Campus Player

by Jennifer Sucevic

  “Don’t be embarrassed.”

  It’s much too late for that. Somewhere, deep inside, I’m dying.

  Slowly.

  “I want to be upfront about everything.” Quickly she adds, “You can ask me questions, too.” With our bodies fused together, she pulls away until there’s a bit of distance between our chests.

  Mentally I steel myself for the oncoming humiliation. If this is what it will take to make this girl mine, then I’ll do it. “All right, fire away.”

  And that’s exactly how it feels...like I’m standing in front of a firing squad with no chance of escaping unscathed. She’s either going to find my inexperience a turn-on or not. I can’t help but wonder for the umpteenth time why the hell I blurted out my virginal status. That wasn’t something she needed to know.

  “Have you ever had a blow job?”

  I jerk my head into a nod.

  When I remain silent, her voice drops. “A lot of them?”

  “Yeah.” It’s not something I’ve ever kept track of, but there has been a good amount. The first time a girl went down on me was sophomore year of high school. She bore an uncanny resemblance to Demi. I’m not proud of it, but with the girl’s head buried in my lap, I could stroke my fingers through her long dark hair and pretend she was someone else. I remember exploding in her mouth and her sucking me down until every muscle turned limp.

  Best fucking feeling in the world.

  Maybe I wasn’t out boning every girl I could get my hands on, but when I needed a release, that did the trick.

  Carefully I pick through the thoughts that flicker across her face. “Does that change the way you feel about me?”

  She shakes her head. “Of course not.”

  Time to turn the tables. “What about you? How many guys have you blown?”

  Her gaze darts away as heat rises in her cheeks.

  “Hey.” My hand settles on the curve of her jaw. “It goes both ways, remember? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. We can be honest with each other.”

  “A couple.” When I raise a brow, wanting specifics, she adds, “Three.” Her shoulders jerk. “Oral sex seems so much more intimate than...”

  “Actual sex?”

  “Yeah.”

  The question shoots from my mouth before I can stop it. “How many guys have gone down on you?” I want to know everything about this girl—all the nitty-gritty details.

  “None.”

  “Really?” My brows shoot up. From my limited experience, girls seem to enjoy it. A lot. Hell, some like it more than sex. I’m a little surprised but, then again, I like that she hasn’t done it with anyone else. It’s something new we can explore together.

  A blush hits her cheeks as she shakes her head. “I’ve slept with five guys, and the relationships never lasted more than three or four months. Most of my boyfriends were more interested in getting off rather than making sure it was good for me.”

  I hate to admit it, but college-aged dudes are selfish assholes when it comes to sex. There’s a reason they say—young, dumb, and full of cum. Because most of them are.

  “Have you,” her voice drops, “gone down on a girl before?”

  “If you’re asking if I’ve returned the favor, then yeah...I have. It only seemed fair.” The edges of my lips curl into a smile as I whisper against the shell of her ear, “I don’t want to brag, but I’ve got some serious tongue skills in that department.” I suck the delicate lobe into my mouth before biting down on it. “I love everything there is about eating pussy.” When her breath catches, I continue. “I love thrusting my tongue deep inside and hitting that little spot that drives girls crazy.”

  Demi moans, grinding her pelvis against mine. Her response only ramps me up even more.

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do to you. I’m gonna spread your lips wide and lick your pussy until you cream all over the place. Then I’m going to suck that little clit into my mouth until you scream my name over and over again.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “You know what else I like?”

  With a shake of her head, she whimpers.

  “I love talking dirty.”

  I’ve barely touched this girl, and she’s on the cusp of splintering apart.

  So.

  Damn.

  Responsive.

  How did Justin let her slip through his fingers? How did any of the guys she’s been with allow her to get away? Didn’t they realize what they had?

  Too fucking bad for them. Their loss is my gain. And once I make her mine, I won’t ever let go.

  I squeeze her ass in the palms of my hands. So damn muscular. And that’s a huge turn-on. Some guys like their women to be soft and curvy. That’s never done it for me. Maybe it’s because this girl has always dominated my thoughts. I’ve never been able to see past her. Even though her body is tight and athletic, Demi has curves where it counts. I can’t wait to strip her bare and learn every inch of her body.

  “I want you so much right now.” Her eyelashes flutter open, and need fills her eyes. “Are you sure about waiting?”

  Hell, no.

  As I capture her lips, my tongue plunges into her mouth to tangle and dance. I pull her against me until she can feel how hard I am. “I want you more than you could possibly know, but it needs to be right. I want to take my time, and I want you to be certain.”

  She grinds her pelvis against me. “Remove those boxers, and I’ll show you how certain I am.”

  Even though it feels like the tip of my cock is going to explode, the comment makes my lips twitch. Did I ever think there would come a time when Demi Richards would practically beg me to fuck her?

  Nope. Never in a million years.

  “Slow,” I whisper as a reminder to both of us. “We need to take this slow.”

  Although that doesn’t mean I can’t give her a preview of what she can expect. A little something to look forward to. One hand slips from her ass to the front of her panties before delving inside. I groan as my fingers brush over the soft lips of her pussy. She widens her legs as I push two fingers deep inside.

