College Girl

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College Girl Page 4

by Shelia Grace


  It made me wonder, though. How was it possible that this girl had never been kissed before? Alex Reed made my blood boil just looking at her. Standing up, I crept down the hall on the balls of my feet, paying attention to the boards that would creak under my weight. The light in her room was still on as I passed the door. Turning back, I stopped and stood silently outside the door, watching as she read from a thick book. Her hair was drying and returning to its original reddish brown. My eyes traveled downward, and I could see the outline of her breasts beneath my shirt.

  I moved back to my room and opened up the laptop. But my head wasn’t in it. Deciding to correct the homework problems before moving on to actual work, I sifted through the stack until I reached Alex Reed’s assignment. Next to one of the problems, she had scribbled—and then erased—WTF? I laughed quietly. This girl did not like math. And after the story she had told earlier, I had to wonder why her advisor hadn’t let her drop the class. Then it struck me. If she had dropped Robertson’s class before I had agreed to take over as TA, I never would have seen her, which probably would have been for the best.

  Fuck that. This was the most I had felt in months. Hell, maybe years. The engagement to Gretchen had been a massive fucking mistake. She had been marrying my family, not me. Asking her to marry me had been my ill-advised attempt to appease her after I had told her I was going back for my doctorate. Mostly because she had looked at me like I had just taken a shit all over her fairy tale. And maybe it had been my fault for not noticing that she had preferred wine and pills to me.

  I graded assignments until my eyes were burning and I couldn’t see straight, but when I finally turned out the light and closed my eyes, I still couldn’t sleep. My thoughts remained firmly trained on the half-naked girl down the hall.

  When a piercing scream woke me out of a restless sleep, I jumped up and bolted down the hall. Bursting into the guest bedroom, I flicked on the lamp, ready to tackle an intruder. Instead, I found Alex, curled into a tiny ball, her small fists clenching the sheets. Jesus. She was having a nightmare. That scream had made it sound like she was being murdered. I sat on the edge of the bed as she tossed and turned. Finally I reached over very carefully and stroked her forehead.

  “Alex,” I whispered.

  Her eyes shot open, and she started crying. Sobbing.

  “Alex? You’re okay. Shh. It was just a bad dream.”

  She was shaking so badly that I finally relented and pulled her against me, massaging her back as she trembled.

  “He … g-grabbed me,” she sobbed.

  “It’s okay. It was just a dream. You’re okay. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Her tears were hot against my chest and when she nuzzled my shoulder, her lips grazing my skin, I felt my cock stiffen instantly. She looked up at me as I wiped away her tears.

  “If you hadn’t been there …” she whispered, still oblivious to my inappropriate lust.

  She shuddered and started crying again, and I reached for a tissue from the box on the nightstand. Taking it, she dabbed at her eyes and nose. Her skin was overheated, and I was struggling not to touch her.

  “It’s okay. You need to get some sleep. I’ll be right down the hall.”

  I started to rise from the bed until she gripped my arm. Turning toward her, I saw her eyes glittering with terror.

  “I’m … afraid,” she shuddered. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  Her hand was still glued to my forearm as I turned and slowly reached out. When I slid my other arm around her waist, she gasped and jerked in surprise. Reaching around her, I lowered her onto the bed as she stared up at me unblinkingly. Slowly I nudged her legs apart.

  “Ryan?”

  The sound of my name on her lips made me ache, and I had to remind myself how inexperienced she was. A few hours ago, I couldn’t forget it. Now, all I wanted was to make her come. I lowered my head until I could bite her lower lip, gently increasing the pressure until she cried out, her body arching like a bow beneath me. I had been holding myself a few inches above her, but now that she was pressed fully against my length, her eyes widened in shock. Steeling myself, I leaned forward to taste her again before sliding the T-shirt up over her thighs, her hips, her waist, her bare breasts. I eased the shirt over her head and watched her face as I brought one hand up to caress the impossibly soft skin of her breasts, pinching the peaks of her nipples between my thumb and index finger.

