Birthday Girl (The Student Union Series Book 1)

by Chloe Butler

  “I want to hook up with him. God, I want to so bad. But I’ve never hooked up with anyone before, really, and I’m afraid it’s not going to be that simple, and the year’s going to be over in a few months, and we’re seniors, and....”

  “Honestly, Brooke, I can’t believe you’re coming to me for advice,” said Jillian. “I’m a freshman who doesn’t know what she’s doing, and you’re so together.”

  I snorted with laughter. “Jillian, I’m as together as Affleck and J.Lo. So what do you think?”

  She pulled her pencil out of her hair again, leaving it in an unruly haystack, and tapped the eraser end on the table. “I think you’re right,” she said. “I know I’m young and naive and I’m supposed to believe in this love-conquers-all BS, but I had a serious boyfriend in high school, and when we broke up at the end of last year, it sucked.”

  “So, what? You wish you never went out with anyone in high school because someday you were going to go to college? Should I wait until after grad school too?”

  Jillian sighed. “I don’t know. But it sounds like your heart is saying one thing and your head is saying another, right?”

  “I don’t know if I’d say it so poetically, but yeah. Also, I’m not sure if it’s my heart, exactly.” I gestured downward, and Jillian laughed.

  “Sometimes your head is right. You can meet a great person but if the timing is off, it’s not going to work. Maybe if you want to hook up, you should hook up with someone you don’t care so much about.”

  I nodded. “How did you get so smart, first-year?”

  “I did lots of stupid shit in high school.”

  14

  That settled it. Little first-year Jillian was a smart cookie. At some point I wanted to get the full story on her high school fuck-ups. Maybe it would put the spectacular flameout of my relationship with Evan in perspective.

  But probably not.

  Anyway, it was time to take this Zach Hutchison problem, stuff it into a briefcase, and make it go away. Wait, that makes it sound like I was planning to murder him. While that would be convenient, Harvard tends to shy away from admitting convicted killers, unless their parents are really loaded. Which is an advantage I don’t have. No, Jillian was right. My body was telling me I needed sex. That was fine. Healthy, even. But it didn’t have to be with Mr. Complicated. I could wrangle some eager first-year back to my room, do him, and send him back out into the cold. People did it all the time. And then I could go to study group and sit next to Zach without feeling inconveniently tingly. All over.

  It was a great plan, and I could get the trickiest part out of the way right now.

  I strode across the quad toward the dining hall, chest out, backpack slung proudly over my shoulders. I breezed through the dinner line (the roast chicken didn’t look too unspeakable) and balanced my tray in both hands while looking around for Zach. There he was, in the corner near the frozen yogurt machine. He waved me over.

  “Hi,” I said, and sat down across from him. This had to be done in a businesslike way. It wasn’t a breakup, obviously. Two people who have basically kissed once and have never been on a date—unless you count arguing about coffee drinks in the student union as a date—can’t break up. The fact that Zach was looking particularly edible tonight wasn’t going to help. The collar of his dress shirt was open two buttons, and I could see a wisp of chest hair. Instantly, my mind went back to that night at the pool, when he was standing so close to me that I could feel the heat radiating off his well-exercised body. (I edited Ashley’s presence out of the memory.)

  “I’ve been thinking,” said Zach, which threw me, because those were the exact words I was going to start with. “I thought we studied pretty well for the first exam, but it was still hard.”

  “Was that studying?”

  “Well, we studied well most of the time. With chaperones present, at least.” Great. This wasn’t helping. “I think if we got together for an extra hour a week to do flash cards and review the handouts, we could really nail the next one.” He looked at me and smiled. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  “Zach, I can’t. I mean, I can study with you, but I can’t...when we kissed, that was exactly what I didn’t want to happen.”

  He set down his fork. “Thanks a lot. And thank you for announcing in front of the whole dining hall that kissing me ruined your week.”

