by McKinley May
She smirks. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I'm about to suggest we get on with the studying when her eyes fire up once more, dropping to examine my bulge still straining against my soccer shorts.
Operation Distraction appears to have been a failure.
“Just so you know, there’s a very specific reason I have a dress on today.” Her tongue pokes out and wets her full lips, and I feel my pulse skyrocket as she stares hungrily at my crotch. When she lifts her eyes, she hits me with the goddamn sexiest fuck me face I’ve ever seen. She places her hand on my dick, stroking me over my shorts as she utters her next words. “I wore it for easy access.”
Fucccckkkk.
I can’t take it anymore. School and studying can fucking wait.
I immediately lift Rayne up and slam my laptop into my backpack as fast as I can, almost smashing it in the process.
“Get your shit,” I command. “We’re leaving.”
I practically throw her purse into her arms and grab her hand, leading her out the door in a frantic rush.
The moment we’re out of the lounge, I’m a man on a mission. And that mission is fucking the hell out of my girlfriend in the first unoccupied room I can find.
I can’t remember a time in my entire life I’ve been as turned on as I am now. It’s to the point that if Rayne so much as breathes in my direction I might come my pants.
We’re honest-to-God running down the long hallway, taking quick glances into each room as we pass by.
Every single one is occupied.
Every. Single. One.
I let out an animalistic growl deep in my chest, the need to be inside her so bad I’m almost in pain from it.
I turn to Rayne, her flushed red cheeks and the storm brewing amidst her dilated pupils telling me she’s about as close to losing it as I am.
I squeeze her hand as we arrive at the last door in this hallway. I look inside and see one dude studying at a desk, but I’m down to my last drop of self-control and he’s gotta go.
I bust open the door and the guy lifts his head, visibly pissed at the interruption.
“This room’s reserved, buddy,” I bark out, jerking my head towards the door so he gets the hint to get the fuck up and get the fuck out.
He’s about to protest, but then he looks at the two of us and either notices Rayne clinging to my arm, her nails digging into my biceps in obvious desperation, or that I’m sporting a boner the size of the Washington Monument. Whichever it is, he gets the gist of what’s going on and grins knowingly.
“Sure, man. Have fun.”
Thank God this dude follows bro-code. I make a quick note to buy him a beer or two if I ever see him on Dublin.
He gathers his stuff up quickly, but the mere twenty seconds it takes for him to get outta there still feels like a goddamn eternity. The moment the door finally clicks shut behind him, I immediately push a bookshelf in front of it, effectively blocking the window and entrance.
When I turn around, I’m greeted by the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. Rayne’s leaning against the desk lazily, propped up on her elbows as her teeth tug seductively at the corner of her lip. She reaches up and pulls out her hair-tie, gorgeous, caramel hair falling around her face in voluminous waves.
Fuck, she’s got great hair.
I'm talking Herbal Essence commercial quality hair.
I stare at her in awe, mesmerized by how radiant this girl is, how absolutely perfect she is.
After a few moments, she cocks her head in amusement.
“What the hell are you doing all the way over there?”
Good fucking question.
Half a second later, and I’m on her like white on rice.
My hands grip her waist and I lift her onto the rickety desk. I cup the back of her hair, tilting her head up as my lips devour hers. And I mean devour. All the palpable tension that’s been building since she walked in the WSC is like a damn fuse, and our kiss is the match that sets the whole thing aflame.
Our tounges tangle together frantically, eagerly. Her hands claw at my chest, fingernails running down my pecs, her breathing ragged and rough.
It’s desperate and primal and fucking hot.
“Turn around,” I mumble against her lips when I can’t take it any longer. “I’m gonna bend you over this desk and fuck you until you're seeing stars.”
My words elicit a throaty moan from her mouth. I pull her off the desk and spin her around. She bends forward, forearms cemented to the wooden desktop.
She glances over her shoulder at me, watching intently as I free my erection from my shorts. Honey eyes glaze over as I stroke myself, a visible shiver coursing through her body.
“Vaughn,” she groans, arching her back and sticking that perfect ass mere inches from me. I reach out and flip her dress up, and—holyfuckinghell. She’s not wearing underwear.
And just when I thought I couldn’t get any more turned on.
“Vaughn,” she begs again. “Hurry.”
I situate myself at her entrance and fuck, she’s wet.
Soaked.
Ready.
I thrust myself inside, filling her completely. We both let out a collective groan.
“Shit, baby,” I grunt as I grab her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as I try not to blow my load right then and there. “You feel so damn good.”
I pump in and out, pounding into her fast and frantic. The desk squeaks loudly with each thrust, and if anyone’s walking down the hall it’s not gonna be too difficult to assume what’s happening behind this door, but fuck if I care. Fuck if Rayne cares, either. Her moans of pleasure are as loud as the desk, and each one brings me closer to spiraling over the edge.
I reach under her dress and cup her breasts. Her nipples are firm and puckered. I slowly rub my palms against them in a circular motion I know drives her crazy.
“Oh my God, that feels—Holy shit,” she cries out, her head dropping down to rest on her wrists. “Babe, I'm gonna—” Her words transform into another cry as I roll my thumbs against the tight buds.