  “Oh!” she breathed.

  Her eyes closed, and I pushed my tongue into the warm moistness of her mouth as I imagined my cock slipping between the folds of her pussy. At the thought of entering her, I growled, my hips instantly matching the rhythm of my tongue’s thrusts. Her body began to respond. Her tongue met mine tentatively, and her back arched as my hands grasped her hips. I sat up, drawing her into my lap as I began to guide her movements, rocking her very gently against my cock until she made this tiny, out of control sound.

  That small whimper crushed my willpower, if I’d had any left to begin with.

  “I want you to come,” I whispered raggedly.

  I wanted to watch her come more than I craved my own release. I lowered her back onto the bed and let my hand slide down. She arched, her breathing jagged and uneven, and when my finger stroked her through the thin barrier of her panties, she moaned in a shocked way. I froze as her eyes shot open, and in an instant I knew.

  She had never even touched herself before.

  Fuck! Somehow—in my depraved desperation—I had assumed that she had at least … Groaning, I rolled away from her. What the fuck was wrong with me? I just had to notice the one girl in a five-hundred-person lecture hall who had zero experience? I rubbed my hand across my face and sat up.

  “Christ.”

  She pushed herself up, pulling the sheet across her chest. I looked over at her. She was gorgeous. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her lips puffy. I wanted her, possibly more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. Fuck.

  “Alex, I shouldn’t have done what I did tonight. You’re a student—”

  “So are you,” she smiled shyly, reaching out to touch me.

  She gasped a little as her fingers made contact with my cock, like she hadn’t expected it. Biting back a smart remark, I grabbed her wrist and firmly pushed her hand away. I knew without a doubt that I wouldn’t be able to control my response to those soft hands clumsily touching me as she attempted her first hand job, and I was not going to introduce this barely eighteen-year-old girl to fellatio.

  So I did the only thing possible. I got up and started walking toward the door.

  “You’re going to go to bed like that?” she asked in amazement.

  I stopped.

  “I appreciate your concern, but no—I’m not going to go to bed like this.”

  Like I could sleep in this state. I watched as the information clicked in her head.

  “Really?” she asked with curiosity.

  “Yeah.”

  It was killing me that I hadn’t made her come—that I was leaving her here possibly aching as badly as I was. Fuck it. That wasn’t possible.

  “Do you want … help?” she asked a little more meekly this time.

  “You want me to carry you into my bedroom and …” fuck you the way I’ve wanted to all night?

  I shook my head. I was going to lose my mind if I didn’t get out of this room. I walked out and shut the door, haunted by her naked form.

  Chapter 5

  Alex

  I want you to come.

  I slipped the T-shirt back over my head and shivered as I remembered the sound of Ryan’s voice, the feel of his fingers sliding against the cotton of my underwear, the tension in his muscles as he held himself above me. Not to mention how enormous and rock hard he had been. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of lust. I still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

  I had never felt anything like that. My muscles clenched. I was aching, and it didn’t help thinking of how close I had gott
en. I mean, I had, hadn’t I? It felt pretty fucking close to me—but what did I know? That was the whole point. I had never gone all the way. Hell, I had never gone an eighth of the way. It wasn’t like I was wearing a purity ring or anything, but my plan had always been to wait until I was epically in love. So, then how had I almost done it with a guy I had known for … hours?

  I had never even gone out with anyone. Not even close. I just hadn’t been one of those girls that guys thought about in that way. I was too quiet. Mom called me aloof. She said it like it was a dirty word. “Alex, honey. You’re just too aloof for boys to notice you.”

  Then, in one night, I had gone from zero to sixty. … In one night, I had gone from never having kissed a guy to being naked beneath my incredibly hot Calculus TA.

  In one night, I had nearly gone all the way.

  I heard the shower in his room running—again—and shivered as I imagined what Ryan was doing. Remembering the sight of his very erect, very large penis made me blush. It was shocking, like a bolt of electricity, even more so when I thought about what he had said before walking out.

