by Claire Adams
“I want to believe you,” I said, giving him a sad little smile. “Not—not only because…” I shook my head. “I want to believe you.”
“If I was really a player,” Devon said, leaning in closer to me, “would I be going to this much trouble to convince you?” he held my gaze. “Come on, Jenn. I’m really into you. I want to get to know you better. And we had a good time, didn’t we? I swear to you I am telling the truth.” I hesitated for a moment longer.
“Okay,” I said, smiling in spite of my worry. “Fine, yes, I’ll believe you.” Devon’s worried expression dissolved into a smile.
“Finish your ice cream before it melts, huh?” I laughed and dug back into it. “This isn’t half bad for strawberry.”
“You said you like strawberry!”
“I do like it; it’s just not my favorite.”
“What is your favorite?”
“Fudge swirl.”
Chapter Eight
Devon and I ate our ice cream and talked about everything and nothing. It worried me that I still didn’t know whether or not I should believe him; but I had at least gotten his side of the story, and I had to believe that he was genuinely interested in me. A guy who goes out of his way to track you down, to keep trying to find out what he did wrong, has to at least be a little bit interested in you, I thought. I began to relax, laughing as Devon joked, feeling more and more comfortable and confident.
“So it’s actually a good thing you left when you did,” Devon told me, about the night we had first gotten together.
“Oh really? Why is that?” Devon grinned.
“Well—I don’t actually know when you left—but what actually woke me up that morning was the smoke detector.”
“Oh god! What happened?” Devon laughed.
“One of the pledges. He was hung over and heard that the best thing to treat it was bacon. Of course, he’s never cooked anything in his life that didn’t come out of a microwave…” Devon spread his hands in front of him.
“He didn’t burn the place down, did he?” I shook my head.
“Nah. I got up and half the frat was running around the kitchen putting it out. He’s on dish duty for the next month, though.”
“You should have cooking classes,” I joked. “Part of pledge week.” Devon snorted.
“We’d lose our insurance for sure—half the upperclassmen guys can’t cook either!” I laughed, shaking my head again.
“You men are completely helpless, aren’t you?” Devon pretended to scowl at me.
“Excuse me, Jenny, but I for one am perfectly capable of fending for myself.” I rolled my eyes.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Jenny?”
“Until you tell me why you hate it so much.” I sighed.
“Well, the kids at my middle school used to say it like that movie—Forrest Gump—from forever ago. ‘Jen-nay!’ you know?” Devon chuckled.
“That’s not that bad,” he pointed out.
“They also used to call me Jenny Pennies, because my family was broke for a while, and I had to pay for lunch with change.” Devon cringed.
“That will do it. I promise I will never call you Jenny Pennies.”
“But you’re not going to stop calling me Jenny?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?” I scowled at him, ruining the effect with a grin.
“Because then I can be the person who makes you love the name Jenny.” Devon grinned.
“Okay, slick,” I said, losing my scowl completely. “You can try. But I’m going to tell you to stop it every time.”
“If it really bothers you, Jenn, I will.” Devon looked at me levelly, the smile gone from his face. “I don’t want to ruin my chances with you.”
“Well, we’ll see,” I said.
“Since you opened up about something, I guess it’s only fair if I do too, right?” I nodded.
“You’ve got a point there. We’re all about fairness, aren’t we?” I blushed, remembering the point I’d made the first time we were in bed together—about how it wasn’t fair for me to be naked and him not to be.
“The kids in school used to call me scarecrow; you know, tall, skinny, weird hair.”
“Your hair is not weird,” I pointed out.
“It was back in the day!” Devon insisted. “And before I started filling out a little, I was like a bean pole.”
“So Jenny Pennies and Scarecrow,” I said, smiling a little bit. “We sound like a couple of Batman villains.”
“Scarecrow was a Batman villain. We should write to DC and tell them to create a Jenny Pennies villain.”
“She could throw poison pennies at people,” I suggested.
