by Meghan Quinn
Even more curious, I ask, “You kind of had this thing happen to you, what does that even mean?”
“You don’t want to get into it, not worth your pretty little time.”
“I really do. Come on, tell me what happened.”
His hand continues to glide across my skin in a very seductive way, but he doesn’t answer me, which makes me that much more intrigued.
“Was it really bad?”
He sighs. His eyes meet mine, and with his glasses on the nightstand, I get an even better view into his hazel eyes. Without the barrier of curtained glass over them, I have an unfiltered look into the gorgeous gold flecks that round his pupils. So heart-stopping. “You know how college is . . .” He lifts his head for a second and says, “Wait, you go to college, right?”
Panic snares me. From the little things I’ve seen around his room, to the way he’s talked about different computer programming, and his nerdy references, it’s obvious school and education is very important. What would he think of me, knowing I’m a dropout with nothing set in my future? Would he even want to talk to me if he knew the truth? And it surprises me how much that bothers me.
Swallowing hard, I nod, knowing what’s about to come out of my mouth next is a blatant lie, but for the life of me, I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t fathom telling this intelligent man that I dropped out of college, especially because I got pregnant. “Uh, yeah. Cornell.”
The sentence feels dirty coming off my tongue, and the bright look on his face does nothing for making me feel any better.
“Cornell? Damn, girl.” His hand slides up higher on my body where he squeezes me. “Sexy and smart? Are you trying to kill me? Again?”
A fake chuckle pops out of my mouth, a defense mechanism I’ve used many times before. Wanting to change the subject, and not wanting to dig too deep on my end of education, I focus back on him. “So, what happened?”
Groaning again, he says, “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?” I shouldn’t be pressing him, especially since I just flat-out lied to his face. Jesus, I’m the biggest piece of shit ever.
He bites his bottom lip and looks me in the eyes. “My family refers to it as the ordeal.”
“The ordeal? That seems serious.”
“I wouldn’t necessary say it’s serious, more . . . ridiculous.”
What could be so ridiculous that his family refers to it as the ordeal and made it necessary to transfer schools?”
Falling to his back, his hand disconnecting with my skin—I feel the loss immediately—he rubs his face. “Fuck, am I really going to tell you this story?”
Wanting to ease some of his tension, I scoot closer to him and place my hand on his bare chest where I run my fingers along the contours of his pecs. Glancing in my direction, he raises his eyebrows in question. “Are you trying to use your womanly wiles on me?”
“No.” I chuckle. “Just trying to make you comfortable.”
“Is that right? Because the way you’re teasing your fingers across my skin, I could have sworn you were aiming for sexual torture instead.”
“You are such a guy.” I roll my eyes.
Smiling up at me, he says, “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment,” I counter.
“I know, but I chose to take it as one.”
I stop my wandering hand from dancing around his well-defined chest. “Are you going to tell me?”
Letting out a long breath of air, he says, “Kiss me first, just so I can taste you one last time.”
“You are being so dramatic.” I lean over and press my lips softly against his, loving the way his hand immediately runs up my back, under my shirt. He has no problem getting handsy, as if he can’t quite get enough of the feel of my skin. I love it. “Mmm,” I moan, moving my hands so they frame his face. He tries to move my body over his but I hold still. He’s not about to distract me with some more trocken buckel when I want to hear his story. “Not so fast, mister.”
“Ugh, fine,” he complains. “But just to be clear, I warned you.”
“Let it be known, this storytelling adventure was my idea.”
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath and says, “I’ve always been into three things: computers, math, and women.”
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “You know those three things don’t mix, right?”
“I would appreciate no commentary until I’m done,” he teases.
I hold up my hands in defense. “I apologize, please proceed.”
