I nod, too focused on how good this feels to speak.
“Good, then come for me,” he says, picking up the pace. “I want to feel your pussy tighten around my fingers as you come all over them.”
His words are so fucking hot and erotic that it doesn’t take much more to send me over the edge. My mind drifts to another place, detached from my body, as a mind-blowing orgasm sends chills down my spine, causing my toes to curl from the power it commands over me.
Bash brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks my juices from them. “Mmm…” He moans, maintaining eye contact with me the entire time. “You taste good, babe. I can’t wait to be inside you.”
I smile up at him, too focused on his gorgeous mouth and those nice, full lips that are begging to be kissed. Using my index finger, I beckon him to come closer, and he complies with my request. Bash leans over me, digging his fingers into my side, leaving marks. He grips me with such force and kisses me with so much passion that I almost forget that we have class until the second alarm sounds, blaring in my ear.
As much as I want to lie in bed all day with Bash, today is my first finance quiz, and I can’t be late. Even though Dr. Holland said he would talk to my professors, I have worked too hard to miss a test this important over a migraine. I can make it through the day, no matter how hard it might be.
Our lips separate long enough for me to say, “We have to get going, Bash. I cannot miss this class.”
“You should stay in bed and let me deal with your professors. All you need is a note from Doc, and you already have one.”
“True, but I can’t lay in bed all day and wonder if my professors will be okay with my absence. Not like you would remember since you weren’t around back then, but I had a lot of making up to do after I came back to Strick U, and some professors were not as forgiving as others. That left me with a lot of classes to retake and not enough time to do it. I was lucky that I was able to get that additional scholarship, so I could take the classes I needed during the summer breaks.”
“Okay, fine,” he says, giving in to me. “If you want to go, I can’t stop you, but just remember what Doc said about needing your rest. I’m worried about you. This will all pass, but until it does, you should make your health a priority over school.”
“I did that in the past, and it didn’t get me very far. But I appreciate your concern, Bash.”
“Then, I will make sure you get there without any complications,” he says.
With a bit of hesitation, Bash sits up, still holding me by the hip, not wanting to let go. Neither do I. I don’t want to face everyone on campus, who I’m sure by now know that Bash stayed with me. It’s not as if everyone didn’t see the football hit me in the face or Bash land on top of me.
Our history is something everyone at this school knows. They also know that I am the “crazy girl.” Or at least that’s what they called me after our last break up. I hope I will make it through the day without being attacked by some of the rich bitches who had it out for me last time.
The one thing that runs this school other than football is money. And I have none. People like Bash walk on water. They are the elite and therefore invincible in the school’s eyes. If your parents can afford to pay for a new library or donate money to the football team, then you are one of them. You are welcome into their inner circle.
But when your dad works in a factory, has just enough money to feed himself, and can barely function most days, you will never be one of them. And that’s why I was not admitted into the inner circles on this campus. The crazy thing is that it doesn’t matter how you make your money. You can come from old money like Harper’s family or new money with celebrity status like Bash’s family. Around here, money is money, no matter how new or old.
“What’s wrong, Queenie?” He asks, bringing my hand up to his mouth to plant a kiss on my skin.
His touch sends a tremor up my arm that rushes through me, making it so much harder to peel myself from the mattress to go to school. “I don’t want this to end,” I confess, all of a sudden feeling stupid about my comment.
Still holding my hand in his, the corners of his mouth turn up into a sweet smile. “Never gonna happen. Not unless you change your mind.”
I shake my head. “Nope, I’m not changing my mind. Now that I know the truth we don’t have the barrier we once had between us. Things are different this time.”
He looks away from me for a second, as if he’s hiding something, before locking onto me. His bright green eyes hold me in his clutches, forcing me to maintain his intense gaze.
“I don’t care what I have to do this time, Tori. You are my girl. What we have is real. And I am not going anywhere.”
“The girls and the parties, all of that has to stop if you want this to work between us. I am not going to compete for your attention.”
“It’s just football until the end of the season. No more girls. No more parties. You are the only girl I want. You’re the only girl I ever wanted.”
“I want to believe that, Bash, I do. But so many things have happened in the past that make it hard for me to believe we won’t have a similar situation like last time.”
He cups my face in his big hands, his expression even more serious this time. “I can’t promise that girls won’t throw themselves at me or show up unannounced. That will happen for a while. It will probably always happen. But what I can promise is that I will not act upon any of the offers. I have never wanted another girl more than I want you, Tori. I even have the ink on my shoulder to prove it. Do you think I would have gotten that tattoo if I wasn’t all in the first time around?”
Overcome with emotion, my eyes get a little watery, and I try to fight off the tears.
“Where was this version of Sebastian Prince two years ago?” I mutter, choking on my words.
“I’ve always been this guy, at least with you. But so many things had gotten in the way.”
“I should have heard you out instead of running away,” I say, feeling somewhat guilty for not giving him a chance back then.
“I wish you did. But we have right now, and we have our future together. Just give this a chance. If you get scared, come to me. Don’t put up your defenses. I can’t handle it again.”