We finished our ice cream and continued to sit outside, and I felt myself becoming more and more attracted to Devon again, more and more interested in him—I thought to myself that even if he was deliberately charming, it was a kind of behavior that I could definitely support and approve of. “So tell me something, Jenn,” Devon said, taking my hand in his and rubbing his thumb back and forth against my palm.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
“Why’d you leave without waking me up the other morning?” Devon raised an eyebrow. I smiled, glancing at our hands.
“It was mostly because I hadn’t told anyone where I was, and I had a bunch of texts from my friends.”
“Did you tell them you were off banging some hot guy?” I laughed, rolling my eyes.
“No, I told them I’d gone to sleep upstairs.” Devon grinned.
“Not actually a lie, I like it.”
“What about you?” Devon shrugged.
“I thought I might have messed up—hurt you or something. But I wanted to make sure. You were so cute, so funny.” He grinned at me slowly. “I didn’t tell anyone. I figured you probably wouldn’t want everyone knowing who you were with.” I smiled slowly.
“You figured right,” I admitted. “So you didn’t tell anyone in the frat that you’d been with someone?” Devon shrugged.
“No proof,” Devon pointed out. “You didn’t stick around.”
“You’d have told them?” I started to snatch my hand free of his and Devon tightened his grip, grinning at me.
“No, but you leaving my room would have told them,” Devon said.
“Fair enough.” Devon leaned across the table and kissed me lightly on the lips; I was less surprised than I thought I would be.
“There’s another secret I need to tell you,” Devon murmured, barely breaking away from my lips.
“Hm?” I was tingling all over, my body heating up in spite of all the ice cream.
“You are incredibly cute when you blush. And when you get annoyed.” He kissed me again.
“Am I?” I asked, almost laughing.
“Even cuter than you are normally.” Devon sat down.
“So what made you sit down next to me?” Devon smiled slowly.
“First—there was a place to sit there,” he said. “Then I saw this really, just—unbearably cute girl.” He grinned at me more broadly. “And then…once she started talking, I thought I had to keep her talking. I had to get to know her better.” I blushed, my face burning. “See? Right there—the blushing. So adorable.” I rolled my eyes, grinning.
“Shut up, that’s worse than calling me Jenny.” Devon grabbed my hand and kissed my palm.
“I’ll stop calling you Jenny if you stop looking adorably irritated when I do it,” he said. I blushed even deeper.
“Stop!” Devon laughed.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He kissed my palm again. “Wanna blow this place? Let’s head back to the frat.” I considered it. I knew that I probably shouldn’t; but I knew also that I was feeling more and more attracted to him, my body heating up every moment—especially when he kissed me.
“Okay, sure,” I said. “Let’s blow this joint.”
Chapter Nine
I stood outside of Devon’s room, fidgeting, uncomfortably aware of the
fact that in spite of the quiet in the house, there were still other people there. We had walked back to the Phi Kappa house, and Devon had led me in and up the stairs. “Wait right here,” Devon said, giving me that charming smile again.
“I’ve been in your room before, you know,” I had pointed out. Devon grinned more broadly.
“I know. But wait right here. Ten minutes—no more.” So I waited outside, smiling in a little bit of embarrassment, squirming at the thought that anyone might walk past at any time and know that I was there.
A few minutes later, the door to Devon’s room opened, and he appeared, smiling. “Sorry,” he said, opening it a little wider. He took me by the hand and pulled me in. My eyes widened; I had been in the room before—but it was not like this. Devon had lit candles all around the room and had cleaned everything. The bed was made, and the candles not only cast a warm, yellowish glow around the room, but also filled the air with the smell of spice and melting wax.
“Wow,” I breathed, looking around me in disbelief. “You were planning this?” I looked at Devon.
“Kind of,” he admitted. “I hoped. Trust me, lots of weird looks when I got everything clean.”
