Silk and Shadows (The Virgin Diaries Book 3)

by Lauren Landish

  The admission seems like it hurts her to say, and I realize that for all her strength, my Brat is a softie underneath, scared to get hurt just like the rest of us. It’s a surprising revelation, though I guess it shouldn’t be. She’s human and victim to the same insecurities we all are. She just hides hers a bit better than most, deeper in the shadows of her heart, not one to show her weak spots.

  Wanting to soften it for her, I let just a hint of tease into my voice and let her see the sparkle in my eye as I say, “Let’s be clear. I’m a fucking football god. I could have virtually any woman I want, period. Not just on campus.” She rolls her eyes, and I continue as I grasp her chin, forcing her to see the truth in my words. “And I chose you. I choose you every damn day, Brat. You keep me on my toes, keep things interesting. Choose me back.”

  She chuckles a bit. “Fine. I choose you too.” The words are full of humor, like she’s giving in to something silly, but I can hear the honesty in them, feel the weight of them, and I know they mean just as much to her as they do to me.

  She looks around us, the dark night pressing in like a blanket, stars above us twinkling like fairy lights, and down below, the occasional headlight or taillight passing on the main road. “So . . . you said you like to keep things interesting, right?”

  I can hear the dare in her voice, the challenge to fuck her right here on the side of the road where anyone might drive by or even someone on the main road might notice if they looked up at just the right time.

  I yank her from the hood of the car, her hands scrambling to grab at me, but they’re uselessly tossed over my head still and she can’t get purchase. I grab her head in my hand, tilting it the way I want and taking her mouth in a hot, passionate kiss. She moans into me, and I swallow every sound, wanting to keep not just her sass but her submission as my own.

  I step back, lifting her hands over my head and spinning her in place. A press to her back has her bending over the hood, ass presented perfectly for me and her hands reaching toward the windshield. Our conversation . . . the truth and the heaviness ride me, and I need to claim her, make sure she fucking knows that we’re in this together. That she’s mine.

  She is mine. See those hands? They aren’t letting go of that knot. And she has just as tight a grip on my fucking heart. She’s mine, and I’m fucking hers.

  I rip her skirt up, exposing her ass to the night air. Her panties are soaked, the silky white covering of her pussy almost sheer with her arousal. My already rock-hard cock throbs in my pants, and I’m tempted to take her right here. But this is about showing her more, showing her something new, and I lick the fabric, her breath catching as I tease her clit through her panties. “Zach . . . oh, God.”

  I reach up, hooking my thumbs in her panties and rolling them down her thighs. Folding them in half, I tuck them in my pocket, for a half-second wondering if Norma knows I’ve kept four other pairs from special encounters. Regardless, the scent of her arousal hits me in the face, my mouth watering as I start licking and sucking on her sweet folds and silky soft lips.

  “Spread wide for me.” She steps her heeled feet wider without the restriction of the skirt, and I growl, grabbing a handful of her ass in each hand.

  She cries out, pressing into my palms. “Please, Zach. Just fuck me. I need you.”

  I lay one long lick to her pussy, starting with a flick of my tongue against her clit and then through her folds, up to the puckered rosebud of her asshole, where I swirl my tongue. She bucks, and I know it’s her first time being touched there. The thought makes me want to take her virgin ass too. But not tonight.

  I pull my sweatpants down, letting my cock spring free to tease along her slit, getting myself coated in her juices. “Goddamn, you’re fucking soaked. So sexy. Tell me, Norma. Use those damn words of yours and tell me what you want.”

  She squirms, trying to impale herself on my cock, and I press her hips to the hood, not letting her take it without saying it. She lets out a cute kitten growl of frustration and finally gives in. “Fuck me. Slide that awesome fucking cock of yours into my pussy and make me come.”

