A groan leaves me when I feel his flesh hit mine.
His lips meet the middle of my back as his cock slides up the crack of my ass.
“Fuck, I wasn’t kidding. I was dying. I was touching myself in the middle of class. Right under my desk like a fucking creep.”
He drags his dick up my ass again and then settles it right at my hole.
We both groan as he sinks inside of me, an inch, and then a slam dunk forward. He’s balls deep before I can even groan.
But then I let loose, my hands fisting in the covers, my body bucking back, wanting more. Needing it. It’s been two days and I can’t cope with the absence of him.
Since when have I become so dick depraved?
So dick dependent?
Since him. Since Colton Cavanaugh. Since he touched my dick and made me come.
I gasp when the angle of his cock pierces my third wall, and I press my face to the mattress, holding on for dear life as he ravages me. This is a good fucking, the kind you only get once in your life. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to keep it—to keep them.
I want to do that.
I want him to stay.
I fuck back against his hard length as he impales me over and over. His groans meet mine, desperate, hungry. Immoral.
I want it like this every day. Every. Fucking. Day.
His fingernails dig into my hips, and I reach between my legs, tugging on my dick, making my balls draw up. I’m not going to last.
My orgasm barrels through me, cum spurting on the sheets beneath me, my rim contracting around his cock.
He swears at me, curses my name, and then I feel him empty himself into my ass.
So much of it.
And then he pulls out and leans back, waiting.
“You’re such a pervert,” I say, and he laughs, watching as his cum spills from me before pushing it back in.
“Not any more than you.” He takes the plug and pushes it inside me, keeping his mess inside my ass. Making me hold a piece of him.
“You wear this until practice. Then take it out. Don’t want that ass hurt. Not with how I’m gonna fuck you later tonight.”
My cock rallies, perking up slightly, trying to get hard in anticipation. But even I need five minutes to recover.
Colton flips me over, throwing a leg and an arm over me, his lips meeting mine.
“You drive me crazy,” he murmurs, and I nod. He does the same to me.
He makes me insane. I don’t know how to fix it.
And I don’t know if I want to.
Chapter Eight
Colton comes to my practice. He doesn’t tell me he’s going to show up, but there he is in the stands, watching me. The sun is peeking through the clouds, and it illuminates him. He leans back and soaks it up, his legs spread, his head tilted back.
And even so, I can feel his gaze on me.
