My manhood strains against my zipper, and Carmyn pushes her chest and hips into me harder. She glides her bottom lip against mine as she pulls away, but I follow her, not wanting it to end.
She glances down at the bulge in my pants and smiles, stepping back.
My grin settles crookedly on my face. “I thought you weren’t looking for anything.” The look in her eyes says she’s clearly looking for something now. And she just found it.
“I’m not.” Her eyes meet mine. “You came looking for me.”
I chuckle. I did. I reach forward and cup her face in my palms, locking my lips again with the woman who smells like an angel, but kisses like the devil. I stroke the devil’s tongue with mine. She makes a sound so full of pleasure and invitation, I pick her up, wrapping her legs around my hips. She’s drunk, but she sure as shit knows what she’s doing. I spin us around so her back is resting against the wall and cup her perfect ass.
She pulls her head back slightly and whispers, “I only want this one night.”
I nod. This is perfect. She’s incredibly hot, but beyond that she gets this doesn’t mean we’re going to fall in love and commit to each other for the rest of our lives. It’s hard to believe, but it turns me on even more.
Her mouth is back on mine with force and persuasion.
I reach my hand along the wall, grabbing the doorknob nearest us and push the door open. My hand cups her ass again and I’m carrying her inside.
Once we’ve cleared the door, Carmyn kicks it closed.
I throw her back against the wall and kiss her hard, breaking away only long enough to take off her top. But before I can capture her lips again, she’s pulling my shirt off.
I catch a glimpse of tanned, silky skin as I lean back in for her mouth. I need more of her taste, the warmth along my tongue, the inside of my mouth.
Her fingers slide through the long stands of my hair, trailing heat down my back with her nails.
I move my mouth to the spot below her ear and then down her neck, pulling her away from the wall in a frenzy, and unsnapping her bra with the single flick of my apt fingers. I push her higher and prop her against the wall again to tease her nipple with my teeth.
On contact, she moans and drops her head back. She clutches my shoulders as I move from one breast to the other. I thought her ass was perfect, but her boobs are even better. They’re perky and plump, and the nipples are barely larger than the size of nickels with a hard tip under my wet tongue.
Carmyn moves one of her hands between us and reaches it down the side of my stomach.
The muscles tense in response.
She wiggles her fingers below the elastic of my boxers, and my groin stretches almost to the point of pain and brushes against her fingers. She latches her hand around my girth, her thumb circling the moist tip.
I suck harder on her nipple and she tugs my growth in her hand, a silent plea she’s ready.
I release her skin and reach over to the dresser toward Gus’s stash. I grab a condom and tear it open with my teeth, putting her back on her feet.
She unbuckles my belt, and I let her undo my pants as I make quick work of hers. As soon as they’re off, I put the latex on and pick her back up, walking her toward the desk in the corner of the room. I push everything aside, books clattering to the floor, swiping a second time to make sure it’s clear before resting her on top.
I widen my stance to lower to her height and lean into her.
Her breathing is heavy and brushes against my face, stroking my cheek without touching me.
I position myself over her opening. She’s slick and I slide against her folds, but I hold firm.
As soon as it glides in, spreading her tight walls to make room for me, a wicked moan of anticipation and fervor releases from her throat. I echo her. It’s like we’ve both played this very moment over and over in our head, and are only now able to quench the desire.
I move into her, digging deeper with each thrust. Her noises are urgent between her heavy breaths. More and more rapidly. She lies back along the table, her breasts perking toward the sky, teasing me to touch them.
I lower my mouth over the left one first, flicking it, biting it, sucking it, and licking it before doing the same to the right one.
I want her to say my name. I want it mingled between those sexy cries of pleasure pouring from her lips.
I move my mouth up her body onto her neck, licking and biting, coaxing her to give me what I want without voicing it.
Her moans grow louder, and I move faster and deeper.
“Oh, Dallas …” She holds out my name when she says it, her nails gripping me with a passion I’ve rarely seen.
Fuck me. I never have a problem making it last, but this is so much heat, so much eagerness, that I’m having a hard time holding it back. I can’t hold it much longer.
Our bodies melded together, the room smells of sweet sex and perfume. The moist heat of Carmyn’s walls as they squeeze me on each thrust is overwhelming.
I come hard as she calls out my name, “Dallaaaaaas!”
It’s fucking unbelievable. I moan into her mouth on the last jerk of my climax and it mingles with her own. I kiss her and hold her for a second before pulling away and out. I’m not looking forward to the brash cold that will envelope me once I pull out.
A minute later, her legs slide down my hips, so I give in and pull away from her so she can sit up.
Shit! It’s cold. My balls try to shrivel into my stomach. “Give me a second. I’ll put on a new condom and we can go again.”
She hops off the table and reaches for her pants and the lace panties molded within them. “Ava’s probably looking for me,” she says with a timid smile, pulling her pants up and sliding her shoes on.
What’s this? Now she’s shy. “You sure?”
I barely have the condom off before she’s buttoning her pants and slinking out the door, closing it softly on her way out.
Well, damn. No way can I have a taste of that and not come back for seconds. It can’t end here. I was right about everything.