  You want me to carry you into my bedroom and …

  He hadn’t finished what he was saying, but I had an idea. The thought of him in the shower naked … not good. Because instead of getting the best night of sleep since I started sleeping on that lumpy dorm bed, I was going to get the worst night of sleep ever as I tried to imagine what would have happened if Ryan hadn’t stopped. A few minutes later, I heard the water stop running, and I held my breath, half expecting him to come back down the hall, lift me into his arms, and carry me into his bedroom.

  He didn’t, though. I waited, half-hopeful, half-afraid, until my eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

  When I woke up, there was light pouring through the blinds. I looked over and saw a coffee mug sitting on the nightstand. The clock read a little past eleven, and Ryan Matthews—Bennett—was sitting in the chair in the corner, fully dressed and watching me with a serious expression on his face.

  I sat up with a start and realized my hair must have been all over the place—but at least I had had the sense to put the T-shirt back on last night. The thought of sitting here completely naked in the cold, harsh light of day was a little more than my nerves could take. Ryan nodded toward the coffee, and I reached over and picked it up. Taking a sip, I felt my face pucker.

  “Jesus! You drink this rocket fuel?”

  He laughed, and a wave of relief washed over me.

  “Every morning. I do what I need to in order to survive grad school. Sorry. I don’t have any cream.”

  I smiled.

  “That’s okay. This cup will probably keep me awake through finals.”

  He frowned again, like he had just remembered how fucking young I was.

  “Do you regret last night?” I asked, trying to keep the accusation in my tone to a minimum.

  “Do you?”

  “No,” I said flatly. “Do you?”

  He looked conflicted for a second before clearing his throat.

  “No. But Alex, you’re very young—and I was in the wrong. Way in the wrong. I’m your TA. I’m older than you—”

  “Much older,” I grinned. “Ancient. Putrefying.”

  “Damn, I like you.”

  He sounded disappointed by this fact.

  “Uh, thanks?”

  “That’s not the way I meant it.”

  My eyes began to sting as I realized where this speech was going. So I opted for my best defense mechanism—feigning complete and utter indifference.

  “Come on, Professor Bennett. If you’re trying to break up with me, I’ve got a news flash for you. We’re not going out. I barely fucking know you. And you didn’t even sully my innocence that much. Whatever!”

  Setting down the coffee with a thump, I threw back the blankets and jumped up, searching around for my jeans, sweater, and bra. I couldn’t be that far from a bus line back to campus. Hell, at this point, I’d fucking walk. I swung around and finally saw where my clothes were—in a neat stack on top of the reading table, which was only inches away from the guy I was trying to escape before I started crying and exposed myself for the emotional wreck I was.

  The problem was that I liked him, too. Maybe even something more than that. I had known him less than twenty-four hours, but … But nothing, Alex, I snapped in my head. It was fucking over. It was one night. That was it. Working up my nerve, I stalked over to the table and reached for my clothes. If he didn’t leave, I’d go change in the bathroom and then take off. But before I could jump away, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. In the next instant, he was on his feet, pulling me toward him. His other hand moved behind my head, holding me still as he leaned toward me. When his lips parted mine, his touch wasn’t gentle. I felt his tongue thrust into my mouth, instantly summoning images and sensations from last night. I moaned against his lips, and his hands dropped to my hips, hauling my body against his. A second later his lips left mine. Then I felt his warm breath at my ear.

  “I want you, Alex. More than you can possibly imagine. And that’s why I’m letting you go right now. You deserve more than this. If I hadn’t stopped last night, then I would have ruined any chance we might have.”

  He stepped back, his breathing just as uneven as mine.

  “Now, get dressed, and I’ll take you back to the dorm.”

  ###

  When Ryan dropped me off in front of Mercer, I handed him the helmet and refused to let him walk me up to my room. In fact, I practically sprinted to the door and let it close behind me, relieved for once that the dorm required an ID card to get in.

