“What?” he says as he backs me into the room.
I lick my lips, needing to gain some control, to slow things down, to get myself mentally ready to enjoy the moment and keep my emotional distance from him. I wonder if it’s possible?
“Nothing, It’s just that I was going to scream if I heard another word tonight about the hot Jack Hunter football god.”
The devilish smile creates a dimple on his face. Of course he’s undaunted by my disillusioned, less-than-godlike view of him. He turns me around to face the window, the moonlit night outside. Then he slips his hands under the straps of my slip dress. If I’d thought of how easy it would be for him to disrobe me, I might have planned on wearing a more complicated dress. The light touch of his rough fingers roaming down my arms makes me shiver. My dress slips to the floor.
When he leans in, pushes my hair aside and puts his mouth on my neck just below my earlobe, his breath hot and moist, his lips like the touch of a sensual devil making me feel like sin, I want to tell him to take me to purgatory. I don’t care about tomorrow as the delicious swirl of anticipation runs through me down to my toes.
“I was going to punch someone if another guy tried undressing you with his eyes.”
I laugh, or try to, but it’s more like a moan-laugh because he’s making me drunk with his lips pressing softly against my neck, nibbling and sucking my delicate earlobe into his scorching mouth and flicking it with his tongue. And I can’t help imagining him doing the same thing to my … girl parts and how unbelievable that would feel. How much I want him to touch me there right now because I’m suddenly melting into a puddle between my thighs.
“Your skin is so soft, like you. I can feel the heat of your passion, princess.” His whisper is rough as his hands roam down my sides, his fingers curling under my breasts. The sound of his breathing, the way it gets heavier, tingles my nerve endings as he strokes his palms over my nipples, budding them instantly like a magic trick.
“You have magic hands.” I say what’s on my mind.
“You have no idea,” he says, turning me back around to face him, his hands covering my ass cheeks, fingers sinking into them as I savor the sensual kaleidoscope of his hard body against mine, his scent all around me, his hands on me. Slipping his thumbs under the thin strip of my thong, he pulls them down my thighs, sinking down to his knees as he goes, breathing against my belly, then my thighs, kissing them as I step out of my thong and sandals. My hands shake as they rest on his shoulder and I feel his warm breath fanning the fire between my thighs, trying to hold back the impossible longing to feel him against me, touching me, but he doesn’t.
Standing, he says, “I was right about you. You are a goddess.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses me, soft and teasing and I want so much more, as I open my mouth. He nibbles my lips and laughs lightly.
“Don’t be impatient, princess. We have all night.”
“I’ll die if you don’t—” My words strangle in my throat as he touches me, his fingers slipping between my thighs to the wet center of me, ending directly on the nub, the center of my sex, of my universe. Every nerve ending in my body jumps to life, jolting me. I clutch his arms.
“Oh my God.” I’ve never heard the high-pitched moan come from my mouth.
“I’ve been called worse,” he says, stilling his fingers. “You like my magic hands, princess?”
“Jack, don’t …” I’m going to tell him not to stop, but I’m too late. He withdraws his hand and then brings it between us, puts it up to my nose so that I smell that special scent of my need. I take a deep greedy breath. His eyes are dark and lusty and he puts his finger in his mouth and sucks all my sex juices off it, his stare becoming more intense as he does.
“You taste as good as you feel, sweet and ready. You ready to come all over me, princess?”
“Yes. Please.” I can’t believe I’m begging him for an orgasm. I can’t believe he puts his hands on my arms and pushes me back a step.
Then he undresses and I stare, watching every efficient move he makes, revealing more and more of his skin, of his rippling muscles with each article of clothing gone. And when he’s finished and standing before me gloriously naked, I adore him with my eyes as if he’s a museum piece. Or yet more, like a majestic mountain, transfixing me with that larger-than-life quality, that feeling that he’s beyond my realm.