This is going to be fun.
“If you don’t plan something out properly,
you’ll end up regretting it.”
—Carmyn Rafferty
I SIT in the front row in each of my classes. Some professors give partial credit for participation, and sitting close makes it easier for me to be active in discussions.
Monday’s classes are filled with syllabi, talking about class projects, and introductions to the texts. I hand in all of the first week’s homework to each professor, and most are happy to have such an eager student. Mr. Rogers, who is not at all like the famous, red-sweatered Mr. Rogers I grew up watching on TV, said he wouldn’t get to it until he had all the other assignments. Fine. Whatever. It wasn’t like I was asking him to grade mine early or anything. I’ll hold off giving him my papers until they’re due for now on. I’d hate for him to lose them. He seems much less organized than most professors.
I walk across the quad toward the dorms, dreading going into work today. I’ve always loved the little wedding details in the shop: the dresses, the garters, the veils. But I don’t think I can go in there today and see all the things I included in the three separate ways I’d planned my wedding to Becker. The hardest par? I’m confused. I slept with Dallas. If I can do that, I should be able to go to work, right?
But … when I was with Dallas, I didn’t think about Becker. Nothing about Dallas reminds me of him. Or what he did to hurt me. Helping excited women find the perfect dress for their perfect day just feels too much like putting lemon juice on a fresh wound.
I open the door to my room and stack my books on the shelf, arranging them evenly. My phone in hand, I sit with a heavy sigh. I can’t call Becca because she covered for me Friday. Deb might be willing to do it, but I’ll owe her one. I tap her name. She’ll know I’m good for it. I tell her I’m still not feeling well and promise I’ll take her shift Saturday. I’d rather do that anyway. W
e’re always so busy on Saturdays that it might keep my mind twirling fast enough to forget about Becker. At least I hope so.
I cross my arms over my desk and rest my head.
What am I doing? I have never missed a day of work. And now I’m missing two.
I sit up when Ava walks in carrying an overflowing basket of clothes.
“What’s up?” she asks and goes to her side of the room to put her laundry away. Of course she didn’t wash all her clothes before packing them up to take to school with her.
I glare at the pile she’s dumped onto her bed. “You know you’d have fewer wrinkles if you’d fold them as you take them out of the dryer, right?”
Ava freezes with a pair of yoga pants dangling from her hand and looks at me. “It’s two flights. We were up three last year and I never needed an iron.” She grins and turns back to fold her pants. “How did classes go?”
“Okay. Mr. Rogers seems like a douche, but everyone else seems all right.”
Ava grabs another pair of pants from the basket. “Is he the bald one with the mustache?”
“Yeah. Teaches supply chain management.”
“Ah.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “Don’t you have work today?”
“Yeah, I called in sick.”
She pushes the clothes she folded to the side, undoing all her efforts, and sits down. “Sick-sick, or sick?”
“I can’t do it today.”
“Have you been puking again?”
“No. I don’t feel like I need to, either. It’s gotten much better, but I’m afraid if I go into the shop and see all of my favorite things I wanted at my wedding that I might.”
Ava walks over to my desk, resting her hip against the side. “You know you can still have all of those things someday, right? You don’t need to give those up because Becker’s an ass.”
“Maybe, but it’ll only remind me too much that I wanted those things when I was with him.”
“Come on,” she says, going to the bed and grabbing her purse. “Let’s go grab some ice cream. My treat.”
By now I’ve figured out how to compartmentalize our separate sides of the room, so I don’t mention that she should put her clothes away first.
I follow Ava out to her car, as she changes the subject. “So some of the Fiji guys are playing lawn football tonight over by the hill. We should go. Hot guys, no shirts, win, win.”
“Um, no.”
“Why the hell not?” Ava gives me the stink eye.
I gawk at her. “People will probably already be talking. I’d rather postpone it as long as I can.” Plus, Dallas knows what the inside of my vagina feels like. I’m not ready to make eye contact with him just yet. There’s a reason it’s called “bumping uglies.”
“Well, if they’re going to anyway, why hide from it now?”
“Because it’s embarrassing.”
“Girl! Own your nasty,” Ava growls.
I will have to face Dallas sometime, preferably without squirming, and maybe I will even … own my nasty?
But that definitely won’t be tonight. Screw that.
Ava parks at the locally owned mom-and-pop creamery. It’s deliciously cold when we walk inside.
“Hi, Ava. Hi, Carmyn,” Clare says from the other side of the register.
“Hey,” we say, stepping up to order.
Clare puts on a pair of gloves and starts scooping Ava’s cone. “Did you guys have a good summer?”
“Yeah, it was all right. You?” Clare’s a pleasant enough girl. We hang out with different crowds and she doesn’t have much of a filter, but she’s always been nice to us.
“Mine was pretty good. They never seem long enough, right?”
I smile.
“Right,” Ava agrees and grabs her cone.
Clare pulls out another cone and slices ice cream out of the tub, packing and pushing into the cone with her scooper. “Single or double?”
“Let’s do a double.”
