by H Hunting
We stay wrapped around each other for long minutes, foreheads pressed against each other’s necks as our hearts slow to calm. I feel equal parts sated and ravenous.
Eventually I turn my head and kiss my way back to her lips. I don’t want to break the connection, but we can’t stay like this forever.
I reach over to her nightstand and grab a handful of tissues, lifting her off me so I can clean her up. I drop a quick kiss on her lips and disappear into the bathroom to take care of myself and bring a warm washcloth out for her.
When I return, she pulls back the covers and I stretch out beside her. She runs her fingers through my hair, her expression pensive. “I understand now.” Her voice is raspy and low.
“Understand what?” I can’t stop touching her, my fingers trailing up and down the length of her spine, her soft, wavy hair tickling the back of my hand.
“Why you lied.”
“I wasn’t in control,” I admit.
“Neither of us was,” she replies. “They were right to keep us apart, weren’t they?”
I want to disagree, but I can’t. “This.” I skim the contour of her face with a single fingertip. “The way it feels to be with you, I wouldn’t have known how to deal with it back then. I needed you to need me. It was addicting, and I don’t think I would’ve been able to find any sort of balance when we were younger.” I kiss her forehead. “I overheard my parents talking one night, not long after they sat us down and told us we needed time apart. My mom said something about our relationship being toxic. She was worried about what it would look like when we were teenagers. I didn’t get it then, but when I saw you again at that holiday party, it finally made sense.”
Her palm rests on my chest, and I pick it up as I fall back in time, searching for the words to explain. “All the space, all the separation, all the time meant nothing. All it did was make the longing worse. And then there you were, looking so beautiful and resilient and whole. That’s when I knew why they’d done what they did, because even then, I wanted you in a way that wasn’t reasonable, and I knew if I acted on that, I’d only do more damage to us. There was too much distance. I could see the way things would fall apart. The way I would’ve shredded us.”
“And now?”
“Now you’re strong enough to hold yourself together, and I’ve realized that’s even better. I’m strong enough not to tear you apart by loving you.”
Present day
I’VE HAD AN embarrassing number of safe-sex conversations since Kodiak and I started officially dating. The worst is when my dad, of all people, asks me if I need him to contact his previous endorsement sponsors about prophylactics.
The best was when Kodiak answered a call from his mom literally two minutes after we’d finished having sex, and she went into a ten-minute lecture on safe sex and how it only takes one time without a condom to get pregnant.
Kodiak assures her we’re being responsible, while I bury my face in my pillow and try not to laugh. But we are being responsible. I’m on the pill, and about 70 percent of the time we use condoms. The other 30 percent we start without one and put one on halfway through so he’ll last longer and it’s less messy.
Last week, Kodiak moved back into his house with the guys. Not that it’s really changed anything. We’re still together a lot. Only now, we can divide our time between his bedroom and mine.
We go out on dates, we study together, we hang out with friends. It’s a grown-up version of how we were when we were kids. The transition from fighting to stay away from each other to falling into a new kind of love all over again feels seamless.
Balance isn’t always easy to find with Kodiak, because when he discovers something he’s passionate about, he immerses himself in it completely. That’s how he is with hockey and school. And now it’s how he is with me. Sometimes we struggle to give each other space, but we manage.
In the back of my head, I often remind myself that he’s graduating this year and is likely going to get called up to play for the NHL. There’s also that internship I applied for, but the chances of me getting it are virtually nonexistent, so I try not to worry.
I scan the library shelves, looking for the book I want, running my fingers over their spines. I love getting lost in books, and while I don’t have a lot of time for recreational reading these days, I’m loving the course list for my psych class and I’m excited for next semester’s contemporary lit course. Right now I’m searching for a textile resource book. It might sound boring to some people but I find it riveting.
