I tilt my head, cocking one eyebrow. “Honestly, my sisters do love karaoke.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“You said there’d be a band? So, instead of instrumental, it’s a real band?”
“Exactly. I already talked to a local band who does weddings and stuff. They said they can give me a giant list of songs they know for the fraternities and sororities to choose from. And we’ll do the lights up just like we do for the concert, and the fog and confetti and all that. It’ll feel like a real show.”
“That’s really cool,” I muse, smiling.
“And, we’ll make more for our charity this way, too. We can charge an entry fee for the fraternities and sororities to enter, and charge a low-ticket price, get prizes donated for the winners — first, second, and third place.” He’s so excited that he’s breathing as hard as he was when we got to the top of the parking garage after running up the stairs. “And if it goes off the way I have it planned, I feel like it would become a new tradition, kind of like the Greek Week games where we all compete.”
I lean forward, grabbing his face in mine and kissing him hard. “How did I get such a smart, sexy boyfriend?”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly easy.”
I snort, but before I can sass back, he’s pulling me in closer, wrapping me up in his arms, his love, kissing me like it’s the first and the last time at once.
“What about you?” he asks, popping up to stand before he reaches his hand down to help me up, too. “How has the new school year been for you so far? Anything new and exciting in the land of KKB?”
He grabs my shoulder as I grab his, and we both pull up the opposite foot to our butts, stretching our quads.
“We got a great group of new members,” I say, frowning. “And the pressure is on from my G-Big to take a Little.”
“Ex?”
I nod. “I didn’t take one last year, mostly because I just didn’t feel ready to, you know? And I guess I do feel ready this year, but… I don’t know.” I struggle to find the explanation. “It’s my junior year, you know? I have a ton of schoolwork, and I don’t know if I…” My stomach drops as the root of my concern hits me. “I don’t know if I’d be a good Big.”
We switch legs, and Adam squeezes my shoulder where he holds me. “Cassie, you’re an amazing friend, an amazing sister, a phenomenal kisser — er, I mean, girlfriend.”
I smirk.
“And I know you’d be an amazing Big — but only if you want to be one. Don’t feel like you have to just because it’s the norm. Take a Little if you want to continue your family line and pass down some traditions, if you want to mentor one of the new girls and help her find her footing in the sorority the way Sky helped you.”
I smile. “I really do think I’d like that. I don’t know what I would have done without Skyler, maybe dropped out of KKB altogether.”
“Well, then, maybe that’s your answer. But sleep on it, okay? You have time to think.”
I nod, and we finish stretching in a comfortable silence.
“What about school? Your classes as hard as you thought they’d be?” Adam asks as we cross the top of the garage to start making our way back down.
My throat tightens, a jolt of nerves flittering through me at the thought of the past two weeks. Classes have been fine, for the most part. I prepared over the summer, and I’ve always been one of those students who excelled pretty easily. I’m not intimidated by my cornerstone classes.
But I am freaked out about having class with Grayson.
He hasn’t tried to talk to me again since that first day, but I feel his energy every time I’m in that classroom with him. It makes my skin crawl.
And as ashamed as I am to admit it to myself, it also makes me sad.
I can’t place why, and I never give myself time to think on it before I push him out of my mind and focus on the professor.
But I still have yet to tell Adam about it, and I don’t know if I even need to.
Why would it matter? It’s just a class together, and I don’t even talk to Grayson or anything. It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong.
Adam glances behind him on our way down the stairs when I don’t answer for a while, and I shake my head, smiling.
“Sorry, just tired. Yeah, school is fine. I feel like me staying here over the summer to get ahead was smart.”
“You’re the smartest girl I know,” he says, and when we reach the bottom of the stairs, he grabs my wrist and tugs me into him.
His mouth is on mine in the next instant, his hands in my hair, running through it softly before he tugs it at the end.
“You got homework tonight?” he husks.
“Nothing that can’t wait.”
“Good,” he says, smiling at my shortness of breath as he slips his tongue inside my mouth, swirling and teasing. “Because I think we have some anatomy to study.”
“Mmm,” I muse, running my hands down his back to hook into the back band of his shorts. “I do still need some help in a certain area, come to think of it.”
Adam frowns. “And that is?”
I lick my lips, leaning up on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Blow jobs.”
A shiver runs through him, and he groans, looking up to the sky as if he needs a god to save him from me. “Jesus Christ, woman. I’ve got an instant boner and we have to walk all the way across campus.”
“Guess you better walk behind me, then,” I say, turning and leaning my ass into his hard on.
He groans again, smacking my ass and tucking his erection into the band of his shorts before we start our walk — both of us a little quicker than necessary now that we know what waits for us when we get back to the A Sig house.
Yeah, I think. No sense in bringing up Grayson.
We’re happy — finally — and there’s nothing to tell, really. It’s just a class together, nothing to concern him over.
For now, I’ll keep it to myself.
What’s the harm in that?
THE WOOD FLOOR OF the studio is cool under my bare feet, and I wiggle my toes, reveling in the feel of it as I close my eyes and listen to the music. It’s a slow, exotic song, filled with heat and energy, and slowly, my hips begin to sway to the beat.