“Me too,” I breathe out, the familiar tingling in my balls growing stronger by the moment. “Fuck, I’m really close.”
A few seconds later, she lets out a breathy gasp and I feel her muscles clenching around me. I groan as my own orgasm immediately hits, black spots blurring my vision as I come harder than I ever have.
After we recover and clean-up, I place a chaste kiss on her temple.
“I think we should study at the Student Center more often,” I mumble against her skin.
She laughs softly and reaches a hand up to stroke my cheek. “It's a plan.”
34
“You think you could refer to me as ‘Weston: Official Team Sex God’ when you quote me?”
“Uh, that’ll be a strong no from me.”
I roll my eyes as I sit in the Treehouse living room Saturday afternoon after the guys’ second to last season game—yet another win—and try with all my might to refrain from punching Weston in the face.
I’m getting the final few pieces of information for the article: a couple tidbits and comments from some of Vaughn’s roommates. I planned for this to take about twenty to thirty minutes tops, but I’ve been here for almost forty and we haven’t even gotten started. These guys are a handful. I thought it was tough to get Vaughn to focus, but his teammates are about ten thousand times worse. Getting them in the same room is proving impossible, and I’m wondering how the hell their Coach deals with them.
Weston crosses his arms behind his head and grins, those charming dimples popping on his cheeks. “So that means you’ll think about it then? Awh thanks, baby.”
I raise my brows and shoot Vaughn a look that screams Get these idiots under control or you’ll be dealing with me later. Our telepathic communication is right on point and the message is received loud and clear.
He glares daggers at Weston. “For fuck’s sake, Paine, drop the cute shit or I’ll see to it you don’t get
a mention in the piece at all. And while you’re at it, drop the baby crap, too.” He walks up behind my chair and bends down, kissing me on top of the head. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she’s taken.”
Weston shrugs his shoulders and lets out a disgruntled sigh. “Fine, man. Whatever. Look, can we speed this shit up? I have a smokin’ hot blonde waiting for me in my bedroom who’s fucking dying for the Paine experience, and that’s a helluva lot more tempting than this.” He turns to me. “No offense, bab- Rayne.”
“None taken. I’m with you, Weston. I want to get this done so I can get out of here and put the final draft together. Okay, seriously, where are Cam and Liam?” I look around for the other two who I swear were just here a few minutes ago, but have since vanished into thin air.
Ellie jumps off the couch. “I’ll find them. I’m sure they’re elbow deep in that huge bucket of buffalo wings Erika dropped off earlier.”
Thirty seconds later she’s dragging them in, both holding plates filled to the brim with sauce-drenched chicken wings.
“Oh shit, those look good. I’ll be right back,” Weston says, hopping up from the couch cushion. I quickly jump up from my chair and hold my arms out wide, blocking his path.
“I don’t think so. Sit down, shut up, and let’s finish this. Your reward for this quick interview can be buffalo wings and blonde bombshells. The faster we finish, the faster you get to the good stuff.”
“But I’m fucking starving,” he whines, trying to sidestep me.
I mimic his step, refusing to let him pass.
“That’s too damn bad. Sit. Your. Ass. Down.”
Cameron and Liam let out a chorus of “Ooohs” as they sit down on the sectional, entertained by the conversation.
Weston’s hazel eyes widen and he jerks his head back in surprise. “Holy fuck, Steel. You got yourself a feisty one. She’s like a miniature Ellie.”
Ellie reaches her leg out and gently kicks him in the calf. I turn to Vaughn who shoots me a grin. “Don’t mess with her, man. She’s more than just feisty. You don’t want her going all thunderstorm mode on you. It’s frightening.”
I nod in agreement and attempt an intimidating face. “Yeah, watch out. You should definitely fear me.”
Weston rakes his fingers through his wind-blown hair and reluctantly sits back down.
“It’s like thunder, lightning, the way Rayne is frightening,” Cameron sings out, waving a chicken wing in tune with his song. He frowns when we all quirk a brow at him. “Seriously? None of you guys know that?”
I think we’re finally ready to begin when I notice Liam turning on the TV.
“Liam! Noooo!” I groan as I run my hands through my hair in an exasperated fashion. I feel a strand pull out and I inspect it, half expecting it to be gray from the amount of stress these idiots are putting me through.
He frowns. “Arsenal vs. Man U is on in fifteen minutes, Rayne. I don’t want to miss the beginning.”
“Fucking turn it off,” Weston mumbles, but Liam either doesn’t hear or chooses not to listen.
I take a deep, calculated breath, trying to calm myself when Cameron speaks up. “Put it on mute for now, Full English. Compromise, bro.”
Liam obeys and I mouth a quick thank you to Cam who has just saved everyone from the Wrath of Rayne. I press play on my recorder, flip open my laptop, and clap my hands together. “Okay, let’s get started.”
I spend the next ten minutes rattling off some questions to each of them about their season so far, preparation for playoffs, and their plan for coming out on top of the College Cup podium this year. I'm glad they're a talkative bunch, giving me dozens of animated statements and wild predictions that will flow nicely in the piece. Of course, the majority of these answers are inappropriate and laced with curse words, so I’ll be heavily editing their comments this weekend to make them school-paper suitable.
