Give You Up (Dumas University Book 1)

by Ashlyn Mathews

  “Enough, babe.”

  Out of breath and dizzy, I haul her up and flip her on her back.

  “I want a taste of these beautiful tits.” I coast my palm over her nipples. Kiss her the fuck senseless. She whimpers, and B-man is loving it.

  He is thick and long and is roaring to be inside her. I mouth her nipples. Swirl my tongue over the fleshy, wanton things. Suck on them. She squirms beneath me. Pushes at me with her hands.

  “Too much?”

  “Yes. Yes. More.”

  “More?” I chuckle. She is fucking sexy, shaking her head but asking for more.

  “Suck on them more. Pinch them too.”

  I aim to please. I suck harder. Graze my teeth over the hardened balls. Pinch and tweak them. Syn likes the attention I’m paying her tits.

  Her slender legs wrap around my waist, and her arms pull me down the same time she tilts her hips. Her heat cocoons my cock. Her pussy juices slick my cock from head to base, her pussy sliding up and down my length like a stripper on a pole.

  “Fuck, baby. Fuck, Pixie Dust.”

  Impatient and greedy little thing, she grabs my cock and slides me inside her. No warning. No waiting. Just puts B-man in. I finish what she started and slide my rod inside her until I am balls deep.

  Her inner muscles clench my cock, and fuck, her body is wild and accommodating, taking my length and my thickness. If I am not careful, I’ll come before she does, and no way will I let that happen.

  My pride is at stake here. I have stamina. Am stopping with being prolific. Unless it’s with Syn. Only with Syn, goddammit. And by the time we are through proving who is more prolific and has more stamina, Syn will like sex.

  What does she remember from this morning? I was drunk off my ass, but I recall everything. There’s our agreement to be exclusive. And how about the part that there will be no regrets on either of our parts? Best of all? There’s my warning to her. That I will fuck up any guy who comes sniffing around her.

  Syn is my girl. No contestation whatsoever. Otherwise, there will be hell to pay.

  Making sure Syn understands she owns my body, I move my hips. Thrust. Pound. Skin slaps skin. I go deeper. Need to go deeper. My balls tighten. A groan slips from my core. Jesus, sex never felt so good. I hook her leg over my hip and balanced on my elbow, I pound inside her from a different angle.

  A smile breaks out over her face. Her hands clamp onto my ass cheeks. Nails dig into my flesh. Pain. Pleasure. I’ll take it all as long as it’s Syn inflicting both.

  My insides unwind. The tension in my groin uncoils. Fuck, I am ready to come. She isn’t. Her inner walls clench and unclench my cock. But. She. Isn’t. Ready.

  I’ll change that.

  I pull out of her. She protests and reaches for me. I grab her ankles, and with her legs on my shoulders, I open her wide and eat her out. She jams her fingers in my hair. Yank. I slip my fingers in and out of her. Tongue fuck her pussy.

  Her hips come off the bed. She has a killer grip on my hair. My girl is ready. I lick up her slit, and she comes hard, her flavor exploding on the flat of my tongue. Her hips coming back down on the bed again, she loosens her hold on my hair.

  “That was great.”

  “Still liking sex?”

  “Only with you.”

  “Funny you say that. I want us to be exclusive, Syn.”

  “The dream. I remember. I would like that too.”

  “Thank fuck because I don’t share. Ever.”

  She skims her fingers over my shoulders.

  “Will you come inside me now?”

  “So we’re good? You’re clean, I’m clean? You’re on birth control?”

  “Yes to everything.”

  “Thank you, Pixie Dust.”

  “What for?”

  “For giving me the chance to help you change your mind.”

  “If anyone could, it’d be you.”

  And those words, they hit me hard.

  “Ready to feel good again, baby?”

  With a big smile on her face, she stretches her arms above her head. “Ready, big guy.”

  This girl . . . She will be the death of me with her beauty and sexiness.

  I slide inside her. Move in and out in this languid pace. We’re not in a hurry to go anywhere. We have all day. I make love to her nice and slow. She comes with a soft sigh. I follow, coming so hard, I see stars in the back of my eyes.

