by Ginger Scott
“You are such a boy,” she laughs, laying her head on my shoulder and cupping my bicep with her hand. It feels like she was meant to do this always.
“Yeah, but I prefer the term man, if it’s all the same to you. Just sayin’,” I joke, and her light laugh shakes my arm. I lift it up to put it around her and squeeze her to me. Looking over my shoulder, I notice my mom watching me the entire time. Her grin could not be any more obvious.
“Paige is spending the night at the sorority house tonight,” Cass says, bringing my attention back to her. “She’s joining one. She’ll be moving out.” I feel her breath stop. Mine stops too. It froze the moment I realized what this means: Paige will be gone, and if Rowe is with Nate, we would be alone. Not gonna lie, my pants just got a little bit tighter, and I’m pretty sure Cass can tell. There are some things that are difficult to hide.
“So…you’re saying…” I start, not wanting to presume anything—I usually do, but this one, this time? This is different. I need to be careful here.
“I’m saying…that…” she starts, then stops, biting her lip. Her cheeks turn red, and I can hardly stand it.
“Come on, Cass,” I say, shaking her lightly to my side. “You can do it.”
She buries her face into my bicep, and it’s so cute that I can’t torture her any longer.
“Do you want to have a sleepover?” I ask, sleep the very last activity on my agenda. Cass nods her head yes against my arm, then pulls her face out just enough to look up at me. I kiss her forehead the second she does.
“Done,” I say.
“But I’m worried about Rowe. She’s kind of…nervous. I don’t know, I feel bad kicking her out of our room. That’s…that’s what we were fighting about,” she says, and I can tell she honestly does feel bad. And now I feel like a royal prick—because, as much as I should care about Rowe’s feelings being hurt, the only thing I can think about is getting back to Cass’s room, getting her alone, and getting her out of that damn yellow dress.
“She’s with Nate. Trust me, we would be doing those two a massive favor. My brother is pretty whipped by that girl,” I say. A smile cricks up in the corner of her mouth, so I kiss it. “I promise. Think of this as our good deed. Rowe will thank you. I know it.”
Shit, I hope she doesn’t punch her. Either way, I’m getting this girl into her room, alone, tonight. I don’t care if it fucking kills me. Well, yeah, I care if it kills me. Let me sleep with her first, then kill me, universe.
Here is why baseball is better than football. No matter how many runs your team is down by, you always have a sense of hope. One inning—one inning can change it all. You can score, and I’ve seen it, a dozen runs in an inning—especially at the college level. There’s no time limit. The game could go on all night, as long as it takes.
With football, there is a clock, and everything is measured against it. For example, McConnell is down by four touchdowns, and in a few minutes, it will be five. Given McConnell’s average time taken to score, there is not enough time left on the clock for the Bulls to make a comeback. It’s a mathematical improbability.
But here is why football is better than baseball—just for tonight. If this were a baseball game, I would have to stick it out. My competitive nature and the promise of hope—of a comeback—would keep me here. I hate missing a good comeback. But there is no hope. Not even an ounce. So I am free to leave, with Cass, to go to her room and do a shitload of dirty things to her that I have been thinking about pretty much non-stop for the last hour. So for tonight—and just tonight—I thank football.
Thank you, football. You are king.
Cass has just walked back over to sit next to me. I think she wanted to try to ease Rowe’s worry one last time, but from the looks of things, I don’t think it worked. Rowe has completely shrunk down in her seat, and Nate is staring at her, his hand over his mouth like he doesn’t know what to do. He knows…he’s just afraid.
I hope Cass isn’t backing out. When she sits down next to me again, I pull her close, reminding her, like a damn dog humping her leg. “I think this game is pretty much a lock. You?” I ask her, my lips close to her ear, close enough that I give the bottom of her ear a tiny tug with my teeth. Her lips quiver when I do.
Yeah, she’s still in.
“Let’s go,” she says, sliding her hand sensually across my chest as she stands and steps around me. I almost lose it right then and there.
