Me: I knew this way would be a better view *winking emoji sticks out tongue*
Colt: Guess I’ll just have to take your word for it. Whatabout my reward, then?
Me: Hmm. Just how creative do you want me to get with this?
Colt: Whatever you feel like saying is cool with me. I like you unfiltered.
Me: You know, I’ve always wanted to go skinny-dipping.
Colt: Just go straight for the jugular, why don’t you?
Me: That’s tamer than anything else going through my head.
Colt: Goddamn.
Gripped by a sudden burst of confidence, I sent him a picture. I was half propped up on my pillows, my tits popping out from the neckline of my top, covered but clearly visible.
Colt: You’re actually trying to kill me.
Me: Nah
Colt: Oh, so this is normal for you, is it?
Me: Not at all.
Me: Back to the topic at hand. The most important thing for me is that you don’t feel lonely. I’ve often seen girls sitting on guys’ laps in hot tubs. Looked like fun.
Colt: You want to sit on my lap?
Me: Sure, let’s say sit *winking emoji*
Colt: You’re killing me, Princess.
Me: We don’t want that.
Colt: I should probably get some sleep … before I start saying things I shouldn’t. Maybe we’ll talk tomorrow?
Me: Sure!
Colt: Good. Sleep tight, Princess.
Colt: Sweet dreams and don’t stay up too late.
I probably would have squealed and kicked my feet under the covers if my hand wasn’t still wedged between my thighs. The thought of sitting in a steamy, secluded hot tub with Colt, naked or on his lap, drove me absolutely wild.
My pussy was literally dripping as I circled my slippery clit. I inched closer and closer to climax as our conversation and the memory of his hands and lips on me replayed in my mind. With a muffled moan, so as not to wake Ella, I came harder than ever. Goddamn, the things this man did to me.
***
Like Colt, I had spent the better part of the summer in training, but unlike him, I had only recently moved into my dorm room a few weeks before the official start of the semester. Being a freshman? Not as glamorous as it sounded —trust me.
Until that point, I’d barely set foot on campus. But now that the season was about to kick off, things were finally starting to feel real. Determined to prove I wasn’t just some spoiled rich girl who coasted her way onto the squad, I pushed myself harder than I ever had during the first week of practices.
Somehow, I even managed to shove thoughts of Colt to the back of my mind — most of the time. I still found myself glancing around between routines, half hoping to catch a glimpse of him somewhere nearby. We usually texted in the evenings, and once in a while, I got him to loosen up enough for a little flirtatious banter.
By the end of the week, after an especially brutal conditioning session that left us drenched and gasping for air on the track, a buzz of excitement rippled through the squad.
“And … here they come,” Kyra, a sophomore with gorgeous mahogany skin and sleek black hair, said softly next to me, waggling her eyebrows and ogling the source of the commotion at the other end of the field.
