He meant it. I know he did. That’s the kind of commitment I want. I want someone who will burn the world down for me.
The words held me together until they didn’t. That’s when the craving began. The hunger. The visceral need. And it makes sense. I’m an athlete. I come alive on the ice. I’m the rawest when I’m nothing but a testosterone-fueled mass of muscle during a game. In a relationship, I want that same edge. I want to be broken down, ripped open, reduced to my essence.
I barely made it until nine pm before I caved and ran to him. Why did I fight him on the time? Probably because I still feel like I have to hold up the whole world. But I’m letting it go little by little.
The fraternity needs to learn to get along without me.
Anyway, I assumed he’d demand I get my ass to his place as soon as possible. That hehadto have me right the fuck now, the end. Instead, I got the same earsplitting silence on my phone that I was met with at the end of the hockey game.
I went through the motions at the party—stood on a table and announced the new pledges, and gifted party passes to the guys who didn’t make it. I tried to look like I had my shit together while thirty guys swallowed their disappointment.
Hatethat part. Wish I could let everyone in. The way their faces fall, fucking cuts me.
I’ve been president since my second year, which isn’t the norm. Usually, the nomination goes to a third year, but I’d made an impression early. I used to love this role, felt on top of the fucking world back then. The attention. The rush. Pledge week used to fuel me.
Tonight, I was empty. Empty without Luke.
He didn’t look as happy to see me as he usually does, and for the smallest fraction of a second, I worried that he was gonna end things. I’m working on it, but it’s still my fucking go-to emotional home.
But then I caught something I thought I must be imagining.
Fear. Moving across his eyes like dancing ghosts.
It was so unlike my mountaineering daddy, who does things like vow he’ll walk into hell for me. What could put that in his eyes?
It was me.
Me.
He was fucking afraid of me.
Super fucking counterproductive for what I wanted—what we both wanted. So, I played my hand.
The head of Luke’s cock breaches my wet hole. I want to feel every inch of him. It burns a little from the stretch, but it’s everything I’ve been hoping for. I’m impatient, hankering to push back and steal an inch, but I won’t do that. I’ll behave.
“You’re so tight, baby.” He hums with delight, pushing his cock in bit by agonizing bit, the stocky shaft splitting me open. He’s halfway in before he pulls out again, sliding in another inchor so, only to pull again. He does this, wedging me open until finally he drives his cock home.
His hard pelvis meets my sore ass, sending a pleasant ache to my cock. He’s left it trapped in the confines of the pink lacy shit he made me wear—haven’t missed that—but it only drives my arousal. These panties are soaked with it, the precum leaking from my cock.
We pause as if we’ve been walking a long journey to get here, and we need just a second before we tackle the next half, breathing in sync. One breath. Two. Three.Ten.
Then he moves.
Luke pushes between my shoulder blades; my chest presses into the sheets. It reminds me that he’s in charge, and I bend to his will. His fingers dig bruises into my hips.
“That’s it, princess. You’re gonna keep your ass nice and high, and take Daddy’s cock, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, Daddy. Please.”
“You’ve waited a long time. You’ve earned this. Hold on.”
But there’s nothing to hold onto.And fuck do I love that.
He retracts and slams into my smooth channel again. Air rushes out of me, and the sound I make is somewhere between a cry and a moan. I’m stuffed so fucking full of his cock. Luke’s cockhead hits my prostate over and over. It’s no wonder I’ve never cared for this from anyone else, they weren’t doing it right. Luke barrels into me with no other purpose than to fuck, and I can barely find purchase. He’s a wild animal, and I’m the captured prey.
“Yes,” he growls. “Fuck, yes.”
We become a symphony of moans, grunts, and cries. He drives harder, skin slaps skin, sweat drips from every inch of us. The longer we fuck, the more we mold together, all our fluids, our parts, our energy. I feel owned. I feel like his.