“Mom, Dad—see you guys tomorrow at dinner,” I say, not wanting to linger. Our timing could not have been better as my parents were in the middle of a discussion with another couple. They pause just long enough to say goodbye and shake Cass’s hand, then we’re out the door.
The trip back to our dorm feels three times as far as the way here. Cass is making small talk. It’s cute. I can tell she’s nervous about this whole thing.
“Do you have a dog at home?” she asks when we get to the front door to our dorm. This is her fifth random question, and I’ve indulged every single one.
“…Yes, I can drive a stick shift. It just has to have a hand clutch…No, I’ve never had a Mohawk. But if you think it’s cute, you can shave my head. I don’t care.... I pierced my right ear in high school. But I don’t like wearing an earring. I’m a lazy shit, so the hole closed up.... My favorite color is green. No, blue! No, green. Monty Python joke, lame. Sorry.”
Finally, we get to the elevator. “We don’t have a dog. My dad’s allergic. Breaks my mom’s heart, because she loves animals. She visits the neighbor’s dog all the time,” I say, pulling her back on my lap as the elevator doors close. “Now, why are you so chatty?” I ask, tugging her hair loose from the tie that’s kept it in place on top of her head. Her braid unravels into these blond waves, and I swear to god she looks like a mermaid.
“I need to put you in water,” I say out loud, my fingers finding their way to the base of her neck and then digging deeply into her soft, sunshine hair.
“You…you have a thing for water?” Her eyebrow quirks up at me, and I laugh.
“No, sorry. You just look like a mermaid. I like this,” I say, pulling a few strands of her hair in front of us and holding the waves out for her to see.
“Oh,” she smiles, her face showing her shyness. “Thanks. It’s how I hide being a ninja.”
“Right, good secret identity. No one would suspect a mermaid,” I say, my teeth grazing her neck as I let my smile form against her skin. “You even smell like sunshine. How is that possible?”
When the doors open, she tries to stand, but I keep her firmly in place on my lap and push us forward. This is why I workout so much. Here is the payoff, right here. I can do these two things at once.
We hit the wall a few times on our way to her room, mostly because I can’t seem to get my mouth off of her damn neck. I finally relent and let her get to her feet when we’re at her door, and she drops her keys trying to unlock too quickly.
“Sorry, I’m a bit of a jumble,” she giggles. She really is nervous.
“Relax. I’m not in a race,” I say, reminding my lower region to behave—for now.
She smiles and takes a deep breath before turning her attention back to the door, this time slipping the key in easily and letting us both inside. She drops her purse on her desk and heads to her closet, drawing the door closed almost the entire way, but leaving a small sliver of space where I catch her dress slip from her body and see the curve of her breast. Yep, that’s not helping me keep downstairs in check. My dick is pretty much at full attention now, ready to war with my conscience, which is not in great shape—it doesn’t get a workout much.
Shit.
She comes out in a small white tank top and black cotton shorts. She’s barely wearing anything, and the fabric is so thin, it practically glides over her features.
“I wanted to be comfortable. I hope that’s okay,” she says, sitting down on her bed and folding her legs over one another, like we’re about to play UNO.
“I’m good with comfortable,” I smile, sudden
ly unsure of my next move. Fuck, maybe we really should play UNO. Looking around, I’m not sure where I fit. Do I sit next to her? Do I just start kissing her and pulling her clothes off? Do I take my shirt off? Or does she just want to talk? I usually don’t care—and, normally, I’ve been at a party…I’ve already had the talk with the girl about how I don’t do girlfriends and shit, and she usually says she’s fine with that, and there’s whiskey, and bad tastes, because sometimes the chick smokes. I hate smoke. And there are hints that I’ll regret sleeping with the girl. But none of that applies here. I am a fish out of water.
“So, are you my girlfriend?” I’m a goddamned fourth grader.
My heart is pounding like I’m a sixty-year-old man on heart medication, and I’m actually sweating. Cass looks right into my eyes; I think she thinks I’m joking at first. But I’m not. I’m actually having a panic attack; it’s getting harder to breathe. Slowly, realization hits her, and her smile follows.
My lungs fill up.
