"You're not dieting, are you?" Colton asks, slapping my ass as I lean around him.
"Did you just slap my ass?"
"I did," he says nonchalantly, opening the refrigerator and peering inside. He pulls out eggs and milk and sets them on the counter. "I hope you're not dieting. Because I like your ass the way it is."
"What are you doing?" I ask as he scrounges around the refrigerator, finding vegetables.
"Cooking."
"You cook?"
"My mama taught me something," he says.
I reach into the pantry and pull an apron off the hook on the wall and toss it at him. "You're full of surprises," I say.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet," he says, putting it on, then turning around with the front of his body covered and his ass is exposed.
I sit at the table and salivate the whole time he's cooking. And not because of the food.
Colton makes omelets – mine a normal size and his bigger than the size of my head — and we sit and eat. This time, there's no awkwardness, even though Colton is sitting on my kitchen chair with his naked ass pressed against the seat. This time, it's easy conversation, Colton telling me stupid stories about growing up on his family's farm out in East Texas.
"Five brothers," I answer when he asks me whether I have siblings.
"Say what?"
I laugh. "Abel, Ben, Carter, Daniel, and Elijah. I'm the youngest."
"No fucking way," he says. "Alphabetical order?"
"Yeah," I say, shaking my head. "I was supposed to be Frank, only I was a girl, and my mother hated the name Frankie. So they just said screw it when it came to the whole alphabetical thing and named me after my grandmother."
"You have five older brothers," Colton says. "How the hell do you know nothing about sports?"
I cock my head to the side and look at him like the answer is obvious. "I never said I didn't know anything about any sports," I say. "I just don't know anything about football."
"You thought football involved home runs," Colton says.
"I didn't say I knew anything about baseball," I laugh, then explain. "My brothers played hockey. And, trust me, when you have five older brothers who are obsessed with hockey, you don't learn anything about any other sports. Hell, I learned as little about hockey as possible, too."
When we're finished, he takes my plate to the sink, then reappears. "I'm hungry again."
"Again?" I'm pretty sure he just inhaled a dozen eggs in that omelet.
"Yep." He walks over to the chair and pulls me right up out of it. "Sorry, Teach. I have to eat."
We don't even make it to the bedroom. Colton's lips are on mine, his hands roaming my body the minute he pulls me to my feet, and we stumble into the living room. Literally, I mean.
Colton trips as he steps backward, pulling me with him, and we crash into the side of the sofa. I laugh as I fall against his chest. "Football players aren't the most graceful, are they?"
"It's a good thing we have big dicks to make up for it." He pulls me against him for emphasis, the apron the only barrier between us.
Until he yanks the fabric away, and there's nothing between us at all.
His cock presses against me, his skin against mine, and I moan aloud at the sensation. "You're hungry too," he notes, reaching between my legs.
"Starving."
Later, I lie in bed with him, my head on his chest. He runs his hand along my hair, his breathing and his heartbeat the only sounds in the stillness of my room. "I don't know why, but you make me really fucking horny."
"You're such a poet."
He grasps a handful of my ass cheek and pulls me against him. "I'm a dumb jock," he corrects me bitingly.
I feel a pang of guilt at the phrase. "I said that before I knew you." My hand moves lazily across his chest. "You're a lot smarter than you look."
Colton laughs. "Thanks."
"You know what I mean."
"You're still going to tutor me." It's less of a question than a statement.
"I don't… shit. I don't know."
"I can keep a secret, Cassie," he assures me. "It's not like I'm going to walk into Coach's office and announce that I'm seeing you."
"Are you seeing me?"
"You know what I mean."
I don't, actually. I don't know what the hell this is. And I don’t really want to know. All I know is that I want to keep doing it.
"Does this mean I have to incentivize you for getting good grades?" I ask.
"Oh, hell yeah, it does," he says. "I'm going to be the best fucking student you've ever met."
* * *
The loud ringing wakes me up in the morning. Not my ring tone. I pat my hand behind me, blearily reaching for whatever's making that horrible sound.
"That's not the phone." The baritone voice near my ear almost makes me jump. Colton presses his cock against my ass. "But you can keep touching it if you want. I'm not going to stop you."
Heat rushes through me at his touch, intensifying when his hand slides between my legs. "Is that yours?" I murmur, referring to the phone.
His fingers find my clit. "It is."
"Someone wants you," I say when it rings again.
"Damn straight," he growls. "You're wet."
"The phone."
"Fuck it."
"Answer it."
His fingers stay where they are, lodged firmly against my clit, while he reaches for his phone. "Hello."
I can hear his mom's voice through the phone and I swat at his hand. "Stop," I mouth, looking over my shoulder.
"I'm not telling you that, mom," he says, his finger never stopping what it's doing, and I hear his mother's muffled voice through the phone. "I'll see you in a bit. Love you too."
The second he hangs up, I slap his arm. "Don't keep doing that while you're on the phone with your mother, you pervert."
"I'm going to keep doing this over and over," he whispers. "By the way, my mom says to tell you hi."
I start to protest, but I'm too distracted by what he does with his fingers to care about Colton's mom and what she suspects.
