What’s happening between us is so much more than sex.
Her muscles loosen as I continue to play with her body. Only then do I spread her thighs wide and press a kiss against her slick lower lips.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
Soft, pink, and delicate.
My fingers glide over her core, dipping inside her body until she grows restless. Lowering my mouth, I lap at her softness, running my tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top before circling her clit. Dani arches off the mattress as her fingers tangle in my hair as if to hold me in place. When her muscles stiffen, and her breathing turns ragged, I realize she’s close to coming. Gently, I nibble at the tiny bundle of nerves until she explodes on my tongue.
My name is a fervent chant on her lips. It’s the best damn sound in the world. I keep up the torture, lapping at her sweetness until her body turns limp. Only then do I press a tender kiss against her pussy before shedding my boxers and crawling up her sprawled form.
“Feel good, baby?” I whisper against her mouth.
“Mmmm, so good,” she practically purrs as color stains her cheeks. “Can we do that again?”
“All.” I press a kiss against her lips. “The.” Then another. “Damn.” And another. “Time.”
“Good.”
“I want you to like everything we do, or there’s no point in doing it.”
She nods.
“Are you ready?” Her eyes widen as the head of my erection nudges her slick entrance. “I’ll go slow, I promise.”
Her hand rises to cup my cheek. I lean into the touch before turning my face and placing a tender kiss against the palm.
“I’m not afraid,” she says before admitting, “just a little nervous.”
This is the first time I’ve ever felt pressure to make sex enjoyable. I press against her, carefully working my way inside her body. Damn, but she’s so freaking tight. It’s a challenge to hold on to the last shred of my control. I tease her softness with short, sharp strokes until her body loosens, and she wiggles as if enticing me to slide deeper inside her warmth. The feel of her slick heat is both heaven and hell.
My brain clears enough for me to remember protection.
“Wait—I need to grab a condom.” Before she can respond, I slip from her body and dive toward the floor before grabbing my jeans and the condom I shoved into the wallet of my back pocket. Once I have the small foil packet in hand, I rip it open with my teeth and sheath my hard length with latex. Then I take up the same position as before, settling between her thighs and pushing inside her body.
My eyes nearly roll back inside my head as her heat envelopes me. It’s like my cock is being strangled and it’s the best fucking feeling in the world. I have no idea how I’ll ever get enough of this girl.
I glide partway inside her before pulling out again. With each stroke, I settle a little deeper until the head of my cock is able to butt up against the thin membrane. Her breathy little sounds echo in my ears, making it difficult to beat back the hungry beast fighting to break free.
When I can’t stand another moment of the sweet torture, I press a kiss against her mouth. “Are you ready?”
She jerks her head into a nod.
“It’s going to hurt,” I whisper, wanting her to be prepared for the pain.
“I know.”
I suck in a breath, continuing to stroke her with my hard length. Even though she’s tight, her pussy has grown creamy, and my dick is able to slide inside her with ease. This feels so damn good. If I had better control over myself, I’d get her off one more time before taking her virginity, but that’s not going to happen. I’m hanging on by a thread and won’t last much longer.
Once.
Twice.
Three times I rotate my hips before thrusting deep inside her body. A sharp gasp escapes from her lips as a sheen of glassy tears fill her eyes.
Guilt nearly rips me in half. “I’m so sorry, baby.” I hold myself steady, allowing her body to adjust to the foreign intrusion.
“I’m okay.” She shifts beneath me as if testing the movement for pain. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”
Gently I pull out before slowly sliding back in again. I do this over and over until her body softens beneath mine. With gritted teeth, I pick up the pace, making sure she’s with me every step of the way. It doesn’t take long for us to find a rhythm, moving together in perfect harmony until we both splinter apart. The orgasm that rips through me is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Bright stars flicker behind my eyelids.
The need for connection surges through me, and I press my mouth to hers, all the while praying this experience was just as good for her as it was for me. Still buried inside the warmth of her body, I wrap my arms around her ribcage and roll onto my back, taking her with me. I hold her close as she collapses against my chest.
I’m so contented that the words slip out before I have time to think about them. “I love you, Dani.”
The moment they escape, I realize just how much I mean them.
I love this girl.
As she raises her head, a tiny smile hovers at the corners of her lips. “I love you, too.”
Relief floods through me as air rushes from my lungs. For the first time in my life, I realize that I’m exactly where I want to be.
With this girl.
The one I’ve always been crazy about.
The End
Ready for More Totally Tubular Fun in Pine Grove?
Ten stories now available from some of your favorite authors in this throwback series set in the decade of decadence. It’s the 80’s baby...
Dee Ellis- When I Think of You- 02/01/21
My Book
Andrea Marie-Don’t Stop Believing’- 02/02/21
My Book
Roxy Wynn- Take My Breath Away- 02/04/21
https://www.amazon.com/Roxy-Wynn/e/B084M5V8P2
Alice La Roux- Addicted to Love- 02/05/21
Addicted To Love: 80s Baby - Kindle edition by La Roux, Alice . Contemporary Romance Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.
