by Penny Wylder
His mouth collides with mine. He pushes me back against the tree, his hands hiking up my dress, up past my waist. I’m only wearing a thin thong underneath, and he groans into my mouth as his hands brush over the thin fabric. “God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he murmurs, lips brushing mine as he says it.
Then he bites my lower lip, and I moan against his mouth, my hips bucking up and against his.
At the same time, I slide my hands over his chest to the clasps of his button down shirt. I fumble with the buttons for a moment, and then manage to get a grip, pushing one after the next open, baring more of his chest to me with each one.
He has a perfect fucking body. Sculpted like a Greek statue, all long lean muscles. I trace his pecs, all the way down to his washboard abs, my fingers running over every inch of him.
“Missy…” His breath tickles my cheek, my neck. “I want to devour you.”
At the same time, he reaches up to gently brush my hair back from my neck. Then he kisses his way along my jawline, to that sensitive spot right at the base, below my ear. There, he nips lightly at my skin, just hard enough to make me gasp, to make my hips buck up against his.
Fuck. I can already feel him, hard as a rock, straining against the seam of his jeans.
His free hand slides around to grip my ass, hard, pulling me up against him so sharply that his cock digs into my pussy, just over my clit, making me moan and rock against him, already aching for more. My clit feels swollen with want, and with every buck of his hips against mine, pushing me back against the tree, I can feel myself getting wetter.
“Fuck me,” I breathe, with all the energy I have left for coherent speech. “Please.”
He grins, his lips still pressed into the crook of my neck, and chuckles softly against my skin. “I knew you wanted this.” He reaches down to hook a thumb under the edge of my panties, and with a deft tug, pulls them down, letting them drop to the ground between us, once they’re free of my hips.
I gasp, feeling the cool night air against the lips of my pussy, knowing that I’m soaking wet. Eager for him.
But then he pulls away from me, his hands still pinning me against the tree. “You made me wait, Missy,” he says, his eyes flashing dangerously in the dark. “Now it’s your turn.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he’s already dropping to his knees in the loamy dirt of Senior Row. He spreads my thighs with his hands, then slides one hand between my legs to grip my ass. With the other, he gently parts my pussy lips. They open with a wet sound, and he grins up at me, only his teeth and the whites of his eyes visible, because it’s so dark right now.
“Someone’s eager for me,” he says, smirking.
“Maybe,” I reply, my chin rising, though I keep my eyes on his. I wish it were brighter, wish I could savor the full sight of Keanen Kross on his knees before me right now. But I’m glad it isn’t, too, because this way nobody who walks past will see us.
Still, it makes my heart beat faster to know how exposed we are, how anyone might stumble across us. There’s a thrill to it, electricity that’s part fear, part daring.
Then Keanen pushes his face between my thighs, and I forget all about anyone or anything else.
His tongue parts the folds of my pussy, dragging along my slit deftly, and I groan, both hands dropping down to wind through his hair. He laps at me, long, slow strokes designed to drive me wild. My hips buck up off the tree against his face, and my hands curl of their own accord into fists, buried in his hair.
He starts to lick harder, faster. My hips rock with his motions, my lips parted, as my breath comes faster. “Fuck… Keanen…” I manage to murmur, any other words too difficult to formulate right now.
Then he flattens his tongue into a thick blade, and pushes it inside me.
I cry out faintly, hoping the trees will muffle the sound. Keanen doesn’t stop. He curls his tongue inside me, stroking along my inner wall, lapping at me like he’s starving and I’m the only meal he’s eaten in days. He thrusts his tongue into me over and over, merciless.
At the same time, his hands grip my ass tightly, crushing my hips against his face. I buck against him, my hips thrusting as his tongue strokes over my G-spot again and again.
“Oh GOD… don’t… stop.” My breath comes in pants now, and it’s all I can do to keep myself upright, my knees locked into place and my hands buried in his hair. This feels so fucking good; he feels so fucking good.