She leans down for one more and packs the last scoop on top. “So I heard you and Becker broke up. Did he really cheat on you with Amber?”
The air gushes from my lungs. I knew it would get around eventually, but I’d hoped it would take a bit longer. I look at Ava with wide eyes. She wouldn’t have said anything. It had to have been Becker, or Amber. Most likely Amber.
“Becker’s an ass,” Ava says. “I’ve been telling Carmyn she can do much better. It was time for both of them to move on.”
“With Dallas?” Clare asks, punching our order into the register and smiling up at me.
Holy hell! What is wrong with people?
“You’re getting quite personal for someone who doesn’t know shit about us.” Ava slaps a ten on the counter. “Let’s go.” She turns on her heel and struts toward the door. The bell dings as we exit.
Ava can’t get us out of the parking lot fast enough. She’s driving with one hand and holding her cone with the other.
I am so embarrassed. So ashamed. “What the hell did I do? This is why I never, ever, ever do anything without thinking it through in entirety first. It always comes back and bites me in the ass.”
“That is not true,” Ava says, pointing with her ice cream.
“In my case, it is. It’s no better than what Becker did. You know he wasn’t thinking things through when he cheated on me, and look how that turned out.”
Ava licks her cone to stop it from dripping onto her hand. “Bullshit. First of all, I’m sure he thought it over, but he was too stupid to decide against it. And second, you haven’t hurt anybody. You haven’t lied to anyone, or betrayed anyone. This is nowhere close to what Becker did. Two adults deciding to have consensual sex is not a sin.”
I raise my eyebrows at her.
“You know what I mean. And I’m pretty sure if God were a woman, and smelled Dallas and kissed Dallas, she’d fuck him too.”
“Ava!” I toss my ice cream out the window. It’s melting too fast and I don’t want it anymore. “You are so going to hell!”
She smiles at me. “If so, I’m taking you with me.”
“Or we’re already there.” Today feels like it.
“No, I’m pretty sure I’d remember dying.”
“Unless you died in your sleep.”
She licks her cone and thinks about it. “Yeah, there is that.”
“How do I fix this?”
“The only way you can. Quit caring about what people think. Becker cheating on you is in direct correlation with his shitty-ness. You sleeping with Dallas is only doing what the other fifty percent of the female student body has done with him, and then the other forty percent have most likely had a one-night stand or will before they graduate.”
“And the other ten percent?” This is why it surprises me sometimes that Ava is an accounting major; she has issues with balancing.
“Oh, well, those are just the girls who are too ugly or too pure to sleep with anyone. Or they have boyfriends or they’re married.”
“So pretty much everyone else.”
“Yeah. I mean, if it had been me who slept with Dallas, would you think I was dirty?”
“No, but—”
“Okay, so there’s your answer. Let it go. Dallas gave you some of the best sex of your life. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll sleep with him next.” She grins at me.
I hold back a smile and shake my head. She has no shame. “Oh, if it makes me feel better, huh?”
“Yes, I am a great friend who is willing to take one for the team. I will let him lick me, bite me, slap me, whatever, just to make you feel better about all this.”
“I bet you would,” I tease.
“I will call him right now. Give me his number.”
She has managed to make me feel better. “I don’t have it.”
Ava tsks me. “Now, see, that there is slutty.”
We laugh. “Bitch,” I say.
“Hooker,” she says, parking the car. And by that one endearment, I know she loves me something fie
rce. With her by my side, I should be able to get over anything. Still not giving her Dallas’s phone number, though. Even if I did have it.
“I don’t do relationships.”
—Dallas Brown
I HAVE to be early to class to get a seat. I’m on overflow for the class, so I won’t officially be enrolled until someone drops, but that usually happens. I’ve tried the last two semesters to get into this class, but it’s always been full, even the overflow. Hell, I’m lucky I got that.
I park my bike in Lot C because it’s farther away and less likely to be scratched, and I run my ass to Thornbridge Hall.
As I rush into the right room, I see it’s already half filled.
I usually sit closer to the back, but upon my inspection of the classroom, I notice Carmyn sitting all prim and proper in the front with her lips pursed into the shape of a heart as she looks over something in her notebook.
Hell, yeah.
I roll out the chair next to her, but she still doesn’t look up as I sit. “Something I can help you with there, miss?”
She startles and closes her notebook over her arm. “Oh my God. You scared me.”
“You did appear to be deep in thought.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” She glances around, her shoulders tensing.
“I have class. Same as you, I’m guessing.”
“And you’re planning on sitting here?” She’s definitely stressed.
“Well, yeah.” I raise my eyebrows. “I am sitting here, Captain Obvious.”
She pinches her lips in a tight line and shakes her head. “Uh-uh. You can’t sit here.” She lowers her voice. “People are already talking.”
“People are always talking. So what’s new?”
“Well, now they’re talking about me,” she practically squeals. Her voice is passionately angry, but it’s still passionate and reminds me of her saying my name while underneath me the other night.
“I hate to be the one to break it to you, little brunette bunny, but they have always talked about you.”
“They have not.”
I nod my head. Oh, they have.
“Not like this.”
Wicked Thing Page 5
