“You’re changing the rule?”
“Didn’t I tell you about the fine print?” I asked, working a knee between her thighs.
“Fine print?”
“Mm-hm.” My lips moved over her cheek to her ear. “Rules are subject to change.”
“Isn’t that convenient.” She pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor.
“It sure is.”
*
Sharp pricks on my chest interspersed with soft purring frayed the edge of sleep, pulling me from a dream I didn’t want to be in. I cracked an eyelid. The cat standing on my chest head-butted me in the chin and mewed.
“Mis?” I was so confused. Mischief ran away seven years ago. Panic gripped my chest; the possibility that my nightmare was a premonition of what was coming made it hard to breathe. I couldn’t get my brain to move past the images of blood spattered on the pale blue comforter, or the wall behind it. And there was someone beside me. A warm, soft body I felt compelled to protect. The dream began to fade as I became more lucid.
The room was dark, a slice of gray morning light cutting across the floor through a gap in the curtain, falling just short of the bed. But the bed wasn’t mine. I could tell by the feel of the sheets and the firmness of the mattress. I scratched the cat’s head as I worked to make sense of things. It was TK, not Mischief. She scampered across my pillow and jumped to the floor, landing with a soft thump. The fog in my brain dissipated. I was in Tenley’s bed. The body beside me was hers. We’d had sex twice. I wanted to do it again. Immediately.
My arm was pinned under her. Judging by the lack of feeling in my hand, I hadn’t moved since we’d crashed after Round Two. If I thought the first time had been intense, the second was like an explosion. A very lengthy, very satisfying explosion. If I was going to break the rule, I might as well obliterate it. Beyond the sex, staying the night at Tenley’s set a new precedent, one I wasn’t opposed to repeating. Maybe sleepovers weren’t so bad after all.
Tenley was curled up against me, her back along my side. I was in some serious trouble. I couldn’t make it another two months before getting inside her again. It felt too good.
She shivered in her sleep and I molded my body around hers; my cock nestled conveniently along the cleft of her ass. She made a little sound like maybe she didn’t mind and I wrapped my arm around her, cupping a breast. The unyielding steel of the barbell rested against my palm. I couldn’t wait until those piercings healed so I could show her how rewarding they were. Maybe we could make another loophole to facilitate that. I lay there for a few minutes, listening as her breathing grew shallower.
“Are you awake?” I burrowed through the wild tangle of hair and buried my nose in her neck. She smelled good, a fusion of vanilla and me.
“Mm. Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” I kissed her shoulder. I liked this; waking up in her bed, wrapped around her. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I didn’t get much sleep.” She stretched out, and her ass pressed against my very ecstatic erection. “And sore in all the right places.”
“How sore?” My hand drifted from her breast down her stomach.
“Like I had incredible sex twice in a short period of time.”
My fingertips rested on her pelvic bone. “So I should back off?”
“I didn’t say that.” She covered my hand with hers, guiding it lower. I liked that she wasn’t shy about what she wanted. Getting her to voice it might take some work, but she didn’t have a problem showing me. It was unexpected and sexy.
“What time is it?” she asked with a soft moan.
I looked over at the nightstand. The glowing red numbers on the clock promised at least an hour before she had to leave to teach her class. I planned to make every second count. “It’s early still.”
“How early?”
“It’s not quite eight. We have lots of time.”
She rolled over and propped herself up, shoving pillows out of the way to seek confirmation. Her eyes went wide. “Oh God! I’m going to be late!”
She scrambled over me in all her naked glory, her sudden shift in mood a surprise. I caught her around the waist before she could fall face-first over the edge of the bed.
“Late for what? You don’t teach until ten on Wednesdays, right?” She was too busy freaking out to realize I’d memorized the schedule stuck to her fridge.
“I have a meeting with my advisor at nine. I’ll be kicked out of the program if I don’t make it on time.” She extricated herself from my grasp. Her nails bit into my arm as she struggled to free herself from the sheets twisted around her leg.