My long-time casual hook-up was calling me on Valentine’s Day? What could this be about?”
“Hello?” I squeaked, trying to get a hold of my voice.
“You coming over later?” Kings asked. God, why did he have to have a voice like that? That rich, low tone, that damn sexy rumble. He had the kind of voice that would melt the panties right off your pussy. “I have something extra special for you. And a really big question I want to ask you.”
“Oh—yes, yes, I’m free. I’m at work now, but I can come over right after.”
“Well, no rush, baby girl. I’ll be waiting for you.”
What could it be? He had said it was something special, after all! And it was Valentine’s Day. It had to be something really big.
Once I was done with work, I raced to my dorm room and showered quickly, shaving my legs and sliding into a sexy tight dress that showed off my curves.
My mind raced from one possibility to another as I took special care with my makeup and hair, hardly daring to hope.
After all, every time I’d even hinted in a roundabout way about doing something in public, he shut it down. It was bad for his image. So this was an interesting new change.
But when Kingsley opened the door, he was shirtless, dressed in sweats.
“Damn, you’re dressed fancy,” he said.
My heart sunk as I realized I’d made a mistake.
He wasn’t taking me out on a date at all. There wouldn’t be a Valentine’s Day confession of love.
I felt ridiculous, here in my dress, with my hair and makeup done perfectly, and my little purse. All for a secret fuck.
Kings instantly pulled me between his legs on the couch, his fingers sliding up my thighs to tighten around my lacy little thong.
“Damn, I love how you always look so hot for me.”
This was just another hook-up, nothing more.
“What’s the something special you wanted to show me?”
He grinned, his smile wide and bright, those brown eyes with the long dark lashes always making me catch my breath with how goddamn magnetic he was. Then he put my hand over the thick bulge in his sweatpants.
“The special thing is your penis.”
“Yeah.”
His fingers reached around my hips and he slid my panties down until they dropped in a puddle on the ground.
Then he leaned back and grinned, hot and cocksure.
“Bend over in front of me. I wanna see that asshole.”
There was a guy in my American lit class who was smart and nice. He’d asked me out a few times. He wanted to take me out to eat steak, said he respected me as a woman and scholar.
But here I was turning around for a guy who wanted to see my asshole.
What was it about Kingsley that had me weak?
“And what is the really big question you have to ask me?”
He flipped me around.
“Legs spread, baby.”