  At her order, I do it, slamming balls-deep in one stroke and going full-power from the get-go with no time for her to adjust. My hips slap against her ass, and she bucks, trying to fuck me back. I grab her hips, helping her move. It’s hard, rough, and passionately violent. It’s exactly what we need after all the truth of the night.

  But I know there’s more.

  “That’s not all though, is it, Brat? You don’t just want me to fuck you. You want me to fuck you in the shadows of the library, in the dark of night on the side of the road. Where someone might see you being my fucking dirty girl, getting plowed so hard and raw you have to fight back the screams. You want me to fuck you with your hands tied up in the silk scarves I know you only wear as a way of wordlessly asking me to do this to you. This is what you want, to be my tied up, submissive fucktoy, and you like that someone might see you getting filled by your arrogant bastard jock boyfriend.” Every word of my filthy talk is true, and I pound home each one with another powerful stroke inside her.

  She’s trembling beneath me, her pussy a mess of her cream and my pre-cum as she gasps out with every thrust. “Ohh . . . Zach . . . I’m gonna come.” Her voice is getting higher-pitched and louder. In the shadow of night, it carries, and I love that down the street, someone might be letting their dog out for the night for a bedtime piss and instead, they hear us.

  “Not until you say it, Brat. Tell me I’m right,” I grunt, “look over there at those headlights, any one of which could be someone who sees us.” I tangle my fingers in her hair, holding her head to the side so that her eyes can lock on the vehicles driving by, not exactly close, but close enough to feel taboo. I grind deep inside her, giving her time to see a few headlights pass.

  She cries out at the change in sensation, and faster than I’d meant for her to, she falls off the edge. Shudders rack her body and her pussy squeezes me like a vice, but mixed in with her shouts of pleasure, she gives me what I demanded. “Yes . . . it’s all true. Fuck me anywhere, even if we might get caught. I just want you, Zach!”

  Her admission and naughty words are my undoing, and I follow her over, coming hard and groaning loudly as rope after rope of my cum fill her tight pussy.

  Panting as we both come back to earth, I help her stand up. Turning her head toward me, I kiss her, the smack of our lips replacing the smack of my hips against her. “Fuck, Brat. That was amazing.”

  I let my cock leave her body, instantly feeling the loss, and she whimpers a bit too. I spin her, untying her scarf and handing it back to her. “Now what? You ready to head home? It’s pretty late.” I look up to the pitch-black sky and then at all the shadows surrounding us.

  Norma smirks and then sasses, “You promised me door number one and door number two earlier.”

  I have no idea what she’s talking about, my brain pretty much fried after sex and our conversation. I lift my brows in question.

  “Earlier, you said door number two was dinner. But door number one was something else.” She sticks her tongue out, licking her red lips, and like a flash, I remember. I told her she could suck me off and leave that red lipstick all over me. The lipstick is still there, must be some of that fancy kiss-proof shit girls wear, but I’m all for trying to get it to smudge.

  “You gonna clean me off, Brat? Suck me off right here?” I ask, letting my thumb trace the edge of her lip.

  She bites her lip, narrowly missing the pad of my finger, and smiles naughtily. “Nope. Get in the car, asshole.”

  “Asshole? Is that what you call guys when they make you come like a damn freight train against the hood of your very practical and reliable fancy car?” I tease, liking that we’re back to this space between us.

  “Apparently, but you’d be the only one who’d know.” She smirks, and I hear the compliment in the words. That I’m the one she chose to give her virginity to, and as much as she may give me a hard time, we both k
now that was a big deal. That we are a big deal.

  Norma drives for a few minutes, looping down toward the main road but then pulling off at an exit and parking again, just off the highway on the shoulder. And then she looks at me with a devilish grin.

  “Here?” I ask, surprised. “We’re literally on the side of the road.”

  “Yep,” she says, letting the word pop her lips. “I watched the cars like you told me to. There’s only a few going by, no traffic or anything.”

  I turn and look behind us. “What if a cop stops?”