My phone keeps vibrating in my pocket. It’s Kodiak. He’s not texting, he’s calling, and he knows better than to think I’ll risk getting caught answering in the middle of the library. It finally stops so I can concentrate again. It’s distracting when he pulls this kind of shit for no other reason than he’s probably bored and wants to talk about sex positions or whatever.
Or when I plan to duct-tape him to his computer chair again. It turns out Kodiak has a bit of a freaky side (to match mine), and he really, really likes being duct-taped to the chair and taunted while I get off on something other than his dick. It’s a little fucked up, but then, so are we.
I find the book—of course it’s on the top shelf—and push up on my tiptoes, reaching as high as I can. I’m about three inches too short. My phone starts buzzing again, and I roll my eyes. “I’m going to do a hell of a lot more than duct-tape you to your damn computer chair when I get home,” I mutter.
An arm winds around my waist, and I suck in a shocked breath as I’m pulled back into a hard body. I breathe in Kodiak’s familiar cologne and shiver when his lips brush my ear. “I hope that’s a promise and a threat,” he whispers.
I try to spin around, but he tightens his hold on my waist and drags his lips along the edge of my jaw. So warm and soft and mine. “What’re you doing here and how did you find me?” I ask.
His other hand skims my hip, smoothing over the fabric of my dress. “I needed to see you, and lucky guess.”
His voice has a slight waver to it. I cover the hand splayed out over my stomach, my body warming under his touch. “Is everything okay?”
“Mmm. I have a biochem test in forty-five minutes.”
“Oh.” Kodiak has a 97 percent in biochem. I’m sure the 3 percent he’s missing is eating at him, but he’ll survive. He could probably take the test blind-drunk, and high and still get a great mark. Besides, he’s ridiculous about studying and requires rewards for meeting every single goal he sets. There are a lot of goals, and consequently a lot of rewards. Sometimes I have to give him IOUs for those when they interfere with my schedule.
“So you’re looking to rub up on me for good luck?”
He burrows through my hair, lips finding my neck. “I mean, rubbing up on you is nice, but I was thinking I’d need a little . . . liquid courage.”
“You want to go for a beer?” I’m confused, particularly because he’s rubbing his hard-on against my back and drawing figure eights on my thigh.
“Baby, no.” He chuckles and sucks on my neck.
“Then what kind of liquid courage are you referring to, Kodiak?”
“I have a theory I need to test out.” He slips his fingers under my skirt and drags them up the inside of my leg. I’m wearing tights, but we’re standing in the middle of the stacks. It’s not particularly private.
“Can you please explain this in a way that my peon brain will understand? What in the actual fuck are you talking about?”
“Do you remember the organic chemistry test I had last week?”
“Sure.” I don’t, but I’m hoping to hurry this along so he can get to the point.
“No, you don’t.” He nibbles my earlobe.
“You’re right. I don’t. What happened with the organic chemistry test?”
“I aced it.”
“Awesome. You deserve to be duct-taped to your computer chair for that.” I’m mostly serious.
Kodiak groans against my neck, and my skirt bunches up as he
cups me, fingertips pressing against my clit through the layers of fabric.
“What’re you doing? Anyone could walk by.” I make no move to stop him.
“Does it make you anxious?”
“Well, yeah.” The duh is in my tone.
“Me too,” he admits. “But it jacks me right up. That’s fucked, isn’t it?”
I shrug, because honestly, it jacks me up too.
“Anyway, you know what happened right before I took that test?” He rubs slow circles on me through my tights; it’s delicious and not nearly enough.
“No clue,” I whisper-moan.
“I ate you out, and you came all over my face.”
I can feel my cheeks flushing, partly at the memory, partly at how insanely wet it made me then, and how wet I am now. Apparently being extra juicy runs in my family. Unfortunately I know this because my gigi told me.
“It’s all I can think about, and I really need to be able to focus on this test so I can do well.”
“We don’t have time to go home for a pussy buffet, Kodiak.”
“I got the key to a study room.” He raises his hand, and a key on a chain dangles from his ring finger.
I spin around in his arms. “Are you serious?”