25
Colton
"This isn't studying," she states, her expression serious. "If I'm going to tutor you, then you actually have to let me tutor you."
"If you want me to concentrate, you shouldn't have worn a damn sundress to the tutoring session," I argue, running my hands over her breasts. I pull one of the tiny straps on the dress right over her shoulder, breathing in her scent. I think it's burned on my brain now. She smells like raspberries and coconut and something else that makes my mouth water.
It makes me want to eat her.
Two weeks of doing everything but fucking her has me crawling up the damn walls. I think it might be even worse than when I was not touching her at all.
Cassie squirms on my lap, leaning against me as I kiss below her ear. My cock hardens against her ass as she moves.
"The door to this room doesn't lock," she whispers. "We should just get out of here."
"Not a chance," I growl. "The only way you get out of here is after I've made you come. So stand up."
When she rises, I run my hands up her legs and over her ass, yanking her panties down her thighs. I don't bother to take them off.
Cassie puts her palms on the table and peers over her shoulder at me, the back of her dress flipped up to her waist and her ass in the air, panties around her knees. "If someone walks in here right now…"
"Then we're both fucked, aren't we?"
My fingers brush against her pussy and she whispers my name. She's already wet for me. I'm not even screwing this girl yet, and I can't get enough of her. We're doing everything but screwing every waking minute. I think she's a nympho now.
I think I might have turned her into one.
I think she might have turned me into a master of foreplay.
"Colton," she whispers. "Put your fingers inside me."
Instead, I smack her on the ass, watching her ass cheek jiggle at the blow. "Bad
girl," I say. "Ordering me around."
"You told me I'd have to beg."
I slide my fingers between her legs, pressing against her clit, listening to the sound of her breath when I touch her. "I told you that you'd have to beg me to fuck you," I say. "Not to finger you."
"Maybe that's what I'm begging you to do."
I slide my fingers inside her in one swift movement, and she moans.
"Not funny, cock tease," I say, my voice gruff. I wrap her ponytail around my hand, pulling her head back as I fuck her with my fingers. My dick is so hard at the mere mention of wanting me inside her that I think I'm going to explode right now.
Cassie moans when I pull her hair. "I want to feel you," she says as I fuck her with my fingers, my movements quicker the more she pushes her ass back against my hand. I find her asshole with my thumb, pressing against it as I stroke her inside.
"Reach between your legs and touch your clit," I tell her. If she keeps talking about how much she wants to feel my cock inside her, I'm going to take her right here in this classroom. And that isn't how I want to take her virginity at all.
She strokes herself, doing that thing she does where she bites her lower lip to keep from crying out as I fuck her harder with my fingers. "Let me feel it," she says. "I want to feel your cock against me. I want to feel you on me."
This girl is going to ruin me.
I fuck her with my fingers until she's on the verge. "You wish it were my cock inside you right now, Cassie?" I whisper. "You want it to be my cock that makes you come, my cock that fills you up?"
"Please," she says.
I pull my fingers from her pussy, undoing my cargo shorts and dropping them to the floor. Gripping my cock in my hand, I press it up between her legs, and pull her against me with my other hand. My lips are near her ear, and she leans her head on me, her eyes closed and lips parted, her breath coming in short gasps. "This is what you want?" I ask, guiding my shaft along her pussy.
Her warm wetness on my cock is nearly unbearable. I want to feel it envelop me. I want to thrust inside her warm pussy and let go.
But I don't. I feel her throb against my shaft, and I whisper into her ear, my hand tight across her breast. "I'm so close, you know. Move an inch and I'll be inside you. Bare. With no protection, nothing between us."
She moans, pushing her ass against me, rubbing her pussy against my shaft.
"Is that what you like?" I whisper. "The thought of me bare inside you?"
"Oh, God," she gasps. "I think I do."
Shit, this girl. I let her grind against me until my cock is practically coated in her wetness and I'm starting to lose my mind. "Put your hands on the table."
When she bends over, I drag the tip of my cock along her pussy, pausing at her entrance. "Yes," she breathes. "Right there."
"Cassie," I warn. "Do you know how much I want to put my hands on your hips and fuck the hell out of you right now?"
She whimpers, reaching between her legs to touch her clit. "I want to come with you inside me."
I press the tip of my cock against her entrance. "Is this what you want, Cassie?" I ask her. "You want to feel me inside you?"
"Yes." Her breath comes shorter. The head of my cock presses against her entrance but not inside, and I tell myself to hold back as she explodes, her whole body bucking. Only a tiny whimper escapes her lips as she comes.
It takes me less than two strokes of my hand on my cock to come, and when I do, I coat her pussy and her ass — because both of them are going to be mine.
* * *
"I can't believe I'm asking you this."
"You can't believe you're asking me how to pop my roommate's cherry?" Sable asks. She lies stretched out on the sofa in her apartment, only half-listening to me while she texts on her phone.
"I'm not asking you how to pop Cassie's cherry, thanks," I say. "I'm pretty clear on that."
"She's not fancy," Sable says, sitting up. "She doesn't want champagne and dinner at a pricey restaurant."
