The Graham Effect (Campus Diaries, #1)

I stroke my nails over his sinewy flesh. “I’m pretty sure I was promised the best fuck of my life,” I remind him, and he chokes out a laugh.

Then his mouth is at my ear as he whispers, “Anything you want, Gisele.”

He starts off slow. A drawn-out tempo that’s utter torture. Sliding in and creeping out, while my inner muscles spasm trying to trap him inside.

“Greedy,” he whispers again.

“So greedy,” I murmur, then moan when he thrusts back in.

It’s the kind of sex that makes your breath catch in tormented anticipation because the tempo is agonizing.

“Can you come just from this?” His hips are moving. His mouth is busy. Lips exploring my neck. Teeth digging into my shoulder while he cups my breast, kneading, playing with the tightened nipple.

“Probably no,” I admit. “I need to touch my clit.”

“Yeah, do it. Let me watch.”

He shifts positions, rising on his knees. And while I miss the warmth of his chest on mine, there’s nothing hotter than the sight of him lodged inside me while he peers down at me.

“Do it,” he urges. “Show me.”

I bring my hand between my legs. Slowly, I rub the pads of my fingers over the swollen bundle of nerves that’s damn near ready to detonate.

His hands curl around the fronts of my thighs as his hips flex and retreat. He’s watching himself fuck me. Watching me touch myself.

“Is that how you make yourself come when you’re alone?”

I nod.

“Just the clit? No fingers?”

“Not usually.”

“What if I came over and helped you sometime? Fucked you with my fingers while you rubbed your clit.”

“What about…?” It’s getting difficult to breathe. “Why not your dick?”

“That too. I’ll give you any part of me you want. If it gets you off, it’s yours.”

“I like this Ryder,” I say, moaning when he slides forward. “The Ryder who talks like this. I like these words.”

Smiling faintly, he pulls his hips back, then thrusts into me again. Each time he does that, he hits a sweet spot deep inside, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

The position provides both of us with a perfect view of his dick sliding in and out of me.

“You take me so good,” he says in approval.

The urgency building in my core becomes unbearable. I lift my hips, grinding against him.

“Gonna make me come if you keep doing that,” he warns.

I smile up at him. “Is that a threat?”

At that, he coils forward, his body fully covering mine again as his hips move faster. The change of angle is exactly what I need to find my bliss. With his pelvis deliciously scraping my clit and his cock plunging deep, the orgasm starts in my core and ignites my entire body.

“Oh my God, Ryder, don’t stop,” I beg, digging my fingernails into his back as I shudder from release.

He’s not far behind, groaning hoarsely into my neck. His thrusts become more and more erratic until he finally presses himself in deep and trembles as he comes.

I’m pretty sure I just had the best sex of my entire life.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


RYDER



Dirty little secret


I’M PRETTY SURE I JUST HAD THE BEST SEX OF MY ENTIRE LIFE.

It takes a while for my heartbeat to regulate. Gigi is curled up beside me. Her fingers dance over my chest, stroking carelessly. Sucking in a breath, I cover her hand with mine, lacing our fingers together. It’s not a standard move in my arsenal. In fact, it’s one I would normally avoid at all costs. But it feels nice, so I don’t question why I did it.

I wait for her to start talking. To start asking questions. In my experience, this is when women want to talk. When the dopamine is still surging through their bloodstream, all those feel-good emotions flooding their system.

But Gigi doesn’t say anything.

“Something on your mind?” I say gruffly.

Fucking hell.

I initiated a conversation.

Willingly.

What is happening and how do I stop this? Why can’t I stop this? I’ve never been interested in digging deeper with the women in my bed, but I’m a bit eager for a glimpse into Gigi’s head.

“Just thinking about this Team USA thing,” she admits. Her fingertips play with my knuckles. “My dad offered to speak to the head coach on my behalf.”

“I assume you said no.”

I feel her body tense. “Obviously.”

The more I get to know her, the more apparent it is that she’s desperate to separate herself from her father. To stand on her own merit.

She relaxes a moment later. “Sorry. That sounded harsh. It’s just…” Her sigh warms my chest. “That nepotism comment you made a while ago is constantly in the back of my mind now. It eats at me.”

A pang of guilt tugs at me. “I’m sorry. I should never have said that.”

“It’s always been a fear of mine. I think you just made me face it. And I hate facing it.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Facing things sucks.”

She lifts her head to grin at me. But the humor doesn’t last. She settles back, her soft hair brushing my chin.

“I also hate that I’m in this position in the first place. I hate wondering whether Brad Fairlee is purposely denying me the opportunity. People keep telling me what a good coach he is. Impartial. I want to believe he gave me that criticism because he genuinely wants me to improve my game and not because he’s trying to keep me off the team.”

My forehead creases. “Why would he do that?”

“I have history with his daughter. We were best friends growing up.”

When Gigi’s fingers stiffen, I slowly loosen each one, pressing her palm flat my chest.

“Did you get in a fight or something?” I ask.

“You could say that. She got involved with my brother senior year, even after I warned her that Wyatt was never going to commit. He didn’t want a girlfriend. Still doesn’t, three years later. But Emma did that delusional girl thing where they pretend they’re okay with no strings. Or maybe it’s not delusional—maybe they actually convince themselves of it, but then they have sex a couple times and start planning the wedding. Either way, Wyatt bailed the second she tried to wrangle a commitment out of him, and she went scorched earth on his ass. Spreading rumors about him at school. Telling people how awful he was.”

Sorrow and contempt mingle in her voice. “Emma and I were inseparable since the second grade, and she took a match to our friendship and lit it on fire. Spread rumors about me too. Posted really embarrassing stuff online, things I’d told her in confidence, screenshots of old chats where I admitted my boyfriend Adam wasn’t that great in bed.”

“Damn,” I marvel. Women have truly mastered the art of social media warfare.

“So then Adam broke up with me. And started dating Emma, of course. Our mutual friends all pulled away from her because they’d seen her nasty side. She started commenting on other people’s posts with snarky comments about me and Wyatt and everyone who bailed on her. Or posting her own passive-aggressive bullshit.” Her voice becomes harder now. Angry. “Honestly, all that shit was minor. Juvenile. I don’t care that she tried to make me choose between her and Wyatt. Or that she slandered me afterward. Stole my boyfriend. It’s that she had the audacity to try to hurt my mom.”

“How’d she do that?” I roll onto my side so I can see her face. Her gray eyes are on fire.

“It was a couple months after graduation. My mom was out of town recording an album with some artist, I can’t remember who. And Wyatt had just taken off on a road trip with friends. So Dad and I were fending for ourselves that summer.”

I’m not sure where this is going, but it doesn’t sound good.

“Emma called me under the guise she wanted to patch up our friendship. And because of our history, I agreed to hear her out. But I was running a kid’s hockey camp that week and wasn’t done till later in the day. I guess I mentioned on the phone that it was only Dad and me at the house, although I don’t remember how it came up. I told her to come by later if she still wanted to talk.” Gigi laughs in amazement. “Instead, this girl shows up at my house when I’m at camp and sneaks in using the spare key. Then she gets naked, drapes herself on my parents’ bed, and tries to seduce my dad when he walks in.”