But a moment later, he ignores my words, and pulls back, grinning up at me, his lips glistening, wet from my pussy. “I want you to come for me,” he says.
“Yes, God yes,” I pant.
“Loudly,” he adds, and I hesitate, my breath catching. He smirks, enjoying himself. Fuck.
“Yes,” I murmur, because fuck it, I mean it. I don’t care if anyone sees us right now. I need this. I need him. Before I can say another word, his mouth is back over my pussy, his tongue lapping over my clit now, and I couldn’t be quiet even if I were trying.
I cry aloud as he licks my swollen clit, so hard and fast that the orgasm hits me almost at once. My whole body shakes, and I pin my hips against his face as he continues to lap at me, as sparks dance along the edges of my vision.
When he pulls away, I’m dimly aware of how loudly I yelled, how anyone might come now, find us here. I don’t care, and he doesn’t seem to either. I reach for him the second he’s back on his feet and pull his body into mine. “Fuck me,” I say.
He leans in to kiss me, hot and heavy with an open mouth. I taste my pussy on his tongue, my flavor mingled with his, and it only turns me on more, makes me ache for him.
When we break apart, he’s grinning. “I want you inside me,” I say, and he bows his head, eyes dancing.
“Your desire is my command.” At the same time, he reaches down for his jeans, undoing the clasp and letting them drop to the ground, not even caring as he kicks them off. His boxers follow next, and oh, fuck.
He’s huge. As big as I imagined. More so. My lips part and I reach down to cup his rock hard shaft. I need both hands to wrap fully around him, hold him between me. I trace his length, admiring the velvet smoothness of his skin, the rock solid core beneath.
He smirks, catching my expression. “Do you think you can handle this, Missy?”
My eyes meet his, flashing. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
He laughs under his breath before he reaches down to free a condom from his pocket. “That’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs, tearing open the packet. Before he can put it on, I take it from him, and slide it over the smooth expanse of his cock, all for the excuse to touch him again.
He watches me, eyes hooded, unreadable. Then he pushes me back against the tree.
“I told you, Missy.” He leans in, pausing with his lips inches from mine. When he speaks again, his breath ghosts across my cheeks. “I always get what I want.” Then he guides his cock to my entrance, spreads my pussy with his free hand, and pushes himself inside me.
A low, guttural groan escapes me as he delves into my pussy. He moves slowly at first, pushing in an inch and withdrawing, then pushing in further with the next thrust. He gives me time to adjust to his girth.
At the same time, he reaches down with one hand and guides my leg up and around his waist. I wrap it around him, pinned against the tree. Then my breath catches as he cups my other leg. In one swift move, he lifts me off the ground and pins me between his body and the tree. When he pulls me toward him this time, his cock slides all the way inside me, deep and thick, making my cry out faintly with pleasure.
I have never felt stuffed this full in my entire life.
I hook both legs around his waist, my arms tight around his shoulders, and lean back just far enough to meet his gaze.
“You like that?” he asks quietly. Then he pulls back, thrusts deep into me again, harder this time. “You like my cock inside your tight pussy?”
“God, yes,” I breathe. My lips collide with his, his tongue parting my lips, entering
me the same way his cock is as he draws back, thrusts his hips against mine again. He builds up a steady rhythm, in and out, until my whole body is crying out for release. My hands are fisted in his shirt, and when he breaks away from our kiss, I press my face against his neck, burying it there to muffle the sound.
He pins me against the tree and begins to fuck me hard, now, pounding into me with each thrust, his balls slapping against my ass. I moan into his neck, and he tightens his grip on my body, one hand gripping my ass tight, the other pinned around my waist.
“Fuck, Missy…” There’s something in his voice. A break, a catch. “Fuck.”
I squeeze my pussy tight around him, my hands digging into his shoulders, my legs tight around his middle. His cock keeps moving, keeps driving into me, and then he angles his hips, so the tip of his cock drags along my inner wall, right over my G-spot. I cry out again, louder than before, my body already sensitive as hell after he ate me out.