Why does he have to be so perfect all the damn time? It’s no surprise that I fell in love with him years ago, and I am falling for him all over again. One weekend. I always knew that was all it would take for me to go running back to him. And that was why I stayed away and avoided him any chance I got.
“Kiss me,” I say, unable to catch my breath. “I need you to kiss me, Bash.”
He does as I instruct, rubbing my jaw with his thumb, as his tongue slips inside my mouth, tangling with mine.
One kiss. One look. One sexy smirk. That was all it had ever taken for me to melt, like a piece of chocolate on a hot summer day. Bash was always my weakness, but maybe this time, he will be my strength. I hope that I am wrong about him and that he’s the good guy hidden inside the body of a football god.
“We had better get in the shower if you want to make it to class on time,” he says, against my lips.
“No time for a shower.” I glance over at the clock, shocked by how many minutes have passed since the first alarm.
Bash helps me out of bed and kisses me one last time before he bends down to retrieve his shirt from the floor. The muscles in his back flex, drawing my attention to his body and every single curve and valley. He’s the perfect man in so many ways, especially in those that count most.
I could never resist the urge to lunge myself at him, which is what had gotten me into trouble with him in the first place. The sexual chemistry between us has always been off the charts hot. Our relationship started with sexy banter that turned into so much more in a short period. I was under his spell. He not only controlled my body but my mind and heart. I was his in every way possible. And he knew it.
Things between us are different now. I lived without him and so I know I d
on’t need him in my life. Not in the way I needed him years ago. His betrayal, or what I thought was his betrayal, was what sent me over the edge. It was what landed me in Friends Hospital for psychiatric evaluation.
That night destroyed a part of me that I never thought I would get back. I never knew it was possible to hit so many highs and lows with one man until I hit the lowest point of them all. I wanted it to be over. I wanted the pain of losing him to go away. The doctor had said I was lucky. He was right.
Everything was falling back into place until that football hit me in the face. Now, my entire world has been turned upside down again. Bash had the power to hurt me in the past. But I will not allow him that much control in the future. I shouldn’t have given in to him. His sexual appeal, manly scent, and the feelings of our past were too much for me to bear. And so I allowed myself to fall back into old habits.
We get dressed in a hurry and leave my suite, holding hands as if we do this every morning. What we have works. He squeezes my hand tighter, showing everyone in the hallway we pass that we are together. This is our official declaration, and it continues once we step outside Jefferson Hall.
Heads turn when we reach the Quad and Bash stops dead in his tracks, bringing both of us to a halt. He kisses me on the lips, a soft peck that doesn’t last long but does the trick.
“I have to stop by my house and get my books. I’ll see you later, okay?”
I smile as he swipes a strand of hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. “Can’t wait.”
His fingers slip from mine, and he begins to walk away but stops himself. “Later, beautiful.”
I give him a tiny wave. “Later.”
Turning on my heel, I don’t bother to stay and watch him walk away. My heart hurts with each step I take further away from him. Was this weekend real? I pinch myself to double check. Bash and I are together. Again. We’re doing this. Boyfriend and girlfriend, just like old times. The smile plastered on my face stays there until I reach Lincoln Hall.
Then it occurs to me that I have zero makeup on my face and the same cut off jeans shorts and tank top I wore yesterday. What the hell is wrong with me? I look like such a dirtball, and yet Bash wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with me. That alone surprises me.
He also stayed with me at my worst and helped to nurse me back to health. I still have some of a dull headache from this morning. The side effects of the concussion are still somewhat present, although fading. I’m tired, and after sleeping a few hours, I have no idea how I am going to make it through this test.
Doing math equations at this hour had sounded better before I allowed Bash back into my life. Now, I wish I’d chosen a later class. I had dropped the one I was supposed to take with Bash. Now, I would do anything to get back into it.
When I walk into the hall, students occupy half of the seats. I choose my usual desk in the back aisle, set my bag on the chair next to me, and pull out a notepad and pen before settling into my seat.
Professor Stevenson, a tall, middle-aged man with dark, shaggy hair that curls behind his ears, stands behind the podium, shuffling papers in his hands. He checks his watch as the door slams shut, and then he loosens his tie and lowers the microphone to his mouth. “Welcome, everyone. The test will begin in five minutes. Please check your name off on the sign-in sheet making its way around the room and pass it forward.”
For a few minutes, I flip through my notes to study them, wishing I had spent more time studying and less time get reacquainted with Bash’s body. But I don’t regret any of it because Bash is a fucking god in the bedroom. I sink lower into my chair, so my head rests on the wooden back and prop my elbow on the table attached to the right arm.
My eyes shut for a second, and I catch myself falling asleep by the time I hear shoes hitting the tile floor in my row, coming closer. I look up to see Bash with a paper in his hand. My jaw just about hits the floor as he slides into the desk next to me.
Bash winks at me and places his arm on my chair. “Don’t look so surprised. You might drop the classes I’m in, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enroll in yours.”
“You didn’t,” I say, smiling and happy to see him.
He returns my expression. “Oh, but I did. You’re stuck with me. Every class from now until the end of the semester we have together.”