“You’re … you’re shockingly beautiful.” I spill the words. A piece of my heart is broken because all those greedy girls want him and feel they have a right to him as if he’s a specimen on display, to take without full appreciation of who he is, of his giant struggles, the core toughness underneath the perfect facade, of the guilt and misplaced shame that drives him.
He pulls me onto my bed, not bothering to pull aside the comforter, and I don’t care. Pushing me back onto the pillow, he leans over me, sucks on my earlobe, says things and I’m not sure what the words are, like little tiny grains of sugar, nothing and everything, making me high and hot.
Holding himself with one hand, he strokes the other down over my hypersensitive skin and I quake in its wake while I run my hand over the hard silky smooth muscles of his shoulders and arms, fascinated with the feel, like hot iron covered in skin. His hand reaches my belly and slows, inching lower, teasing me so that my heart stutters and I wonder if it’ll stop altogether from the teetering excitement, the anticipation winding me to the breaking point of need.
“Touch me,” I say. He smiles an evil smile and nips my ear, then covers my mouth with his, delving in hungrily with his tongue, tasting every corner of my mouth, distracting me from my need while feeding it.
He sinks a finger in between the folds of my pussy and strokes hard and broad, making me groan as the tingling there spikes.
“You’re so wet and ready and hot,” he says, lifting his mouth from mine. I open my eyes, not realizing I’ve closed them. He’s staring. “I want to watch you come, princess. I want to see you fall apart with my touch. And then I want to do it again and again until you bet me to stop and then beg me to never stop.”
My heart pounds so fast I can’t talk. Instead I arch into him, keeping my eyes locked with his, wanting him to make good on his promise more than I’ve wanted anything in my short spoiled life. He moves his finger again, lightly, and I feel the moisture seep from me, the elusive spot I need him to touch throbbing and desperate. He moves his fingers, touching me everywhere in slow lazy strokes, and circles that swollen nub, teasing the sensitive folds soaked in my passion.
My hips move and I moan, wanting him to touch more and he does. I jump again as his finger flicks my clit slow and gentle and my hips go wild pumping, my breathing in gasps as he increases the pressure and speed.
“Oh princess, you’re so sexy. You have no idea how fucking hot you’re making me.” His breathing is heavier now and his jaw is clenched as he slows and moves a finger inside me, curling it until he touches me in a way that almost makes me black out with overwhelming sensation. I hear myself cry out and rock with the little explosions and then he presses my clit with his thumb as he flicks that finger inside me and I think I’m going to die.
My world goes black with euphoria as I quake with spasm after spasm letting go inside me, time stopping and the universe gone into oblivion. My eyes are closed again and I realize this when he kisses me, pressing his lips against mine, breathing the world back into me, caressing my mouth with his, telling me all those things a lover says, the way I’d imagined in my dark fantasies. The way I imagined he would be. Jack, the horrible, wonderful, big bad bully.
I open my eyes and he removes his hand from my pussy, making me want to weep. My arms are around him, wandering down the rippled muscles of his abdomen to his cock.
“You are so much more than sexy,” I say. His eyes study me, unreadable except for the lust, but I know it’s covering so much more and I want to know, but I’m afraid so I don’t ask.
“Are you ready for me, princess?” It’s a rhetorical question becau
se he doesn’t wait for an answer before he presses my legs wide and kneels between them. He produces a condom from nowhere with those magical hands and my eyes flare wide as I stare at the mystical size of his cock at full tilt in front of me. My hands grasp him and he doesn’t stop me this time, but clenches his jaw, taking a shaky breath when I do.
“You want to do the honors?” He opens the foil packet and holds out the rubber for me and I take it, pretending I’ve done this before and determined to do it now, needing to, desperate to have him inside me.
“I want to be inside you so fucking bad, princess.” He groans the words as I move the condom over his tip. His cock jerks and I salivate with the strong beauty of him, the pulsing ferocity of his desire.
“You’re killing me.” He barely says the word as he places his hand over mine. It’s shaking and I’m awed. I need him inside me more than life, but I can’t say the words, can’t talk past the choke of emotions and sensations as we sheath him and he lowers himself over me, burying his face between my breasts while his cock teases at my opening, brushing and taunting, pressing and jerking, but not sliding inside.