“I’ll bet,” I said, grinning. My heart was beating fast in my chest, my throat felt dry, but my pussy was already becoming wet with excitement and desire. Devon led me over to the bed, and I sat down, uncertain of what I should do, but tingling all over.
Instead of making his move, as I halfway suspected he would, Devon climbed up onto the bed next to me and sat back, smiling. “We don’t have to hurry,” he told me. “We’ve got all night.”
“It’s the week,” I told him.
“Well, I mean, if you’re in a rush…” Devon raised an eyebrow at me. I laughed.
“No, no I’m not in a rush.” He reached out and took my hand, holding it lightly. We started to just talk, about nothing and everything, just like before. Devon told me about his own rush into the frat, about his life as a pledge.
When I was relaxed once more, still turned on but no longer nervous, Devon leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. I shivered; I realized that I had been expecting it and not expecting it at the same time, that I had been hoping for it—ready for it—but not ready for it all at once. Devon deepened the kiss gradually, his hands moving over my body slowly, carefully, caressing and touching me. He didn’t try and push me down or hurry me along; in fact I thought with a flash that he seemed content to just continue making out for the rest of the night.
We kissed and broke away to talk for a few minutes before kissing again, and I felt more and more at ease, more and more relaxed, and more and more turned on with every passing moment. “Devon,” I murmured, sitting up a little bit, pulling back from his lips.
“Is something wrong?” he asked me. I shook my head.
“No… nothing’s wrong. I just…” I blushed a deep red, looking down at my hands, at his lap. Devon chuckled lowly.
“You just want to move on?” He asked, leaning in and kissing me lightly on the lips, his hands moving to my waist.
“God, I feel like an idiot,” I said, blushing. Devon tilted my head up, kissing me more hungrily, his hands wandering over me everywhere.
“It’s cute,” Devon murmured against my lips. “It’s sweet.” He dragged his lips along the line of my jaw, down to my throat, kissing and nipping lightly.
Devon pressed me back into the bed gently, covering my body with his own, and brought his lips up to mine, kissing me hungrily. I could feel his hard cock pressing against me through his jeans and my clothes. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding him close; I was shivering, so turned on I could barely think. Devon rocked his hips against mine, rubbing against me.
His hands wandered over my body slowly, slipping up underneath my tee shirt, cupping my breasts through the fabric of my bra. “I’ve been thinking about you ever since the other night,” Devon murmured, teasing my nipples into firm little nubs, squeezing my breasts carefully. “How hot you are, how sweet, how good you felt wrapped around me.” I moaned as he rolled and twisted my nipples between his fingers, sending little jolts of pleasure through my body, making my pussy wetter and wetter.
Devon tugged my shirt up slowly, up along my abdomen, past my breasts. He broke away from my lips long enough to drag it over my head and cast it aside. “Careful,” I said, giggling. “All the candles…” Devon chuckled lowly, nipping along the column of my throat.
“I won’t burn the house down, don’t worry,” he said, kissing me on the lips once more. He nuzzled his cheek against my neck, lifting me up off of the bed slightly. Devon reached around to my back, unhooking the clasp of my bra and carefully guiding it away from my body. I shook off the fog that had crept over my mind and found the hem of his tee shirt, pulling it up on his back. I trailed my hands all over his skin, trying to memorize the planes and lines of his body by touch; even if I had another chance—and I hoped that I would—I wanted to savor this moment, even more than I had wanted to the first time.
My clothes fell away piece by piece, and somehow without knowing how, I stripped off Devon’s shirt, to unbutton and unzip his jeans. I reached down underneath the waistband of his boxer-briefs; he was just as thick, just as big as I remembered. “It should at least be easier this time, right?” Devon chuckled against my neck. He trailed his lips downward, bringing my breasts up to kiss the tops of them.