“How did you pull that off?”
Bash flashes a wicked smirk. “I’m Sebastian Prince,” he says as if that means something. And on this campus it does. “All it took was one phone call.”
“Of course it did,” I deadpan.
I tilt my head to get a whiff of his scent, musk mixed with laundry detergent, making me want to nuzzle my face in the crook of his neck. He flashes a panty-dropper smile that forces me to slap my thighs together. Just thinking about this morning makes my legs quiver in anticipation of more.
“People are going to gossip about us.”
He shrugs. “So what? Let them. You’re my girl. They’ll have to get used to it.”
“I’m yours,” I say, pointing at my chest. “How presumptuous.”
Disappointment registers on his face but only for a second. Bash glances down at the sign-in sheet in his hand and checks our names off with the pen on my desk.
“Mine.” With his face hard as stone, Bash leans over to kiss me on the lips and mutters, “I am not letting you go ever again.”
He cups his big hand over mine. His touch sends a ripple of electricity through my body. My cheeks flush, the warmth spreading down my neck.
“Wanna get something to eat with me after class?” Bash’s playful smile has a torturous effect on me.
I stare at him, slack-jawed, my brain working slower than my body, and nod. “Sounds good.”
When he looks at me, as though his world gravitates around me, I can’t breathe. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I find it impossible to speak another word.
Now that we’re back together, Bash has been treating me like a queen—his queen. I want to believe him when he says this is real. He’s been keeping his distance from the football groupies, as promised. But I fear what will happen when we make our relationship known. As far as I know, Bash hasn’t dated anyone on campus other than me. I was the exception to his rule. I’m afraid now that I’ve given in to him that I am setting myself up for disappointment.
Bash gives my hand a quick squeeze that makes my heart race. How am I supposed to make it through this exam with him touching me? Our professor announces the test is about to begin, and Bash sets off down the aisle to hand in the attendance sheet.
All eyes are on me as he struts away from me, broad-shouldered and graceful in a pair of jeans that hang low from his waist and a black fitted Strickland Senators T-shirt. I hear a few girls whisper his name, their jealous stares aimed in my direction.
The first few days will be the hardest. I have to try my best not to crumple under the pressure of being Bash’s girlfriend. We will be the talk of the campus in no time. That part worries me. Last time, the rumors were so bad I almost left Strickland University.
On his way back down the aisle, he grins at me. Bash slides into the chair and moves the table in front of him, preparing for the test. The classroom erupts into chatter and dies down when the professor taps the microphone. I spend the remainder of class with my fingers threaded between Bash’s, all while scribbling down the answers to the questions.
Midway through class, I finish the test and so does Bash, who sees this as an opportunity to slide his hand between my legs, feeling me over my jean skirt. This is fucking torture.
I flash a warning glance in his direction. “Bash, stop it,” I whisper so low that I wonder if he can hear me.
“I’m not doing anything. Just keeping my hand warm,” he says, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smirk.
His hand travels up to the hem of my skirt, lingering there for a second. I’m wet for him. But as much as I want this, I do not want to draw unwanted attention. I glance over at him, wishing he’d
move his hand but too weak to make him. Bash just loves to torture me. And he does an excellent job. Pretending he doesn’t have this effect on me, I focus on my test and hope the answers I jot down are correct. I have to ace all of my classes to maintain a high enough GPA to keep my scholarship.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bash grinning like an idiot. I want to kill him, or maybe even kiss him. At this point, I’d say kiss, but damn him for making me this wet in the middle of a crowded room.
When class ends, we hand in our tests and rush out the door. Propelled by the energy flowing through my body, I drag Bash toward the SAC. I keep my mouth shut until we get out of earshot from onlookers, who are no doubt already starting up the rumor mill.
“I’m going to murder you!” I yell, garnering a few stares from people passing by us on the street, which forces me to walk faster and with more of a purpose. “What was that all about?”
Pushing past the groups of students making their way to class, Bash reaches for my hand. As he laces his fingers between mine, I fight the urge to scold him further. But I like touching him too much to deprive myself of his warmth.
“Stop freaking out. I wanted to touch you. So I did.” He leans over me and says, “And if I had my way, I would have shoved my fingers inside your tight pussy and made you come for me.”
“Bash,” I say, unable to finish my sentence. “Keep talking like that, and we won’t make it to breakfast.”
“I’d be more than okay with that.” He winks.
“While that is tempting, I think we should get something to eat and try to make it through the day without any more incidents,” I say with an evil grin.
He knows I’m joking, but I am dead serious about him doing shit like that in the middle of class. No matter how good it had felt, I cannot run the risk of getting caught. Unlike Bash and his cronies, I need this scholarship. I don’t have a rich daddy to bail me out if I get in trouble.
Once we reach the SAC, he opens the door for me. Our eyes meet, and he sucks in a deep breath, neither one of us pulling away from the other. He was planning to finger me in class. We were holding hands in the middle of campus. What the hell is happening? The looks I got from girls on our way here could have set me on fire. I wish someone would pinch me again because I need another reminder that this is real.
Roughing Page 10