  I lowered my voice. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”

  “Brooke, you kissed me. You’ve explained to me over and over that you’re not available, and I’ve done nothing but respect that, until you made it very clear that you wanted to kiss me, and I would have been crazy to say no to that. But I told you, I don’t play games, and it seems like you’re playing some kind of game with yourself, and it’s not a lot of fun for me.” He paused and chewed a bite of salad. “The kissing part was fun, though.”

  “You’re not listening to me,” I said. I jammed my fork into the piece of chicken. “There are like ten reasons we shouldn’t be together.”

  “So you keep saying.” Zach stroked his beard. “Look, I’m from Cutlip, Washington. The way people date around here is usually just, ‘I like you. Wanna go out?’ I’m not into Seattle-style courtship any more than I’m into Seattle-style coffee.”

  “Fine.” Zach was basically agreeing with me. So why was I so angry with him? I looked around the dining hall. Were people looking our way or was I just imagining it? “You don’t have to play this game any more, because we’re done.”

  He shrugged. “Like I said, if that’s what you want.”

  “It is!” I stood up, grabbed my tray, and turned my back on Zach Hutchison. I slammed the tray into the return and separated out my compostables with as much righteous anger as possible. I made it just in time: the tears didn’t start until I was out the door.

  When I got back to the dorm, I grabbed my towel and headed across the hall to the bathroom. I took off my clothes and stood under the water, as hot as I could stand it.

  I knew I’d done the right thing. I knew it. I just had to convince some stupid, lust-driven corner of my brain. So I turned the faucet until the water ran cold. Did cold showers even work? My nipples hardened up under the freezing spray, and I yelped. Soon, though, my skin adapted to the temperature, and I just stood there, cold and angry and confused and horny. Cold showers: debunked!

  Well, I wasn’t sure what to do about angry and confused, but there were ways to deal with the first and last problems on the list. I turned the temperature back up until I felt less like an ice cube, then looked both ways before dashing across the hall in my towel. Plenty of women in my hall thought nothing of parading around in a towel or less. (No one had actually seen McKenzie go to class in a bra and panties, but it wouldn’t have surprised anyone, either.) I didn’t judge them for it, but I had a sense of modesty.

  I locked my door, dropped the towel, and climbed into bed naked. The sheets were smooth and pleasantly cool against my skin. I ran my hands over my breasts, and when my nipples rose to attention again, I massaged them with my thumbs. Usually I masturbate in the dark, at bedtime, with my t-shirt and underwear on, so doing it completely naked, with the lights on, my hair still wet from the shower, felt deliciously naughty. I kept one hand on my boob and slid the other down to my pussy. God, I was wet.

  I didn’t even try to convince myself that I wasn’t thinking about Zach. I shut my eyes and imagined walking in on him in the locker room at the pool, just as he slid his Speedo off. My fingers moved over my clit. This was going to be a fast one. I rolled over onto my stomach so I could grind against my hand, and imagined Zach grinding against me. I was into the final approach when someone knocked on the door. I stopped rubbing and held still, hoping they would go away, but the knock came again, louder. “Brooke, are you there? It’s Zach. You left your backpack at the dining hall.”

  Shit! I couldn’t believe I’d done something so stupid. I needed that backpack. Tonight. I thought about asking him to leave it in the hall, bu
t that seemed weird. So I sighed, yelled, “Just a minute!” and threw on a t-shirt and pajama bottoms.

  When I opened the door, Zach was holding my backpack in front of him. “I figured you’d want this.” When I accepted it, he said, “Are you okay? Your face is red. Do you have the flu or something?”

  “No!” I said. “Thanks for rescuing this, even though you hate backpacks. Have a good weekend with your family.”

  He didn’t take the hint. “Brooke, could we talk for just a minute?”

  I picked up my towel and said, “Okay.” God, I wanted him out of there so badly. Part of me (no prize for guessing which part) wanted to just say, Zach, you interrupted what was going to be a gold-medal orgasm. Get the fuck out of here! Of course, he probably knew. He could probably smell it.