He bites his lip. “Please?”
“You got the key to a study room so you can eat me out?” I don’t know why I’m flabbergasted. I mean, this is Kodiak we’re talking about. He’s slightly off-kilter when it comes to rituals. It appears eating my vagina before tests is now one of those things.
He nods. I don’t know how he manages to look angelic right now, his wide, green eyes are doe-like. He’s almost vibrating with excitement and anxiety.
I should probably say no, because this is kind of nuts. But at the same time, I don’t want him to psych himself out and not do well on the test because he didn’t get to go down on me.
That I’m rationalizing this is craziness.
Also, as nervous as it makes me, it’s also kind of thrilling to have my boyfriend go to such extreme lengths to give me an orgasm. Obviously it’s for his benefit, but I’ll get something out of it too.
I nod once. “Okay.”
“Really?” His eyes flare, as if my agreeing is completely unexpected.
I hold up a finger. “Just this once, though.”
He nods vigorously. “Right. Yes. Of course. Just this once.” He grabs my hand and tugs me down the aisle.
“Wait!”
His eyes flare with panic and something like disappointment.
“Can you grab that book for me?” I point to the top shelf. “I can’t reach it.”
“Anything for you, baby.” He nabs it from the shelf, laces our fingers together, and drags me down the hall.
My heart rate skyrockets as we pass the group study rooms with the glass walls. There’s no way he can do what he intends to in one of those.
He drops my hand halfway down the hall and pulls me around a corner as a security guard comes out of the stairwell. There are a lot of them in here, more than I realized up until now.
He shoves the key into my palm and wraps my fingers around it. “You go first. I’ll follow when the coast is clear.”
I take a deep breath, my anxiety spiking, but not the kind that usually results in a meltdown. This is a very different, very new kind of anxiety—one I don’t entirely dislike.
I’m surprised to find the door is already unlocked, so I slip into room forty-four and set my bag on the desk, then pull the door closed, except it doesn’t shut all the way, leaving a one-inch gap. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough that people can see inside. Maybe not much, but still. Not to mention the fact that the majority of the door is an opaque panel through which my silhouette is visible.
A minute later, Kodiak slides it open and pulls it shut behind him. He frowns when it doesn’t close all the way.
I’m about to tell him this might not be a good idea, but he takes my face between his hands and bends to kiss me. It would actually probably be a lot easier for him and his neck if he dropped to his knees, but there’s something about the way he’s willing to suffer in the name of making out with me that’s . . . almost sweet. Although, I think it’s part penance for being a giant dick to me for a lot of years and also possibly because he enjoys being the big protector. Boy-men are strange creatures.
After several aggressive strokes of tongue, I finally bite his. It’s meant to get him to stop, but instead, all it does is make him groan. Eventually I put a hand on his forehead and push. “You can see our profiles through the door,” I whisper.
He glances up, his supercharged brain finally firing on more than just the sex-cylinder. He surveys the small space. “I have an idea.” He drops to all fours and tucks his huge body under the desk, pushing out the single chair and giving it a pat.
I give him a look, because this is a seriously bad idea.
He tips his head to the side and mouths please.
I have no idea how he plans to make this work, but weird things are happening in my body, and I’m actually curious to see if he can pull it off. I shrug out of my coat and hang it on the hook by the door, which helps to cover the gap. I take a seat and pull out my binder, setting it up so it looks like I’m working on something. I drop my bag by the leg of the chair, to hopefully hide Kodiak’s ridiculously large body tucked under the desk.
“This is insane,” I mutter.
My face feels like it’s a million degrees right now.
Kodiak slides his hands up the inside of my legs and under my dress. I feel something hard and cold moving along with it, which spikes my anxiety again.
“What is that?” I whisper-hiss.
I get my answer a few seconds later when I hear a faint snip and the tear of fabric as he rips the crotch of my tights open.
I kick him under the desk. What if he’d cut me? And why didn’t he pull them down instead?
