before tonguing the hard tip, testing the texture and the taste of her. When I suck, she gasps. Her hands come to the back of my head, her short fingernails dig into my scalp.
My eyes fly to her face to make sure I haven’t hurt her, but no. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is slack. I suck harder and she mewls, surprised but not protesting. I take more of her breast in my mouth, tonguing all the skin and scraping my teeth down to the tip of her nipple, where I bite and she squeals.
“Too hard?”
“Ye— No. But I don’t . . . Oh, don’t stop, please.”
I don’t want to laugh so I focus my attention on her other breast, repeating the same motions. Don’t want to play favorites, after all. But when she’s expecting me to bite, I take her other nipple between my thumb and forefinger knuckle and twist, eliciting another squeal before I bite down. That earns me a groan. Maybe I’ll get her so worked up it won’t matter when I only last for a couple of minutes from being in her pussy.
Oh Christ, cannot think of her pussy. My dick’s already straining at the fly of my pants. Too much more, and I won’t last long enough to get inside her at all. I start running lacrosse plays in my head to distract myself but it barely takes the edge off, especially with those breathy moans she’s making.
I spend a few more minutes on her breasts, teasing, studying, savoring. If anyone had told me that first day I’d be here doing this now? I would’ve come in my pants. As it is . . .
I kiss down the plane of her stomach, downy and soft, loving the small swell of her belly even when she’s lying down. I bet if asked, she’d be embarrassed by it, but to me it makes her a real girl, more precious for being genuine. No one manufactured this body underneath me. Especially not the small star-shaped birthmark by her belly button. I lay a kiss on it before I urge her hips up and peel her panties over her ass, down her legs, discarding them on the floor.
Someday I’ll tie her up, have her facedown with her arms bound behind her back and a gag muffling her moans of pleasure. But for today, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the naked girl in front of me. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a woman who hasn’t groomed her pubic hair before, so I reach out to tug the curls between her legs. I’ll have her wax or shave to see if she likes how it feels, but I don’t care if she prefers it this way. My natural, genuine girl.
Even from here, there’s heat pouring out of her. When I ease my fingers inside, she’s going to be soaking wet.
“Let me in, Erin.”
She spreads her legs a few inches and I slap her thigh lightly. “More.”
She whimpers, probably embarrassed. I doubt Will said many nice things about her body. So I stroke the thigh I tapped, telling her how beautiful she is, how much I want her. When she’s squirming under my hands she lets her legs fall farther open, and I ease a finger between her folds. She’s so wet, and I use the moisture to slick over her clit.
It’s at once exactly how I thought it would be and not at all. I start out gentle, exploring, a light touch that makes her hips rock, and then pressing harder, grinding against the sensitive flesh—
“Too much! Oh, too much.”
Her hand’s clamped over mine and her eyes have flown open. Shit. I’ve fucked this up.
I ease up on my touch, returning to the gentler strokes that had her squirming earlier, and chide her. “Did I say you could touch?”
She yanks her hand away as if from a burner she didn’t realize was on, and softens back into submission. “No, Zach.”
“I gave you a warning, and you disobeyed. You’ve earned yourself your first punishment.”
“Now?”
I choke on the laugh fighting its way out of my throat at the desperation making her voice high-pitched and reedy. “No. I’m not finished playing with you. We’ll take care of your accounting later.”
The idea of tallying up Erin’s daily faults and flaws and meting out punishment makes me harder than I could have thought possible. If I don’t get some relief, I wouldn’t be surprised if my pants pulled an Incredible Hulk around this incredible hard-on, made worse by her top teeth sinking into her bottom lip and her nipples gathering without me touching them. She’s as turned on as I am by the idea.
She’s settled into my touch and I take the opportunity to pinch her clit, dragging another squeal from her, but the pitch and urgency are different. Maybe she likes it. I tug, and instead of a wordless squeal, I get an “Oh, god, Shep.” Her hands ball into fists by her sides to keep from touching me.
“Good girl.” I pinch harder for a split second before I let her go, stroking again. Her chest is heaving. File that away under things that make Erin crazy. I let her come back down before I try something else, flicking at her with a fingernail. She yelps. Ah, something to be endured, but she doesn’t tell me to stop. Not at first. I try it again and she controls her response better but her breath is hard and fast. Again, again, I flick at the slick nub and after a dozen times, she whimpers. “Please, Zach. No more, please.”
“Are you going to come?”
“I, I don’t know. I— Oh, please!”
“Please what?” Making her come like this wasn’t in my plans, but if I can, so much the better. I flick harder to emphasize my demand. “Please what?”
“I, I . . .”
I flick at her harder and she yelps again. My dick pulses, harder when she moves to close her legs.