K. Ries- Please Don’t Go Girl- 02/06/21
My Book
Poppy Parkes- Love Shack- 02/08/21
Love Shack - Kindle edition by Parkes, Poppy. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.
M. Andrews- Crazy Little Thing Called Love- 02/09/21
https://www.amazon.com/M-Andrews/e/B01F1BH30C
M.K. Moore- I want to Know What Love Is- 02/10/21
I Want To Know What Love Is (80's Baby) - Kindle edition by Moore, M.K.. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.
C. Lesbriel- How Will I Know- 02/12/21
How Will I Know: 80s Baby - Kindle edition by Lesbirel, C.. Contemporary Romance Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.
Claire Hastings- I Think We’re Alone Now- 02/13/21
I Think We're Alone Now: (80s Baby) - Kindle edition by Hastings, Claire. Contemporary Romance Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.
Campus Player
Demi
“Morning, Demi!” Gary, one of the stadium custodians, calls out with an easy smile and wave as he saunters toward me. “Up and at ’em bright and early this morning, I see.”
My heart jackhammers beneath my ribcage from the twenty-minute run as I flash him a grin. “Always!”
“You have a good one! I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Since I’ve already moved past him, I holler over my shoulder, “Same place, same time!”
Even with The Killers pumping through my earbuds, I almost hear the deep chuckle that slides from his lips. Our morning greetings are a ritual three years in the making. I’ve been running through the wide corridor that leads to the stadium football field since I stepped foot on campus freshman year. This will be something I miss when I graduate in the spring. Five days a week, I’m up at six, logging in a four-mile run before returning home, jumping in the shower, and heading off to class.
At this time of the day, the stadium is still relatively quiet, with only a few peo
ple wandering the hallways. There’s something both serene and eerie about it. I’ve been here on game days when there are thirty thousand fans packed shoulder to shoulder, rooting on the Western Wildcats football team. Three-fourths of the stadium filled with black and orange is an amazing sight to behold. Football is a religion at Western. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for the women’s soccer team. We’re lucky if there are a couple of hundred spectators in the stands.
I’ve come to terms with it.
Sort of.
I keep my gaze trained on the light at the end of the tunnel and push myself faster. As soon as I burst out of the darkness, bright sunlight pours down on me, stroking over the bare skin of my arms and shoulders. It’s late August, and summer is still in full swing. A whistle cuts through the silence of the stadium, and my gaze slices to the field. Nick Richards has been head coach of the Wildcats for the last decade. He also happens to be my father.
Two days a week, the guys are up at six in the morning for yoga. Dad is a big believer in flexibility. Even though I’m winded, a smirk lifts the corners of my lips. Watching two-hundred-and-eighty-pound linebackers contort their bodies into Downward-Facing Dog, the Warrior II Pose, and the Cobra is enough to bring a chuckle to my lips. Some of the guys actually like it, but most grumble when they think Dad isn’t paying attention. Little do they know that he sees and hears everything.
My father catches sight of me and flashes a quick smile along with a wave in my direction. He has a black ball cap pulled low and aviators covering his eyes. There’s a clipboard in one hand as he paces behind the instructor.
When I point to the field, he shakes his head. He might make the guys do yoga, but he refuses to participate. Something about old dogs and new tricks. Every once in a while, I’ll tell him that he needs to get out there and set a good example for the team. He usually shoots me a glare in return.
Every Wednesday night, Dad and I get together. Our weekly dinners became a thing when I moved out of the house and into the dorms freshman year. He’s busy coaching football, and my schedule is packed tight with school and soccer. Getting together once a week is the best way for us to stay connected. It doesn’t matter if we’re in the middle of our seasons; we always make time for each other. Especially since Mom lives in sunny California. After eighteen years of marriage, she got fed up with being a distant second to the Western University football program. She packed up her bags and walked out. I hate to say it, but Dad didn’t notice her absence for a couple of days. Which only proved her point. Now she’s remarried, learning to surf, and is a vegan. I visit for a couple of weeks during the summer before soccer training camp starts up at the end of June.
Even though it’s only the two of us, our weekly dinners are set for three people.
I tell myself to stare straight ahead and not glance in his direction.
Don’t do it!
Don’t you dare do it!
Damn.
My gaze reluctantly zeros in on him like a heat-seeking missile. Long blond hair, bright blue eyes, sun-kissed skin, and muscles for miles. And he’s tall, somewhere around six foot three.
I’m describing none other than Rowan Michaels.
Otherwise known as the bane of my existence.
My dad discovered the talented quarterback the summer before we entered high school and took him under his wing. Which has been...aggravating. In the seven years since, Rowan has become an irritatingly permanent fixture in my life. He’s the brother I never wanted or asked for. He’s the gift I wish I could give back. He’s the son my father never had but secretly longed for.
On a campus with over thirty thousand students, one would think that avoidance would be easy to accomplish. That hasn’t turned out to be the case. Somehow, we ended up in the same major—Exercise Science. I get stuck in at least one class with the guy each semester. This time it’s statistics, which is a requirement. Three times a week, I’m forced to see him. And then there are the weekly dinners at Dad’s house.
