Kitty
Thoughts of Guy leaving ate away at me. He’d catch me at night sometimes, lying awake and worrying about what was ahead for us. He’d be off to the NHL, on West Coast time primarily, and I’d only be in my sophomore year of college. It was inevitably going to be hard.
Of course, our foundation was pretty stable. He was right that his prior love affairs weren’t even an issue. They hardly even had a chance to talk to him at parties, because he was like a vacuum attached to me. One unseasonably warm late winter night, we enjoyed a night of beer pong and shit-talking at a frat house. Guy’s arm stayed locked around my waist any chance he couldget, even hugging me from behind when I was shooting the ball. I knew we were being nauseating, but I was obsessed. The rush of being newly in love clouded any doubts I had.
Guy oscillated between being clean-shaven for a week or so, then rocking the stubble. I enjoyed it, like getting multiple different versions of the same boyfriend. This was a stubble day. We were close to the end of our game, and Guy was intentionally missing shots so Colton and Violet would win.
“I wanna get out of here,” he rumbled low in my ear, nipping at my neck. His half-erect dick pressed into my back as he goosed his hand under my shirt to caress my belly. A jolt of pleasure rushed through me.
“Keep it in your pants, Stelle,” Colton called as he sank the final ball in our cup. Guy spun me to prop me on the table. I tipped the last cup to his lips and he let some of the beer run down the side of his face.
“Sloppy drunk,” I accused.
“No, I just want you to lick it clean,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine.
“You’re something else tonight, Frenchie.”
“You’d better get to it, or else.”
“Or what? What are you gonna do to me?” I taunted.
“You don’t wanna find out, Birdy,” he said, gaze dark.
I tipped my head to the side. “Actually, I think I do.”
Guy’s eyes blazed into mine. He used his shirt to sop up the moisture on his chin and neck, took my hand, and led me to the door. I waved goodbye to Violet and she rolled her eyes.
“Have fun, you two,” she sighed.
He was trying his old tough boy routine, which frankly, was quite fun and one of my favorite things we did. Violet knew I was a sucker for Guy trying to act like he was anything but the sappy puppy he is.
On the walk home, he continually grabbed my ass. Because the night was warm for February in Boston, we didn’t have manylayers on. Still, it was kind of chilly, and I shivered.
“Keep me warm,” I whined.
“If I keep you close, I won’t be able to wait til we get home. You have no business looking so good, Kitty Bird.”
I wrapped his arm around my shoulder to show him that yes, he could control himself. To prove that no, he could not control himself, he draped his hand over my front and honked my boob.
“I’m glad you haven’t gotten tired of me yet,” I laughed.
“Tired of you? I’m fucking addicted, Kitty.”
We walked a bit longer in a tense silence.
“Let’s run the last bit. Come on. It’ll keep us warm.”
“Fine.” We jogged to his apartment. As soon as his front door closed, I was pinned against it with Guy’s mouth covering mine.
“Guy, Mikey!” I managed through kisses. Mikey often parked it on the couch for hours at a time, whether he was drunk or just wanted to have a public sleep. It was a whole thing. You always had to check for Mikey before sitting down.
“He’s out. Focus. I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted you this bad,” Guy sighed, rubbing my center on his hardness. “I want you on the living room floor.”
Before I could object, his mouth was back on mine, deeply exploring and seeking me. He carried me to the middle of the living room and laid me on my back. Without breaking our kiss, he unbuttoned my jeans and shimmied them and my underwear down my hips. Within seconds, his hands were on my breasts under my shirt as his tongue engulfed my pussy. God, he was so fucking good at going down on me, but even that intense pleasure couldn’t distract me from the fact that we might get caught.
“Guy, what if—”
“Shut up,” he ordered.