  Once they are completely seated inside her warmth, a moan escapes from her.

  “Feel better?”

  “Yes.” Her eyelids drift shut as her head lolls back.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as sexy as Demi gyrating against me, getting off on my fingers. Slowly I drag them from the heat of her body before plunging inside again. It doesn’t take long for us to find a rhythm. A flush stains her cheeks as her teeth sink into her lower lip.

  She’s so fucking beautiful.

  When a furrow creases her brow, I know she’s hovering at the precipice. I pump my hand, giving her everything she needs to find her release. Her body tightens as her movements become frenzied. As she opens her mouth to scream, I seal my lips over hers and swallow down her pleasure. I continue thrusting my fingers inside her until her muscles turn lax. Only then does satisfaction fill me as I slip free from her body.

  If I have my way, that will be the first of many orgasms I give this girl.

  23

  Demi

  We spend the rest of Saturday morning working on a statistics assignment and kicking around a ball in the backyard. The QB may be hot stuff on the stadium turf, but on the soccer field? I run circles around his ass. Since the refrigerator looks like Mother Hubbard’s cupboards, we decide to make a run to the grocery store and pick up a couple of necessities to get us through the rest of the weekend. On the way home, Rowan detours, swinging into the paved parking lot of Twist ’N Dip, a small ice cream stand in the center of town.

  He doesn’t realize it, but this place holds a lot of fond childhood memories for me. When I started playing soccer, Dad would bring me here as a special treat after each game. It was something I always looked forward to. Once I started playing with higher-level teams, and we started traveling more, we’d stop when we were in the area, but that became less frequent. I haven’t been here in ages. Probably si
nce middle school.

  “I love this place.” Nostalgia fills me as I study the small white brick building with a sliding glass window. It looks exactly the way it did ten years ago.

  Rowan flashes me a grin. “Yeah, I remember you mentioning it.”

  Huh...I don’t recall that conversation.

  “Really?” My brows lift as I sift through my memories.

  “It was a while ago.” He shrugs. “You said your dad would bring you here after games. You loved the dipped cones.”

  That’s exactly what I’d order.

  Every single time.

  My heart flutters beneath my ribcage at the realization that he tucked away such an insignificant piece of information. It’s another reminder that Rowan has been quietly hovering at the edges of my life, paying attention to the minute details, while I was intent on creating walls to keep him at a distance. I pegged him as a player who would only end up hurting me.

  How did I not see him for the person he truly is?

  Why was I so stubborn about giving him a chance?

  I don’t realize I’ve become trapped in a web of my thoughts until Rowan reaches over and gently strokes his fingers along the curve of my cheek. “Does it weird you out that I know so much?” Concern and embarrassment weave their way through his deep voice.

  If it were anyone else—yeah, I might find it creepy or stalkerish. But how can I possibly feel that way when this is Rowan we’re talking about? Someone who has been a part of my life for so long? He and my dad have formed such a strong bond. We sit down for dinner every Wednesday night. We’ve had at least one class together every semester. Had I paid more attention, I’d probably know as much about him as he does about me.

  “No.” If I’m being honest, I like that he knows me so well. Rowan understands what’s important to me. I’ve been with enough self-absorbed guys who didn’t ask one thing about me. Some couldn’t even be bothered to discover what position I play on the field. They talk about themselves ad nauseam and barely ask any questions. They don’t care about my thoughts or feelings. Sometimes, I think they would prefer I didn’t have any. “It doesn’t.”

  “Good.” The pad of his thumb grazes my bottom lip. “The last thing I want to do is scare you away.”

  “I’m not scared.” Which is strange. I’ve spent so many years keeping him at a firm distance, and now, all I want to do is pull him close. I want to rip away the last of the barriers that keep me from him. “I wish I hadn’t been so stubborn,” I admit. Guilt slices through me as my gaze drops to my fingers as they twist together in my lap. “I wasted so much time.”

  “I think we went through everything we needed to in order to get to this place. Our relationship deepened when it was meant to.”

  His response sends a little shiver scuttling through me, and the fine hair on my arms prickle. “Do you really believe that?” My gaze locks on his as interest careens through me. “That everything happens for a reason?”

  Emotion flashes in his blue eyes. For a split second, they deepen with a vibrant color before vanishing. It’s there and gone like a crack of lightning before I can decipher what it meant.

  “For the most part, I do.” His fingers strum my cheek, and I’m tempted to sink into his touch.

  His take on life surprises me. I wasn’t expecting it.

  Fate.

  Kismet.

  Destiny.

  Whatever you want to call it, it all means the same thing.

  I tilt my head and study him, intrigued by the notion. This isn’t the kind of conversation I expected to have with Rowan while sitting in the Twist ’N Dip parking lot. All thoughts of ice cream flee as I delve headfirst into the topic. “Isn’t that more of a yes or no question? You either believe everything happens for a reason or you don’t?”

  A slight chuckle escapes from him. “Is anything in life ever that black and white?” The emotion I’d caught sight of moments ago comes back full force, and it feels like we’re drilling a little deeper beneath the surface of our relationship. He’s revealing a tiny piece of himself that not everyone else gets to see. “Is your life that black and white?”

