by Aubrey Irons
“Oh God,” she moans.
I can feel the cum boiling in my balls already, and the sweet heavenly sound of her moans getting faster and breathier are only pushing me even closer to losing it completely.
“Play with that pussy, baby,” I say darkly into the phone, loving the way she gasps like she’s just been scandalized by what I’m saying. “I want you to play with yourself, and I want you to imagine my big cock filling you up.”
“Oh fuck, Dalton-” she whimpers.
“And then I want you to come for me,” I groan, jerking my cock up and down with my hand.
“Okay…” she husks out. The sound of her lips right in my ear as she gasps and sucks in air makes my cock throb in my grip. I’m imagining her sprawled out on her dorm-room bed, her legs wide and her hair wild as she fingers her tight, pink pussy.
“You’re getting close aren’t you, darlin.”
“Uh-huh,” she moans out.
“I want to hear you come.”
“Uh-uh, you first,” she breathes out.
“Ladies first,” I groan. “Play with your clit, baby. I want to hear how wet you are when you come for me.”
“Oh God, Dalton!”
“Come for me,” I growl, feeling my own orgasm about to rip through me. “Make that pussy come for me, Hailey.”
She gasps, the sound sharp and yet soft, and the sound of Hailey Garrison coming for me is the last I can take.
I roar as I pump my cock, cum rocketing out over the floor as I picture burying my face between her legs and drinking every drop of her honey.
She’s panting on the phone. “Holy crap-”
There’s a sudden pounding in background. “Hailey! You’re missing the dance-off!” Roxie’s muffled voice screams in the background.
“Oh, shit,” Hailey giggles. “Shit, I need to go.”
“This isn’t over, you know,” I growl, sitting up on the bed as my pulse slowly comes back to normal.
She laughs, “We’ll see about that.”
“Hailey-”
“Enjoy the rest of your night, Ten,” she finishes with a giggle before the line goes dead.
30
Hailey
Breathe.
I can feel my muscles stretching, my body slowly easing into the pose as I let the air out in a thin stream. I breathe again, filling my lungs before I move and slide down to the mat again with the exhale, feeling the tension leave my body.
Yoga’s the closest thing to a sport I’m ever going to do. But there’s something about the meditative state of pacing my own breathing and letting myself let go of stress that always has a way of centering and relaxing me.
Except relaxing today is a little harder to do than normal, and it’s not just because of the dull ache of the champagne hangover pounding in my head.
It’s because of last night, and the phone call with Dalton that started as flirting and then went way further than I ever meant it to go.
God, WAY further.
I’d been drinking, and I was tipsy, but I know lying to myself and telling myself I was drunk isn’t going to change what happened. I knew what I was doing the second I called him, or when I escaped the party to lock myself in my room, or when I sent him that picture.
Or when I came, gasping for air and listening to him do the same across the line.
I breathe again, arching my back. My butt raises up into the air as I press my palms into the mat on Heather’s sun porch. Okay, a step or ten further than I should have gone with Dalton, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Or rather, it’s nothing I won’t make myself handle.
“Now that’s a sight a man could get used to when he walks into a room.”
I jerk upright from the downward dog pose I was just in, my face burning as I whirl to the grinning Dalton leaning against the doorframe.
“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” he says with a cheeky grin. “I kinda like the sight of you on your knees with your ass up like that.”
“Hope you took a picture,” I mutter, standing and taking a deep breath as I pull my hair back from my face. Dalton and I lock eyes for a second, both of us clearly thinking about last night, but waiting for the other one to say something about it first.
Jesus, I can’t believe I showed him my tits. The blush blooms on my face as last night comes back with crystal clarity.
I can’t believe I CAME on the phone with him.
“So,” I say quickly with forced casualness. I grin and stick my hand out. “Got my fifty bucks?”
Dalton hoots out a laugh as he shakes his head and reaches into his back pocket. “Fifty, as promised.”
“Thanks,” I smile, forcing the flush from my face as I slip the bills into the waist of my yoga pants.
Play it cool, play it casual. Don’t let him think for a second you’re thrown off by last night.
Except he grins, and his eyes flash at me, and I know instantly that he sees right through my phony façade.
“Hey, so I got you a little something.”
I raise a brow. “You got me something?”
“Yeah, like a present,” he says with a grin. He reaches for the backpack at his feet and pulls out a black box, handing it to me.
“Dalton, if this is something crude-”
“It’s nothing nasty, I swear,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “Actually, you might just thank me.”
I frown. “I repeat, if it’s-”
“Oh just open the box, darlin.”
The blood red ribbon pulls away easily, and I finally pull my suspicious eyes away from him to pull open the box.
Oh.
He’s right, it’s not crude, but that doesn’t mean the blood doesn’t immediately rush into my face.
The lingerie is by far the sexiest piece of clothing I’ve ever seen - certainly like nothing I’ve ever actually owned or worn. It’s black and lacy, with white pearls sewn into it in little rows that curve under the brassiere cups and delve down in a strand across the gusset of the thong panties and up the back.