It only takes a few direct thrusts right over my G-spot before I hit the peak again, nearly screaming this time, and still he doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop. He just keeps thrusting into me, again and again, until his whole body tenses, too.
“I’m going to come. Fuck, Missy, I’m going to…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He groans instead, and I can feel his muscles contract as he comes deep inside me, his cock jumping inside me.
I cling to him, panting, every inch of my body afire with sensation, practically glowing.
He lowers me back to the ground slowly, and when we separate, we’re both sweaty, breathless… and grinning. Before I can react, he steps closer again, brushes a strand of hair back from my forehead, and ducks to kiss me. It’s softer this time. Slow and sweet. When we separate, his lips hover an inch from mine. “Now that,” he murmurs, “was worth the wait.”
7
The meager social life I’d managed to scrape together has vanished by the next morning. Leah and Sara mumble awkward excuses, then beeline past me in the dining hall at breakfast to cluster with Yvette, none of them willing to meet my gaze. A minute later, all three of them take seats beside Bette, who beams, reaching over to squeeze their hands like some sort of benevolent queen.
As if sensing my stare, she turns and catches me watching. Bette smiles like a cat with a canary in its mouth, and I turn away, suddenly no longer hungry.
My phone buzzes with a text halfway through my morning classes.
When can I see you again? There’s no name attached, but I can guess who it must be. Keanen walked me back to my dorm last night after our hookup on Senior Row, and wouldn’t let me close the door until I gave him my number.
Working tonight.
Then I’ll be there, he replies simply. At least that puts a small smile on my face, in spite of the rest of the drama my life has become.
And he shows. That night, and several other nights of the rest of the week—all the nights he doesn’t have football practice or other activities keeping him busy. Most nights, he brings his homework to do in the corner of the pub while I joke around with Henry on slow nights or rush around filling orders on busy ones. Sometimes I’m able to duck away and sit with Keanen for half an hour or so, curling up beside him on the bench while we talk.
After work, we can’t keep our hands off each other. One night after I finish locking up, he pins me against the wall outside the door, right where he nearly had me the first time. This time, I let him finish the job. Kissing his way all the way down my shirt until he peels it up and off, then licking his way up to the strap of my bra. We wind up naked in the alley, him fucking me up against the wall so hard that the next morning, it’s a struggle to walk across the quad to my first class.
The only sour note is that aside from Keanen and Henry, I don’t have many people to talk to anymore. I manage to work out from Yvette eventually what happened at the party after Keanen and I left. Bette told Leah and Sara that I’d gotten her brother into trouble with their whole family, and that I was just using him for his money. That I’m a scammer and a grifter. Yvette had the grace to look guilty, at least, while she explained it. But that still didn’t stop her from sitting with Leah, Sara and Bette the next day in the cafeteria, all bright smiles and happy laughter as they likely made plans for all the parties I’d never have been able to attend with them anyway.
I try not to let it bother me, but it does. I wanted my first year at college to be… I don’t know. More than this.
“You need cheering up,” Keanen tells me one night, after yet another dragging shift, as he’s walking me back to my dorm—ever the protective gentleman. I’m not letting what happened to you that first night we met ever happen again, he told me, and I remember him attacking my would-be assailant, winding up with a black eye in the fight. My stomach does a little flip.
It helps, to have him on my side right now.
“I guess,” I murmur.
“When’s your next night off?” he presses.
“Monday again,” I say. “But don’t you have practice that night?”
He waves my concern away. “I’ll figure it out.”
So, on Monday night, I get a text at half an hour to seven. Check your room.
On my bed, I find a large square box wrapped in a red ribbon. I don’t even ask how he got in here. Keanen has resources I can’t begin to understand, I’m realizing. Still, my heart jumps into my throat as I undo the ribbon and rifle through the paper inside. Nestled at the bottom is a little black dress that instantly makes me understand how Bette was able to pick out my cheap online outfit from a mile away.