“You’re a natural, babe,” he told me, claiming one of my nipples with his lips. He sucked and licked, flicking his tongue against the firm little nub and then swirling wet circles around it until I moaned, arching up towards his mouth. “I can’t imagine it getting any better than it was the first time, can you?” I shook my head, unable to speak as Devon switched to my other breast, worshipping my nipple with his mouth as his fingers closed around the one he had just left. I twisted and writhed underneath him, my grip on his hard, hot cock tightening as I felt my inner muscles flexing, my whole body more than ready for him.
Devon teased me for what seemed like hours, lavishing attention on every inch of my breasts, moving back up to my lips, and then slipping downward once more to kiss and suck and nibble playfully at my tender skin. He tugged my jeans down over my hips and tossed them onto the floor, leaving me in nothing but my panties; even though I was shivering as if I was freezing to death, I could feel the sweat forming all over my body, the heat shooting through me as I became more and more turned on. “You are so mean,” I murmured, stroking him more quickly, rubbing my thumb against the tip of his cock.
“I want to take my time with you,” Devon told me, chuckling lowly. “I want to get you so incredibly turned on you can’t help but come.”
“Looking to beat your record?” I asked him with a grin.
“Oh, always,” he said, nibbling on my bottom lip. “If I can’t beat my personal best, what’s the point in even trying?” He reached down between my legs, cupping my pussy through the thin, satiny fabric of my panties. He rubbed the heel of his palm against me, sending crackling, electric jolts of pleasure through my body. “It’s not hard to want to make you happy, you know.” I blushed, grinning like an idiot and not caring.
“You’re supposed to stop that,” I told him breathlessly, gasping as his rubbing hand brought friction to bear against my clit. Devon’s fingers worked down between my labia, rubbing me up and down along my drenched folds, the fabric making his touch feel almost unbearably sexy.
“You love it,” Devon countered, kissing me hungrily once more. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties and tugged them down, pulling them along my legs until they came to my ankles. I kicked free of them, wrapping my legs around his waist and pushing my hips down, my hand slipping out of his pants. I rubbed myself against him, rocking my hips, wanting more and more contact between our bodies. I was hungry—desperate—for what I’d only tried once before, and only with him.
“Hey, wait,” I said. “Remember, we are supposed to be about fairness so get naked.
”
Devon laughed, pulling back and shifting up onto his knees. He pushed his pants and underwear down, slithering and moving until he’d managed to get both of them off, and I took advantage of the opportunity to stare, taking in the soft yellow-orange candlelight lighting up the lines and planes of his lean, muscled body.
“You look fucking incredible like this,” Devon told me, staring down at me just as hungrily as I was watching him. “Even better than last time.”
“You too,” I said, smiling.
Devon covered my body with his own once more, kissing me eagerly on the lips, his hands wandering all over my body. I pushed my hips down, rubbing my pussy against his hard cock, and Devon moaned, his hands tightening on me, his body tensing. “Not yet,” he told me breathlessly, breaking away from my lips. “Not yet, babe.”
“No?” I asked, confused and disappointed. Devon chuckled.
“You’re all about the main event, aren’t you Jenny?” I smacked his arm playfully.
“You were supposed to stop doing that, too,” I told him, raising an eyebrow.
“No—remember, I’m going to keep doing it until you learn to like it or until you hate it so much, I’d lose you if I kept up.” I rolled my eyes, shaking my head.
“You are the most persistent fucking guy,” I told him. Devon dragged his lips along the column of my throat, bringing them up to mine to kiss me until I was breathless.
“I am,” he agreed. “And you love it.” I nodded.
Devon kissed a path down along my body, lingering on my breasts, worshiping every inch of skin that came his way as he made his way downward. I was trembling, shaking, shivering with need as he teased me, his hands caressing and tickling me, his hot breath painting stripes against my skin while his lips moved slowly but steadily downward. Devon nibbled along my ribs, looking up at me with a little grin as I yelped with surprise, squirming to get away from the ticklish sensation. He continued his way downward, nuzzling my hip, and I was ready to beg him to finish me off, to give me what he knew I wanted.