Greek: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 7)

by Kandi Steiner

  Erin comes back into the kitchen silently, and when I turn and find her watching me with a soft smile and a red rose petal in her hand, all the blood drains from my face.

  I completely forgot I had the room all set up — candles, rose petals, music. I thought if she used the restroom, she’d use the half bath in the living area.

  “Shit…” I murmur mostly to myself, shoulders deflating as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

  I just stay like that, unsure what to say, unsure whether I should try to explain myself or just pretend like I don’t see her standing there. But with a chuckle, Erin crosses the room and sneaks her way into my arms, forcing me to release the hold on my nose so I can wrap her up, instead.

  “Hey,” she whispers, waiting until I meet her eyes. “Talk to me. What’s going on?” She frowns then, grabbing ahold of my biceps. “You’re shaking.”

  “Because I’m nervous as hell.”

  She barks out a laugh at that. “You? Nervous? I didn’t think you were even capable of that emotion.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Her brows fold together over her soft brown eyes as they search mine. “Talk to me.”

  I sigh, folding my hands behind the small of her back, but my eyes are across the room. “I just wanted everything to be perfect tonight.”

  I swallow, unsure what else to say. The right words don’t exist for this moment, and I’ve already fucked it all to hell, so I don’t even feel confident enough to try.

  Erin slides her hands up my chest, over my shoulders, up still until she’s cradling my face and angling it toward her. My nose flares as I drop my gaze to meet hers.

  “I don’t need a fancy dinner or rose petals or candles or you in a suit,” she says, glancing at my tie as she does. “Although, you do look sexy as hell in it.”

  I smirk.

  Her eyes find mine again, endlessly warm and inviting. She slides her fingertips back to hold my neck, her nails brushing the tender skin and setting off a wave of chills.

  “I just need you,” she whispers.

  I nod, dropping my forehead down until it meets hers on a long inhale from both of us.

  “Clinton?”

  “Mm?”

  “Take me to bed.”

  Fuck, the things those words do to me, the animalistic way my body responds — gripping her tighter, heart racing, cock already thickening in my slacks. It’s like she owns me, like those four words were a snap of her fingers, and now I’m at her beck and call, ready to do whatever she wants.

  Whatever she needs.

  With something between a growl and an exhale, I bend down and swoop her into my arms, my lips on hers just in time to catch her giggle of surprise as I carry her down the short hall to my room.

  This girl is my drug.

  I realize it distantly as I carry her back, chasing her tongue with mine, savoring each little gasp and moan along with the little buzz they give me. I could never put into words what it is with her, what it’s always been with her. All I know is that in the very depths of my existence, there’s one thought that overcomes me any time I’m with her.

  Mine.

  Even when she wasn’t.

  Even when I wasn’t sure she ever would be.

  Neither of us had a choice in the matter.

  She belongs to me and always has — just as I belong to her.

  My bedroom is dimly lit from the candles and smells like teakwood and bourbon. I lie Erin gently down on top of my dark comforter, right on top of the rose petals, making a handful of them float up and back down like feathers on her skin and in her hair. She backs up until she’s resting on her elbows against the pillows, her legs crossed, eyes big and soft as she watches me and waits for what I’ll do next.

  The night is completely in my hands.

  I’m not fool enough to not realize how fucking lucky I am, and how much I must mean to her for her to trust me this way.

  The soft, sexy sounds of the Tank album I put on filter around the space between us, and I turn the volume up a little more before I tug at my tie, releasing it first and then working every button on my suit jacket until I can shrug it over my shoulders.

  Erin watches me with her bottom lip pinned between her teeth, her knees pulling up toward her chest.

  I don’t take my eyes off her as I strip off my dress shirt next, and then make quick work of my belt, shoes, and socks. When I unfasten the top button of my pants, Erin snaps up, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing her hands on top of mine to stop me.

  “Let me,” she pleads.

  I let out a pained breath through my nose, because the way she looks up at me when she says those words, the flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers tremble as she struggles with the button and then the zipper and then helps me pull the slacks over my hips, my ass, down my thighs… it’s the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen in my life.

  I’m so fucking hard that I’ve pitched a tent in my briefs, and Erin gulps as she runs her palm along the length of me, the cotton fabric still between us.

  I hiss, letting my head fall back, flexing my hips into the warm touch.

  “Clinton,” she whispers, and when I look back down at her, she doesn’t have to say more. I can see it in her eyes.

  She’s the nervous one, now.

  I nod in understanding, leaning down until my fists hit the bed on either side of her and my mouth captures hers. Then I’m backing her up into the pillows again, one arm swooping around her waist to hoist her up and set her back down.

  “Look at me,” I whisper when she’s settled, when her trembling fingertips are digging into my shoulders. “You are safe. Okay? You’re safe, and you’re in control. You don’t even have to say anything, I’m listening to your body.”

  Her eyes gloss with tears, but she nods, grabbing my neck and pulling me in for a long, hard kiss. I kiss her back just as earnestly, sealing my promise.

  And then I trail those kisses down, down, down.