  She widens her eyes, looking innocent as hell, but I know it’s a front because my Brat is anything but innocent. “Guess you’ll have to keep your eyes open and keep watch.”

  I grin back, knowing we’re doing this. I gesture to my cock. “All yours, Brat. Show me what you’ve got.”

  She looks in the rearview mirror one time and then lies over the console. I help her slip my dick free of my pants and then she breathes on me. I’m inpatient, ready for this in a way I don’t know that I’ve ever been. Sure, she’s sucked me in dim corners at the library, but this seems riskier somehow. I fucking love it.

  She laps at my tip, swirling her tongue around it before taking me into her mouth. “Fuck, Norma, I love it when you do that.”

  She hums against me and goes deeper. I spread my legs to give her room to work, letting one of my hands drift into her hair and the other down to hold myself straight up for her, giving her a better angle. She dives in, covering my whole cock with the wet warmth of her mouth, and she begins to suck me, each stroke up and down better than the one before as she takes me higher and higher as she goes deeper and deeper.

  I groan, trying but failing to keep my hips still. I buck into her mouth, already about to come. I glance in the mirror and see headlights coming up behind us.

  “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I beg. Norma thinks I’m talking to her, and maybe I am, but I’m also praying that car doesn’t stop and get a view of my girl’s mouth full of my cock. Because if someone tapped on the glass right now, I don’t know that I could let her pull off me. I need this, so close . . .

  The car whooshes by in a whir of speed, and I come, filling her mouth as I cry out, my hand gripping the headrest behind me as I lift my hips so that my Brat can take every bit of me. “Fuck . . . yeah!”

  When she sits back up, there’s no red on my cock and her lips look just as pristine as they did when I picked her up. But we’re both undone from the night.

  We might not have studied for shit, but I feel like I got a great big lesson in all things Norma Jean Blackstone.

  Chapter 12

  Zach

  I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed college this much. On the football field, the Ravens are undefeated. Now the pursuit is for the conference championship, and if we can do that, the sky’s the limit.

  But it’s not just football. The weeks that I’ve been studying with Norma have been . . . something. My little Brat makes studying at least tolerable, and while Milton isn’t going to be on my Kindle for away games anytime soon, I’m doing well.

  How well? Well, enough that my weekly essays are coming back with Bs and even an A on one of them. I’ve got a B in English already, and if I stick with it, I might even pull out a B-plus. Hell, might set my sights on an A with her help.

  Part of it, of course, is her sassy mouth. I can’t make a single statement in our discussions without having to justify it. Norma knows just how to press my buttons too, and while the acid that used to coat her tongue isn’t there any longer, she still gives as good as takes, verbally speaking. And she doesn’t let me just skirt by easily. When we’re in study mode, I can’t even seduce her . . . most of the time.

  Not that we don’t seduce each other. She’s even taken the lead sometimes, and the more she does it, the more it thrills me. I’ll never forget the time she gave me a surreptitious hand job in the middle of the library for getting an ‘A’ on that essay, her face impassive as she talked about temptation and Satan’s role as an anti-hero. Meanwhile, underneath the table, her hand was milking my cock, and I had to untuck my shirt to make it back to the dorm without giving myself away after our ‘tutoring.’

  Simply put, sex with her is awesome. Every time is more fun than the last, and we’re constantly one-upping the other with how intense and fun we can make it.

  And that’s what makes Norma different. She’s . . . special. It can work.

  The thought is undeniable as I jog out onto the field for Homecoming. The Ravens have homecoming relatively late, and this year, it’s an important game. If we win this, we’re nearly locked for the conference championship in three weeks. The only games we’ve got left are against teams we should beat. All we have to do is play our game the way I know we can.

  “How’re you feeling, Son?” Coach Jefferson asks as we wait on the sidelines for the senior captains to do the coin toss. “We’re on TV today. You know some scouts are going to be watching, maybe here but definitely later.” He scans the crowd, like he could spot a scout at this distance.

