by Teagan Kade
“You… quit? But why?”
“Because I couldn’t stand by and let them strip you of your dignity.”
“Colton…”
“No. It was the right thing and I do not regret it for a single second. So, where are we going?”
I can barely speak. “I, I was headed to The Dive to meet Mindy.”
Colton shakes his head, looking around me. “No, that won’t do.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have the keys to your office?”
“Yes.”
He takes me by the arm. “Lead the way.”
I hastily text Mindy while we walk-slash-run, tell her I might be late tonight… very late.
We crash through the door of my office, don’t even switch on the light in our desperation.
“This time,” I tell Colton, “lock the door.”
He does so smiling, tossing his coat aside and pulling his shirt off in one, quick action, moonlight cutting across his abs and chest, turning the ink on his arms blue and sapphire.
He swipes everything off my desk with one arm, computer included, before laying me upon it.
Colton steps out of his shoes undoing his top button. There’s a slight smattering of hair on his chest, just enough to fire a shot of pleasure so profound between my legs I’m surprised I don’t simply drop down then and there and beg for his cock.
He lifts my shirt away, tossing it to the corner with my collection of rare candy wrappers.
His eyes are greedy as they take in my body, almost dangerous in their desperation. I stiffen as he reaches behind me and unclasps my bra as if plucking a string. It sags against me, the straps clinging fast.
He kneels before me, this god of a man, two hands on either side of my jeans and panties, drawing them softly down my legs until they reach my ankles. I step out of them. As he runs a hand up the lush curve of my hips, his breath hot on my bare pussy.
Fasten your seatbelts, folks.
He stands and draws my bra away from my body, adding it to the growing pile in the corner. Finally, I am completely, utterly naked before him.
I watch his eyes make a line down my form. They linger on the pert chocolate pebbles of my nipples, wander around the plump globes of my breasts. Lower, pausing on the crimson lips of my sex splayed and ready for his cock.
The transformation is complete. The shy academic is gone and in her place is a woman of power and sexuality made unstoppable.
I want him desperately to take the little nubs on my chest into his mouth. They strain towards him, begging for attention.
He takes a step closer. His fingers slide up the inside of my thigh until he’s cupping my pussy. He stops in surprise. “You shaved for me.”
“You noticed.”
“Of course.”
His free hand cups a breast. It molds perfectly to his large hand, a mound of sensation that sends fire shooting through my blood.
His fingers move away, running across my shoulder, the peachy nape of my neck before plunging into my hair and pulling my head back. I wince, watching the satisfaction in his eyes, straining to meet his kiss. My lips part and he seizes my mouth with his own. In that moment every ounce of restraint is stripped away.
As we kiss he slides a finger into the wet seam between my thighs, strumming my clit with his thumb in a slow, rhythmic circles.
My toes curl in, tensing and releasing, as I gasp into his mouth.
He pulls back and I strain forward, nipping at my bottom lip, brushing his lips over mine until my arousal builds around his fingers.
I don’t know how it has come to this exactly, a relationship like this working, but I am going to make it work going forward, whatever it takes.
I press forward, my mouth flowering open, but Colton dominates the kiss. I allow him access, his tongue against mine, running across the silken corrugations that make up the top of my mouth.
He breaks away, leaving me breathless. His finger draws out. “Are you ready?”
I have never been so sure of anything in my life. “Always.”
I admire him. Bulging shoulders run to firm pecs and a series of tessellated abdominals. It is an athlete’s body, but I know that money cannot buy this. No, a body of this kind of perfection needs to be honed, gently sculpted into being.
My eyes continue to drop as he removes his jocks. Instantly, my gaze glues itself to his cock.
It looks different in the low lighting, the bulbous head of his helmet swept back, graceful in complete arousal. Here in the blue light, I can see every vein and outline.
Naked, he kneels up onto the desk and parts my legs, looking down at the engorged folds of my pussy.
His head lowers and I gasp.
My pussy is on display before him. He runs a hand down the soft swell of my inner thigh, cupping my ass and lifting me towards his mouth.
When his lips press against the slick heat of my pussy, I stiffen on the desk, mouth wide, staring at that one lightbulb above as he works on the bundle of nerves at the top of my sex. I shiver, sensation running in a hot highway up my spine.
Déjà vu enfolds me, memories of what happened here what feels so long ago now.
I whisper his name. It spills out of my mouth with a moan.
He doesn’t acknowledge it, continuing to please himself with my pussy. He lashes my core with his tongue, sucking my clit into his mouth, every area of my sex showered in attention until I’m thrashing, barely able to keep my body under control. He holds my thighs tight, taming me, pulling me even harder against his face, my desire wet upon it.
He groans, hungry, his tongue driving into my slit. “You taste so fucking good.” His words reverberate through my flesh. Deeper still his tongue runs, seeking every crevice and wet nook.
He pulls lightly at my lips with his teeth, the sensation so erotic I am immediately overwhelmed, teetering already on completion. He parts me again with his tongue. My blood surges, heat pounding against my chest. Deeper he goes, deeper than I ever thought possible.
I grab at the sides of the desk, anything to anchor me against this onslaught. My mouth gapes out in a silent whimper. I am powerless before this man.
