Will and Deano make it look easy. Or at least fun.
It’s not a totally foreign concept. Being with Maggie is the best part of my day, no matter if we’re just texting, or eating lunch at nearby tables, or tearing each other’s clothes off.
But it’s not all fun and games. I guess I’m not alone in that miserable boat, either. Van’s not just hung up on his ex-girlfriend, he’s also getting tutored by her four days a week. Poor guy looks wrecked half the time, and like he’s dying from blue balls the other half.
I have a feeling I look the same way.
What I want is to tell Coach the truth.
What I want is to call Maggie on her shit. I don’t know what happened in her past to fuck with her head, but I want to work through it together.
What I want is for her to give us a shot.
What I’m doing is sneaking into a storage closet in the basement of the cafeteria for a mid-day hookup.
Maggie’s in there already. She sent me a picture ten minutes ago that had me bolting out of my chair the minute my prof said he’d see us next week. I hauled ass across campus because the pic she sent of just her tits busting out of their lacy confines has me painfully hard already. Her face wasn’t in the pic; it was just the bra and the beautiful fair skin it couldn’t contain. But I’vebeen seeing so much of Maggie’s bare skin lately—in person, in dreams, and every damn time I shower—that I’m pretty sure I’d recognize her perfect tits anywhere, even if it weren’t for the scripty gold M that dangles from a thin chain around her neck.
This place is deserted, so I knock lightly on the door before stepping inside. It looks exactly the way you’d expect it to: small and dimly lit, with racks of shelving piled high with cleaning supplies.
It’s an even further cry from romantic than the bathroom at Kappa, but the way Maggie’s eating me up with her eyes tells me she really couldn’t give a shit about romance right now.
Her bra is still on, and I decide that can stay. Her leggings lie in a heap on top of her sweatshirt, right next to her furry little boot slippers. November is almost here and there’s definitely a chill in the air, but all I feel is heat as I peel off my own hoodie and sweats.
“Took you long enough,” she sasses, reaching for me and wrapping her arms around my waist.
Kissing the top of her head, I smile. “I was in class, or I’d have gotten here sooner.”
Maggie looks up at me, confusion on her pretty face. “Didn’t I text you at?—”
“11:48 on the nose. Two minutes left in class but the second the prof dismissed us, I was on my way. I like it when you’re impatient. I like the pic you sent even better.”
She blushes. “I’m insatiable lately. And forgetful. I blame you. I think you’ve scrambled my brain and turned me into a sex-starved zombie.”
I looked down at her nearly naked body. “Sexiest zombie ever,” I proclaim, scanning the room for a flat surface and coming up empty. Our options are limited, but then I spot a stepstool propped against a wall. Unfolded, it stands about four feet high, and it’s sturdy. I can’t ask for more than that.Taking a seat on the top step, I reach for Maggie, but she just looks up at me, eyes wide.
“You want to have sex on a ladder?”
“To be fair, I want to have sex with you everywhere. But this isn’t a ladder. It’s a stepstool.”
“A freaking huge one.”
“Why, thank you,” I joke, wagging my eyebrows. Despite all the secrecy stuff, being with Maggie is just so damn easy. I can make her laugh one minute and have her screaming in ecstasy the next. That’s today’s plan.
“This thing’s sturdy,” I promise, bouncing a little to show her it can support my weight and hers. “Now come here and let me get my mouth on you.”
Those must be magic words because she’s in front of me a second later, though she’s still eyeing the stepstool skeptically. “Do I just…”
I bite back a laugh. “Didn’t you tell me you were a cheerleader? That shit’s a sport, no arguments here. If you can let people lift you into the air, you can climb a stepstool, babe.”
Those pretty blue eyes of hers turn to angry slivers. “Did you just call me babe?”
“Nope,” I lie, making a mental note not to use that endearment ever again.
“Good. And yeah, I was a cheerleader, but I was in it for the short skirt and the bow. Plus, it was way more fun to just hang with Viv at cheer than it was to wait for her at my house until it was over. And I do a mean running back handspring, thank you very much.” She punctuates her words with her hand on her hips, then frowns and looks back at the stool. “I’m just not sure what to put where…”
Hopping up onto the top step again, I smile. “I know exactly what goes where, Maggie. Don’t worry, I’ll help you figure it out.”
She swats at me, but she’s laughing as she climbs up onto my lap. Finally, my lips cover hers and it occurs to me thatI’ve been waiting to taste her for two damn days. If her whimpers are anything to go by, she’s just as hungry for me as I am for her. We’re rocking together and when my cock strains against my boxers, I know I need to get my hands on her and wring at least one orgasm for her body before I go over the edge.
