See Me After Class(62)

“I’m good,” he says casually. Barefoot and godlike, he goes to the fridge, where he pulls out the apple juice and pours himself a glass.

“How are you not completely hungover right now?” Cora asks me.

Because your brother fucked me sober with his tongue last night.

“Not sure. Had some apple juice in the middle of the night, so maybe that was it,” I say, glancing at Arlo, whose eyes are fixed on mine as he tilts his glass to his mouth.

“You’re telling me you mixed sweet wine with sweet apple juice?” She clutches her stomach. “That makes me want to vomit right here.” She shakes her head, completely oblivious to the stare down I’m having with Arlo.

Those eyes, so penetrating, it’s as if he’s stripping me bare and reading my thoughts with every breath I take.

“Sleep well, Miss Gibson?” Arlo asks me.

“Miss Gibson?” Cora scoffs. “Where are we, in the classroom? Call her Greer, you weirdo.”

But he doesn’t flinch, he just raises a brow, and I know exactly what he’s trying to convey by calling me Miss Gibson. He’s trying to remind me about last night, as if I need reminding. What happened . . . that will be imprinted on my brain forever.

From the command in his voice, to the way he brought me to the hilt, let me ride out my orgasm, and then tucked me in after—I will never forget the feeling of complete ecstasy followed up by caring warmth.

“I slept great. Thank you for letting me stay here last night.”

“Glad I wasn’t the only one drinking.” She presses the palm of her hand to her forehead. “Keeks kept talking about being aroused last night, right?”

“Correct.”

She nods. “That’s what I thought.”

“On that note, I’m going to leave you two alone,” Arlo says.

“Don’t bother. I need a breakfast burrito. Do you want anything, Greer?” Coraline asks.

I shake my head. “I’m going to take off and get back to my place. I have frozen waffles calling my name.”

“I’m not one to get in the way of a girl and her frozen waffles.” Cora comes up to me and gives me a quick hug. “Mama needs a burrito. I’ll catch you later.” Cora turns to Arlo and points at him. “Be nice to her, understand?”

Arlo doesn’t respond, just drinks his apple juice casually.

How could he possibly look that laidback when I’m vibrating with so many emotions?

“Bye.” Cora waves behind her, grabs her keys off the entryway credenza, and takes off, the door shutting behind her.

A few seconds roll by before I turn to Arlo, whose eyes are trained on me.

The air around me shrinks as he eats me up. After I got myself off in bed, I took a quick shower, piled my hair on top of my head, and changed into the clothes I wore last night, minus the thong. That’s stuffed into my purse.

“So . . .” I say, feeling awkward and unsure of myself. “Did you . . . uh . . . did you masturbate last night?”

He sets his glass down. “What do you think?”

“I think you did.” Growing a little courage, I add, “And I think you did it with my name on the tip of your tongue.”

“Wasn’t your name on my tongue; it was the taste of your pussy on my tongue that got me off.”

Good God, I shiver in my seat, unable to control the involuntary shudder from the rumble to his voice.

I lick my lips, my heart thudding in my chest as he rounds the kitchen island. I twist in my stool so I’m facing him when he steps next to me.

He reaches up and gently draws his thumb over my cheek. Quietly, he asks, “My scruff didn’t hurt you, did it?”

He doesn’t want intimacy, but this right here, asking if he hurt me, feels more intimate than a kiss, especially the way he’s cupping my cheek.

“I’m a little sore, but in the best way possible. Every time I move, I love knowing it was you who was between my legs.”

His eyes darken and then he slowly tilts my head to the side, moving his thumb down the column of my neck, to the spot right below my ear. “I marked you,” he says, his thumb rubbing over what I’m assuming is a bite mark.

“You can see it?”

“Only if you know it’s there.” He comes back to my eyes. “I bit you hard enough to remind you who took you last night.”

“Once again, don’t need the reminder.”

His hand falls to my chin, where his thumb tugs on my bottom lip. “I fantasized about these lips sucking my cock last night. I couldn’t sleep until I got off at least twice.”

“You could have had the real thing, you know.”

“I could have, but I wasn’t the one in dire need.”

“Coming twice in order to sleep seems like a dire situation.”

His hand floats down my neck, to my collarbone. “I’ll let you know if it’s ever a dire situation for me.”

“Will you, or are you going to forget this happened come Monday?”

“Isn’t it easier that way?” he asks, his hand floating to the strap of my tank top. Slowly he pushes it off my shoulder, along with my bra strap.

“Not when you touch me the way you are. You’re going to make me want you even more.”

“You’re going to have to learn to control your urges, Miss Gibson.”