Knock Love Out (A Sensual New Adult Crossover Romance)

by Grace, Pella

  I remained satisfied as his best friend, one who consoled him when both his parents’ died, became his pen pal when he moved off to live with his grandparents, been his confidant in his darkest moments of high school, and eventually followed him to Proctor University in Coventon, Florida far off on the east coast and many miles away from Monterey, California. I’d never regretted the move, even though I missed my mom and friends.

  “Is your iPod on your desk or shelf?” Jay asked Cynthia.

  “Shelf.”

  My pulse quickened some more as Jay tip toed in her area, the whole time trying to hold himself. Damn, he’s so much bigger now. And even more cut with muscle. He could barely hide his erection with both hands. The thickness was hard and pointing upward. The tip swelled with need. He scrambled around Cynthia’s shelf, which was crowded with The Muppets’ stuffed animals—Fozzy Bear wearing Wocka! Wocka! Wocka! on his t-shirt, Rowlf the Dog playing a plastic piano, Gonzo in full tuxedo, and several Miss Piggys in evening gowns, catholic school girl outfits, daisy dukes, or the latest gift from Jay, Lady GaGa Miss Piggy. So many of Cynthia’s collectibles rested on the shelf that it seemed he was having a difficult time finding her iPod.

  A sigh left his lips as he gave up with her side and rushed to mine.

  Cynthia sat up in bed. “No. Don’t. Evie will be mad.”

  “No, she won’t.” He pressed my iPod as it rested near the speakers and dove back into bed. “She’ll just be mad it’s not one of the three queens.”

  “Queens?”

  “Etta, Ella, or Billie.”

  “Oh you mean her jazz music.” Cynthia giggled. I smirked while the chilly electro-pop group, Purity Ring, played in the background. A female voice filled the room, singing the first lyrics to “Fineshrine.” Harmonious, hard-hitting bass rode an electronic piano’s melody and throbbed through my body. It was one of the albums he put on my iPod when he bought it for my birthday last month. He’d been trying to convince me that electro-pop represented real music while my favorite hip hop groups ranked high on the list of uncreative and monotonous garbage and practically all of my jazz made him yearn to kill himself. I pretended like I hated the playlists he’d put on there, when in reality I listened to them nonstop as I studied in the library.

  “Okay. Music is on. No more stopping me.” He landed a path of kisses over one breasts. She panted, her chest rising and falling in a staccato pattern. Envy crept into my pores, but I did my best to think through it and focus on the moment, their moment. “Come here, sweetheart.”

  They returned to love making. Motivated by the song’s rhythm, he caressed her navel with his fingertips in lazy swirls that made her writhe and whimper under the music. Inch by inch, I slipped off my panties thankful that the music was on and they wouldn’t hear my bed squeak. It took so long. Be patient. I had to remain a sleeping pile to them, so every ten seconds or so I did a slow and lazy rolling over as if experiencing an upsetting dream or being riled by the presence of the song.

  “Wait. Maybe we should turn the music down,” Cynthia suggested.

  “What?”

  “The music might be too loud.”

  “It’s fine.” He dove his hand between her thighs.

  A gasp rushed out of her open mouth. “Ouch.”

  He paused. “Did that hurt?”

  “No … I just don’t …”

  “What?”

  “Just go softer.”

  “Like this?”

  “You don’t even have to touch me there.”

  “I know, but I love touching you there.” He removed his hand from the center of her thighs and lapped his tongue at her nipple.

  “Enough.” She squirmed under him. “Just take me now.”

  “Are you sure?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re so beautiful. I like taking my time.”

  “And I like being fucked fast and hard.” She spread her legs, seized his cock, and squeezed the point. Biting his lip, he raised himself up and got between her thighs. It seemed she won.

  She screeched a little as he pierced her. His buttocks clenched together. My erect clit floated in the slick wetness of my arousal. I imaged him near my center instead of my own fingers, him thrusting inside of me, his hands squeezing the full mounds of my breasts and teasing the points, his voice whispering his desire in my ear, his scent seeping into my skin until he possessed me. I brought my other hand to my hard nipple. A sigh escaped my lips as I pinched it. Sparks of pleasure heated in my chest and soared to my wet sex.