  After we clean up our mess, I pull her to me and kiss the top of her head. With my finger under her cute chin, I tip her face up and brush my mouth over her lips. They’re swollen from my hard kisses, and I let her know I’m okay with it if she calls it an afternoon.

  “Uh-uh. I have stamina, Taron Vaughn. Want me to show you?”

  Mischievous gleam in her eyes, and I am falling hard for her. Will she fall for me too? Does it matter? Eventually, someone will be leaving Dumas, and it won’t be Syn.

  Dumas is her home. Her newfound friends are her life’s blood. I am not a part of her life or this town. I’m the outsider looking in. Felt the same at Stanford. I never belonged. No one understood the pressure put on me by my dad, the team, the college. Everyone was after me for something. Social status. Money. My body.

  Syn is different. She knew me before I got good at playing ball. Stuck with me through my bad temper. Put up with me during those dark days of being beat almost unconscious. Syn never asked how I got the bruises or why I let a guy twice my size beat me to a pulp. What she gave me is worth more than money or a chance at playing ball professionally.

  Syn gave me her strength as I cried on her shoulder through the godawful pain wracking my body from those hard punches a girl’s stepbrother doled out. My pain paid off. Blaze left Sydney the hell alone.

  Shit, what will happen when my two worlds collide?

  Syn’s lips graze my skin at the curve where my neck and shoulder meet, and all thoughts of Sydney and her mean-as-fuck stepbrother fade from my mind.

  I will deal with telling my truths and my secrets later.

  23

  Syn

  “How do I look?” I spin around with my fingers pointed at the ceiling.

  I have paired a blood-red vintage sequin tube top with a flared red skirt and beige half-boots.

  Taron circles his arms around my waist and leans into me, his chest pressing into my back and his breath warm on my flesh when he drags his nose down the side of my neck.

  “Smoking hot. You sure we can’t go with the cover of me as your bodyguard and you a sexy princess from some far-off land?”

  “Ha-ha. Not.” I reach back and swipe the side of his face with my hand. “Remember, you’ll be watching from a distance. Let me get a feel for what these guys are up to, and if they’re forward, you’ll have to be okay with it.”

  “Your word?”

  “I would never go back on it.” I turn and set my palm on the spot over his heart. “I’m yours. We are exclusive.”

  “What you did with Grady—”

  Needing Taron’s trust—otherwise Rhett and Hunter will keep me at arm’s length if there is a possessive male with me ready to tear into them if they look at me wrong—I tell Taron the truth.

  “You gave me up? Gave up on us because you thought it was the right thing to do? Didn’t you trust in what I felt for you?”

  “Not back then. There were—” I swallow past the rawness in my throat, like the lining’s been abraded with dull glass. “There were other things in my life that clouded the picture. Please, give me time to tell you the rest. Just know I’m sorry for hurting you. For ghosting you. Had I known how deeply I hurt you, I would’ve gone to see you sooner and asked for your forgiveness.”

  “Do you mean it? That you’ll tell the rest of your story? Shit, I was so worried, babe. Mom and I went to the cops. They told us you left with family, but refused to give us more information other than you were safe. You leaving me tore me up.”

  “I am so sorry. If you never forgive me, I understand.” Tears prick at the c
orners of my eyes. I grab at my stomach.

  He takes my hand in his. Presses his mouth to the center of my palm. “The thing is, I do forgive you, baby. How can we move forward, make any progress in this work in progress of ours, if there are words left unsaid or actions left unforgiven?”

  Shaking my head, I slide my hand out of his hold and step back. He shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Four years is a long time not to get closure.

  “Syn?” He reaches for me.

  I stare at his hand. “You shouldn’t forgive me at all,” I blurt out. “Why are you?”

  “Progress. Closure. You. Seeing you hurt like this kills me, Pixie Dust.”

  He pulls me into his arms, and my heart wins over my brain. Needing to touch him, I lift my head and press my nose into the underside of his neck. He smells good, this mix of clean and warm, like a much-needed breeze on a sweltering day.

  “How’d you get so wise?” I murmur against his skin.

  “I’m not. How about we learn to be wise together?”

  How can I refuse when he says words that make my heart pitter-patter? And how can I hold back the overwhelming urge to answer him with heated kisses? I can’t.