“As I was saying,” he clears his throat, “computers, math, and women. But I went to college with one thing in mind, and that was to become a software engineer, earning one fucking amazing internship, and working toward a master’s program I could hopefully have paid for by the company I’m working for.” Honestly, I couldn’t imagine Andrew wanting anything less. “Studying made me restless, so I entertained the idea of going down to the free gym for students. Entertained became obsessed.” Ah, hence the arm porn he’s sporting. “I’ve never been a big guy, never will be, but I started to notice a difference in the fit of my shirts.” Hold back the snort, hold it back, Sadie. “And the ladies began to notice as well.”
“Oh Jesus,” I mutter.
“Hey, what did I say about no commentary?” He tickles my side and laughs.
“I’m sorry. It’s just so funny hearing you talk about the ladies admiring you. You’re just not that kind of guy who speaks of all the pussy he’s had.”
“You act as if I have a donkey face.”
That makes me tilt my head back and laugh. “Oh my God, you have the furthest thing from a donkey face. You’re hot, Andrew, there is no denying that. Even if I wanted to pretend that wasn’t the truth, I couldn’t.”
“Good to know.” He puffs his chest, clearly proud of the compliments I’m tossing his way.
“You’re just more humble, that’s all.”
“Humble, I like that.” Running his hand up my back again, tracing over my thong-clad ass, he sucks in a breath and then presses his palm against my skin. “Um, back to the story. I was working out and met a guy there.”
I sit up, my hand helping me as I press against his chest. “You had a gay moment.” Even as I say it, I can’t imagine it. Andrew is simply too smooth, too good with women.
The rumble of his laugh shakes my firmly planted hand. “No, I did not have a gay moment. And what did I say about commentary?”
“I’m sorry. It just came out of me. Continue.”
“He was in the engineering program and invited me to a party at his frat house. I thought nothing of it since the guy said his frat was full of like-minded fellas like myself. You know the ones who worship movies like Tron and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and Star Trek remakes. All amazing movies by the way. And when I showed up at the house, I was greeted with a bunch of nerds. I’m talking pocket protectors, bowl haircuts, and button-up plaid shirts. I was kind of surprised with the amount of nerd factor that filled the house.” Rubbing my back with his fingers, he continues, “It wasn’t until the girls showed up that I knew I was in trouble. You see, the fraternity had a sister sorority dedicated for nerd lovers only. Before I knew it, pocket protectors were thrown to the wind and there was a lot of . . . trocken buckel if you know what I mean.”
I chuckle. Where the hell is he going with this story? “Man, I can only imagine the type of heavy petting going on.”
“Exactly.” He cutely bops my nose. “So, of course I got drunk and started fooling around with a girl named Beth. She seemed nice and innocent, that was until we started to get a little more handsy and she pulled my pants down.”
“Wow, just like that? Did she bite your dick?” I cringe from the thought.
“No,” he chuckles, “and I almost feel that would have been better. She was an avid Snapchatter, had quite the following at the school. Being young and all—”
“You’re still young,” I point out.
“I know, but I like to believ
e I’ve matured since then.” I nod, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “She thought it would be fun to Snapchat our little encounter, and being the drunk dickhead I was, I went with it, until she started snapping a video of her practically boomeranging my dick back and forth with a caption that said Maine’s very own Cannon Cock. I was mad, of course, but in the snap, you couldn’t see who I was. But afterward, she posted a picture of me, claiming me as Cannon Cock.”
“Are you serious?” My face heats up. Does he really have a cannon cock? Don’t look down at his lap, do not look down. This is a sensitive moment, so give him the respect he wants.
DO NOT LOOK DOWN.
“You want to look at my cock, don’t you?” he asks on a laugh.
“No,” I reply too quickly.
“Yeah, okay, all in good time, Sugar Britches.” Picking up where he left off, he continues, “So you can imagine what happened next when this popular girl posted about a cannon cock.”
“I have a faint idea but who knows, I never thought this story would turn into a story about your dick.”
“Not many people do. This girl ended up destroying my ability to learn. Every class I went to, someone tried to crawl on my lap to feel the cannon as they would call it. Some asked if they could get it to blast off, one teacher’s aide actually wrote in the back of one of my papers that she screenshot Cannon Cock and has it on her cellphone wallpaper.”