  Over her chin, her neck, across every inch of her collarbone, I kiss. My lips leave little invisible marks across the petite swells of her breast over the fabric of her dress, and then on the lace covering her ribs, until I’m settled between her legs on my elbows.

  I grab her ass firmly and lift her up just enough to free her dress, and then I push it up over her hips, hands gripping her thighs as I press a kiss sweetly over the thin, silky fabric of her beige thong.

  She gasps, fisting the sheets and arching her back.

  We’ve taken it slow over the summer, but if there’s one thing I know about my girl, it’s that she tastes just as sweet as she looks, and enough time with my tongue on her will have her open and panting and pleading for more.

  Or coming, if I’m not careful.

  I take my time stripping her panties off, kissing each part of her leg the fabric slides down before I discard them to the side. Then, I press my lips to the arch of her foot, her ankle, dragging my tongue along her calf and inner thigh until I’m settled in and ready to eat again.

  Just the first lash of my tongue against her makes her writhe.

  I smirk, teasing her mound before I run my tongue flat along the length of her, soaking up her taste and how much she wants me already.

  “Oh, Clinton,” she breathes, her hips grinding, seeking more friction when I do the same thing again.

  I answer by pointing my tongue and circling the tip around her clit — once, twice, three times, quick and slick, before I lap her up long and slow.

  I love that she calls out my name — my real name — not Bear, not God, not the myriad of things I’ve heard before. When she says my name, I’m like a dog snapping to attention for its master, the syllables of it from her lips a reminder of who I belong to.

  Sliding my hands under her ass, I grip where her thighs meet her hips and tug her closer, feasting on her perfect, swollen, pink pussy as she squirms. She’s twisting her hands in the covers and breathing so hard I almost wonder if she wants me to stop, if she’s
trying to get away, but any time I let up on the pressure, she mewls like a kitten, whimpering for more.

  When her legs start really quaking around me, she snaps up suddenly, pressing her hand into my chest to break my contact. And when I bring my eyes to hers, sliding the back of my wrist across my damp lips, she flushes before calling me up to her with one come here wave of her finger.

  I fist the front of her dress and yank, pulling her to sit so I can strip it up overhead in one fell swoop. I unclasp her bra next, sucking each perfect, pebbled mound between my teeth as soon as they’re exposed. Erin clings to me, holding me to her, moaning and soaking up every touch.

  When my lips are on hers again, I blindly reach into the drawer of my bedside table, fumbling a bit until I withdraw the golden foil packet. I bring it to my teeth and rip it open, making quick work of my briefs, and when I sit back on my knees, Erin’s hand covers mine once more.

  “Can I?” she asks, her eyes on the condom, and then on my length.

  My answer is simply to give her the condom, and then we both watch as her shaking fingers bring it to my tip, stretching it over with a slow, rolling motion. She inches it down, and then wraps her hands around my shaft and the condom completely, rolling it the rest of the way until it covers me as close to the base as it can get.

  I nearly come just at the sight of it, the feel of her hands squeezing and working me with her perfect little breasts heaving with each breath.

  When the condom’s in place, she swallows, sitting back a little and bringing her shy gaze to mine.

  Leaning over until I can press my lips to hers once more, I sweep my arms around her and gently lift, sitting in her place as I hoist her up and over until she’s straddling my lap. When she’s there, I keep her up on her knees, holding her hips with my hands and kissing her long and soft.

  “You’re safe,” I remind her when I break the kiss, trailing my lips over her jaw. “And you’re in control.”

  She nods on an exhale, but before I can do anything else, she grabs my face in her hands, holding my gaze to hers.

  “I love you.”

  The words slam into me, but not from surprise and not from fear — from relief. Because I’ve always known it, haven’t I? I’ve always known Erin loved me, just as I’ve always known I love her.

  I press my forehead to hers. “There is no measurement for how much I love you.”

  Even with our foreheads connected, I see the way her lips curve into a smile, the way a lone tear leaks from her eyes. When she pulls back, I thumb it away easily.

  Then my hands are back on her hips, waiting, holding her steady and letting her decide what to do next.

  Erin presses her hands against my chest, the tips of her fingers folding over each shoulder. I reach down between us just long enough to position me where she needs me, for the tip of me to glide into the shallow entrance of her.

  We both stiffen and steel a breath at the feeling, the most sensitive part of me stretching her open just a centimeter, but enough that we both tremble and quake.

  And then she sinks, just a half an inch, and we both moan in sync.

  My hands wrap around her hips even more, encompassing her entire waist, and I hold onto her for dear life as she stretches a little more, letting me a little more inside her.

  Stars. In my room and my head and swimming in every vein of my body is a galaxy of stars.

  My cock pulses inside her, and she slips down a little more before she’s grimacing and squeezing my shoulders tight.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nods, letting out a slow breath. “It hurts a little,” she confesses. And then her sass makes an appearance, her brow popping into her hairline as she adds, “I’ve never had anyone this big before.”

  I can’t help the cocky smirk that blooms on my face at that.

  “You technically already had it once before,” I remind her. “Remember? Oh, wait…”

  She pinches my rib, and then we’re both laughing, and kissing, and all the tension floats away on a nonexistent breeze.