On my next breath, I lift my arms over my head, rolling them in time with my hips before I trail them down, gliding my fingertips over my body, the song sinking in deeper and deeper.
When my eyes open, I see the center pole four feet in front of me, and I lick my lips, still moving in time with the music as I strut toward it. My right hand reaches out, wrapping around the chrome, and I swing, lifting my feet off the ground and letting the momentum send me spinning.
Everything is lost in moments like these, when I’m in the studio, the music loud, just me and my body dancing and making art. My feet barely hit the floor before I grip the pole in my armpit and lean back, legs tucked before extending into chopper, and then I’m hooking my outside leg and letting the rest of my body hang.
The skin on my inside thigh burns to life, but it’s a comforting pain, one that I know from experience will go away the longer I practice. I use my legs and arms to make shapes as the pole spins, and then I swing my inside leg around, hooking it over the pole before my right leg extends.
Leg hang after leg hang, shape after shape, I feel my way through the song. I alternate between tricks in the air to low flow and floor work, and by the time the last beats of the sexy song fade away, I’m dripping in sweat, chest heaving, abdomen contracting and releasing where I lie on my back on the floor.
From the corner of the room, Karen, the studio owner and my own personal torturer — er, trainer — applauds.
“Fantastic work, Ashlei,” she says, leaning over and extending a hand to help me up. When I’m on my feet again, she smiles wider. “Truly. I’m amazed at the progress you’ve made since you first came to our studio.”
“All thanks to you,” I pant.
She shakes her head. “No way. This is all y
ou. You worked hard over the summer. Hard to believe you’re the same girl who stumbled her way through basic spins and sits the first time you walked through those doors on Valentine’s Day.”
I smile, thanking her before she winks and makes her way over to the desk to welcome the girls showing up for her next class.
Karen is nothing like my previous pole studio owner.
She’s kind, and caring, and driven and smart. At five-foot-eight, she’s almost all beautiful legs and strong, toned arms. I watch her with appreciation as she checks girls in, her wide smile bright against her dark brown skin. Her long, black hair is in a hundred tiny braids and piled into a gorgeous bun on top of her head, all of it contained by a bright headband.
It’s as if the yellows and oranges in that headband are her aura, her energy, that bright, sunshine vibe she always gives off.
My muscles are deliciously sore as I throw her a wave over my shoulder on my way out, smiling and thinking about everything she said about my progress. It feels good, the reward slowly showing from all the hard work I’ve been putting in.
And that smile doubles when I push through the doors that lead onto the sunny downtown street, and I see Brandon’s pearl white Acura NSX parked on the curb.
The driver side door opens as soon as I’m on the sidewalk, and he steps out, looking dapper as ever in a custom beige suit, tailored to fit every muscle. His eyes are shielded behind dark square sunglasses, but he takes them off as he rounds the car, opening the passenger side for me with a grin.
“Your chariot, Miss.”
I shake my head, handing him my gym bag when he reaches for it before I plant a long, warm kiss on his lips. He wraps his arms around me, inhaling at the contact as if it were his first breath all day.
“Hi, baby,” I whisper.
“Hi,” he says back, kissing my nose before he releases me. “I missed you.”
“Clearly. I don’t remember asking you to pick me up,” I point out. “Or making plans at all today.”
“Yeah… about that… get in, let’s talk.”
I cock a brow, sliding into the passenger seat before he gently shuts the door behind me. He walks around the back, tossing my bag in the small trunk before he’s in the driver seat next to me, roaring the engine to life.
“Do you have pole tomorrow?” he asks, checking his side mirror before he pulls onto the road.
“No, I need a rest day.”
“And it’s Sunday, so you wouldn’t have class, right?”
My suspicion rises. “No… but I do have Chapter at six.”
“Chapter…” he muses, side-eyeing me with a grin. “Damn sorority.”
I smack his arm playfully.
“Do you think you could skip it, just this once?”
“Probably not without a death threat from Ex,” I say seriously. “But… what are you proposing?”
We pull up to a red light, and Brandon bites his lip before turning to me. “The Bahamas.”
“The Bahamas?!”
“The Exumas, technically.”
“The Exumas,” I repeat, sounding like a freaking parrot at this point. “You’re proposing we go to the Exumas tonight,” I clarify. “As in… the place where you swim with pigs.”
“I was thinking more like the place where I fuck you on my yacht and drink fruity cocktails out of coconuts with you on the beach,” he says on a smirk, and the light turns green, making him turn back to the road with a shrug. “But if you’d rather swim with pigs…”
I laugh, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it. I’m tempted to say We can’t just go to the fucking Bahamas, Brandon, but I know that’s a lie.
He has a yacht.
And more money than he knows how to spend.
Technically, we can go to the Bahamas.
I’m quiet for a long while, and Brandon glances at me from the corner of his eye before pulling into a random restaurant parking lot. It’s a Mexican diner, not even open yet, since it’s only ten in the morning. When he’s parked, he turns to me, grabbing my hands and pulling them into his lap.