I look up sharply at him, my face burning as I swallow thickly. “Lingerie?” My eyes go wide in the pin-drop silence between us. I can feel my pulse beating hotly as I blink quickly at him, because as much as I hate to admit it, the fact that Dalton got me sexy lingerie has me incredibly, horribly, and mortifyingly wet.
He grins slowly at me, his eyes darting across my face. “I figured it was about time for me to make good on that promise of helping you out with your panty issue.”
I swallow again. “My panty issue? What issue?”
“The issue that you didn’t own anything like this,” he says with an easy smirk. “Something to wear to put a little pep in your step.”
I almost laugh. Right, like the set of lace and pearls in my hands is in any way shape or form something to “step” around in. I don’t exactly know much about fancy lingerie, but I know underwear like this is for one purpose, and I know Dalton is entirely aware of that too.
Which is one of the reasons I can feel the heat blooming traitorously between my legs.
“Little inappropriate for your stepsister, wouldn’t you say?” I croak out in a hushed voice.
He cocks an eyebrow and steps closer to me. “Darlin, when have I ever been appropriate?”
I shiver before I can stop myself, and Dalton’s grin only grows wider as he sees it. He moves closer, and part of me wants to step back away from him and the feelings his nearness brings, but I just can’t.
I gasp as he moves right against me, his hand snaking to my waist as he spins me around and pins me against the back of the sofa behind me. His lips are at my neck, his breath hot and teasing as he growls and runs his fingers slowly up the small of my back.
“Besides, I think we both know you like me even more when I’m inappropriate.”
I shake my head, feeling my pulse pounding against my ribcage as I inhale sharply. “You are sorely mistaken,” I husk out, my hands moving to his chest.
God, he’s so hard.
He chuckles into my ear, as his fingers slip back down the small of my back, teasing across the waist of my yoga pants as they slip across my hip to my front. He breathes into my neck again, and my eyes flutter shut as I feel the blood roar in my ears.
Suddenly, I gasp as his hand slides right down over the front of my yoga pants, delving deep between my legs to cup my center right through the thin material. I whimper as I feel his fingers slide over me through the spandex, and he chuckles again into my ear.
“You know, for a smart girl, you are a terrible liar.”
I swallow thickly, shaking my head. “I’m not ly-”
“Then why is your pussy soaking wet for me.”
I whimper as his finger slides slowly across my cleft, and I know he can feel how burning hot I am for him, and how dripping wet I am through the material as he slowly rubs me there.
Dalton’s other hand moves to my waist and starts to slide up, pushing my tank-top up over my torso, leaving goosebumps where his fingers trail over my skin. His hips move against me, and I moan as I feel how hard and how big he is. His cock presses thickly against my thigh as his fingers maddeningly tease my center. The slow creep of my top stops right beneath my breasts, and I start to shake my head, my hands pressing at his chest.
“Dalton, you shouldn’t,” I gasp. “You can’t,” I say quietly, biting my lip and wishing with everything I have that he keeps going.
“Darlin,” he growls, his deep voice in my ear and his lips brushing against the side of my neck and making me shiver. “I’m pretty fucking good at doing what I shouldn’t.”
And then he’s pushing the fabric up over the swell of my breasts, and I’m shivering as my nipples tingle in the cool of the air. I can hear him growl as he pulls away, and I can feel his eyes burning across my skin.
“I’ll bet that fifty bucks right back that you’ve been this wet for me ever since last night,” He husks into my ear.
I swallow thickly. “I’m not one of your dirty little skanks, Dalton.”
He chuckles into my skin, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. “Never said you were, but that doesn’t change that I’m betting you’ve been dying to feel my dirty hands all over you.”
I quickly shake my head, refusing to let him think he’s got the same power over me that he does with every other woman in the world.
…Which isn’t true at all, because I am putty in his hands right then.
“Nope,” I breathe out, trying to keep my voice steady as his fingers and his lips send electric shocks through my body.
“Oh I think we already covered you being a shitty liar, darlin,” he chuckles, his fingers rubbing over my clit again and again, making my knees start to shake.
“And I bet you’ve also been dying to get your hands on my cock again,” he sucks my earlobe into his lips. “Haven’t you,” he growls.
I whimper.
Thanks a lot, body.
Dalton pulls back, his eyes blazing into mine as his lips move just shy of mine. “You know you can have every damn inch of it, darlin. Just admit that the thought of me sliding it into you has you dripping down your damn legs.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as his finger rubs my clit over and over again, and I shake my head. “It does not.”
Dalton chuckles lowly against my lips, and suddenly, his finger between my legs just stops. “Keep telling yourself that, darlin,” he growls, before he pulls away from me, turns, and walks away.
And then he’s gone, leaving me furious, flustered, and soaking wet.
31
Dalton
Hailey shuts herself away in her room for the rest of the afternoon. After that, I don’t see her around the house for the next few days.
Damnit.
I know I pushed harder than I probably should have, but I can’t fucking help it. Because something about Hailey Garrison makes me want to push things further than they should go.
Something about me wants to keep pushing things.
Which is why I find myself prowling around the doorway to her room at Mom’s house, and poking my head inside even though I know she’s back at campus.
