“Beg for it.”
“Please fill me up. I want to feel it dripping out of me. Give me your cum, Hotshot.”
With a deep groan, he threw his head back, an image of pure masculinity. Buried to the hilt, he did as he promised — pumped his whole load deep inside of me, his dick twitching.
Our breathing was heavy as he claimed my lips in a soft kiss, pressing our sweaty foreheads together.
We broke apart, and I playfully glared up at him. “God, you’re an asshole for making me say this.”
“The truth, you mean? You don’t have to say it yet. Just don’t run. Let me keep showing you.”
Thirty Two
Dom
The coffee shop on campus was abuzz with energy. Everybody was trying to get their caffeine fix before the afternoon classes started. I knew Sierra loved this place, so I’d baited her into accompanying me after her last class ended.
Having her by my side so casually, like we already were what I knew we could —would— be, was the highlight of my fucking day.
I could already see it. Her toothbrush next to mine, her legs tangled with mine in the morning, her name on everything. My name on her. It wasn’t a question of if. It was a matter of when.
And God help anyone who got in the way of that.
I wasn’t shy about PDA, and I loved being the type of guy to show off what he had. And what I had was one of the most beautiful girls on campus.
Of fucking course I was going to show her off every chance I got … provided she let me. Hell, I wanted to put her in a jersey with my name on it and dare anyone to evenlook.
We’d already ordered, waiting to the side for our drinks to be called out. Sierra was giving me the side-eye, judging my “iced oat milk triple shot situation,” as she called it.
“Say it’s for you,” she said, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “I dare you.”
I just smirked. “Darlin’, I carry my oat milk bullshit and your lavender latte like they’re trophy. Ain’t bothering me none. I’m confident with who I am.”
Sierra rolled her eyes, although I caught that smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Hey, I’m going to use the restroom real quick. I’ll be back in a minute.” She touched my arm as I watched her walk away, my brain short-circuiting, a dopey grin stealing onto my lips.
“Well, isn’t that adorable?” A faintly familiar voice drawled behind me.
I turned around slowly, immediately regretting it. For a second, I had to remind myself we were in public because I was two seconds from turning that smug little face into concrete paste.
Sierra’s ex, the crown prince of frat boys, sneered at me in his fucking collared shirt, a sweater slung around his shoulders.
It was still over 75 degrees out there — who the hell needed a sweater in this kind of weather? What a fucking douchebag.
The happy smile on my face quickly changed into a dark, dangerous one.
“Did some research on you after our last little run-in. You’re that rookie from Georgia, right?” he jeered, sizing me up as though he stood a fucking chance. “The freshman with the tattoos. Cute.”
I kept my gaze firmly fixed upon him, my smile never wavering, and I knew it unnerved him. People expected different behavior in a situation like this.
They got uncomfortable when you didn’t subject yourself to the vibe of the situation and didn’t reciprocate their attitude. His face told me how unsettled he was by this, clear as day.
He averted his gaze slightly, pretended to scan the room, before he took another stab at facing me again. “Didn’t think she was your type. Or maybe you’re into projects.”
“Nah. Just into her.” I deadpanned.
Douchebag snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that. Sierra’s all ice. Always has a stick up her ass — like she’s better than everyone else. You’ll see.”
