Disorderly Conduct (The Academy #1)

“Okay, Charlie,” I manage to say, my arms aching to go around him. “It’s all right.”

“We never talked about it afterward. My brother, father and I. We still haven’t.”

Understanding more about mute parenting style than he realizes, I reach up, wrapping him in an embrace. A tight one. He moves so fast to hug me back, another stool is sent crashing down, jarred by his hip. There’s something about the knocking over of furniture and the way he’s breathing so heavily, holding me so close. It ramps the mood back up to when we were making out in the park, the planet ceasing to spin while we devastated one another with lips and tongues, hands and groans and teeth. I was wet the instant we began, and my panties still hold the uncomfortable weight of that arousal. Now his breath is blowing down the back of my top, his erection nudging my belly button and I’m lost. I’ve been dropped down in the middle of a maze with only one sure path out.

Maybe Charlie is robbing me of sanity, because this feels almost forbidden. This relationship is supposed to be platonic. I’m meant to be dating, looking for someone to share my days and evenings with. Is this cheating . . . on myself? I don’t know, but letting Charlie overwhelm me is bad, very bad. God help me, though, the bad is what’s getting me off. It’s my mistress blood, I think. Letting a man have me while I’m in the market for another. Giving myself over to a man who isn’t even available. Bad, Ever. I’m ashamed of myself and yet, that’s the very reason I’m unfastening his belt.

There’s a deep yearning carved inside me that begs to relieve Charlie. Comfort him with my body. It’s biological. It’s undeniable.

“I need you so bad, Ever. Ever.” His mouth is racing all over my face, his tongue dipping into the hollow of my throat. Those hands start in my hair, scrape down my back and grope my ass. He’s nasty about it, too, pulling my cheeks apart, shaking them, sliding three fingers right down the middle. He keeps going until he’s cupping that soaked part of me through the material of my dress. “Are you letting me? Please say you’ll let me.”

His question doesn’t require a verbal answer. Instead, I push his jeans down to midthigh, followed by his briefs . . . and there isn’t a woman with a pulse who could stop once she saw his erection. It’s thick and painful looking, prominent veins and a wet head, bobbing against a lickable six-pack. If the kissing hadn’t gotten me so horny, I would kneel and suck for everything I’m worth, but getting him inside me is my world right now. My galaxy. His dilated pupils and frantic hands tell me Charlie is starved for it, too. He unties my halter dress and it slides down my body, like a curtain dropping, leaving me in nothing but drenched, gray cotton panties. At least that’s what I’m wearing until I shimmy them down my legs, giving Charlie’s dick a teasing lick while I’m down there.

We dive back into a kiss, and it’s a race to get him planted between my legs. I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper and Charlie’s long, drawn-out grunt as he rolls it on. A hard slap on my ass is the only signal I need to climb aboard—and I do. I throw up my right leg, he catches it under a hooked arm. And then he guides himself to my entrance with the other hand, all while looking me straight in the eye, beneath hooded lids, drawing rough-edged kisses from my abused mouth.

“No one moves like us, Ever. No one talks to each other without words like us. Don’t you know that?” He grits his teeth, thrusts his hips and . . . sweet Christ, he’s inside me to the hilt. My other leg shoots up and clenches around his hips, giving him my full weight, and it doesn’t faze him at all. He’s too busy moaning with his head thrown back, the tendons of his neck stark and sexy and male. “I’ve been dying for you. Dying. You don’t know what it’s been like.”

“Yes, I do.”

His fingers dig into the flesh of my ass, lifting me, grinding me down on his rigid flesh. My clit drags in a delicious path against the slick base of his erection, back up, back down. “You know how hard it’s been? Tell me how you know.” His forehead pushes into mine, his teeth bared. “Tell me.”

My heels find purchase on his tight ass and we hit an incredible rhythm. I writhe to the tip of his hardness, Charlie gives an upthrust, and at the same time, I roll my hips and drop hard. We’re melded together, a sweaty tangle supported on two legs, and it’s like a naughty fantasy in the flesh. It never stops being that way with Charlie. “You used to come around lunchtime every day . . . and now you don’t, so I—”

I break off when Charlie strides toward the living room. Hope catches in my throat when I think he’s going to keep walking. Straight into my bedroom, where he’s never been before, but he doesn’t. Instead, he drops onto his knees on the couch, impaling me even more fully on his thickness. I’m still screaming from the impact when he turns us around and drops down on top of me, bearing down between my legs. “What do you do at lunchtime, huh?” His inches slide out and slam back in. “Do you lick your fingers and slide them into your pussy, Ever? Yeah, I think you do. I think it’s so hot and sweet and tight, even you can’t resist touching it.”

“The sink,” I manage, reaching down to palm my breasts. “You pushed me over the kitchen sink once and . . . I loved it.” His gaze is riveted to my hands, so I pinch my nipples for him, clenching the inner walls of my center at the same time, my femininity rejoicing in his string of rasped curse words. “I close my eyes and pretend you’re behind me and I touch. I touch myself until it’s all over.”

God, Charlie goes wild, hearing that. My knees are yanked up near my elbows, and with my head having landed on a pillow, I have a first row seat to watching his ass pump. Those muscles flexing, those cheeks going loose, then bunching on a thrust. I could climax if I watch his hips and buttocks work overtime long enough, but the result of that hard labor has my stomach twisting, my nerves firing, distracting me and forcing my eyes closed so I could embrace the build-up. So good. So good.

Charlie is close to hitting his peak—he’s chanting my name in that hoarse voice—but he doesn’t ride it out. He slows down, pressing our mouths together, and gives me great, rolling slides that hit me so deep, I forget to breathe. “I want a picture of us together.” Those blue eyes drill into mine. “One where my hands are on you. Touching your hips, your belly. Your face. Need something to look at when I’m not here to remember. Remember I got to feel you. When you’re not under me, I swear I fucking dreamed it all.”