This one looks like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The fabric is silky smooth, but not cheap feeling. It pours from the box like liquid. I strip to just the cute panties I wore for this occasion, and pull the dress over my head. It falls to my hips, clinging in all the right places. I understand now what the saying fits like a glove means.
When I glance at myself in the mirror, my breath catches.
This. This is what Tanglewood girls look like. And it makes my chest tighten to realize it. Is fitting in really this simple? All it takes is a beautiful outfit?
But I can’t deny I look good. The dress hugs my hips, dips just low enough at the neckline to be stylish without straying into too revealing. At the bottom of the box, I find a pair of heels too, simple kitten heels with a broad base that make me smile. Keanen clearly knows me well enough already to know he shouldn’t send me spike stilettos to wear.
I head out to meet him, all too aware that the moment I descend the staircase of my dorm steps, the whole common room falls quiet. But whereas lately all I’ve gotten are glares when I walk past, today, everyone is gawking.
That draws a small smile to my face. That’s right, I think. The scholarship girl cleans up well.
At the doorway, before I head outside to meet Keanen, I give a little wave over my shoulder, gratified to notice the way everyone snaps back into their former conversations immediately, pretending they hadn’t been staring. All except for Yvette, who gives me a small wave back, looking guilty.
I head out into the evening air, sighing. Don’t let Bette get to you. If for no other reason than that I know it would give her too much satisfaction.
I’m halfway down the block before I hear a call. I turn to find Keanen behind me, leaning up against a black Mercedes. The kind of car I’ve never even dreamt of riding in.
His eyes travel up and down my body, his smile widening. “You look incredible.” He pushes off the car to stride toward me just as I’m walking toward him, meeting me halfway and wrapping both arms around my waist. He dips to press his lips to mine, and for a single, delirious second, I can let myself forget about what he just said.
But then we break apart, and reality rushes back in. My mouth twists. “What, because I finally look like everyone else here?” I reply, unable to disguise the sour note in my voice.
His eyebrows rise. “Missy.” He leans back to look at me again, doing a pointed sweep of my whole body this ti
me. “You could never look like anyone else here.” He tilts his head. “And I mean that in the best possible way.” His eyes catch mine. Hold on. “You’re unlike any girl I’ve ever met.”
My heart skips, and my belly tightens. I don’t know what it is about Keanen, but he can make a terrible day melt away at once.
His hands skim my waist again, and I lean into him, smiling. “Why do you always know just what to say, huh?” I arch an eyebrow.
He grins. “Guess I’m just good at reading you.” Then he leans in to kiss me again, and this time I don’t pull away. Warmth spreads from my stomach all the way down to my core. His hands shift lower, gripping my ass, pulling me against him, and I laugh softly against his mouth.
“Is this date in your dorm room?” I murmur. “Because I wouldn’t complain.”
That seems to draw him back to himself, and he twists away. “Nope. Come on.” He catches my hand and pulls me toward the car. I trail after him, laughing.
Inside his car, my breath catches again. The seats are leather, the console looks like something that would be more at home in a spaceship. And when Keanen starts the engine, the hum is so quiet I almost don’t know it’s on until we glide away from the curb, light as if we’re floating on air.
“So do I get any hints?” I ask.
He holds out his hand, palm up, and I drop my hand into his. I love the way my hand feels inside his. When he weaves his thick, strong fingers through mine and squeezes tight, I feel so much safer. Protected.
Then he glances over at me, that enigmatic look on his face. “Of course not. That would ruin the surprise.”
I roll my eyes, although secretly I’m loving this. In all my past flings—not anything that even really lasted long enough to be called a relationship—I had to suggest everything, plan everything, lead the way. I enjoy how Keanen takes charge.
Even if sometimes he can go over the top.