I close my hand with a vise grip on her thigh, pushing it farther out than it was before, and the blood in my cock surges. I love it when she obeys, but goddamn is it fun when she can’t. “Don’t you dare. I say when we’re finished, and you’re not done yet. You’re going to come for me like this.”
She moans and halfheartedly thrashes as I pick up the pace, tormenting her most sensitive place. I pinch her again, using my nails this time, and then take a chance and twist hard. The sound she makes is primal, lungfuls of lust coming to a head, making her whole body convulse, her head pressing hard into the pillow. I release her clit, stroking with a finger, wringing every last aftershock out of her until she’s lying limp in front of me, a flushed, giddy puddle.
“Please, Zach. Please stop. After, it’s too sensitive. I can’t. Please.”
Someday I’ll force half a dozen more orgasms out of her for saying she can’t, but for now, I’ll let her off the hook. I slick my fingers over her one last time and take them in my mouth, tasting her. Maybe not my best-laid plan. It makes me want to bury my head between her legs and make her come until she cries.
I lie down next to her and fold her warm body against mine. She’s trembling, so sensitive. I hold her tight against me, tucking her head under my chin and draping a leg behind her thighs and pulling her close. She likes that sensation of containment, of being held still. I can’t wait to get her into some serious bondage.
When she’s settled, she pulls back a little. Her big brown eyes blink up at me and she smiles. The corner of my mouth nudges up in return. I fucking adore this girl. I brush my knuckles over her cheek and study the uneven flush that creeps all the way down to her breasts.
“Did you like that?”
“‘Like’ is an inadequate word. When you were . . . I didn’t think I liked it at all, but when you kept going and it . . . Oh, god.” She buries her head into my chest and the sweet scent wafting up from her hair makes me inhale deeply. I want more of everything about her.
Pride rushes through me, and relief. If everything else goes to hell at least I made her come like a bottle rocket. Speaking of, my dick is so hard every time she brushes against me I swear it’s bruising. At one particularly aggressive rub of her hip, I groan. I’ve been turned on at the club before, but it was easy to get distracted by work. Here there’s not that luxury. It’s just Erin’s body curled against me, as pink and willing as I’d ever pictured it.
I don’t want to shove my dick in her and pump the three strokes it’s going to take me to come. Okay, I kind of do, but not more than I want to make her happy, make this good for her. It would be really fucking awesome to acquit myself with some dignity instead of splooging in her after less than a minute like some fucking adolescent who can’t control his own cock.
I squeeze her again before loosening my grip. “Undress me.”
Her eyes light up like a girl who’s never won anything before being handed the keys to a brand new car. She comes to her knees beside me and I lace my fingers behind my head so I don’t touch her while she works. But when she leans over to unbutton my shirt, her soft breasts brushing against my chest, and she gives me that saucy innocent look that looks so good on her, I’m a split second away from indignity. And as she swings a leg over my hips to straddle me and brushes her pussy I know to be sopping wet, with heat I can feel on my dick through my pants, the hair trigger that’s been cocked for the last half hour snaps. I come, my release shooting through me.
Shit. I was worried about three strokes and now I’ve blown my load without even one. For fuck’s sake.
Erin
Shep’s scrubbing his broad hands over his face, into his hair, and cursing prolifically under his breath. Wow, does he know a lot of bad words. I think— I think he . . . Oh, dear. I lay a hand gingerly on his chest but he doesn’t scold me.
“Zach?”
“Get off me, Erin.”
His tone is sharp, stabbing into the place he’s laid bare. I slink off of him and across the bed. I curl up, hugging my knees to my chest, my ankles crossed so he can’t see every part of me. Not that he’s looking. He’s pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and a steady stream of what I’ll assume is still cursing is hissing from between his lips. A dark spot on the front of his pants confirms my suspicions.
Tears bubble up and my stupid chin starts to tremble because it’s stupid. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want him to snap again, but I need to know he’s not going to leave, that I haven’t ruined everything.
“Shep? Are you— Are you angry at me?” My voice is choked with tears and I hug my legs on the last word when I can’t keep my voice from cracking.
An audible “Fuck me” escapes him, an epithet of disappointment, and I burst into tears. Seconds later, he’s pulling me into his lap and petting my hair.
“Don’t cry, Erin, please. I’m sorry.”
He’s sorry?
“I’m not angry at you. I couldn’t be further from angry at you.”
“But you sn-snapped at me.” My horrible, halting sobs make me stutter and I fight to get control of my breath.
“That was unfair. I apologize. I’ll do my best, but I’m not going to be perfect all the time. I’m angry at myself, not you. Do you understand me?”
“No.”
He laughs, a short incredulous sound. “Erin.”
It’s his commanding tone and I respond to it like I always do, looking up at him. His face is flushed but with amusement, not anger. “Are you serious?”
Now I feel stupid. “Yes?”
He hugs me so tight I can’t breathe.
