He skimmed her throat, moving up to her ear so he could nibble on the small lobe. A shiver went through her and she moaned.
“Why not?”
“Because.” The word left her on a small pant. He heard her swallow, felt her body shift against him. “We should be studying. You need to study.”
“I can study later.”
“But you need to get caught up.”
Dillon cupped her face in both hands and shook his head. His gaze skimmed her face: her eyes, shining and glazed with passion. Her lips, moist and swollen. Her cheeks, flushed and bright. He shook his head again.
“No. What I need is you.” And it was true. Truer than he had even begun to imagine.
His mouth crashed against hers, possessing, demanding. Needy and almost desperate. She moaned and pressed against him, her hands seeking the hem of his shirt, her nails skimming the flesh of his abdomen as she dragged the shirt up between them.
He shifted and pulled away, letting her yank the shirt over his head. He did the same with hers, tossing it to the side as he cupped her breasts in each hand. Full, round, just big enough to fill each palm. He flicked his thumbs over each nipple, watching as they hardened, pushing against the satiny fabric of her bra. But he wanted more. Now.
He reached behind her and undid the clasp with a quick flick of his fingers. The straps fell down her arms and she shrugged out of them, the bra falling between them. She cupped her breasts with her hands, pushing them together and up, her own fingers teasing each nipple as he watched.
He made a noise, more growl than groan, and leaned forward, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking greedily. He bit down, just hard enough for her to gasp, and thrust his hips up, his cock straining for release.
He pulled away, his eyes hungry as he watched her play with each nipple. Pulling. Pinching. Squeezing. Her hips rocked against him, short frantic movements that brought a gasp from her lips every time he met her thrusts.
He had wanted tonight to be slow. Drawn out. He’d wanted to take his time and bring her to the brink, over and over, holding her in place without letting her fall until she begged for release.
But he was the one close to begging for release.
He grabbed the waistband of her pants and shoved them down, stretching the material as he pushed them past her ass. He reached between them with his left hand and popped the button of his jeans, yanked on the zipper and shifted, pulling his cock free. He closed his hand around the swollen length of his cock and stroked as the fingers of his right hand traveled between her legs. He flicked the hard nub of her clit then rubbed. Hard, fast, just the way she liked it the most. She gasped and dropped her head back, arching her back and lowering herself onto his finger. He slid a second one in, then a third. Each ragged breath tore free from his lungs, hard and fast, as he watched her ride his fingers.
His hand tightened around his cock, stoking harder, faster as her hips pumped against his wet hand. Back and forth. Back and forth. Faster, each frantic thrust of her hips drawing a high-pitched moan from her mouth. Her muscles tightened around him, one long slow clench that made his balls tighten and draw up.
“Fuck. I’m so close, sweetheart. So fucking close.”
Her lids fluttered open, a siren’s smile teasing her full mouth. She ran her hands along her sides, up to cup each breast. Dillon’s gaze followed her hands, watched as her fingers teased each nipple. “Here. I want to feel you here.”
Fuck yes.
He clenched his jaw, his fist tightening around his cock as he shifted in the oversized pillow chair beneath him. Maggie thrust against him, her hips moving faster, each breath sharper and shorter than the last. Desperate, reaching. Demanding.
Her hips stopped, her body going rigid as her muscles clenched around him. Hard, fast, slick. A small cry escaped her and she fell back, bracing her hands on the floor as her hips bucked against him.
Dillon shifted, so close. So fucking close. The stroke of his hand along the length of his cock grew bolder, stronger. Hard. Fast. Faster, until his release built inside him, growing, finally shooting out of him. He thrust his cock up, spilling himself onto Maggie’s chest, each throaty moan from her throat prolonging his ejaculation.
She reached up with one hand, her fingers smearing the hot liquid over her nipples. The clenching of her inner muscles slowed, each spasm gentling against his fingers as he eased his hand away. He brought it to his mouth and licked, tasting the sweet saltiness of her body before reaching for her hand and helping her up.
She smiled and pressed her mouth against his, her tongue dancing with his. She pulled away with a soft sigh and collapsed against him.
Dillon shifted, turning so they were stretched out more comfortably in the sac. He tightened his arms around Maggie and dropped a kiss on the top of her head as the oversized pillow cradled them in softness.
He should get up. They should both get up. He knew that. They couldn’t stay here, half-naked, their bodies glued together. If he was any kind of gentleman, he’d carry her to the bathroom so they could wash up. Carry her to bed and settle her in his arms before they went to sleep.
But he didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to be anywhere else except right where he was. Right here, with Maggie’s sleeping body pressed against him.
He brushed the hair from her face and pressed a gentle kiss against her temple.
Need.
He had told her earlier he needed her. He’d meant it, more than he’d meant anything before.
He just hadn’t realized then exactly what that meant.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Maggie leaned back in the chair, stroking Slinky’s fur as she waited for the call to go through on the laptop. Two rings. Three. Did she have the time right? She glanced at her watch just as Dillon’s face appeared on the screen.