He concentrates on my clit, drawing it in and out of his mouth, teasing at it. I thrust my hips towards him. I beg and plead, the release so close. He holds me down with his strong arms. I remain a prisoner to him, pleasure to give and take as he sees fit.
His lips and tongue leave me open. He kneels between my legs. I lift my head, greedy to be filled.
I whimper softly as he applies more pressure.
Colton eases himself between my legs.
I’ve forgotten how large he is.
I spread my legs a little wider to accommodate him. He begins to inch inside slowly, more and more of his cock swallowed up into my steaming hole.
He presses deeper. I lift my hips, urging him on, needing him now.
He gives in, unable to take it any longer, grabbing my hips and surging through into the hot pocket beyond.
A little yelp runs from my open mouth as he drives forward all the way to the end of me, hilting himself in my wet depths.
He begins to rock gently back and forward. My body adjusts and stretches, morphing and reshaping itself around his shaft. I calm. His strokes go bolder, more of his cock running out before plunging back inside, his face a mask of concentration.
He thrusts faster, shaft pulsing buried in my warmth. I wriggle my hips, beckon more of his length inside.
Now he begins to show his experience, withdrawing right to the sensitive ring of my sex, pulling his cock across the sensitive floor inside me. With a shuddering breath he eases deeply back inside. My own breath comes out in rasps, pleasure tingling throughout, my toes curling against the satin. He repeats the process, over and over, each time increasing the speed of his thrusts until he’s plunging into me with a quickened pace, every thrust eliciting a new sound from my mouth.
He covers me completely, tongue pressing urgently, his fingers
netting with my own and his pelvis grinding down upon my sensitive clit.
I never knew it could feel this good.
I begin to work with him, lifting my hands to clutch his buttocks, drawing him into me. I match him thrust for thrust, my powerful thighs scissoring against his sides. Everywhere there is sensation.
I soar, twisting below him. I tell him how much I want this, how much I crave it. “Give it to me,” I gasp, on the verge of tears from the sheer energy running through my veins.
He pounds into me harder, fingers digging deep into my own.
I reach up to his shoulder with one hand, the other on the depression of his back, feeling it lift and fall against me all muscle and manliness. He hammers into me with deep, measured thrusts. His kisses become rough, urgent, his need desperate. I rise with him until we are a sweaty blur.
He lifts my legs up, compressing them against my breasts and allowing himself to sink even deeper. There’s a strong swelling in my core. My body tenses. There’s heat everywhere. It accelerates and builds, climbing and gathering too fast and stifling my ability to breathe like a normal human being.
Suddenly, everything turns sharp, my orgasm avalanching through my system. I scream out, my back arching and the hot shock of the climax threatening my very consciousness.
The feeling is incredible. It consumes me, every inch of my body drawn into it. He has done it. Colton Beckett has unraveled me completely.
I slam against him, each of his thrusts punctuated by a sharp intake of air. He stiffens, bearing down inside, everything pulling tight until I give in to the ecstasy. It seizes me brutally, washing over me in a great torrent. My head thrashes in rapture, Colton’s face screwing up as he gives a final thrust and unloads.
Annnnnd, we’ve landed.
Afterwards, we lie side by side on the desk trying to regulate our breathing, staring up at the light fixture.
“Do you have a plan?” I ask. “Now that you’re free, so to speak.”
“Besides making you my sex slave? Sure, I do.”
I still haven’t told him about my offer. “You’re, what? Quitting college completely?”
“No, no,” he starts, chest rising and falling. “I’m going to start over somewhere else. That is… unless you want me to stay, because if I’ve learnt one thing here at Branton, it’s that I can’t be without you.”
I mentally file that compliment away, smiling. “What if I told you I received an offer for an interview in the US? It’s an opportunity, not a guaranteed position, but I’m confident.”
He sits up. “You did?”
I nod, a hand on my breast, the nipple underneath still sensitive to the touch. “I did, and it’s no Harvard, but it’s a good college with a solid track record and modern facilities. They’ve even got a half-alright lacrosse team. It might not be so bad,” I add sheepishly, unsure how he will react. I swallow before asking the most important question of all, don’t know if I’ll be able to take the rejection if he says no. “Would you follow me?”
He sits fully, picking me up and shifting me so I’m sitting in his lap, my ankles hooked against his back. His eyes tell me everything I need to know. “Baby,” he says, “I’ll follow you anywhere.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
COLTON
It’s strange being back on a field instead of ice, but I’m enjoying it—the smell of dirt, of freshly cut grass, of fear…
I spin and pivot around a defender, the ball safely tucked away in my crosse. I sprint like my life depends on it. Who needs skates when you’ve got legs like this?
There’s always one smartass on the field, one player who knows you’ve got to get dirty to get the job done. I spotted him before this even started, kept one eyed firmly fastened to his position as I hustled downfield.
He appears now from the right, hammering towards me like a bull with its balls cut off. The referees are blocked by his teammates. They can’t see what’s happening. We used to call this ‘the shutter’ back at Abbotsleigh. You put up a blind screen and you take out the opposing team’s best asset any way you can.
But not today.