“Look, we’ve both been busy this summer — you with your exec position in the sorority, and pole… me with this national client we’re in the bidding war for… both of us working hard at Okay, Cool after everything that went down in the spring with Kim… and now, school is back in session, it’s the last semester before you graduate, we’re both hard at work, and I just…”
He smooths his dark thumbs over my wrists, his eyes that are usually so intense, soft and vulnerable now.
“This might be our last chance to spend some real, quality time together before life gets even crazier than it already is.”
My heart melts into a puddle right there on the floorboard of his expensive ass car, and I lean over the console, kissing him long and hard.
“Let’s go to the Bahamas,” I whisper between kisses. “You’re right. Everything else can wait.”
He sighs, wrapping his arms around me until he’s pulling me into his lap. I squeal and laugh, but then my next breath is stolen by the erection growing in his slacks.
“This would be a lot easier on the yacht,” I say, rubbing the seam of my leggings against his hard-on.
“Maybe,” he says, sucking on my bottom lip and releasing it with a pop. His lips trail down my neck as my head rolls back. “But these windows are tinted, and you’re sexy when you say I’m right.”
I bark out a laugh that’s stolen with another kiss, knowing tinted windows or not, if anyone walks by, they’ll know what’s going on in here. I have yet to be fucked by Mr. Church without screaming out his name a time or two.
“How long has it been since you fucked me?” I ask, slipping my hand between us and gripping his cock hard.
He groans, flexing into my fist through the fabric of his slacks. “Too long.”
It’s only been a week, but I agree with the sentiment, and both of us lose our ability to go slow and take our time with foreplay. Instead, I lift up on my knees just enough to unfasten the button on his slacks and slide the zipper down, then I’m yanking down on his pants and briefs together. He lifts his hips to help me, and as soon as his shaft is free, I turn into a trapeze artist.
“What the hell are you doing?” Brandon asks with a smirk when I start flipping upside down. I pause long enough to peel off my leggings, and then I’m ass up, face down, with my pussy in his face and my arms straddling his thighs.
I don’t have to answer his question with words. Instead, I take the tip of him in my mouth, slowly at first, just enough to swirl my tongue and get him wet. He groans, palming my ass cheeks with both hands before smacking them hard.
I yelp, taking him all the way in my throat, and then I’m rewarded with a lash of his tongue on my clit.
It’s not easy, balancing on my forearms in what is practically a yoga inversion with my legs straddled around his face, but Brandon holds onto my thighs and ass, taking his share of the weight and making it easier for me to focus on getting him off.
It’s been a year now since I met this man, since he stole my breath away in the elevator at Okay, Cool and then I spent months trying to avoid him, trying not to give in to his devilish stare and sexy confidence.
But I was a goner from the first time I laid eyes on him, since the first time he laid eyes on me.
And I was a fool to ever think otherwise.
“Goddamn, Ashlei,” he groans, flexing his hips until his cock bulges in my throat. I do everything to keep from gagging, letting him hold himself there for a long time before he withdraws. Then, he’s assaulting my pussy with his tongue, his fingers, burying his face between my thighs.
My legs shiver and quake around him, and when he circles my clit time and time again with his tongue, working it in rhythm with his fingers inside me, I have to take a break from sucking his dick. I have to just hold myself up and let everything else go as an explosion of fire and stars invade my vision, all the blood rushing to where his tongue drives me to climax.<
br />
I rock my hips against his mouth, and his free hand grabs my ass and pulls me into him, letting me know he can take it. Each new wave of my orgasm hits harder than the last, and I ride his face until I’m spent, until I’m nothing but a mess of shallow breath and trembling muscles.
When I’m done, Brandon hits a button that sends his seat back a little farther. Then, he leans it back and flips me over in a complicated tangle of limbs until he’s on top of me and I’m half bent over the console, half bent over his seat.
Without a chance to catch my breath, he slides inside me from behind, stealing my next breath with the raw sensation of being filled after just climaxing so fucking hard.
I cry out his name, holding onto the leather seats for dear life as he pounds into me hard, harder, over and over, punishing and claiming.
And when he’s ready to come, he pulls out of me and flips me back over, climbing up the seat to empty inside my mouth.
I swallow every drop.
“NO, NO, NO,” KIP groans, shaking his head on the screen of my laptop. “You’re supposed to take the clothes off — not put them on.”
I chuckle, zipping up my black dress pants and fastening the button at the top before I shove one arm through the long-sleeve, white, button-up top. I lean forward once both arms are in, pushing my cleavage together.
“Take one last look, baby,” I tease, biting my lip. “Because in about two minutes, I’ll look like a cocktail waiter and your sex drive will die right along with my pride.”
Kip chuckles, but his eyes are on my chest with a longing sigh on his lips. “Please don’t button up that top.”
“But I have to go to work.”
“You should come here, instead.”
I smile. “To California? Sure, I’ll hop the next flight.”
“Great. See you soon!”
Kip jokes like he’s going to hang up our video chat, but of course he doesn’t, and then we’re both smiling and staring at each other through the screen, wishing we could touch from across the country.
Ritual: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 5) Page 4
