I had. The more we stay in this world, the closer everything in our reality feels like a far less vivid dream than the one I had last night. Like it was someone else’s life, and this is the real one.
“Fine. You win, Aarons. I’m fucked. Is that what you want to hear?” I toss my hands in the air.
“It does sound particularly sweet leaving those adorable lips of yours.” He grunts out as he leans back to do a bench press. “Come on and spot me.”
“What if I let this drop on you instead? That’s a lot of trust.”
“But then I couldn’t reward you for being such a good sport tonight.”
Oh.
My teeth drag across my bottom lip. “What, what would that entail, exactly?”
“Oh, that got your attention, huh?” He asks, pushing the bar up with ease. “Seriously, this is still too light?” he mutters.
“I mean, if it’s a good reward, yeah. Maybe you need to let me decide if I’ll like it.”
Seth sits up, stretching his back muscles. “Judging by the library stacks, I think you’ll like it just fine,” he says, standing and walking me up against the wall. He glances around. The gym is empty beyond our two heaving chests. “Care for a preview?”
“I think it’s only fair after the mean trick you played on me last night. I need some relief.”
“You need some relief.” He snorts, gathering closer. “My poor baby, let me take care of that for you.”
My pulse drums against my ears with excitement. Seth’s called me baby, sweetheart, darling, sure, but neverhisbaby. Hopefully this is a step in the right direction.
“We have to be quick. The rest of the team is coming in soon,” he says, brushing a rash of kisses down the side of my neck, “But be a good girl and come to my house after practice, so I can take my time savoring you.”
His invitation has an embarrassing effect on me, and when he reaches down there, he’s going to know that too.
“Always so ready for me.” He says, slipping a finger in. “Madeline?”
I mutter an incoherent response, eyes closed.
“Keep them open for me, baby. I want you to see who made you come so fast. I want you to know I’m doing this to you.”
“God, I fucking hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” He snorts.
“Your fingers are fine. It’s your mouth that’s the problem.”
“You mean you aren’t already worshipping it after the stacks?” He winks. “Ah. Well. I guess I’ll have something to prove tonight, then.
“That sounds terrible. Maybe I shouldn’t come—“
“Darling, you and I both know I control when you come. Isn’t that right?”
I whimper as he brings me close to the edge.
“I get out of practice at seven.”
“Okay.” My muscles tighten, and I breathe through the heightening pressure. “Seven, I can be there at seven. Seven is good—“
“You like seven?” He smirks, picking up his speed. It’s so very inconvenient how good his fingers are. My toes curl, my back arches, and I crash along the other side with a greater force than whatever that pathetic excuse for an orgasm was this morning.
“I’ll see you then, Buttercup.” He kisses my cheek and helps me button my pants back up, running his hands through the sides of my hair and smoothing them down. “I’m going to be hungry. You want a pizza or something, maybe?”
“Pizza?” I heave against his chest. For all the times we’ve spent together the past two weeks, we’ve never eaten anything together. That seems more of a couple-y thing than whatever we are.