“Sorry. Easier this way.” All I can see are his eyes, and they’re far from sorry; they’re full of a million other fleeting emotions, hunger the most prominent. He slides a finger under the crotch of my panties and presses his face against the inside of my thigh to muffle his groan. I grip the edge of the desk, working to control my breathing and the wild panic that makes my heart race.
He slides one finger inside me. It’s callused and rough, but I clench around him, knowing that later tonight he’ll be inside me, filling me, quelling the ache, feeding our new obsession, which happens to be the magical, calming properties of sex and orgasms. He pumps a few times, mumbling about how soft and wet I am.
I shush him, and he bites the inside of my thigh. His finger disappears, and I clench my teeth against the urge to complain. A slurping sound and a low growl follow. And then he pulls me to the edge of the chair, pushes my thighs apart, noses my panties out of the way and rubs his face all over my vagina, sort of the way a cat does to its owner to mark its territory. He laps at me, swirling his tongue around and around, dipping inside and swirling again. I grip the edge of the desk with one hand and drop the other to the top of his head, fisting his hair, guiding him to prevent me from moving my hips.
This particular act—so vulgar, so intimate, such a sensory overload—has to be one of my favorites. I love the feel of his tongue on me, the way he grips my hips, the sounds he makes, like he can’t get enough, like he’s been dying for my taste.
Except we’re in a study booth in a library, so all the little noises he’s making are a problem. “Shut the fuck up, Kodiak,” I whisper.
He turns his head and bites the inside of my thigh so hard this time that I clamp my legs shut on his face. He pries them apart and dives back in, this time using teeth and suction, and I nearly shoot out of the damn chair. As it is, I have to shove my fist in my mouth to keep from making sounds. And all the while my heart is beating frantically, aware that if one of the security guards should pass by and hear us, we will definitely be banned from the library.
Instead of that knowledge making it more
difficult for me to come, it seems to push me right toward the edge. I don’t even know how Kodiak can breathe with the way his face is buried between my legs. It’s almost like he’s trying to crawl up in there. There’s a brief moment in which I almost laugh, except a wave of pleasure rolls through me, making it impossible to do anything but sink into the sensation and fight not to moan.
Kodiak’s hand shoots up. He tugs my lip free from my teeth and shoves two fingers into my mouth. I suck automatically, eyes rolling up, aware I’m no longer in control of my body, and this is his way of reminding me to keep quiet. When the orgasm finally ends, I sag against the chair, a limp ragdoll.
We’re both breathing like we’ve run up twenty flights of stairs while being chased by a damn demon. I should really offer to return the favor, but I don’t think I can move, let alone unlock my jaw and blow him—from under a desk no less.
He rolls the chair back a few inches and pulls my skirt down, smoothing it out. My tights are ruined, my panties are soaked, and I’m far from coherent. I’d like to take a nap and then have Kodiak fuck me into oblivion—after his test, obviously.
I can’t even manage words, so I hope I’m communicating that telepathically.
When his head pops out from under the desk, I put a hand on his forehead to prevent him from getting any closer. “Wipe your face.”
He uses the bottom of his gray shirt to clean his chin, which is covered in girl jizz. Like, it’s everywhere. He’s going to need a serious shower. Kodiak is a bit of a germaphobe, so the fact that he willingly bathes his face in my vagina juice is crazy, and a big question mark. I’m the exception to his every psychosis.
“You should go first. I’ll follow behind. Sorry about your tights.” He’s grinning, so he’s obviously not sorry.
I slowly regain the use of my limbs, collect my belongings, and jam my stuff into my backpack. When I stand up, I’m appalled by the puddle on the seat. Oh my God, I mouth to Kodiak. I run my hands down the back of my skirt, and sure enough, it’s wet. I can’t tell if it’s because Kodiak drooled all over me or my damn vagina drooled all over the chair. I’m thinking it’s probably a bit of both, and how embarrassing is that?