She bit back a smile and buried her nose against Slinky’s back. How could he look so good, with wet hair slicked back and tiny droplets of water running down his face?
Well, because he was obviously at least half-naked. And wet. And gorgeous. That was why. Duh.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
He grinned and wiped his face with a generic white towel, standard hotel issue. “No, I’m just running a little late, that’s all. Coach kept us after practice.”
“Did you want me to call you back?”
“No, I’m good. Unless you mind talking while I get dressed. I just got out of the shower.”
“Yeah. I, uh, I can tell.” And cripes, why did her voice have to get all breathy and soft? It wasn’t like she had never seen him naked before. And yeah, he’d definitely picked up on the change in her voice because a crooked grin tilted his mouth, showing off those cute dimples.
“You complaining? I can always aim the phone toward the ceiling if you want—”
“Don’t you dare!”
He laughed, the sound deep and warm, even through the computer. Maggie swallowed and tried to look suave and sophisticated—which was kind of hard to do when she was trying not to drool.
Yeah, she had it bad. Real bad. Too much bad. So bad, she knew she was in trouble. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Hadn’t she told herself that at the beginning of the year, when they first met? But it had been over three months and they were still together. Still having fun.
Would it last? Maggie didn’t know what to think, and she was terrified of hoping.
“Hey. What’s wrong?”
Maggie pulled her face away from Slinky and looked back at the computer screen. “What?”
“I asked what was wrong. For a second there, you looked, I don’t know, sad or something. Is anything wrong?”
“No, it’s all good.” And cripes, did the man pick up on every tiny little expression that crossed her face?
“You sure?”
“Yup. Positive.”
“Okay. I need to put the phone down a sec, okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
The image on the screen whirled
and tilted as he moved the phone. She caught a glimpse of a white tile floor, the back of a plain door, the edge of the shower curtain. More tile, black this time, before the image steadied, focusing on—
Oh wow. Yeah. Had he done that deliberately? If so, she wasn’t going to complain because she had a beautiful view of sculpted abs and lean hips. She leaned closer, looking at the bottom edge of her screen before she realized she wouldn’t be able to see lower unless he moved the phone. It was a computer screen, after all, not a window. What a shame.
“You still there?” Dillon’s voice came through the computer, disembodied but still warm and smooth.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. Can you, uh, move the phone a bit?”
“Are you looking at the toilet? Sorry, I wasn’t—”
“No, not the toilet.”
The image on the screen tilted again, showing her the plain white ceiling and the glare of the overhead light. Dillon’s face came into view but he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at something behind her. Well, behind his phone, really.
The image whirred again, so fast she couldn’t make out anything. “Okay, stop. You’re making me dizzy.”
“Sorry.” The image steadied again, showing her the same view as before. Well, not exactly the same. This one showed more of his chest. Nice, broad, solid. Maggie sighed and told herself not to lick the computer screen.
“Better?”
“Yeah. I suppose.”
“You don’t sound too sure about that.”
“Well, I was kind of hoping for a different view. A little, uh, lower.”
There was a long pause on the other end, followed by a quiet chuckle. His arm moved, blocking her view. The image tilted and Maggie sat back, blinking as a wide smile crossed her face.
Dillon was holding the phone in front of him at waist level, giving her a beautiful view of his flat stomach, his lean hips…and the stunning length of his cock. It grew even longer, harder, becoming erect as she watched.
“Is this better?”
Maggie swallowed and nodded. Then she realized he couldn’t see her and she cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Definitely better.”
She heard a groan, the sound a little distant, a little hollow. She swallowed back her own groan as his hand closed around his cock and stroked. Long, hard, slow strokes.
“You like this?”
Maggie nodded and shifted in the chair, dampness flooding her as she watched him. Her hand twitched on the desk and she hesitated. Should she? Why shouldn’t she? This hadn’t been why she called but there was no reason she shouldn’t…
Her hand dropped to her lap, her finger reaching for the wet heat pooling between her legs. She could join him, just for a little—
A sharp knock echoed around her and she jumped, her hand flying back to the desk. The image on the phone tilted and whirled and she heard a softly muttered “Fuck”, followed by another sharp rap and a muffled voice filled with impatience.
“Come on already. I need to get in there.”
“Fuck.” The image whirled again and Dillon’s face came back into view, a teasing grin on his flushed face. “We are so doing a raincheck on this one. Hang on a second.”
The ceiling came into view and Maggie bit back a sigh of disappointment. A few seconds later, the image on the screen moved again, whirling and tilting so fast she didn’t even try to make anything out.
“Sorry about that.” Dillon’s face came back on the screen, showing enough of his shoulders that she could see he had a shirt on now. And probably pants, too. Bummer.
“No, it’s okay. Like you said, raincheck.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Besides, we need to go over some things for your schedule.” Maggie leaned forward, her hand reaching for the planner.
“How’s the rat doing?”
“Would you please stop calling her that? You’re going to hurt her feelings.”