  Undone by our team effort at this “work in progress,” I bring him down to me. Our mouths fuse. Our tongues explore and taste. I slacken against his solid body. Tunnel my fingers in his hair. Remember vividly our times together.

  Taron runs hot in everything. His temper. His fiery caresses. His passion for playing ball. His kisses.

  Goodness, his kisses . . . He deepens the kiss. Groans in my mouth when I open further for him. Aching for more of him, I trail my fingers down the front of his buttoned-up shirt. Keep going until my palm coasts over the bulge behind his zipper. I caress the outline of his erection, his thickness pulsing hot against my palm through his black slacks.

  Breathless, I tear my mouth from his and graze my teeth over the warm flesh of his neck. I nip and suck until Taron’s had enough. He clamps his big hands on my hips, spins me around, and bends me over the foot of the bed.

  Desperation tearing through me at the loss of his body heat, and understanding fully what will bring him back to me, I hike up my skirt, spread my arms wide to the sides, and tip up my ass.

  Sudden intake of breath from behind me.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

  I tremble from his approval. Bite down on my moan when his body heat engulfs me. Teasing me. Taron is close but not close enough. I reach back for him.

  “Let me look my fill, Pixie Dust.”

  I should be mortified that he is staring at my behind and my folds, slick with my arousal. Except I’m not. I am safe with Taron, and feeling safe is sexy as hell. I relax fully on the mattress. Suck my bottom lip into my mouth. Cool metal strokes my tongue, and my lip ring gets me hot and bothered for one reason. I cannot wait to blow him.

  He likes the feel of the ring on his erection. Metal on flesh. Cool on warm. Oh, God. Oh, God. My needy sex throbs. Thick fingers ease the ache, stroking along my slit as my panties are pulled off to the side.

  Rough knuckles press into my wetness. A shiver of pleasure passes through me. Craving more, I rub my sex on Taron’s knuckles. He ups the pressure. I up the pace. Up. Down. Fast. Faster.

  “Baby, that is hot.”

  His knuckles leave my sex. I protest. Until I see what he’s doing when I glance over my shoulder. He is sucking my juices off his skin. My eyes widen.

  Ready for more, I look away and wiggle my ass. Does he get the message? Hell yes, he does. He glides his fingers in my hair and yanks. Slides his thick fingers inside me and pumps in and out.

  “Taron.” I reach for him.

  He smacks aside my hand, and with his other hand gripping my hair, he unzips his zipper.

  The head of his cock sits at my opening. I beg him to put his thickness inside me. Except he doesn’t. He does something utterly sexy, followed by a dirty ask. He crushes his mouth on my pussy. Mouths the lips. Clamps his mouth on my clit, the pull from his mouth having me backing up into his face.

  “Fuck you taste good, Syn.”

  He likes my taste. I smile into the covers.

  “I want something else, Pixie Dust.”

  The tip of his tongue sweeps over the sensitive strip of skin between my sex and the little sinful hole.

  “Can I, babe?” His finger plays with the part of me no guy’s touched before.

  “I . . . It’s so dirty, Taron.”

  “It’ll be a first for us both.”

  “You’ve never—”

  “I’ve never wanted to finger or taste a girl here”—soft touch to my back door—“until you. Only with you.”

  God, it’s so sinful, but if he wants it, I want it too.

  “Yes. It’s a yes.”

  He flicks his tongue over my hole. My hips jerk. My fingers clench the covers.

  “Oh, God.”

  “Should I stop?”

  His voice is husky. Lazy. Like he likes what he is doing and would like to do more of it.

  “No, don’t stop. Please, Taron. That feels so good.”

  “Let me get you lubed up good, baby.”

  Lubed up good? I look over my shoulder. He sticks his fingers in his mouth. Sucks on them like he is sucking on my clit or my nipples. Or how I take him in my mouth. Deep. Slow. Our gazes locked, he slips a finger in my backdoor. Every nerve comes alive. My pussy throbs. I rub myself on the edge of the mattress. Shove my face into the covers.

  “You’re so tight.”

  Is that so? I back up. His finger goes in deeper.

  “Touch me.”