  “Faster, baby.” She closed her eyes and scrunched up her face in an odd expression. I couldn’t figure out if this was her sex face or if she had to go to the bathroom.

  Hey, I can’t judge. Who knows what my face looks like when I’m having sex? I bet it’s crazy.

  “Faster, Jay.”

  “Like that?” The head board banged against the wall.

  “Yes.” It came out as a whisper.

  Please don’t stop.

  I kept my body as stiff as I could while flicking my finger from side to side over my drenched lips. My clit puffed up some more. Teasing myself, I deliberately strayed away from touching that aching bud. Like hide and seek, I tip toed my fingers near, calling out with feathery brushes, letting her know I was so near to revealing her hiding place.

  Not yet. Not until he comes.

  The first time I heard him scream in pleasure was the instance I became hooked. It was like a drug entering my blood stream. Two weeks ago in the darkness of our room, he came hard into Cynthia’s mouth and I’d soaked my bed sheets with my own arousal. From that day on, I needed to hear him come inside of her.

  So close.

  Cynthia’s mattress moved up and down. The head board hit the wall some more. Her breasts bounced with the bed’s cadence. He lowered down and savored her nipples. Oh god. Shivers of hot lust waved up my body, from the tip of my toes to the hard points of my own nipples. I bit down into my pillow to silence my moans.

  If I could only get up from my bed, rip off my shirt, and lay between them, all would be perfect. Their bodies were sleek, shining in the light and moving together like only two humans could do in the middle of rapture.

  “Oink!” her phone rang.

  The loud oinking drowned out Purity Ring’s song. Jay groaned in annoyance. I cursed under my breath and then tensed, hoping no one noticed the noise coming from me. Another oink rang from the phone. Of course Cynthia stopped him by hitting his chest. She always did when the phone chimed, which had coincidentally been ringing around this time any night he stayed over. The third oink sounded.

  “Stop, Jay. I have to answer it.”

  “Please,” he grunted.

  “I’ll be quick.”

  Ridiculous.

  If he’d been on top of me, all would’ve been forgotten—ringing phone, homework, the day’s worries, any impending emergency, fire in the room, a tornado spinning and twisting toward us. Everything would’ve swooped down into the dark corners of my mind and been ignored as nothing but Jay occupied my senses.

  “You said you would stop answering the damn phone during sex.” Jay pulled out and rolled over, out of my gaze. So quick, I could barely get another glimpse of his cock. Inch by inch, I covered the blanket over my head to hide that I was awake. Chocolate satin sheet within a green hue served as my only view. I sank deeper into my pillow and closed my eyes.

  Damn it.

  “Just give me a minute.” Movement sounded from their end. “I swear this time it’s an emergency.”

  “Who is it?” Jay asked.

  “My dad. I’m taking it outside.” Footsteps came next. Our door creaked opened and then slammed shut. The music lowered. Shuffling sounded from the bed as Jay murmured curses. I decided to go back to sleep, knowing he would pass out soon. Cynthia never took a minute on the phone. She gabbed for hours. Her dad never called this late either. In fact, he never really called her at all.

  I’d heard her crying to her mother about it one night. “It�
��s like he divorced us both. I’ve left so many messages. Are you sure that’s dad’s new number?”

  Why won’t she ever come when they have sex? Who does she talk to?

  No one ever visited the room for her. Only my friends came by. Additionally, she never left the room unless it was to go to class or hang with Jay. Maybe the person who is calling is back in her hometown. Whoever was on the phone would keep her outside in our dorm’s hallway for a while. She would sit on one of the blue flowery couches in the lobby, turn on the television, and chat away as if a naked sculpted quarterback wasn’t lying in her bed with an aching erection.

  Well, I might as well go to sleep. Party’s over.

  END OF SAMPLE

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