“Please.” I sob the word as he caresses my right breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing it, forcing me to arch into him. I move my hand down to his cock, needing to have him inside me and he groans. Then he slips inside me, letting out a ragged breath. I lift my hips and he’s as far as he can possibly go, filling me, hitting every nerve ending inside me all at once.
But he’s still and I’m on edge, so I move, pulling my legs up around him until he chokes out a strangled groan.
“Fuck, Joni. If you don’t stop I’m going to blow my load in second. You’re so fucking perfect. I want this to last longer than a blink.”
“I thought …” I don’t know what I thought, but I relax my legs and he slides out, slow and easy, the feeling of him moving inside me so delicious.
“I haven’t been with a girl in a while,” he says. “But I won’t disappoint you.”
“Of course not. How could you even say that?” I shudder as the tip of his cock plays at my entrance, slick against the sensitive nub of my pussy, and then he thrusts back inside me, faster. Holding himself above me, watching me, kissing me, nibbling on my nipples as he slides in and out of me I drown in the sensation, in the experience of an instrument being played by a maestro, the concert of sensations coming together, winding around and rising in me.
“I want to make you come hard,” he says, and in the next moment he rolls and flips me on top of him, seating me perfectly with his hands holding my hips, his deep-sea eyes glassy and holding me just as steadily as he pumps and I move. I’ve never ridden a man before and my heart slams in my chest like a drumroll, excitement on a new unexpected level. He moves faster and I’m panting hard, sweat dripping, watching him glisten under me.
When he moves his hand from my hip to my pussy, he touches my clit with his thumb and rubs, flicking, and I jolt violently, almost bouncing off him with the stunning explosion of my orgasm, feeling the hot creamy sting of my insides, convulsing around him, but when he lets out a roar of release and he thrusts forcefully, letting go, pumping all he has into me in wave after wave, I fall apart. I can’t see, every muscle in me tightens in a seizure of pleasure, my mind spinning, like I’m falling into another universe.
“Oh, Jack.” I fall forward, covering him with my body, my hair curtaining over his chest as I kiss him, dozens of kisses over his shoulders, neck, and face as he pants to catch his breath and wraps his arms around me.
When our breathing and our hearts beating against each other, settle down, our bare chests skin-to skin, warm and slick with sweat, I feel the first drowsy flick of my eyelids and push myself up because I don’t want to sleep. Not now. He rolls us onto our sides, keeping an arm around me, watching me.
“Was that even real?” I say.
“I don’t know where the dream ends and reality starts anymore, princess.” He pushes a strand of hair from where it’s stuck to my face. “I’ve had dreams about you, us, like this. Reality is better. The dreams always seemed part nightmare. And there’s no part of you and this night that isn’t beautiful.”
So far. I don’t share my fear. I banish it.
“Are you too tired to talk?” I ask.
He chuckles. “About what?”
“Life, goals, aspirations.”
“You already know mine. Tell me about yours. I’m not too tired to listen,” he says, lazily circling his thumb over my nipple. It’s the exact right amount of stimulation to keep me alert, but not too over the top to distract me from his question. In fact, his words have me more excited than the feel of his hard muscles under my hand.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve been a curiosity all my life.”
“Hmmm.” I’m stalling, wondering if I should share my soul, but then I reason it’s my heart I need to guard and he’s entitled to a piece of my soul after giving me these mind-blowing orgasms. Wait, that makes no sense.
“Okay. It’s my goal to write a novel and get it published, but without my father’s help.”
“Admirable,” he says, clearly sleepy, but I go on. “I came to St. Paul U because my favorite author is teaching creative writing here. I love her. It would mean so much to me to have get an A in her class. I want more than anything to impress her.”
“Professor Soullier?”
“You know about her?” I sit up on an elbow and look at him. He’s still awake enough to smirk.