“What a pervert,” I say in disgust. I mean, I like dick, but not enough to have to touch it every time I use my phone. Self-respect, ladies!
“Yeah, it got so bad that one day, when my parents were visiting me on campus, I brought them back to my dorm to find a line of women, caged by velvet rope, lined up next to a poster on the door where time slots were filled out to view the one and only cannon cock in his natural habitat. Some girls brought condoms, some brought magazines and lotion.”
“You are so lying right now.” I laugh, not able to hold back.
“I wish I was.”
“College students did not bring you lotion and magazines.”
Reaching over to his nightstand, he snags his phone and holds it out to me. “Go ahead, call my parents. Ask them. They were there.”
Laughing still, I shake my head. “No, I believe you. Oh my God, what did your mom say?”
“Ha, she was more concerned with the type of wood my dorm-room door was made of. She’s kind of a wood freak. Really likes a good quality trunk.”
“So do I.” I wink.
Running his hand over my bare ass, he says, “Good thing you have a cannon cock in bed with you then.” Yup, I’m blushing. With a playful smirk, he continues, “My dad, on the other hand, was not a happy camper. He thought I was running some kind of sex ring in my dorm. Needless to say, I was more than forced to transfer. My dad didn’t want me to start school right away, let alone leave the house for the summer. He thought I had a sex addiction or that I was some unstoppable pussy fiend. He wanted to keep a close eye on me to make sure I wasn’t trolling for tail.”
“Because you really have that personality,” I add sarcastically.
“According to my dad, I do. He had my whole summer planned out for me where I would sell fudge to little old ladies and mow his lawn with the old push mower. My parents own over an acre of land.”
“That sounds like a nightmare.”
He shifts and drags my body on top of his, then smoothly strokes my bare butt, curving his hands over its roundness. Almost instantly I can feel the aforementioned cannon cock starting to make an appearance.
“And there you have why I quickly got a job and moved here for the summer. My dad put up a good fight though.”
“Does he know you’re rooming with five women?”
Andrew nods. “Yeah, that was a fun conversation.”
My shirt is now completely lifted and up my back from Andrew’s wandering hands, causing me to wiggle above him. Digging his fingers into my ass, he’s casually looking up at me, but there is an inferno roaring inside me.
Resting my forehead against his, I ask, “Uh, Mr. Cannon Cock, are you trying to torture me on purpose?”
He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Is it working?”
Good God, yes.
With just the pass of his hand over my skin, his strong chest beneath me, his growing cock pressing against my center in the most intimate of ways—reminding me of everything we did this morning—I’m wet.
Shit, was that really just this morning? It feels like forever ago.
Flipping me on my back, he hovers over me, the twin bed feeling smaller and smaller by the moment from the size of his strong body against mine. Thankfully he pushed the bed up against the wall when arranging his room, giving me zero chance of falling out of bed.
“From the way your breath keeps hitching in your throat, I’m going to say it is working.”
Not able to voice my answer, I nod, waiting. What will he do, knowing that?
It feels so weird that only twenty-four hours ago I was staring at this man from a kitchen window, watching him easily win over my friends—even Tucker, before he found out who Andrew was. And I don’t blame them. He’s charismatic, but in his own way. Andrew isn’t one of those men who can rip off your skirt in the middle of a parking lot only to eat you out on the hood of his souped-up Trans Am. No, he slowly chips his way into your life with his smile, his malleable personality, and his kind eyes. It’s hard to be a dick to someone like Andrew, and I’m finding it out rather quickly, it’s hard to forget about someone like Andrew.
Near impossible actually.
Within twenty-four hours, he’s firmly placed himself in my life when I believed there were no vacancies. Not only does this man make me laugh, make me burn with excitement, and make me want more, he also terrifies the living fuck out of me.
Charisma, it’s a death sentence for any woman, and I’m pretty sure I’m straddling condemned row from every sexy smirk and witty comment that leaves Andrew’s mouth.