Every Wednesday, Rowan shows up without fail.
It’s so annoying.
No, he’s annoying!
Our gazes collide, and electricity sizzles through my veins before I immediately snuff it out and pretend it never happened.
I am not attracted to Rowan Michaels.
I am not attracted to Rowan Michaels.
I am not attracted to Rowan Michaels.
Maybe if I repeat the mantra enough times, it’ll be true. That’s the hope I cling to. I’ve made it through the last seven years trying to convince myself of this. I only have to get through our final year together, and then we’ll go our separate ways—me to graduate school or maybe to the Women’s National Soccer League, and Rowan to the NFL. He’s one of the most talented quarterbacks in the conference. Hell, probably the country. There is little doubt in my mind that he’ll be a first-round draft pick come next spring.
Trust me when I say that Rowan Michaels fever is alive and well at Western University. His fanbase is legendary. The guy is a major player.
Both on and off the field.
Girls fall all over themselves to be with him. They fill the stands at football practice, show up at parties he’s rumored to be at, and basically stalk him around campus.
It’s a little nauseating. Don’t these girls have any self-respect when it comes to a hot guy?
I wince at that unchecked thought.
Fine...I’ll begrudgingly admit it; he’s good-looking.
I shake my head as if that will banish the insidious thoughts currently invading my brain. Enough about Rowan. It’s time to focus on the reason I’m at the stadium at this ungodly hour. I rip my gaze from him as I hit the cement staircase. After half a flight, all thoughts of the blond quarterback vanish from my mind. How could they not when my quads, glutes, and calves are on fire, screaming for mercy as I force myself to the nosebleed section. By the time I finish, my legs are Jell-O, and I still have a two-mile run back to the apartment I share with my best friend off-campus.
I give Dad a half-hearted wave before leaving. It’s the most I can muster. His lips quirk at the corners as he shakes his head. He thinks I’m crazy. At the moment, I can’t argue with his assessment of the situation. Although, it’s the extra training I put in that helps me run circles around the other team in the second half of the game.
The jog home feels like it will last forever. By the time I unlock the apartment door, I’m ready to collapse. I beeline for the shower and jump in before it’s fully warm. My skin prickles with goose flesh, but it feels so damn good. Twenty minutes later, I’m dressed and ready to take on the day. My hair has been thrown up in a messy bun, and I’m making a protein smoothie that will fuel me for my morning classes.
Just before taking off, I poke my head into Sydney’s room. I know exactly how I’ll find her, and that’s buried beneath a small mountain of blankets. She doesn’t disappoint. We met the summer before freshman year in training camp and have been besties ever since. She’s the yin to my yang. The peanut butter to my jelly. The Thelma to my Louise. Where I’m more introverted and cautious, she’s loud and boisterous. She’s been known to leap without necessarily looking at what she’s jumping into. Every so often, it gets us into trouble. Sydney and I have lived together since sophomore year. I gave up trying to cajole her ass out of bed for a six o’clock run after the first week of us cohabitating when she nearly took my head off with an alarm clock.
“It’s that time again,” I sing-song obnoxiously, “rise and shine.”
There’s a grunt and then some shifting from under the blankets that tells me she’s alive.
When I chant her name repeatedly, each time escalating in volume, she growls, “Get the fuck out!”
“Awww,” I mock, “that’s so sweet. I love you, too.”
Sydney snorts before a hand snakes out from beneath the blankets to give me a one-fingered salute. Then she grabs a pillow and tosses it in my general vicinity. It falls about five feet short of its mark.
/>
I stare at the dismal attempt. “If you’re trying to cause bodily harm, you’ll have to do better than that.”
“Piss off.”
“All right then.” I shrug. “See you after class.” With that, I close the door behind me.
My farewell is met with another indecipherable mouthful. If this weren’t something we went through on the daily, I’d worry she was in the midst of a stroke. Sydney is definitely not a morning person. She’s more of an early afternoon person. Another thing I’ve learned over the years? The action of waking up to a brand-new day is a gradual process. She’s like a bear rousing prematurely from hibernation. It’s not a pretty sight. She’s lucky I don’t take her insults personally.
I grab my backpack from the small table crammed into the breakfast nook area along with a coffee before heading out the door. The apartment I share with Sydney is located three blocks from campus, which is highly sought out real estate. We’re fortunate Dad is friends with the guy who manages the building. It’s probably one of the only perks of having a father who is a head coach of a college football team.
You’d think there would be more, but you’d be wrong. Honestly, being Nick Richard’s daughter is more of a hindrance than anything else. People assume you receive special treatment on campus, from professors, or that you have an in with all the football players.
Or worse...
Much worse.
After a bunch of ugly—not to mention untrue—rumors circulated freshman year, I’ve done my best to distance myself from the Wildcats football team. They’re a great bunch of guys, but I don’t need all the ugly gossip and speculation that comes along with being friends with them.
Crazy for You: 80's Baby Series Page 6
