"I missed this," she whispers, squeezing her muscles so tightly around my shaft that I groan out loud.
"You missed my cock," I growl, pulling her hair harder and she leans back against the top of the truck, her hips bucking against me, and she makes that sound again.
"I missed your cock."
"You missed coming with me." I fuck her faster, bringing both of us closer to the edge.
"I missed coming with you," she says. Her voice is strained.
"You missed me coming inside you," I moan. As soon as I speak the words, I'm know I'm about to explode in her.
She whimpers loudly. "Yes, yes, yes," she cries out. "I want to feel it, Colton. Oh God, I'm going to come."
"Come for me, Cass," I urge her, thrusting harder. I feel myself bursting the second I speak the words, not even able to wait for her. Groaning loudly, I pump my cock into her tight pussy.
She screams her orgasm, her hands gripping my shoulders as her muscles shudder around my cock, pulling everything from me.
She looks at me with wide eyes, the hair around her forehead damp with sweat, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. I slide out of her, feeling her wetness on the inside of her thighs and my cock immediately twitches at the thought that I'm going to be dripping out of her.
Screwing her did nothing to dampen my hardness. When I reach down to pull up my jeans, she stops me. "Don't," she says. "Take everything off. Please."
"That's what you want?"
"Take your damn clothes off, Colton," she demands. But I don't. I reach for her blouse and tear it off her like I did before in the tutoring room, buttons scattering all over.
"That was a perfectly good shirt," she complains. She arches her back just a little, her breasts on display.
"That asshole put his hands on that shirt."
She giggles.
"That's funny?" I ask.
"No," she says. "That's what Sable and I were calling you."
"That asshole?" I ask. "Seriously?"
She shrugs. "I thought you had a naked girl waiting for you in your room. And that you told everyone what we did."
"You know naked girls throw themselves at me all the time," I say. "Fact."
She rolls her eyes. "Okay, conceited."
"I'm a celebrity."
"I liked you better when you weren't talking."
"I can shut up," I say, pressing my cock against her again.
"You should take me up into that truck bed and fuck me now."
I rip her skirt off. Literally. I unzip it and when I tug it down her hips it doesn't immediately fall off, so I just tear the whole thing from her body.
"You're going to have to get me new clothes if you keep tearing mine apart."
"No." I yank my shirt off and throw it on the ground, then discard my pants.
"No?"
"I think I'll just keep you naked."
46
Cassie
"I think I love you." Oh, holy shit, I can't believe I blurted that right out. Who says that when someone says, "I think I'll just keep you naked"? That is so not the right response.
I stop and look at him, panic probably written all over my face, because that's exactly what I feel right now, just like I'm about to have a heart attack. Those are words you definitely can't un-say.
He's looking at me weird. Shit, he's looking at me really weird.
And he's not saying anything.
I open my mouth again and then I suddenly can't stop talking. "I haven't been in love before, so I could really be wrong and I mean, maybe the horrible feeling I've had in my chest is just indigestion or stress, either is totally plausible. And the smart part of me knows that you're a player – I mean, a football player, not just a player… although there's that, too, because really, you are a celebrity, and there are going to be a lot of women throwing themselves at you – and you're too young and you're leaving next year and I'm here. And you're cocky. I mean, good God you're arrogant. And stubborn. I told myself it makes no sense, but –"
"Shut up, Cassie," he whispers, bringing his lips down on mine. I kiss him with everything I have. "I'm in love with you."
"You don't know that," I say. "It really is way too soon to know that and –"
"Will you just stop talking already? I'm thinking about you and not football, for fuck's sake. I've spent a bunch of nights up here the last two weeks up here, trying to sleep without you. I can hardly eat."
I raise my eyebrows. "Something's definitely wrong with you."
Of course, "hardly eat" probably means a half a pizza for a snack instead of a whole one.
"And when I sat outside your house, it –"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." I put my hand up. "You sat outside my house?"
"Not in a stalker way," he defends himself. "I didn't have binoculars. You know you can see through your living room window from the street at night. It's not safe at all."
"That sounds exactly like a stalker, you freak." I slap him on his very hard, very muscular arm.