  He laughs. “Greedy. I like. A lot.”

  His other hand comes around. He palms my breasts through my top. It’s not enough. I want more. Helping him get to my girls, I yank the sequin top up, exposing my breasts.

  He pinches the hardened buds. Strokes them. My sex aches. My breasts are heavy with need. He goes deeper in and out of my hole. Slides in a second finger.

  “More, please, more.”

  “Tell me what you want, Pixie Dust.”

  “Touch my pussy. Please, Taron.”

  He cups my sex, and I explode. His laughter crests over my climax.

  “Fuck, I love when you come on my hand. Love when your puckered little hole milks my fingers. Babe, you are hot.”

  His words . . . Oh, God, they are dirty, and I come again. He leans into me, curving his body over mine, his breath hot on my neck.

  “You come like this for me only, Syn. Only me, you got that? Otherwise, I will fuck up any guy who dares poach on what’s mine.”

  His thick fingers slide inside my pussy. His other fingers stretch my puckered hole. He fills me, and I am in trouble.

  There is no going back to what I was after I’ve had a taste, a feel of Taron all around me. There is no chance I will ever let him go unless he messes up big time.

  “I’m yours, all yours, Taron. Fuck up any guy who messes with us.”

  Clamping his hand on my jaw, he pivots my face until I am staring into his pool of ink eyes darkened with desire and satisfaction.

  “That’s my girl. Now get on your knees and suck me off before I ride you hard.”

  24

  Taron

  It takes all my will power not to rush onto the dance floor and pull the mother-effers grinding on Syn off her.

  One guy has the front of his body pressed up against Syn’s back, cocooning her lithe body to his with his hands clamped on her hips. The other guy, the one with the mohawk, has his fingers shoved in Syn’s short locks.

  He tilts her head to the side and dips his head, pressing his mouth on my girl’s neck. Goes lower until his face is buried in the curve of her neck. I see red. Clench my fist against my thigh. A soft caress down my arm yanks me out of my burning need to punch mohawk dude’s face to the back of his skull.

  Mohawk? Jesus H. Christ, who the fuck sports a mohawk these days?

  “Hi, sexy, want to dance?”

  Hell
no, but if I don’t distract my brain and my dick soon, I will be causing serious damage pummeling the two dudes who are on Syn like white on rice, earning me a spot in the doghouse for messing with Syn’s plans.

  “Sure thing.” I take the beautiful brunette’s hand and let her lead me onto the crowded dance floor.

  Lucky me, she stops next to Syn. With her arms draped over mohawk dude’s broad shoulders, Syn locks her eyes on mine. She mouths the words, “Dance with me,” and I am lost to the heat in her slate gray–blue eyes.

  Imagining Syn in my arms, I curve my arm around my dance partner’s waist. There is no need to know her name. Only that it’s Syn I am seeing in my head as I pull the girl closer. Our bottom halves touch. I grind my dick into her stomach, her crop top and tight-as-fuck pants leaving little to the imagination.

  A warm mouth presses into my neck. Her moan reverberates on my skin. I drop my hand from her waist and cup her tight round ass. I squeeze. She trembles. I palm and caress her flesh. Her hand comes up, and her fingers weave in my hair. She brings me down to her the same time she tips her head up for a kiss.

  Sorry, babe, you are not my girl. Done with touching a girl who’s not Syn, I tell the girl I’m with, “Thanks for the dance, beautiful.”

  Sparing Syn one last look, sweeping my gaze from her head to her toes and back to her eyes again, I leave the dance floor with my temper in check for a change and take a spot at the bar with an unobstructed view of Syn.

  What she is doing with those douchebags is a show. That’s all. She is there to bait them into letting her into their lives. To show her the tat of the butterfly and the snake. She is doing this favor for Midnight. She is offering up her body to those mother-effers so that a girl can have justice and a scum of the earth can answer for his crime.

  But all of the above doesn’t take away my doubt. Syn looks good with those two, with their neck tats, colorful sleeves, face piercings, and the rough and mean edge to them. Fuck sakes, if anyone were to pair Syn with a dude, it would be one of those two or both, but never with what Sydney’s stepbrother called a “pretty boy.”