Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(60)

“Private dances?”

I roll my eyes. “You are so jealous, and no.”

“Good. ’Cause I’d hate to chase after him and get arrested.”

“You can’t do things like that—even if we are dating.” My eyes twinkle.

His big hand engulfs my cheek. “The only person I want seeing you half-naked is me.”

I stand on my toes and brush my lips over his. “Thank you for caring.”

I pull my shirt over my head as I take the stairs. “I’m going to bed, hockey player. Wanna come with?” I throw a look over my shoulder at him.

His gaze darkens as he follows me, tight on my ass.

I’m nearly to the top when he catches me. I shriek as he turns me and picks me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he takes off to my room and rushes inside.

He tosses me on the bed sideways as his eyes lower to my cleavage. “I want you.” His eyes burn down at me. I revel in it.

“Same,” I breathe.

He tugs one bra strap off my shoulder, then the other. He eases the cups down, revealing my breasts. Air ghosts over the erect nipples as goosebumps rise. My back arches in anticipation.

He stands back and takes me in. “You deserve to be worshipped like the fucking goddess you are.”

“I’m not a goddess,” I say weakly. “But if you insist on calling me one . . .”

“I do.” His fingers graze my skin, sending bolts of fire through my nerves. He rubs the pad of his thumb over one nipple, and it peaks under his callouses. Then he draws it into his mouth, sucking. Caressing the other, his tongue draws lazy circles on the rosy pebbles.

He unbuttons my jeans, sliding them to the ground, then wraps his hands around my ass, kissing the V where my thighs come together. “Lay back. You don’t have to do a thing.”

He scoots me up on the bed. He starts with my chin, then moves to my neck and shoulder, to my upper arms, his stubble brushing against my sensitive skin. He delivers a series of tiny, nibbling kisses down to my navel, across the curves of my hips, and down over each thigh. He spreads my legs wide, and I wait desperately to feel his mouth.

But he doesn’t.

Maddeningly, he continues down, kissing my knees, my shins, right down to my toes.

I’m writhing, senseless with need.

He stands up, pulls his shirt over his head, and sheds his jeans. “Come here,” he says, sitting down on the bed and hoisting me onto him so I’m straddling his lap. I’m naked on him, his cock nestled between my legs, and I want nothing more than to feel it inside me.

He opens a condom and I help slide it on. His cock is flushed red and bobs against his stomach. With one hand around his neck and one on his length, I lift so that his tip is right at my entrance. I inch him inside me, slowly, then fully seat myself. I move my hips in a slow, circular motion, then speed up. He holds my waist, helping me keep a steady rhythm.

He cups my ass with his hands as he groans. “Your show. Do what you want. Use your power.”

My breath catches. He understands that I need someone to remind me that I’m strong even though my life feels out of control.

He wants me to come to the party. I’m his girlfriend.

It’s not an admission of deep feelings, but with him . . .

It means something.

His erection thickens and my own body responds as juices drip between us. The air smells like him, me, us. I kiss him savagely, our lips tearing at each other.

Lust builds between us, higher and higher.

He rocks me back and forth, but I dictate the pace, the depth, the angle.

We fuck.

And fuck.

Every thrust sends ecstasy crashing over me. Eric’s eyes glow as he watches me ride. There’s something empowering about knowing that I have control over my own pleasure—and his.

I grind against him, rubbing myself to get the friction I need against my clit.

He leans his head back, euphoria on his face.

He’s right. I am a fucking goddess.

My orgasm hovers, close, but I stretch it out, hold onto it by moving different ways, waiting for the right moment.

“Julia, Julia . . .” Sweat drips from his face, his voice ragged.

His thumb rubs my clit, circling it with light, then hard strokes. I’m so there.

I fall forward against his shoulder. “Come for me.”

And he does, tensing, grabbing the edges of the bed for leverage and thrusting hard into me as he growls. I replace his fingers with my own, watching him come apart beautifully, and then I go with him. He buries his face between my breasts, delivering kisses to my neck.

“I know. I’m a miracle,” I whisper into his skin.





26





Eric





A few days after the police incident, I open my eyes to find Julia studying my face. She boops my nose. “You’re finally awake, sunshine.”

I nod. “Morning.”

Her fingers twirl with a piece of my hair. “You wanna go grab breakfast somewhere? I only have one final today and it isn’t until this afternoon.”

“Food isn’t on my mind right now.” I roll her off and cage her under me, my head dipping to scent the citrusy shampoo in her hair. For the rest of my life, every time I see a lemon or an orange, I’ll think of her.