“I’d love to be your girlfriend,” she says, doing that cute thing where she bites her lip and looks at her lap.
I should be over there.
I’m going over there.
I pull myself up and sit next to her on the edge of her bed, then reach down and pull my shoes from my feet. “I wanted to be comfortable, do you mind?” I mimic her from earlier, and it makes her laugh nervously. Her lip goes right back in her teeth, so I scoot closer and touch her mouth softly with my finger, pulling her lip loose.
“I’m going to kiss that, if that’s okay?” I ask, and she nods slowly, her eyes wide and on mine.
I move in, watching her eyes track the movement of my lips toward her. I’ve never paid attention to these little things before, but god do I want to watch everything now. I need one of those out-of-body experiences. When I’m so near I can feel her breath, her eyes close. I finally shut mine too, letting my lips fall into hers.
She was waiting for me. The second my mouth hits hers—all nerves are gone.
I have a girlfriend. This is my girlfriend. This is Cass Owens, and she is my undoing, and I go willingly. Her lips grow hungry. I thread my fingers through her hair until a few of the strands wrap around them, and I tug her head gently backward so I can taste her neck.
“Tyson,” she breathes out my name, my full name. Fuck, I have never loved my name more than I do right now.
I lay her back gently and lean over her to the side, my lips still on hers and my hand cradling the side of her face. She is like a furnace, the heat radiating from her neck and chest. I know her body is as much in control of her decisions as mine is.
I slow our kiss and let my hand glide down her cheek until I’m only touching her with the tips of my fingers. Like a feather, I trace the profile of her body through the thin cotton of her tank top. I slow as I come to the crest of her breast so I can admire how hard her nipple is underneath. I love this shirt. I don’t know who makes it, but I want to invest in their company, and then fill Cass’s closet with nothing but this simple, thin, white tank top.
My hand slows around the curve of her breast, and I allow myself one squeeze, pulling the peak in between my thumb and finger until I can finally see the pink color show through her shirt. I want to bite that. I should bite that.
Lowering my head, I glance at her face first; her eyes are closed, the lip back at home between her teeth, and it makes me smirk. This is one of her tells. If this were a poker game, I would know she’s all in. Her eyes flutter open when she feels me move. I smile softly, and touch my finger to her hardened nipple.
“I’m going to kiss this now, if that’s okay,” I say, studying her every move, every breath. She nods slowly. I let the coarseness of the fabric glide across my tongue as I take her breast into my mouth, until I can no longer stand the barrier. I pull her shirt up and over her breasts roughly.
Goddamn, she is built like a goddess. Her body is so muscular, but not in that gross, posing, I-want-a-protein-shake-sponsorship kind of way. It’s still soft, and supple and…oh yes. It tastes so good. As my lips finally make contact with her bare skin, she arches into me. I reach around her body, caging her in my arms, and lifting her to my mouth so I can suck harder, until she’s almost raw.
I let her fall back to the mattress and look down at her. She’s breathing even harder now, and her body is covered in a light sheen of sweat. I don’t think I have ever been so turned on in my entire life. This is it. I’m no longer in control.
“You are so goddamned beautiful,” I say, her eyes opening when I speak, her smile curling at the corners of her lips again. “And I want to consume you. My eyes, they don’t know what to take in first, and my mouth wants to taste every inch.”
I attack her lips again, but this time she rolls me onto my back, her warm hands finding their way to the bottom of the T-shirt, pulling it up just enough so I feel her hot skin press against mine. For the briefest moment, I’m afraid I am being too aggressive, that I’ll scare her. But she seems to be craving this, craving me like this.
Cass moves to her knees, straddling me at the waist, and slowly works my shirt over my head, kissing a trail down my neck, chest and stomach—she is about to see how hot she makes me. Something clicks inside me. I reach down and touch her face, stroking the hair away that’s fallen into her eyes. I don’t want to push her, make her feel like she isn’t something special. Because she is. She’s the most special person I’ve ever met.
“Baby, you don’t have to—” I start, and she puts her fingers to my lips to stop me cold.