“Most women wouldn’t be thrilled when their boyfriend comes in his pants.”
I tip my head in consideration. Yeah, okay, I can see that, but . . . “Am I supposed to be anything but flattered that I turn you on that much?”
“No, lamb. But one of the things I’ve promised you is control. If I can’t control myself long enough to have you take my clothes off, how are you supposed to trust me to take care of you, too?”
A giggle escapes me. “You’re twenty-two. You’re hot and smart and an athlete. You worked at a sex club. I can’t imagine women haven’t been throwing themselves at you all that time. And yet, here you are, never having slept with any of them. If that’s not self-control, I don’t know what is.”
Another laugh. “Yeah, okay. You’re the sweetest little thing, you know that?”
He kisses my temple and I turn my head to offer him my lips. He accepts, pressing his mouth to mine. It doesn’t take long before he’s hard against my hip and I smile against his mouth.
“Can we try again?”
It’s forward of me, but he’s not being strict at the moment. He nudges me off his lap and stands. “I’ll be right back.”
He’s gone for five minutes, during which I hear the shower turn on and off. Anticipation winds like a ball of yarn in my belly, the scratchy string of excitement snapping when he comes back to my room in a towel and nothing else.
Oh, my. Droplets of water are beaded in his hair and on his shoulders. There are probably more on his back, the places you miss when you’re drying yourself. If he was tempting four years ago, he’s mouth-watering now. Of course I never saw this much of his skin then. The way it clings to the fine planes of his muscles and the veins that stand out on his forearms even in rest is drool-inducing. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my whole life. Seriously, how did he avoid getting laid?
When he drops the towel, I’m really not sure.
“Lie back, hands off.”
“Yes, Zach.”
I ease myself onto my pillows, not taking my eyes off him. He climbs onto the bed, looking me up and down, and his cock jerks. I may be the one following orders, but oh, my, this is a heady sensation.
He straddles my thighs and sits back on his heels. “Condoms?”
“Top drawer.” I indicate the nightstand on the left with my head.
He leans over and the freshly washed warmth of him starts me pining for him. He’s ripped the foil packet and is rolling the latex down his length, and then he’s ready. Hovering over me, his eyes scrape over me again and he reaches between my thighs, urging my legs to part. His finger slips inside of me and I moan. To have something inside me . . .
There’s a strangled sound from above me, and his face is taught with strain. “Are you ready for me? I don’t want to hurt—”
“Yes.” I’ve been ready for him for years and I can’t wait to have his body joined to mine.
He doesn’t hesitate, moving first one leg and then the other between my thighs, and then he’s bumping at my entrance. The angle is weird and though I’m soaked for him, he’s having trouble penetrating me.
“Spread yourself for me.” His voice is rough, raw. My hands move lightning fast, not bothering to be self-conscious, spreading my lips and angling my pelvis to give him better access. I watch as he grips the base of his cock and directs himself to my opening, finding the way our pieces fi
t together. When the head breaches me, I moan and he claps a hand over my mouth. “Pinch me if I hurt you, if you want me to stop, but I can’t . . .”
He trails off, his eyes closing. I can see him fighting against the building tension. I don’t mind him gripping my jaw, hard. It’s possible I more than don’t mind it, have to keep from flexing my interior muscles, because that would surely set him off. He inches into me, slowly, torturously, pausing so often I want to scream. Instead I stay still, not daring to breathe, staring at him, his eyes shut so tight he must be seeing stars behind his lids. My hands are clenched tight in the bedclothes at my sides so I don’t reach for him, but my body wants so badly to be closer to him even my nipples are hard and straining toward him.
When he’s finished his slow but steady assault, he shudders and I panic. I only care because I don’t want him to berate himself again, but there’s no pulse of a male orgasm inside me. No self-control, my butt. This man is the definition of self-control.
He pulls out a few inches, sucking a breath into his lungs as he does, and then slides in again. I mewl and his eyes fly open. I don’t want him to stop, please don’t stop, so I nod as well as I can behind his palm, willing him to know I’m okay. His eyes bore into mine and he smiles before kissing my forehead. He withdraws again and my whimper of protest is silenced by a hard thrust. Holy sweet hell.
He finds his pacing and though it’s faster than I’d like, I catch up quick, tilting my hips in time to meet him. He’s asked me to stay still but I can’t anymore. I don’t care about punishment. I want to be . . . fucked. Yes, fucked. My fingers rip out of the sheets and I find his shoulder blades, gripping him, grasping him as he pumps at me.
It hasn’t been long, nor technically brilliant, but I’ve been waiting for this for so long, I don’t need more. I plead with him through the fingers muzzling me, my pleas coming desperate and fast. Though they’re garbled, he doesn’t need translation, saying: “Yes, Erin, come for me.”
School Ties Page 21