I skim my notes quickly, making sure I’ve got all the information I need before asking the final question on my list.
“Last one and then you're free. What are you plans for after graduation? Professional soccer? Other career paths?”
Liam and Cameron answer immediately, both confident that their futures will include them playing the sport at a professional level just like Vaughn, but Weston remains unusually quiet.
When he still hasn’t said anything, I directly address him. “Any plans, Weston?”
Before he can respond, Liam points to the TV screen and answers for him. “There’s his future right there. Paines play for Arsenal. That’s his brother and dad on the pitch right now.”
I turn my attention to the screen. There's a middle-aged man in a tailored suit chatting with an attractive player whom I recognize from one of the many Arsenal posters on Stone’s wall. I’m shocked when the puzzle pieces attach in my mind.
“Wait, Rhett Paine is your brother?” I question incredulously, surprised I never connected the dots or heard about this until now.
Weston’s eyes are dark, brows scrunched together as he gives me a curt nod.
“And his dad’s the team manager and former Arsenal star, Robert Paine,” Liam continues like he’s giving me a family history lesson.
“He’s basically an Arsenal legacy,” Ellie interjects cheerily, sounding like a proud mother.
I’m still gazing at Weston, his mouth in a tight line as he watches his family on the screen with an unreadable expression.
He abruptly jerks out of his seat. “Yeah, I don’t really want to be quoted for that last question, Rayne. We done now?” His terse response catches me off guard, but I nod and assure him I won’t.
After he’s left, I look around at the guys and Ellie, completely confused. “Um, what just happened?”
They all shrug. “He always gets super bitchy when talking about his brother. Don’t take it personally.”
Before I can pry further, Liam and Ellie head to the kitchen to grab more wings, and Cameron stretches his shoulders out as he glances over at me.
“When can we expect the final product, Sportscaster Girl? Do we get a sneak preview?”
I stand up, placing my laptop in my bag. “Sorry, but nope.”
“Only me, dude,” Vaughn says as he tries to sneak his arms around my waist.
I lightly snort as I swat him away. “No, not even you, Vaughn. You guys can see the final product when everyone else does. No special soccer team privileges here.”
Suspicion gleams in Cameron’s gray eyes. “How do we know you didn’t shit talk us the whole article?”
I roll my eyes, annoyed at the ridiculous accusation. “Oh please, Cam. And what exactly am I going to shit talk about? Your current undefeated season? Your record number of shutouts? Your insanely high team average of three goals per game?”
When I see the wide grins that appear on both of the guys’ faces, I realize my mistake. Stroking these two’s already oversized egos was so not what I planned to do.
“Well, shit, we’re fucking awesome. When you lay it all out like that, you’re totally right. It’s not even possible to talk crap about us,” Cameron remarks, exchanging a cocksure fist bump with Vaughn. “Thanks for the reminder.”
I scoff. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” He grins and starts making his way up the stairs, leaving Vaughn and I alone in the living room.
He's still decked out in his uniform, and I make no effort to disguise the fact that I'm checking him out from head-to-toe: slightly pink, sun-kissed cheeks, cobalt blue fabric against golden skin, a few grass stains on his knees, and white athletic socks bunched down around his ankles. Just the sight of him sends spirals of pleasure zipping through my bloodstream.
Some girls prefer their men dressed to the tens in suits and ties while some go gaga over the casual sweats and t-shirt, but me? I like my guy fresh off the field, repping his team colors and looking like pure perfection.
Vaughn notices me giving him a once over. His teeth tug on his bottom lip in amusement as he w
alks closer.
“You sure I don't get a special edition early article?” he asks smoothly, obviously trying to woo me in my vulnerable state.
“Nope. What makes you think you're so special?” I give him a playful poke in the chest. He grabs my hand and pulls me into him, pressing every inch of that glorious body against mine.
He smells like fall air, clean male sweat, and the tiniest hint of sunscreen and it's freaking intoxicating. I lean in and breathe deeply, using all of my self control not to moan out loud.
“I’m Steel Fucking Blue. Pretty sure that makes me special.” I laugh into his chest, but that laugh transforms into a small gasp as he tilts my head up and molds his mouth against mine, gently nipping at my bottom lip with his teeth. “Anything I can do to convince you?”
Damn. I think this guy could legitimately convince me the Earth is flat with those perfect lips and expressive eyes.
I wrap my arms around his neck and turn that fleeting kiss up a few levels on the heat index, not caring that anyone could walk in at any moment. His large hands glide down my back, coming to a rest in the curve just above my butt. When I feel him hardening against me, heat and excitement rush to my core, his arousal propelling mine into overdrive. I thread my fingers through his soft hair and he breaks the kiss, leaning down to brush his lips against the column of my neck.
“You wanna go upstairs?” he mutters, his husky voice and cloudy eyes causing my body to scream YES YES YES.
Unfortunately, my stupid mind is on the opposite page, a lecturing voice demanding I go home and finish the feature right away. And even though there’s nothing I want more than to head right up to his bedroom, my mind ultimately wins out over my body’s pleas.