“I make it my business to know all the hot female professors on campus.” I slap his arm because that’s how I’m supposed to react, but I know he’s teasing, that there’s more to it.
“You know who all the professors are regardless of whether they’re hot,” I tell him.
“What makes you say that?”
“You do. It’s in your nature to find out everything you can about your environment, possible friends, possible enemies—”
“And yet, you snuck behind the lines and caught me unaware,” he says, circling his thumb faster, then squeezing my nipple. I bite my lip to hold in a moan, try to keep track of our conversation, sure I was on the verge of a breakthrough of some kind. But the dizzying sensuality of his touch is no match for my sleep-starved mind.
“I think it’s hot that you have ambition.” He moves over me into a plank position, the only part of him touching me his big lazy cock, growing heavy again but not yet hard. The sizzling between my thighs where said cock now rests prevents me from answering him.
He lowers his face to mine and says between nibbles, “How many words have you written?” I almost laugh into his mouth, but it comes out like a moan and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him against me because I don’t know how long he can hold his plank position, but I think it’s probably a long-ass time and I can’t wait.
He holds back and says, “Answer me.”
“What was the question?”
He smirks and says, “How. Many. Words.”
“Eighty thousand. Give or take. I’m revising …” I force out the words as if they’re my last breaths as I drown in the haze of need. He’s like a powerful drug and I hope to God I’m not addicted. His eyes go wide and glassy and he collapses onto me, grabbing my lips in his teeth and thrusting his tongue down my throat as if he’s my reward for my accomplishment. Because I just realize now, telling him out loud what I’ve done, how much I’ve written how close I am to finishing my book, my story, that the accomplishment is spectacular, definitely reward-worthy. And I’m ready to collect. Again. And again.
The sun is high and brilliant in the sky, streaming through my window, when I wake. Sitting up fast makes me dizzy, but I do because I’m in bed alone.
“Morning, princess,” he says from across the room where he sits in my rocking chair, putting on his shoes. He’s dressed, his tie hanging untied around his neck and his jacket over his arm. My eyes gravitate to the unopened buttons of his
shirt, showing the tantalizing bulge of his chest muscles. He looks even more magnificent in the light of day.
“Were you going to leave me without—”
“No. I was going to wake you, fairytale princess style,” he says coming over and sitting on the edge of my bed. He bends down and kisses me on the lips, but doesn’t linger.
“Wait for me. I need to get up and get some coffee. I’ll come down.”
I jump from bed and scurry to my closet as he whistles at my bare ass. It’s ridiculous that I’m shy in the light of day. He’s seen it all, touched it all, had his way with my body. I heat up thinking about it, but force myself to focus on throwing on panties and a Ralph Lauren sweatshirt dress.
We walk down the stairs and I hear voices in the lounge. Maybe it was a mistake to walk out with him. The last thing I want is a repeat of the crush of admiring women like last night. We get to the bottom and, with his arm around me, he escorts me undaunted through the lounge toward the front door. I would have taken the back door, but I remember he’s parked out front.
Naturally all talk stops and several girls turn to watch us, including Isabelle. Shit. She’s the last person I expect to see here. I’m awkward for a moment, until he leaves me by the door to go over to Izzy, smiling, and gives her a hug.
I hear him whisper to her, “We’re good, right?” Izzy nods, puts on a brave smile and avoids my eyes. Jack may be satisfied as he comes back to me, but I know she’s not over him. She has a painfully tender spot for him in spite of all her bravado.
What is it about him that has all these women on their virtual knees at his feet? Am I one of them? I don’t think so. I don’t adore him the way they do. My eyes are wide open and what I see is trouble. A bad boy. And I know bad is bad. When we’re outside, at the point where he’s going to George’s Caddy and I’m walking the other way to Aroma Joe’s, he stops.
“I’ll call you,” he says, his forehead against mine. Bad is bad.
Big Man on Campus: an Enemies to Lovers College Romance (Big Men on Campus Book 1) Page 17