“Nah. She likes me. Don’t you, Slinky?”
Slinky’s head perked up and she made a small chirping sound. Then she scurried down Maggie’s arm and jumped on the desk, her pointy nose sniffing at the computer screen.
“Hey girl. Miss me?”
Slinky chirped again, placed one tiny paw against the screen, then scampered off the desk and made her way to the cage. Maggie stared after her, frowning, as Dillon chuckled.
“That little traitor. I’ve never seen her do that before.”
“That’s because she likes me. Now what were you saying?”
“Oh.” Maggie pulled the planner in front of her and opened it to the month spread for April. She frowned, then flipped it back to March. “We need to schedule your labs. You have home games this last week, right? I mean, after tonight.”
“Yeah but—”
“I don’t think that’s going to work though.” She frowned and flipped back to April, running the tip of her finger through each block.
“Maggie.”
“I’m thinking maybe the second week of April, I just need to check—”
“Maggie!”
She looked up. “What?”
“Labs are already scheduled. Two days the end of this week.”
“But I didn’t—”
“Professor Haslup did. He made the arrangements last week so it wouldn’t interfere with my schedule.”
Maggie looked at the calendar and shook her head. “That’s not going to work. I don’t have anything open this week—”
“He’s already got it covered.”
“Oh.” Maggie frowned, not sure why that news bothered her. It almost felt like she was being cut out, which was so silly and made absolutely no sense at all.
“And the final is already scheduled, too. For the first week in April.”
“The final? But that can’t be. Finals don’t start until the middle of May.”
“I know, but with us making it into the playoffs, Professor Haslup made an exception. He knew things were probably going to get a little crazy in two weeks.”
“Must be nice.” The words left her before she could think better of it. At least she had muttered them under her breath. Dillon didn’t hear. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything. No, he hadn’t heard. If he had, he would definitely say something.
She cleared her throat, still frowning. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I don’t think you’re going to be ready.”
“You don’t think I can do it?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then what is it?”
“We still have a lot to go over and—”
“I’ll be fine.” Dillon’s voice had lost some of its warmth, the words a little short and clipped.
“Oh.”
Silence fell between them, awkward and tense. Or maybe it was Maggie who was tense, not the silence. Why? Why was she upset about this? She was overreacting, being silly. But that didn’t stop her from feeling…
Feeling what?
She frowned and leaned back in the chair. Feeling like she wasn’t needed any longer. And if Dillon didn’t need her…
No, she was being silly. And foolish. And just plain stupid.
“Hey.” Dillon’s voice came through the computer, a verbal nudge that pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up, saw him give her a small grin. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. I had a great teacher, remember?”
Had? What did that mean?
She pushed the depressing thought from her mind and tried to smile back. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Listen, I need to get going.” The image on the screen moved as Dillon shifted. He leaned closer, his face a little larger in front of her. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Just tired.”
He looked like he didn’t quite believe her, looked like he was going to say something else. But he just shrugged and gave her another one of his charming grins. “Then you should take a nap or something. Get to bed early so you�
�re all rested for tomorrow night.”
Maggie tried to smile but her enthusiasm for their date tomorrow had disappeared. “Sure. I will.”
He winked and disconnected the call, leaving her feeling abandoned.
Abandoned? Really? What was wrong with her? Maybe Dillon was right, maybe she did need some sleep. Too bad she didn’t have the luxury of that nap like he did.
She pushed thoughts of Dillon and worries about her mood from her mind, then grabbed her own books and papers and pulled them in front of her. She had work to do. A lot of work, because she had already spent too much precious time talking to Dillon.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The door to Maggie’s apartment burst open, startling her enough that the pencil in her hand shot across the paper, leaving an angry line of No. 2 lead smeared across the surface. She gripped the pencil tighter and spun around, glaring as Cindy stormed inside.
“Did you forget how to knock?”
“No, I didn’t.” She slammed the door closed with her foot and placed her hands on her hips. “What is your problem?”
“My problem? I don’t have a problem.” Maggie turned around and stared at the defaced paper. It wasn’t anything that an eraser couldn’t take care of, but that meant taking the time to look for it.
“You have a major problem.”
“My only problem is that I’m trying to finish my report and someone I know is stopping me.”
“As if.” Cindy stepped closer to the desk and grabbed the pencil from Maggie’s hand.
“Hey! I was using that.”
“We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” Maggie reached for another pencil only to have Cindy take that one as well. “I have work to do.”
“Not until we talk.”
“Cindy, seriously, I’m busy.”
“Yeah, I can see that. So busy that you look like total crap.”
Maggie glanced down. She was wearing cut off sweatpants, a baggy t-shirt, and ankle socks. There was absolutely nothing wrong with what she had on. So what if she had been wearing the same thing for the past three—or maybe it was four—days? She was busy studying, finishing reports, getting caught up, getting ahead.
“I don’t look like crap. I’m busy.”
One-Timer (The Baltimore Banners Book 9) Page 16
