“You wouldn’t dare,” I say, calling his bluff and hoping to hell that I’m right.
“Fucking try me,” he answers, dipping his head back between my legs.
As much as I hate the thought of being denied the kind of pleasure I know he can give me, the idea is hot. At least my body thinks so as a fresh wave of arousal courses through me.
Blue swears a filthy streak as he grips my ass and licks his lips. “You like that idea, Liza? You want me to see how long I can make you wait?”
“No way,” I answer honestly. “It’s hot in the abstract, but I’m feeling very impatient right now.”
Damn the man because he still takes his time licking and sucking every inch of my hips, thighs, and belly. He’s put his lips everywhere, but now I want them back where they were, so I thread my fingers into his soft, wavy dark hair and direct him accordingly. He gets the message because he moans against my core and the vibrations drive me crazy. Using his palms to lift my ass, he fucking feasts on me until I’m nothing but a pile of goo.
When I don’t think I can take any more, he looks up at me, his lips and mustache a gleamy, sexy mess, and smiles. “You ready to come on my face?”
The words and image are so hot, so forbidden that I tumble over into ecstasy, unable to hold back my orgasm for one more second.
I lie back on his bed, a quivering, sated mess.
This man is going to ruin me.
And I might just let him.
18
Blue
Blue: Sorry. Coach had me stay late running drills with Mickey. I thought you'd still be at the area when I left, but I didn’t realize it got so late.
Liza: It’s fine.
Blue: I’m no genius, but something tells me it’s not fine.
Liza: Did you read my text? I said it’s fine.
My fingers start to tap out a reply, but my brain thinks better of it, so I pocket my phone as I round the corner and see the hockey house at the end of the street. A lot of the guys drive back and forth to practice, but we’re close enough to the Wolf’s Den that walking seems much quicker to me. It is early February, so the walk is definitely brisk, but I don’t mind. And based on Liza’s texts, it seems like our place might be even frostier than the thirty degree temps outside.
I don’t blame her for being pissed, though. We’ve managed to sneak around undetected for more than a week now and the more time I get with Liza, the more I want. We were both hoping we could check a few more things off her list tonight, but it’s late enough that all our housemates are home, so that’s probably not going to happen.
If any of my friends knew about our arrangement, they’d tell me I’ve lost my mind, and not just because Liza is openly hostile toward me ninety percent of the time. No, the proof of my insanity would be the fact that when Liza and I are alone, she’s the only one getting orgasms. Don’t get me wrong: I have always lived by a ladies first philosophy, and I always will. But I’ve never had a sexual encounter where the orgasms weren’t mutual.
Until now.
And, to be clear, I’m having orgasms. Plenty of them. When Liza sneaks back down to her room, or I make my way up to mine, I’m always about ten seconds from publicly humiliating myself. All my needs are being met, it’s just that I’m the one meeting them, usually in the privacy of my shower.
And, honestly, I’m more than okay with it..
It’s not that I wouldn’t love to feel her hands on me again, and it’s not that I haven’t imagined what it would be like to sink inside her tight, wet heat. Fuck me, I think about it way too often. But this is all about Liza, about making her feel good, and letting her decide what she likes and what she doesn’t. And as corny as it sounds, when she feels good, I feel good. My whole goal is her please.
I’m basically her human vibrator, and I love my job.
When I get to the front of the house, I take the steps two-at-a-time, and punch the security code into the lock. I wave hello to the freshmen who are sprawled out on the sofas playing video games, and head for the kitchen because I’m starving. Andbecause Liza’s room is down the hall, so I can check to see if her light’s on.
“Stop!”
I obey the freshman’s command, although I’m not sure if it was issued by Dime or Flo. I get those two confused all the time. They look nothing alike, but they’re both named Mason, and I think that’s where the confusion started.
“Dude, whatever you do, stay out of the kitchen. I’m serious. Do not go in there.”
I turn around as Dime is finishing his dire warning. “Unless you three have some food stashed somewhere in this room, I’m going into the kitchen.”
