Curveball(19)

Watching him scratch the corner of his jaw, I think of the little stubble he hasn’t shaved and how good it felt against my pussy only ten hours ago, forcing me to cross my legs. He takes his phone from his jeans pocket, and his fingers glide across the keyboard at a fast pace, but his eyes never leave mine. A few seconds later, my cell phone buzzes with a message from Mark.

Mark: Restroom. Now.

Me: No. Too many people here.

Mark: Would you prefer I sit down at your table?

Me: No. Do not come over here! Some of the faculty are on the other side of the room.

Mark: Then, get your sexy ass in the restroom right now.

Me: Fine. Just don’t come over here.

Mark: Good girl.

Allowing the devil on my shoulder to control me, I excuse myself from the table. Donna doesn’t seem to notice much or care as she sips her drink and gazes off toward the front of the café. I slip through the crowded tables, moving to the back of the building, and push open the restroom door. To ensure we have privacy, I bend down and look under each stall, relieved that no one is here to overhear whatever Mark wants to talk to me about.

After I check the last stall, the restroom door swings open and slams shut before I have time to stand and turn around, my ass still up in the air with my skirt halfway up my thighs.

“Stay like that, baby.” Mark’s voice sounds deep and loud in the quiet room.

I hear him unzip his pants, and I spin around to face him. He already has a condom in his hand that he brings to his mouth to open with his teeth, spitting part of the wrapper on the floor. Then, he flips the lock on the door and stalks toward me.

“Put your hands on the wall”—he motions his head toward the cinder-block wall painted a pale yellow—“and spread your legs.”

I’m so turned on right now by his words, the sexy glaze in his eyes, and the way his muscles move beneath his fitted gray shirt. With his hand now wrapped around his massive erection, I want him bad. I want him to satisfy this aching desire deep within my core.

For once, I decide to do the wrong thing because, with Mark, it always feels so damn right.

I press my palms to the cold cinder block, looking at Mark over my shoulder, as he pushes my skirt up around my hips, bunching it together. He moves my panties to the side, and before I have time to brace myself, he positions himself at my entrance and plunges inside me, filling me at once. Even after all the times we have had sex, it takes me a minute to adjust to his size, the pain from his thrusts slowly turning to pleasure. I moan, probably loud enough for people to hear on the other side of the door. But I couldn’t care less at this moment.

He grips my hips, his touch rough and hard, matching his movements, and grunts along with me. Taking my earlobe in his mouth, he sucks on it for a few seconds, the heat from his touch spreading down to my toes. Each kiss he leaves along my neck sets my skin on fire. With the pressure inside me building, I tighten around him. When I start to have trouble controlling my breathing and my screams become too loud, he places his hand over my mouth, fucking me harder and faster.

“Come for me…like a good girl,” he whispers against my ear.

I love when he says that to me because it’s so fucking hot. My heart races from the adrenaline pumping through my body, and I lose all control, forcing Mark to hold me in place, as a series of orgasms wrecks me, taking every ounce of energy I have left. With my cheek against the wall, I look at Mark, loving the sight of him once he finally comes. The sounds he makes are so fucking sexy that those alone could make my ovaries burst.

He pulls out of me and disposes of the condom in the trash can beside us before zipping his pants. I turn around and press my back flat against the wall, still unstable and barely functioning. My throat is raw from screaming into his hand. Whatever thoughts I have running through my head are incoherent, so I stand there and wait for him to speak first.

I keep making the same mistake with Mark. After each encounter, I want him more, but I hate the guilt. And then I hate myself for feeling guilty for desiring a man who satisfies my needs.

Gripping me by the waist, he lowers his mouth to mine, his tongue gliding across my lips before slipping into my mouth. Our two-second kiss makes my body tingle and my mind go blank, leaving me wanting more as our lips separate.

“You. Are. Mine. Got that?”

I nod, and he kisses me one last time.

Mark has ruined me. My body belongs to him. He’s fucked me, both physically and mentally, and I am not letting him go—no matter how many rules we are breaking.





Chapter Nine





Mark





“I can’t believe you’re tapping our professor.” Luca punches me in the arm with a wide smile on his face that shows his approval. “We both know your dumbass needs all the extra credit you can get.” He laughs into the crook of his elbow as we stroll through Strickland University, as if we own the fucking ground we walk on.

This university cares about two things—Greek life and athletics. Hunter and I meet both requirements. And Luca has Mafia connections that make him invincible. On this campus, we can do just about anything we want without getting into trouble. Sure, the dean hauls Luca into her office on occasion to deal with complaints from neighbors for noise and drinking violations, but that comes with the title of fraternity president. But, for the most part, we get away with murder.