  Good question.

  “I’ve never thought about it before in such simple terms.” As the words tumble off my tongue, I realize there’s never been a need for me to examine such an existential question. Even though my parents are divorced, and our family has gone through some challenging times, my life has been stable and fairly easy. My parents have good jobs, we’ve had plenty of money, and have always had a nice place to live. And I was loved. Most of the girls I grew up playing soccer with came from the same kind of upper middle-class background. Travel soccer is surprisingly expensive; you have to have a disposable income to practice, train, and travel. This little bit of introspection makes me realize how blessed I am. Perhaps if my life hadn’t been so cushy, those are questions I would have reflected upon at an earlier age.

  For Rowan to have already formed an opinion about the topic makes me wonder about his upbringing. I had assumed he grew up much like I did—in a solid middle-class neighborhood in suburbia with two loving parents who supported his dream of playing football. My mind tumbles back to the conversation at the stadium and how guarded he’d become when I asked about his family. Only now do I realize that maybe I jumped to the wrong conclusion.

  “But it kind of sounds like you have,” I say softly, hoping to tease out a little more insight.

  For a long moment, he remains silent. Just when I wonder if he’ll respond, he says, “When you grow up with very little, and you see people around you with so much more, it makes you question the reason for it.” Rowan jerks his shoulders. “So yeah, maybe I have examined if there’s a purpose to the things that happen to us or shape us into the human beings that we are. It’s kind of depressing to think the struggles we go through in life are pointless and don’t ultimately push us toward our purpose or goals.”

  I blink, surprised and yet somehow not by the depth hidden behind Rowan’s pretty façade. There is so much more to him than being a handsome football-playing jock. It’s doubtful most people take the time to get to know him on this level; or that he gives them the opportunity to see him in this light.

  “I guess I never thought about it like that.”

  He strokes my face. “Maybe that’s why it took so long for you to open your eyes and see me standing in front of you. Maybe we both had to change and grow before we were ready for that next step.”

  Everything in me stills as I consider the possibility. Maybe Rowan is correct, and life works out the way it’s supposed to when the time is right. The challenges we work through and ultimately overcome are there to help shape us into the people we were always meant to be.

  It's a dizzying thought.

  He shrugs, and the seriousness filling his eyes melts away. “You ready for that ice cream?”

  When I nod, he closes the distance and brushes his lips across mine. “Good. Then we can go back to your place and have a little rematch. FYI—this time I won’t go so easy on you.”

  Laughter bubbles up in my throat, banishing our previous discussion, and lightening the atmosphere. “Oh, please! We both know I kicked your ass fair and square. But hey, it would be my pleasure to crush you all over again.”

  He raises a brow. “You always this cocky?”

  “That’s not cockiness,” I snort. “It’s confidence.”

  “Whatever it is,” his fingers trail over my bare thigh toward the vee between my legs, “it’s sexy as hell.”

  My gaze drops to his hand before flicking to his face. I point to the offending appendage. “Yeah, that’s not going to work, bruh. I’m not that distractable.”

  “Bruh?” He bursts out laughing. “Is that what I am now? Your bruh?”

  “When we’re on the field, and I’m wiping it with your ass, that’s exactly what you are.”

  “Have I mentioned how sexy the confidence is?”

  I flash him a grin. “Does that mean I’ll
be getting lucky afterward?”

  A cagey look enters his eyes. “Guess we’re going to find out now, aren’t we?”

  Oh, you’re damn right we are.

  Game on.

  24

  Demi

  My eyelids flutter, and I blink, focusing on the guy stretched out next to me. His bare chest rises and falls with every deep inhalation. I glance at the window and realize the sun is peeking over the horizon, painting the sky in splashes of pink and purple hues. As beautiful as the sight is, it’s not nearly enough to hold my attention, and my gaze returns to Rowan. His blond hair is spread out across the pillow. His skin’s sun-kissed hue glows against the snowy white sheets, giving him a deep, dark color.

  I almost shake my head.

  A week ago, I could never have fathomed waking up in bed next to him. Or that he had wanted me this entire time—enough to remain a virgin. Even now, it all seems farfetched. The past thirty-six hours have irrevocably altered our relationship. We can never go back to what it once was.

  As swiftly as this has happened, Rowan wants to take our physical relationship slow. After we fooled around in the pool yesterday morning, all I wanted was to feel him deep inside my body. Even though I gave it my best shot, Rowan was adamant about taking our time and waiting.

  It’s kind of funny. And a bit of a role reversal. In most of my past relationships, I’ve always been the one to pump the brakes. And now that I’ve finally found a guy I want to tear the clothes off of and get naked with, he’s the one slow tracking sex. I’ve read enough novels to appreciate the irony when I see it. And this situation is chock-full of it.

  I inch closer to the warmth that emanates from his lean body. His arms are stretched above his head, making his chest stand out in sharp relief. The rigid slab of muscle and sinewy strength makes my mouth go dry. Even though his hair is the color of freshly harvested wheat in bright sunlight, his thick eyebrows and lashes are dark—the latter sweeps in twin crescents across his cheeks. Any girl would be envious of their length.