  He turned my desk chair around and sat on it, so I perched on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think I can study with you anymore,” he began. “I know this is immature of me, but it’s going to be impossible for me to be around you that much without wanting to kiss you. And we both need to pass Geology.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say.” I realized, suddenly, that I’d put on absolutely the most see-through shirt I owned. Was Zach looking? I crossed my arms, but it didn’t accomplish much beyond concealing my nipples. One of the drawbacks of having big boobs is that they’re hard to hide. “I thought you were going to tell me that you just had to have me, even though I told you to leave me alone.”

  “Is that really what you want?” said Zach. He pulled a pen out of the cup on my desk and fiddled with it. “My older brother Jesse is the kind of guy who won’t take no for an answer. Always tried to convince me that when a woman says no, it’s just because you haven’t worn her down yet.” His face hardened. “He spent a year at Monroe state pen for assaulting a woman. So yeah, if you’re looking for that kind of guy, I’m sure you can find him, but it sure as hell isn’t going to be me.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” I decided my crossed-arms tactic looked confrontational, and let my arms fall to my sides. Zach was such a gentleman, he probably hadn’t even noticed how little my shirt left to the imagination.

  “Well, it’s not a topic I usually lead with.” He put the pen back in the cup. “I should go. My dad is expecting me, and also, you have the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen, and it’s killing me not staring at them.” He smiled. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Oh, god. Now I did feel like I had a fever. Even my shoulders felt hot and sweaty and tight, and my nipples were straining against my t-shirt. “Zach,” I said, “shut the door a second. I want to tell you something.”

  He looked puzzled but went to the door and gently closed it. When he turned back around, I lifted my shirt up over my breasts and left it there. I walked over to him and pressed my body against his. “I want you too,” I said. “Do you have to go right away?”

  “Maybe not immediately.” He kissed me, and his coarse hands moved over my bare back. “May I touch your breasts?” I nodded and stepped back just enough to let his hands slip between us. His fingertips traced circles around my nipples, and I gasped into his mouth. I moved my hips against his. He was hard inside his pants, no question.

  I kissed Zach’s neck and went to unbutton his dress shirt. “The problem with business major clothes,” I said, “is too many goddamn buttons.”

  He looked down at my chest and grinned. “I admit it, your outfit is better than mine.” He placed his hands over my breasts again, and they were large enough to almost contain them. I threw my head back in delight, and a spray of droplets flew out from my still-wet hair.

  “Sorry!”

  Zach laughed. “It’s okay, I don’t mind if you’re wet.”

  “Oh, believe me, I’m wet.” I put my arms around him, spun us around, and pushed him back towards the bed. “And you are way overdressed.” He unbuttoned his dress shirt and took it off, leaving a white v-neck undershirt, tight and plastered to his skin. It looked fantastic on him. “Maybe leave that on for now,” I said.

  “I’m in no position to argue. Can I kiss them?”

  “Fuck yes.” And then Zach Hutchison’s lips were on my nipple. Oh, god, he was good at that. He sucked just hard enough, flicking my nipple with his tongue, then kissed his way to the other one. I moaned, and reached down, squeezing his cock through his slacks. “I want you naked.” He nodded against my boob. I undid his belt and looked for a button on his pants but couldn’t find one.

  “They unhook like this,” he said, showing me.

  “Well, excuse me, Mr. MBA.” I unzipped his pants and let them fall around his ankles. His erection strained against his briefs, and I ran my fingers over it again. Hard as a rock. Because of me!

  “Maybe I should take my shoes off?” said Zach.

  “Oops. Sorry.” Some of the desperate hunger left the room while he took off his shoes and socks, and for a minute we were just Brooke and Zach again. I’ve never really been comfortable naked, but with Zach, it felt completely natural.

  Even though he was staring at my tits.

  While he slipped his pants over his ankles, I took a deep breath and said, “You know what I was doing when you knocked on the door, don’t you?” He nodded and couldn’t suppress a wry grin. “I didn’t have time to put my underwear back on.” I took his hand, kissed it, and brought it to the crotch of my pajama pants.

