She nodded, as if she knew that, but she was looking around, taking in the room, her laptop on the desk in front of her, where she’d been resting her head on her arms.
“What time is it?” she asked even as she reached for her phone, which I handed her.
“Midnight.” She nodded, and nodded again as she saw my exchange with Jane.
“Are you on your lunch break?” she asked.
“Yep. I’m yours for an hour,” I said, stretching my arms wide, as if offering myself to her. Well, shit, I wasalwaysoffering myself to her, whether overtly or not. “More than enough time to walk you to Creyts and back. Maybe even get some goodnight kisses in, too.”
“Or…” She stood up, slid her laptop and phone into her backpack, and moved away from the desk. Taking my hand, she led me from the room. I turned the lights off as we left, but instead of turning right to the main door, she took a left, heading back to the locker room. “We could find a better way to spend an hour, and then I can walk home by myself…” She was at the locker room door and she turned, putting her spectacular ass against the door and pushing it open with an awesome flex of her hips. “…after.”
Oh, “after” was working all kinds of yes for me.
She locked the door to the locker room behind us and led me through the rows, dropping her backpack at the place I’d come to think of as “Lily’s row,” even though I’d only been in here one time when she had, that first day I saw her.
Holy shit, it seemed liked yesterday, and a lifetime ago, since I saw Lily Spaulding pull my sputtering baby brother out of the water.
And yet a lifetime didn’t seem like enough time to spend with her. Getting to know her better, watching as she got to know herself.
I followed her—shit, I’d follow her anywhere—as she made her way down the row. Peeling off her jacket, she let it fall to the floor as she kept walking. And then came her sweater. With a seemingly effortless flick of her arms, the knit top went by the wayside too, landing on the bench that ran the length of the row in front of the lockers.
Oh, I was liking this.
Her camisole was next, and my Bribury tee joined it on the floor as I followed the soft sway of her hips. Her bra was pink—damn, she had the prettiest bras—and she kept it on, which in a way was even sexier. Her hands moved to her front, and I knew she was unzipping her jeans. She had to stop to slide off her Uggs and then the jeans. I stood where I was, several steps behind her, not taking the opportunity to catch up to her. That would happen soon enough—when she wanted it to. I undid my jeans, untying and kicking off my boots and peeling out of my socks as I kept an eye on her, waiting for her to move again, or for those jeans to shimmy down her long legs.
That was what happened first; the jeans came down, slowly—so fucking slowly!—over her hips, showing the pink of her panties, then the long, shapely thighs. The denim pooled at her feet, and while I was kicking at mine, she gracefully stepped out of her jeans and continued on, to the end of the long row of lockers.
I kept willing her to look over her shoulder, to give me that beguiling smile that she gave me whenever I was deep inside her—or about to be. But she knew she was driving me crazy by not looking back.
She gave the lock on the door to the pool a quick flip—she knew this place well. Her step faltered just a tiny bit as she walked onto the pool deck, but who could blame her. If I was walking out into a pool area in my underwear I’d do a quick look and make sure everybody was indeed long gone.
I knew they were, had locked the door to the locker room myself after the last of the ladies were gone. And I’d waved to Freddy, as he was the last one into the men’s locker room. That had been nearly three hours ago, as Lily had worked on her paper and then dozed off.
I stayed slightly behind her as she led the way across the pool deck to the deep end. Just as I was about to reach out and grab her, she took a three-step run and dove into the calm water.
Following her lead, I ran the last few steps and dove in behind her, careful to watch the way she moved under the water so I wouldn’t overtake her, or bump into her.
There’d be time for both bumping into her, and, yeah, overtaking her for sure.
She broke surface a few yards in front of me, and though I stayed under water a few more strokes, I followed in her trail.
She swam the length of the pool. I’d follow Lily anywhere, and I was still in pretty good shape from my playing days, but I couldn’t keep up with her if she was going to swim some serious laps.
But she stopped at the shallow end, right in the center of the pool, along the wall. I stood up, the water coming to the waistband of my briefs at this end, and just below her bra. The overhead lights were out, but the underwater ones were still on. Windows lined one wall of the pool area, but the women’s IM building sat on a hill, so someone would have to be hovering above ground to be able to see into the pool. From outside, though, on campus, the underwater lights sent an eerie glow through the windows. It was kind of cool to see. But I was sure as shit happier to be on the inside—with Lily looking at me like she was right now—than out on campus wondering what the cool glow came from.
The water gently waved from our motions, splashing softly against Lily’s tits, just barely seeping over her bra cups, then back down. The pink bra was three shades darker when wet, but I could still see her nipples hardening as I stared at her. Another step closer, and she put her arms up on the gutter ledge on either side of her. It pushed her tits up even higher, as if she was offering them to me.
And yeah, I was going to take what she was offering. And then some.
I reached her, putting a foot between hers and nudging, like a cop. She spread her legs, taking her down just enough that the water level rose to halfway up her bra cups. “Take your panties off,” I said, my voice sounding much more sure of myself than I actually felt. This was Lily’s show, and maybe she had a vision of how she wanted it go. If she did, she was okay with my command, if the way her breathing hitched was any indication. Her hands and arms left the ledge and pushed down her panties down, her head going under water slightly with the movement, then back up. Her hair was loose—how I loved it—and the wet mass streamed down her back and across her shoulders, a chunk of it falling down her chest, a stark black contrast against the fading tan of her skin and the pink of the bra.
She tried to kick the panties free, but the wet material clung to one of her feet. She started to reach again, but I said, “Leave it.” She straightened up, putting her hands back on the ledge. She raised a brow at me.
My move.
I couldn’t keep my hands off her…ever. When we were in her bed I’d constantly be touching her, my hands roaming all over her body, wanting to feel every inch of her, wanting to remember her scent, her texture, her taste. Knowing it would have to end sometime. Knowing she would want to experience college as any other freshman, not with a townie boyfriend who worked odd hours and was the caregiver to a six-year-old.
She hadn’t yet, and I was going to take full advantage of that fact.