It smells like her in here. Hell, it looks like her in here. There’s a Lord of the Rings poster tacked up on one wall, alongside a framed picture of the moon shot in high definition.
Jesus she’s a nerd.
Every girl I’ve ever gone after has been the giggly, vapid, and boring kind. The kind that just says yes, not the kind that banters back. I’ve gone for women who have zero opinions of their own, who choose to mimic those of whoever they’re with instead of thinking for themselves.
Because it was easy.
Hailey’s not those things in the slightest bit. She’s sure as hell not easy, she sure doesn’t always say yes, and opinions she’s got in fucking spades.
She also might have more brains than any of the other girls I’ve been with stacked together.
And so, I don’t actually care that she’s this big nerd who reads sci-fi books and plays magical fantasy video games. Hell, I fucking like that she is a nerd - I like exactly who she is, because it’s refreshing, and different, and challenging.
It challenges me, and that’s something I need.
I turn to leave her room then, but my eyes stop on the box from earlier - the one the lingerie came in - sitting on her bed.
With the lid ajar.
I raise a brow.
But it’s not until I peek inside that my amused, intrigued grin turns downright hungry.
Because it’s empty. Which means she took the hot little set of lingerie with the pearls running across the seam of the panties.
…It might mean she’s wearing said panties, too.
I growl as the mental image saunters through my brain of Hailey, laying back on my bed wearing the black lace and pearls.
I linger about a quarter second longer in her room before I’m striding out the door and heading right for my car.
I’m raising my fist to pound on Hailey’s dorm room door, when I hear Roxie’s voice behind me.
“She’s out.”
I turn to see Hailey’s neighbor standing there with a laundry basket in her hands. “Need something?”
I shrug. “Nah, my mom wanted me to drop something off for her,” I lie.
“Uh-huh.” Roxie eyes me, a half-hidden smirk on her face that says she doesn’t really believe any of my bullshit.
I frown, “What?”
Roxie shrugs, still half-hiding that little grin. “So, QB, what exactly did your mom want you to drop off at Hailey’s dorm at eleven o’clock at night?” She says, eyeing my empty hands and smirking.
“Uh, yeah, it’s just this…thing.”
“Oh, yeah, totally.” Roxie arches a brow. “Can you hold this for a sec?” She pushes the laundry basket into my hands as she fishes in her back pocket for her room key.
“She’s on a date.”
Her words hit me like slug to the gut, the red rage clouding my eyes. I almost drop the damn laundry basket before I grit my teeth and force myself to breathe.
Play it cool, play it cool.
“Oh yeah?” I say as passively uninterested as I can sound. I grin. “With Paul?”
“Who?”
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
Roxie takes her laundry back out of my hands. “Anyways, if it’s important, you could always swing by that dumb frat party and give it to her.”
The rage comes roaring back, pulsing through my body and making my jaw tighten. “Hailey’s at a frat?”
“Yeah, she’s with some guy at a party at one of those gamma delta alpha pie whiskey tango…” Roxie trails off as she shrugs and rolls her eyes. “I don’t speak frat, sorry. But one of those douchebag places with the Greek letters.”
I run my hands through my hair. “Seriously?”
“Dude, I know, but she was pretty adamant about getting all dolled up and going out.” Roxie shakes her head, pushing her door open with her foot. “But hey, it ho
nestly might be good for her.”
I scowl. “How, exactly?”
“Cause that girl needs to get laid, I’m telling you.”
The floor seems to drop out beneath me, and I can feel every single muscle in my body tightening as the roaring jealousy burns through me like fire.
And that’s exactly what it is - jealousy.
It’s blind, burning, neon-fucking-green jealousy that comes welling up inside of me at the thought of Hailey with any other guy.
“Seriously, a month of being her next-door neighbor, and I haven’t been kept up once by her getting her groove on. It’s tragic really when you-”
“Which frat,” I say icily.
Roxie raises a brow, and that little smirk teases her lips again. “The green house, on Willow Street.”
Fury blazes inside of me and I want to put my fist through a fucking wall. The thought of her with some other guy has my skin crawling. The thought of anyone else in the world putting their fucking hands on her has me seeing red.
Because she’s mine.
The feeling is primal, and raw, and totally caveman-sounding, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s not even jealousy I feel either, it’s rage that some other guy would try and take something that’s mine.
Roxie furrows her brow, and it looks like she’s about to open her mouth to say something else, but I’m storming down the hallway, heedless of whatever she’s about to say to me.
I spot her the second I walk in the door, and if I was pissed at the thought of her with another guy before, seeing her with one has me downright fucking furious.
They’re sitting on a grungy-looking couch towards the back of the place. Hailey looks like Goddamn original sin in this skimpy top and a breezy little skirt that would get me hard as a rock, except I know she’s put it on to get someone else’s attention.
And it’s fucking working.
That someone else is this serious douche-bag-looking motherfucker - a total frat dickhead complete with backwards baseball hat and pink fucking polo shirt with the collar popped up.
The guy has “predator” written all over him, and he’s grinning this smarmy grin at her, leaning into her as she talks. I’m gritting my teeth and seeing red, but when I see his hand on hers, I want to throw him through the fucking wall.