  “God, you’re so warm,” said Zach. He moved his hand a little, and I shuddered. “Can I touch you inside your pants?”

  “Yes. Wait.” He nodded, but he didn’t take his hand away. “Sierra’s always bugging me to get waxed, and I know a lot of women do, but...”

  “Brooke, if you’re trying to apologize for looking like a grown woman, you really don’t know what I like.” He knelt in front of me and dug his fingers under the waistband of my pajamas. “May I?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  He lowered my pants excruciatingly slowly, and even though I was desperate to be naked, I still had to fight off the urge to put a hand modestly over my bush. But no, Zach ran his fingers through it, and when he had my pants all the way off, he said, “Your pussy is beautiful.” I climbed into bed and opened my thighs, and he explored my slippery depths with his fingers, and I moaned again and again.

  I pulled Zach up onto the bed with me and asked if I could take off his briefs. He said yes, and I didn’t hesitate. His penis stood out proudly and fully erect from a small tuft of pubic hair, and I wrapped my hand around the shaft. “Your cock is beautiful,” I said, and then giggled. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I’m just, this is kind of overwhelming.”

  “I know,” said Zach. “You okay with everything? You want to slow down? God, I can’t believe you have your hand on my dick.”

  I kissed him, long and slow, sliding my hand up and down his length. I licked his earlobe and was surprised by what I saw. “Is that an earring hole?”

  He bit his lip and nodded. “Rebellious teenage phase.”

  “I’d like to hear more about that sometime,” I said. “I bet you’d look fantastic in a Sex Pistols shirt and ripped jeans. For now, however...” I whispered in his ear what I wanted to do.

  “If you want to, I’d love that,” he said.

  I turned around so my ass was pointing toward Zach’s face and brought my lips to his penis. It looked even more delicious up close. Sierra taught me how to give a blow job this way. I mean, she didn’t give me a hands-on lesson. But she explained that if you come at it from below, you have to hold your head in a weird position, and your neck gets sore. The best way is like this, coming at it from the other way. Plus, this way he can look at your ass. I don’t love everything about my body, but I know I have a great ass.

  I slipped my mouth over his cock. It was big—easily bigger than Evan’s. But it fit nicely into my mouth. Zach Hutchison’s cock was in my mouth. I pressed my tongue against the underside, and he said, “Brooke, god, that’s so good.” He ran his hand over my bare ass and
fingered my pussy from behind. I picked up the pace, sliding my lips up and down the length of his cock, taking him as deep into my mouth as I could. He had a musky, masculine taste. I wrapped my hand around the base of his erection and pumped it. He moaned, “I can’t hold it much longer.”

  I let him fall from my mouth just long enough to say, “Good.” I licked the full length of his cock like a popsicle, then slipped it back into my mouth and bobbed on it as fast as I could. I could sense how close he was. His legs quivered, and his hips moved up and down just a little, and somehow his cock got even thicker. “Brooke, now!” he cried, followed by a huge groan, and he squirted into my mouth, over and over. It was more than I expected, and I loved every bit, loved the way he pulsated against my tongue, the way his shaft jerked with every spurt, the sounds he made as he came.

  Finally, when I was sure he was done, I swallowed, lifted my head, turned around, and climbed on top of him. “You mind if I kiss you?” I asked.

  “Not at all.” Good. Some guys freak out about that. I kissed him hard, grinding my pussy against his flat stomach. I leaned forward until his face was smothered in my boobs, and he sucked my nipples hungrily.

  “You look happy,” I said, sitting up.

  He put his hands on my breasts. “I’m okay.”

  “Okay?” I pushed his hands away, laughing. “Only okay? Maybe you’ve got something more exciting to do? Study flash cards? Wash your car?”

  He looked at me and smiled. I gave up, and leaned in and kissed him again. I’d never get tired of the way his beard felt against my face. He whispered something, but I couldn’t hear him, so I brought my ear closer to his mouth until I could understand: “Can I eat your pussy now?”

  “You don’t have to...” I began.

  Zach looked serious. “I know I don’t have to. But I really, really want to.”