I sigh heavily. Why do I feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark when it comes to this shit? "I'm not asking you what to do," I say. "I just wanted some advice on how to… you know… make it special. Forget I asked. And for fuck's sake, don't tell Cassie I asked you that."
I turn to leave, and Sable sits up on the sofa. "Wait," she says, setting down her phone. "You like her."
"I don't know, Sable," I say, irritated. "I just – you know – don't want her to think I'm a dumb asshole who's just trying to bang her. Oh, fuck. Yeah, I like her, all right?"
Sable's face softens. "Well, then take her out or something."
"On a date?"
"Yeah, on a date, dumbass," Sable teases. "That's what normal people do."
"I can't. Cassie will flip out. The whole student-tutor thing. She won't risk being seen in public."
"Well, you're creative," Sable says. "Figure out how to not be seen in public."
26
Cassie
Colton stands in the doorway of my bedroom, shuffling awkwardly. "I want to take you out."
"What are you talking about?"
"On a date."
"A date?" I ask, laughing. I slide my arms around his waist. "I already told you I want you to fuck me. I'm ready. Trust me. You don't need to be weird with the whole date thing. I'm clear on what this is."
He gives me a look like I just slapped him. "What are you clear on?"
"That this is just fun," I say. "It's a good way to lose it, with someone where there aren't any expectations, you know?"
Irritation flits across Colton's face. "Stop talking."
"You're not upset that I said this was fun, are you?"
"Will you just shut your mouth and come with me already?" he growls.
"I can't be seen in public with you anywhere, Colton – "
"If you don't get your little ass down the stairs and into my goddamn truck, I'm going to pick you up and carry you down there myself and then someone is definitely going to see."
"There's no need to get an attitude."
Colton pulls open the door to the truck, a vintage blue pickup truck that somehow seems exactly suited to him. Inside, I run my fingers along the dashboard. "This is yours?"
"It was my dad's farm truck," Colton explains. "After he passed, my mom wanted to sell it. She was on him to sell it the year before he died, wanted him to get something newer. I convinced her to keep it. I spent almost every waking moment outside of practice senior year of high school on rebuilding this thing."
As Colton maneuvers through town and gets onto the highway, neither of us speak. It's dusk, the skyline a reddish purple as the sun sets on the horizon, bathing everything in deep sunset hues.
"You haven't told me where we're going," I complain.
"Nope."
"That wasn't a yes or no question. It was an invitation to elaborate."
Colton grunts for a response.
"So it's getting dark and you're driving me out of town in your truck to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what with me?" I ask.
"That's pretty much it," Colton confirms.
"Just wanted to be clear on the situation."
"Glad I could help."
I sit back in the seat, watching as he drives out of town into the country, the suburbs quickly replaced by rolling hills and trees. He turns down a farm road and drives for a few miles to the top of a hill where there's a small clearing. He puts the truck in park and sits there for a minute, looking straight ahead. A couple of trees partially obscure the view, but behind them is the skyline dotted with city lights that stretch out for miles.
It's breathtaking.
"Sit here and don't move," he says, not waiting for a response before he gets out of the truck and goes to the back where I hear him take the cover off the truck bed and start moving things around.
I lean my head back against the back of the seat and close my eyes, mentally replaying the conversation in my apartment. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I hurt
his feelings before when I said this was just fun.
But that's completely ludicrous. And I'm not naïve enough to think this is anything except just that.
When he pulls the passenger side door open, the noise startles me. "Way to creep me out," I say, laughing nervously.
He takes my hand and leads me to the back of the truck.
The truck bed is filled with blankets and pillows. A couple of candles on the sides are our only illumination out here other than the moonlight, now that darkness has settled in.
"I know I can't take you out anywhere, Cassie," Colton says from behind me, his voice thick.
"I'm not sure what to say." It's simple and romantic and… exactly the last thing I expected from a football player, especially one with a reputation like his. I turn around to face him. "I – didn't expect this."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should change your expectations," Colton says, sliding his hands under my thighs. I wrap my legs around his waist and he deposits me onto the air mattress in the bed of the truck.
Colton leaves me there, going around to the front of the truck and turning on the radio. Pat Green strums his guitar and sings low over the speakers.
Then he crawls up onto the truck bed beside me.
"What I said earlier about having fun, I –" I start.
"Stop talking." His hand moves under my jawline, his thumb on my lips, silencing me.
I open my mouth because I'm going to say I'm sorry, but he stops me by putting his hand on the nape of my neck and covering my mouth with his before I can. His tongue slips between my lips, his kiss at once tender and insistent.
He pulls me onto his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist, and kisses me for a long time. I cling to him, my hands yanking the fabric of his t-shirt, desperately wanting his skin on mine. When he stops kissing me, it's only to undress me, muttering something about my stupid clothes under his breath as he yanks my jeans over my hips.
He tosses his clothes somewhere in the truck bed, or on the ground, I'm not sure because all I can think about is the incessant throbbing between my legs. He pauses, naked in the moonlight, to look at me. "You're the hottest thing I've ever seen," he whispers.
Tackled: A Sports Romance Page 14