  Erin pushes up on her knees just a bit before she drops back down, sinking a little farther, another grimace warping her face.

  “Go slow,” I tell her, and I hold her hips to help, guiding her down so slowly I’m afraid by the time she sits all the way, I’m going to come twice over.

  She’s so fucking tight, so wet and slick and mine.

  Slowly, Erin starts to take over again, picking up her pace. Up and down, sliding off my length just to sit back down and take more of me inside her.

  Up, down, up, down.

  A pant, a moan, a kiss, a sigh.

  And then she sinks all the way, opening wide and gobbling me up so that I’m balls deep inside her.

  We both still again at the sensation, holding onto each other with slick chests and shaking limbs.

  It’s like coming home after thinking we were dead, like finding the part of ourselves we never knew existed and yet always sensed was right under the surface.

  Now it’s my turn to take control.

  I grip her hips tight, lifting her all the way up before gliding her back down, and we both moan again, louder, more urgent, Erin’s fingernails digging into my skin. Again, all the way up, and all the way down, our climaxes building like a wildfire.

  “Oh, my God, Clinton,” Erin cries, her legs quaking violently. “This… I… it feels so good.”

  I groan my agreement, and then I capture her next moan with my mouth, eagerly sucking it down and kissing her hard. My tongue swirls with hers as I help her ride me, faster and faster, but I refrain from slamming into her the way I desperately want to. And God, do I want to. Every feral part of me is begging me to lose control, to obliterate that pussy and make sure she doesn’t walk a day in her life without remembering what I feel like inside her.

  But tonight, I let her drive, let her call the shots for how deep and how fast and how hard. She wants me tame? I can do tame.

  The beast inside me will live.

  Something happens, and the walls of her tighten even more, squeezing every inch of my cock so hard I grunt and hold her tighter. One look at her face tells me what it was — she’s on the brink of coming.

  I kiss her harder, urging her on, and then I wrap my arms full around her and pull her closer, so that her hips open more, her back arched, body tilted.

  And every new flex has her rubbing her clit against my pelvis.

  Her moans are wild now, completely uninhibited, and she rocks faster and faster, keeping me inside her for the most part until that pussy clenches around me again and I know she’s finding her release.

  I give myself permission to follow, moving her hips the way I need them to move, but continuing that pressure on her clit so she can ride out her wave. And just like I saw when we first connected, stars blast me from every angle again, my climax a shocking, power-drunk punch to the gut that leaves me still and holding onto Erin for dear life as it shreds me apart.

  For a long moment, I’m in outerspace — floating, numb and intoxicated by an all-consuming pleasure.

  Slowly, the room comes back to me, starting with the soft sound of Erin’s haggard breaths, the feeling of me growing soft inside her, of her slick chest against mine and her hands twisted in my short hair.

  She drops her forehead to my shoulder, and then her shoulders begin to shake — softly at first, and then uncontrollably, sobs racking her body there in my arms.

  I don’t say a word.

  I just hold her tighter, let her cry, and press my lips gently to her shoulder, her neck, her cheek. I don’t rush her to talk or to look at me. I just wrap her up and pray that she knows she can feel whatever she needs to feel with me — good, bad, or in-between.

  You’re safe.

  You’re in control.

  I seal those silent promises with every kiss.

  MY MOM USED TO call me her little bird when I was a kid.

  I had a knack for getting into trouble, for getting into precarious sit
uations, and for getting hurt — mostly because I had such an appetite for challenge and a competitiveness like no other. Boy or girl, older or younger, it didn’t matter. If someone challenged me to do something or said I couldn’t do something, I’d prove them wrong.

  I had more stitches than Barbie dolls by the time I was ten, but Mom always said I was her little bird, always flying from the nest without fear of falling.

  I knew I would fly.

  And right now, I feel like I’ve never soared higher in my life.

  The last four years have taken me through some major ups and downs. From the drug escapade and getting caught up with the wrong people, to trying to turn my life around only to sleep with my boss, then fall in love with him, then lose him along with my job because I was stupid, then win him back and move in with him… you could say it’s been a whirlwind.

  But as it often does, the sea has been settling in my life, the storm gone, waters calming and breeze gently blowing through my hair. For the first time in a very long time, I feel completely at peace.

  The summer only brought on more clients and more responsibility for me at Ball & Pen, and my boss, Celeste, became more and more comfortable handing me the more challenging events. She also gave me a bigger budget to hire more staff, including a second assistant for me in addition to Jeannie, who has become my right-hand woman.

  Brandon had tried desperately to get me to come back to work at Okay, Cool when we’d made up, but as much as I love him and his company — Ball & Pen felt like the right place for me to be. It was a chance to build my name outside of Brandon, to not be seen as his previous intern-turned-employee-turned-girlfriend. Although we’d embraced our relationship head on and no one seemed to have a problem with it, I wasn’t naïve enough to think the rumor mill didn’t run behind both our backs.

  Besides, Celeste sees my potential, and she trusts me with the responsibility I’ve always dreamed of having — ever since I decided event planning was a career I could see myself loving.