Boyfriend Bargain (Hawthorne University #1)(41)

“You’re beautiful,” I murmur in her ear, my tongue exploring the curves and recesses there, my hands still plucking, running my fingers over her nipples, playing her like a piano. I want to spend time here. I want to put my dick between those mounds and fuck her. I want her tits in my face when she’s bouncing on top of me. I want her breasts in my hands when I wake up.

We kiss and her hands are running through my hair, tugging on the ends. “Please.” She claws at my shirt, helping me pull it over my head and toss it to the floor.

She sucks in a breath at my tattoo, and I guess she didn’t get a good view of it at the Kappa house. Her fingers brush over the lines on my chest, and I know there will be questions later.

I groan when my fingers slip into her silky panties and she’s dripping wet. My forehead goes against hers as our eyes lock. Panting, she writhes against my fingers, her hips rotating against my palm.

She shudders as I make my way down her neck, my lips hard and then soft to make up for it. I want to consume every inch of her, devour her in one big gulp, and I try to go slow…but I can’t. It feels like a decade since I last saw her. I want to make up for lost time. I want to own her. I want her begging me…

And fuck…

Fuck…

My dick has never been this hard.

“Z.” The way she says my name like it’s a benediction kills me.

“You want to come?” My voice is a mangled mess. I don’t know if I’m going to come in my pants or pass out right here.

“Yes,” she moans.

She smells like vanilla, sweet as I finger her, slick within her heat, working inside the panties. Finally I slip them off, taking them down her legs and throwing them wherever the hell everything else is.

The sound of laughter drifts in from somewhere, I don’t know where, but it’s either someone out in the yard for a stroll or someone coming or leaving the house.

She doesn’t even miss a beat.

I grab her nape, maintaining eye contact, my thumb circling her clit.

Tossing her hair, she bites her lip and leans into my touch, her hips arching toward me, aching for more.

Using one finger, I rub across that tiny bundle of nerves at the top of her channel, knowing it will send her over the edge. “Just wait for it,” I growl. “Open your legs more.”

She leans back, and I flick her nub and finger her at the same time, her face flushing, her mouth gasping as she reaches for that pinnacle.

“I’m going to fuck you on this table when you come,” I say, and the words are the catalyst that sends her over. She twists her hips up to me, milking my finger as she clenches and clamps down around me.

She’s got her hands all over me, on my chest and shoulders, touching me as I reach around to my wallet and dig through the contents until I come to a condom. Dropping my wallet to the floor, I rip it open with my teeth, shove my jeans down past my hips, and slip it on.

Holding on to her waist, I slide inside her inch by inch, trying to go slow until I can’t, pushing in to the hilt. We both groan at the heat and friction and fullness. I bow my head over her.

“Z…” she begs, and I pull out and go back in all the way. With my hands on her hips, I pump inside her, my pelvis thrusting, taking. My fingers dig into her skin as sweat drips off my face.

“Harder,” she moans. I pinch her nipple, and her nails claw into my back.

The table scoots across the floor, and my fingers are back on her sweet spot, rotating to the beat of my hips. Her legs lock around my waist and we fuck and fuck until mine are like jelly. My heart is about to come out of my chest and I’m muttering under my breath, telling her how much I want her. I think I could die with the feel of her around me.

She leans back to catch her breath, watching me, and I use the moment to put my hands on her sex, my thumbs spreading her apart, watching my dick slide in and out of her.

“I can’t get enough,” I growl, hardening more, getting close, so close.

She moans when she comes again, and I’m there, baby. I’m so there. I yell when I come inside her, my back arching, my hips slowing down, wanting more of her but knowing I need a damn minute. I ease out of her channel and push right back in, wanting more, and shit, in about five minutes, I can go again. I want to enjoy her slowly next time, explore the bend of her knee, that little birthmark on her stomach, the hollows in her back, the curve of her ass. I want it all. Again.

Several seconds go by. I don’t know how many. She leans against my chest, and my hand is in her hair. We hold each other as the room spins.

Fumbling around on the table, she pulls away from me and gradually moves to standing, easing herself down.

I huff out a laugh, still trying to catch my breath. “Good, babe? Ready for round two?”

She starts and gives me a sharp look as she clasps her bra and adjusts her dress, the bodice gaping even after she ties it. Shit. I’m about to apologize, but something is off as she looks around the floor, an unsure look on her face.

I don’t like that expression. Unease washes over me.

“Hey, about the dress—I’ll get you another one.”

Her chest rises. “It’s Poppy’s.”

I don’t know who that is but I assume it’s one of her friends. I slide off the condom, tie it off, and lay it on the table, intending to get rid of it later. “Introduce us and I’ll apologize in person.”