Raging Bull goes for my legs, sweeping his crosse low and fast, but I’m prepared. I dance over it easily and whip the end of my stick into his jaw, blood, what could well be a tooth, spraying from his mouth, as he goes down.
I press on, firing off a shot in the dirt. It strikes the back of the net.
Easy. Fucking. Peasy.
The wind’s knocked out of me as I’m tackled from behind.
“You motherfucker!” Raging Bull’s got me pinned down, an elbow into my back. “You think you can pull that kind of street shit and get away with it here, in my house?”
“Bro,” I tell him, eating grass, “when you’ve got a dick as big as I do, you can get away with anything.”
He’s levered off me by the officials and coach, forced back to the sidelines to seethe.
I stand trying to get back my breath. The coach stalks towards me. “Bring your ass over here—now!”
He walks until we’re well away from the field.
I wave to Harper in the stands. I told her she didn’t have to come to this tryout, but she insisted even though this is still the middle of nowhere, even though it’s still not the Ivy League. It’s just another shitty state university, but at least this one’s in the good ol’ US of A with a temperature that won’t put you into hyperthermia when you step out of bed.
The coach stands in front of me. They’re starting to look the same. I wonder if there’s some kind of human 3D printer that spits out guys like this with their chewing and constant look of constipation.
This one plays to the script, shaking his head and scratching his hair. “I’m going to bet you’ve got a habit of getting into trouble, don’t you, son?”
“Yes, sir,” I smile, leaning on my crosse.
He continues to shake his head, looking into the distance. “You going to fuck me if I put you on that field again?”
“You’re not my type, sorry.”
He smiles back at that, turning to look up at the stands and the lone individual waiting there. “No, I don’t suppose I am.” He exhales. “So…”
“So.”
“You’re going to have to watch yourself. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
“Rein that shit in… or make sure no one sees it. Are you following me?”
“Yes, sir.”
He shakes his head again, trying to reconcile this decision with himself. “You’re trouble, but you’re fast, and your dodges… Well, damn it if you ain’t Gary Gait. You’re in, for now.”
I can’t keep the smile off my face. “Thank you, Coach.”
He starts to walk off. “We’ll see.” He stops, pointing up to the stands. “And don’t bring your girlfriend to practice next time, okay? This isn’t fucking High School Musical.”
I look back to the field, at the fruity, pillow-soft players this place has got and I’m not so sure. “Yes, Coach. Thank you, Coach.”
I leave the field, Harper meeting me at the bottom of the stands. I lean over the barrier and draw her into a kiss, her lips always warm, always welcome. We break apart, but I’m still lost in her eyes, in the hope they hold.
“I thought I told you not to come,” I tell her, brushing her lower lip with the pad of my thumb.
“I had some spare time after my final interview, thought I’d pop down to see you in action. She reaches down to play with the hem of my jersey. “I must say, I much prefer this uniform. Ice hockey players have too much padding for my liking.”
I pull her into me, the barrier hard and cold between us. “Is that so?”
“It is.” I notice the smile playing on her face. “You got the job, didn’t you?”
Her smile widens, her entire face aglow. “You’re looking at the new Cultural Studies teacher at Gladesville College.”
I kiss her again. “Congratulations, but tell me. How are you going to handle all that wood when y
ou walk into the lecture hall?”
“Wood? What are you—” She gets it, pushing me away. “Does your mind always go directly to the gutter?”
“I’m a Beckett.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s your excuse for everything.”
“But it’s a good one.”
“Anyhow,” she continues. “The college is sixty miles away. I figure our place is in-between, so it works. That is, if you got onto the team?” Her eyebrow remains raised in question.
“Of course I did.”
The smile fades. She continues to play with my jersey, eyes downcast. “Are you really sure about all of this? About moving in together? I can imagine how much you Becketts like your bach pads.”
“I’m never been so sure about anything in my life.”
“Good, because I’m late.”
“For what?”
Her head dips and it hits me. “You’re late late?”
She nods, suddenly sheepish.
I vault over the barrier and sweep her up into my arms. “Holy shit. We’re having a baby.”
She laughs. “Well, I imagine I’ll be one pushing a cantaloupe through a keyhole, but yeah, I guess we are.”
I always thought I’d be terrified of news like this, always made sure I was careful to avoid this very thing, but now, with Harper, I’m elated. “You do realize that lease we just signed is for a one-bedroom, right?”
“And…”
“And, we’re going to need a bigger place.”
“I don’t think a baby takes up much room.”
“Come on, the little guy needs his own space.”
“Who said it was a boy?”
I place my hand on her stomach, swear I can feel the tiny life already growing inside. “Come on. He’s a Beckett. We don’t do girls.”
“You wouldn’t like a daddy’s girl, to braid her hair and have tea parties with?”
I smile at the thought. Honestly, I don’t care what sex it is. Mason and Cayden seem to be doing fine with their penis-challenged offspring. “I don’t care if it has three eyes and twelve toes. I’ll love it all the same.”
I step away and reach down undo the zipper on my shorts pocket. I kneel on the concrete, the field lights creating a halo around Harper’s head—hardly required considering how much she’s glowing already.