  “Don’t sweat it, Coach. There will be plenty of highlights to choose from for my reel,” I promise him. “You just get ready for the Gatorade bath.”

  I glance up in the stands, but I can’t see Norma in the mass of tens of thousands of fans here to see the Ravens take on the Bulldogs. But I know she’s here, wearing a team shirt to support me and ready to cheer like crazy.

  I put it out of my mind as we take the field, needing my brain to focus because it’s time to work. We run the first three plays just as Coach scripted, burning the Bulldogs for two good passes before we get stuffed on the third play.

  Looking over at the sidelines, I watch as Jake gets the play from Coach, sending in the signals. “What the fuck?” I mutter.

  Settling into the huddle, I call the play. “Trips left Camelot, Rodeo 82 Ninja on three.”

  “Are you out of your fucking mind, man?” Will Franklin, my left tackle and our senior captain, asks. “They’re stacking the box.”

  “Coach called it. Now run it,” I say, putting that tone in my voice that says cut the bullshit. Will shuts his mouth, and the huddle breaks, but as soon as I settle into the shotgun, I know Will is right. This makes no sense.

  They’re coming at me hard. They have to, so why this play? I’m only going to have five guys protecting me. Everyone else is going deep. This is a play we normally only run in long ball, no-pressure situations. Now, I’m not afraid to stand in the pocket. Every quarterback’s expected to take a shot from time to time, but this is suicide. Tugging on my facemask, I make a decision to overrule coach and audible it.

  It’s a risk. The crowd’s going nuts and I’m not sure anyone can hear me, but I have to trust that my teammates can. The ball snaps, and I roll right, avoiding the manic Bulldog rush as I look for an opening.

  Nothing. I’ve got half a second to make a decision to either run or pass when I see it. Not even breaking stride, I laser the ball downfield to our tight end, who takes it the rest of the way in for a touchdown.

  Jogging off the field, Coach Buckley gives me a pat on the shoulder. “Great call, Son! Can’t argue with a touchdown.”

  “No problem, but why did you send in that play?”

  Before he can answer, Coach Jefferson calls him over and I can’t get an answer. For the rest of the first half, though, I keep getting strange signals from the sidelines, and more than once, I’m changing plays at the line. When we go in for halftime, we’re up, but it’s not by what we wanted.

  “What the hell’s going on out there, Zach?” Coach Buckley asks as the locker room door closes. “You keep changing the play at the line out there.”

  “Coach, I’d call them like you send them in, but the signals aren’t making any sense with what’s happening on the field!” I growl, trying to keep my voice low. Coach is a good guy, and I learned to never disrespect a Coach where others can hear you. “I swear, every time we’re in a position to run for the
first down or work the short routes and sidelines, you’re wanting me to stand back there and throw bombs!”

  Buckley stops, tilting his head. “What the hell do you mean? I know they’re trying to pressure you.”

  “Then why do you keep sending in plays for me to sit in the pocket? That’s what Jake’s signaling.”

  Coach stops and looks at Jake, who’s trying to look innocent and failing. “Jake? What the fuck are you doing out there?”

  And though my attention laser-focuses on Jake, I’m aware that there is a whole room full of guys watching and listening to the exchange now.

  Jake seems to realize the same thing, looking around at the team with his hands held wide. He hems and haws. “I don’t know what you mean, Coach. I just send in what you tell me to. But if Zach can’t handle it, that’s on him. You know I’ll step in for the team if he’s pussing out.”

  Coach’s eyes narrow, looking between the two of us. “I don’t have time to deal with this shit. Second half, I’ll send in the signals myself. Jake, sideline. Zach, win the damn game.”

  He walks off, and I turn to Jake, shaking my head. “You really are a snake, aren’t you? You trying to get me fucking injured out there?”

  Jake looks at me, his jaw clenching as he stares at me. “The team would be better with me out there. I should be the one getting the headlines, goddammit.”