  Last night was over, and it was for the best. After all, if it hadn’t been for that creeper from my Creative Writing class following me into the library and grabbing me, was there any chance in hell that Ryan Matthews—Bennett—whatever the fuck he wanted to call himself—would have noticed me for more than half a second?

  No. There wasn’t. I was barely a blip on his fucking radar. For all I knew, he had a girlfriend who was out of town or something. Okay, that was crap, and I knew it. He seemed like a decent guy. Way out of my league? Yeah. But not a dick. I had totally pegged him wrong the night before. Who else would have bothered noticing some super-stalker trailing me to the library on a freezing cold night?

  When I got to the third floor, I jammed the key into the lock and swung open the door. The room reeked of weed, and Brit was, not surprisingly, passed out cold on her bed with my mini TV—the one Aunt Karen had given me three Christmases ago—pulled over to her side of the room and covered in Cheetos-dust. Picking up the TV, I wrenched it back to my side of the room and turned it off. Brit had no fucking boundaries. She would throw her dirty laundry in with mine, steal food I was storing in the closet … screw some gross guy in my bed. Yep. One of the girls down the hall had come over last quarter to tell me she had walked in on Brit screwing some jackass from the second floor—in my bed. I had almost thrown up. Then I had bleached my sheets. And after that, I had spent the next week trying to get a room change. Unfortunately, anyone living alone in a double room had turned out to be as crazy as Brit.

  Lifting myself onto the bed, I opened up the window to let in fresh air. The university had a zero-tolerance policy for smoking in the dorms, and one of these days, Brit was going to end up getting me kicked out, because she was the type of bitch who would stash her weed in my stuff if she thought she was about to get caught.

  I sat down at the desk and took out my laptop to work on the short story that was due on Monday. I was tempted to write one about a girl who murders her bitch of a roommate, but there wasn’t much creativity there. Without thinking about it, I started writing about last night. My cheeks flushed, and my breathing sped up as I remembered every last detail. Fuck, I wanted to die thinking about the possibility of never feeling those things again.

  “Nice!”

  I jumped out of my chair and bumped into the desk to escape the cocky jerk from downstairs. He was s
till staring at my computer screen. Dammit! I had fucking forgotten to lock the door again. Even worse, I hadn’t even heard him walk in. Reaching over, I tried to close the computer screen, but the dickhead caught my hand.

  “Wow. I didn’t know you could read,” I snapped.

  I was not in the mood for this asshole’s intimidation bullshit. I didn’t know what they were pumping into the air supply on the second floor, but most of the guys down there had a massive “who’s dick is bigger?” contest going on, which involved a lot of loud music, yelling, chest-thumping, and badgering any girl who wouldn’t spread her legs on command. I didn’t get it as bad as some girls. Well, at least most of the time they didn’t bark when I passed by. I had seen plenty of girls from the single-sex floor pass in tears from all the barking and general dickhead behavior one floor down. This guy thought he was hot shit, but compared to Ryan, he was lumpy dough.

  “You’d better be nice, Alicia,” he drawled, looking over at me.

  I smirked. Of course he didn’t know my name.

  “Screw you.”

  He smiled.

  “Just remember, your roommate leaves the door open for me at night.”

  My face went pale as he sauntered out of the room, turning back once to look at me. What the fuck? What was with the psycho assholes lately? Of course, this psycho asshole just happened to be Brit’s fault. How she chose her hookups was beyond me. It was almost like she went out of her way to pick the psychopaths.

  Sitting down at the computer again, I thought about deleting my vivid account of last night, but I was afraid to. I didn’t want to forget one second of it. Because if the selection of guys I was dealing with included the jackass who had just walked out, I’d rather die a virgin. After password protecting my file—1nightwithryan—I closed the document and tried working on a story that I could actually share with my classmates. Then I laughed, imagining their faces if I were to read off my account of last night.

 

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