“Shhhhh,” she says. “Don’t call me baby.” Her smile is wicked, and I know she feels me react beneath her, my hardness pressed against her bare breasts, dying to be set free from the damn jeans I’m wearing.
I pull her head to me again, holding her mouth just a few inches from mine, looking back and forth from her lips to her eyes—just so I can savor this moment before I roughly crash my mouth into hers, my tongue exploring every inch of her, and my teeth tugging at her lips each time she tries to free herself. I feel her hands working at my jeans, struggling, so I let go of her face long enough to help her. Soon, she’s pulling them down my legs to the floor.
She’s standing before me—nothing but a small pair of cotton shorts on, and I swear I’ve found religion. Everything about her is like a gift, and as much as I want to hurry up, to push inside her and feel everything that I’m seeing…I also want to take my time. We have the entire night, and I want to use it all up.
“I think I might just be addicted to you,” I say, holding myself up on my elbows and reaching forward to tug at the waistband of her shorts. She catches my hand when I do and holds it in place—not because she’s scared, but because she wants to seduce me more. She wants to take control of everything, and that…that’s scary to me. But I let her have it. I give it over and hold my breath.
The movement of her hips is hypnotic, like a clock pendulum swinging slowly. I watch as she traces the thin waistband of her night shorts across her hips until she gently works her thumbs underneath and begins to peel the silky material away. She isn’t wearing anything underneath, and the lower the shorts go, the less I breathe. My heart could stop right now, and I wouldn’t even be aware.
She is standing in front of me, completely naked. I. Am. Mesmerized. With a delicate push, she has me once again flat on my back. She runs her hands up the sides of my legs until she reaches the top of my boxers, and she pulls them down until I’m free.
“Do you…have anything?” she asks. I nod yes toward my jeans on the floor. I have kind of been hoping for this moment to present itself for a few days. I actually almost left the condom at home tonight—given that we were going to be out with my parents. I’m happy as hell I talked myself out of that idea now.
Cass pulls the packet from my jeans and tears it open, holding it in her hand while she crawls back up to me, her knees on either side of mine. She slides the condom on slowly, and I let a small groan escape my throat.
&
nbsp; “Hang on…baby,” she teases me.
“Cass, I don’t have much left. I mean, there’s a thread, and then there’s me, and I am hanging with the tips of my fingers,” I say.
“Well then…” she says as she slides her fingers up my chest until her palms are flat against my muscles, and she’s sitting exactly where I need her to be.
I’m not good at being dominated. Not that I need to be a dominant—it’s just, I’m usually the one making the decisions, telling the girl how to be with me. But for some reason, I’m willing to give this to Cass. I take my hands and run them up the length of her arms and then slide them down her hips, and as they fall lower, so does she. And then everything. Feels. So much more.
“Oh my god,” I can’t help the rush of words from my lips, but I also lose my breath all at once. “Cass. You…” I’m incapable of finishing a sentence, of completing a thought.
Her hair falls forward as she leans toward me and kisses my mouth, her teeth taking in my top lip with a gentle tug. Once her mouth hits mine, she rocks forward, and I’m no longer able to hold back. I let my hands take control of her completely, running them up her sides, over her breasts and into her hair, pulling her to me—hard.
I hold her against my body, my right hand running over her back until I feel along that sexy dimple that she has just above her ass—a byproduct of how hard she trains. “Fuck me, you are so unbelievable. This…feels…unbelievable,” I speak as she continues to move around me, stopping our kiss and pressing her forehead to mine.
I don’t have much longer, and I can tell she’s close, so I touch her lightly with my fingers as I penetrate her again and again, my thumb circling her swollen sex until she arches her head back, gasping—her orgasm entirely taking her away. “Tyson, oh my god. That, like that. Ohhhhhh,” her voice quivers, her hips shake, and I lose myself, unable to handle hearing her making those sounds without falling apart.
“Holy fuck, Cass,” I say, one final pull of her hips down onto me. She collapses on my chest, her hair sticking to my sweat-covered skin. I think minutes pass before I even breathe, Cass’s body just rising and falling on top of me as we both catch our breath.