Despite the arousal I see taking over her expression, her gasps and moans, she doesn’t forget about me. Her fingers flick open the button of my jeans and our mouths grind as her hand slips down the front of my pants, wriggling under the waistband of my boxer briefs.
And then she has all of me. As her fingers curl around me and she strokes my length, it’s like an out-of-body experience. I feel her so intensely that the enormity of the sensation fills the room.
Our tongues continue to do battle and a line of spittle trickles from our chins down my neck. I suck her tongue deep when she strokes me, tip to root, then back.
She rolls her palm over the tip of my cock, catching the pre-cum there, and goes back to work, stroking me right to the edge. When her hand glides lower and cups my balls, they pull tight. I roll her clit harder under my fingers as she drives me over the edge. With one last stroke, she has me coming in my pants like some pubescent boy.
She cries out with her climax and I smother the sound with a slow, deep kiss.
I was a fucking fool to think I could stop this. She’s crack and I’m totally addicted.
I pull my hand out and press my forehead to hers. “Well, that was interesting.”
“You feeling less sexually conflicted?” she breathes.
I can’t stop the smile. “Actually, no. But definitely much less sexually frustrated.”
She smiles back, letting go of my cock, and bringing her hand to her mouth. She licks the smear of cum off her palm. “You taste good.”
And fuck me, I’m swelling for her again. I lift my hand to my mouth and suck her juices off my fingers. “You taste better.”
She kisses me, and I taste the heady mix of our arousal on each other’s tongues. I want so much more from this woman than stolen moments in the library.
But I’ve already stolen too many tonight. I look down at myself and zip and button my jeans. “You have to stop doing this to me while I’m working. Cum stains aren’t easy to hide.”
“So, let me see you when you’re not working.”
I kiss her. “That’s probably a very bad idea.”
She gives me a devious smile and arches a perfect black eyebrow. “I’m a very bad girl.”
Sparklers ignite under my skin and it’s everything I can do to force myself to back away. If I wasn’t sure before, there’s no doubt now. I was never in control. It was always her.
Chapter 7
Blaire
Zoey was right. About everything.
I laid in bed last night reliving every moment of what happened in the library with Caiden. Nate was definitely fucking me wrong, because I didn’t feel anything close to what Caiden made me feel. And Caiden and I didn’t even have actual sex.
She was also on target about guys’ packages coming in all shapes and sizes. I’m not stupid. I knew they weren’t all the same. What I didn’t know is they could be so big.
Caiden’s hard-on came right out the top of his pants. By inches. He’s long and thick. As in, I don’t know if he’s going to fit long and thick. But he’s also perfect—straight, smooth, and circumcised. He felt so hot and hard in my hand, like steel under silk.
I’d never tasted cum before, but I had to taste his.
School almost killed me today. I couldn’t concentrate so I don’t even want to see my calculus test score. And it’s Thursday, so I won’t see Caiden tonight.
But tomorrow is the fourth Friday in April, so I’m going to invite him to the poetry slam again.
When I finish my homework, I pull open my laptop and open YouTube. I’ve never given head before. I’ve never wanted to. But Caiden makes me want to do everything. I type in “blow job,” and watch clips of girls with dildos giving instructions.
I want to make Caiden feel good. I want to drive him crazy. I want him to want me.
And I don’t want him to think I’m inexperienced.
∞
My poem tonight is about phoning love in. Or, more specifically, about my parents. I’m the third of six poets tonight, and Caiden isn’t here when Craig starts to announce me.
When I stopped by the library before class to invite him, he was helping a pretty brunette with something. They sat with their heads together at the table next to mine as he explained something to do with Shakespeare and misplaced loyalty. I waited for a few minutes and I saw him shoot me furtive glances, but I guess he couldn’t break away. I left a note on his desk that just said poetry slam tonight, and hoped he’d get the message.
Either he didn’t or didn’t want to. Maybe he was just avoiding me in the library earlier. Maybe the brunette saw the note first and took it. Maybe he’s with her right now.
Disappointment and doubt eat a hole in my stomach as I take the stage.
Craig snags my arm at the top of the stairs. “Was thinking we could hang out after the slam,” he says in my ear, and I can smell the beer on his breath. He’s only eighteen. Tino would rip his balls off if he knew he was pinching beers from cold storage.
“I might have a date,” I tell him, pulling out of his grasp. “Sorry.”
He bobs a slow nod as his eyes make their way to my tits. “Maybe next time.”