Chapter Twelve
ANDREW
If you asked me to replay each moment before this point with Sadie, beneath me, her legs rubbing against mine, I wouldn’t have an answer for you besides pure luck and drunken courage.
This is one of the first times I’m actually thanking the beer gods for coming up with the yeasty liquid, because having Sadie in my arms is the best feeling I’ve ever experienced. Her hardened exterior has melted, her laugh is more frequent, and those eyes, the way they look at me. Fuck, it’s addicting, especially when she’s waiting for me to make the next move.
Despite my growing length, I want to take this slow. This morning, I got a good taste of the kind of friction we could create, but I want to show her that I’m a very giving man, that Cannon Cock isn’t the one in charge.
Slowly, I glide my fingers up to the hem of the shirt she borrowed from me and start to move it up toward her breasts, letting the cool fabric rub against her skin, until I reach the spot right below her breasts. Now supporting myself over her, I start to roll the shirt, watching the way her eyes study me with lust and the way her chest is starting to rise and fall more rapidly.
Fuck, I want to get a good look at her tits, but now is not the time for that. I have one thing in mind, and I can’t get distracted by her upper half. Continuing to roll the shirt, I don’t stop until it’s rolled to where the shirt is barely covering her tits, the bottom half peeking out for me to see. Fuck, she’s so damn hot.
Her arms are at her side, but I change that quickly, raising them above her head, which lifts her shirt a few millimeters more, tempting my fucking will. My mouth wants on those fucking beauties.
“Don’t move your arms,” I demand.
“If you tickle me, I’m going to kick you in the balls.”
“Baby, the last thing on my mind right now is tickling. Keep them still and spread your legs.”
She spreads her legs on cue. Such a good listener. Fuck, do I want her.
Taking my time, I lower my lips to hers.
Nibbling across them, taking in how incredible she tastes—like fruity ChapStick and mint—I don’t immediately notice the small movements of my hips. My cock rides along her leg until she moans, and then she’s moving her hips as well. Hearing her moan, feeling her eagerness underneath me, fuck, my cock is twitching. Slow, buddy. Keep it slow.
Instead of giving in to her little incessant thrusts against me, I slow down my hips and move my lips along her jaw, where I nip at her, lick her neck very softly with the tip of my tongue, and suck gently in the crook of where her collarbone rests.
Methodically, I press my lips along her skin, never lifting up for too long while my hands gently press against her hip bones, pinning her to my bed. As if she’s in sync with me, her body moves beneath mine, searching for more, yearning for more. It’s sexy as hell, feeling her squirm. Her grip on my back intensifies with each motion of my lips. Her arms should be above her head right now, but I will let her slip go for now.
With the shirt still covering her breasts, I graze my nose over the fabric, near her hardened nipples, giving them just the lightest of scrapes until I reach her flat stomach. Her skin’s so soft against my roughened jaw. The thought of my beard burn marking her skin turns me on, as does knowing I’ll be claiming this woman who seemed so hard, yet is so fucking delicate. I never knew this would be in the cards with her. Yes, I admit I wanted it but really wasn’t convinced I’d get the chance to be her friend, let alone granted access to her hidden beauty. She is incredible, and I want so much more.
Flicking my tongue along her skin, I revel in the way her stomach contracts with each touch, her breath hitching in unison as her hands find my hair. Pulling on the long strands, as if they are reins, she tries to direct me where she wants me, but I deny her. I’m in fucking charge, so she’s going to have to learn some patience. Not everything is according to her timetable in the bedroom. It will be in my time, in my way, but all for her, as I’ll make her feel amazing.
Instead of moving my head lower to the junction of her thighs, where I so desperately want to be, I move my mouth back up to where the T-shirt is folded. Wanting to tease her a little more, I run my nose along the underside of her breasts, loving how fucking soft they are. Immediately she moans from the contact, her chest jutting out, begging for more. Removing her hands from my hair, she reaches for the hem of the rolled-up shirt when I stop her.
