“Diego?”
He stops, gazing at me over the hood of his truck.
“See you in class.”
He doesn’t say a word.
His eyes hold mine for a moment longer. Then he turns, opens the door, and climbs into his truck. The engine roars to life, and he takes off. His tires screech their protest on the cold asphalt.
I’m left alone with my thoughts and his kiss’s undeniable, lingering taste.
11
DIEGO
I’m bricked up. Can’t remember a time I’ve been more turned on and let down with a raging case of blue balls. College women are easy. Once I get past the first kiss, there’s no stopping or shutting me down. But easy isn’t always good. Most times, easy is just easy.
You love the climb more than the view.
Dom’s damn words echo in my fucking brain. Maybe I do like the fucking climb more. But with her, it would be different. With her, I’d relish the fucking view.
How the fuck will I make that happen?
My dumbass is chasing after the unattainable. I’ve put myself out there twice, in two different ways, and finally got a kiss out of her.
I haven’t worked this hard to get a woman’s attention in all my years in Boston. Yet, I’m not looking for easy and shallow with her.
She’s different in every way.
Older, mature, intelligent. A PhD who doesn’t even insist we call her Dr. Rossi. But from how things were left, I doubt I’ll ever be enough for her.
I pull away from the curve, my cock like carbon and my balls aching with need. The road calls to me, needing to ride or work out to expel the testosterone flooding my body. I could head to the bar, pick up a random college woman, and pound into her, but the thought brings with it an immediate repulsion.
The only one I want to pound is Isabella. I want to watch my cock divide those fucking plump lips and slide inside her.
Kokami.
With the road darkening at the end of her street, I park under a busted streetlight and kill my headlights. The need for instant relief is overwhelming. The buckle of my seatbelt is the only sound in my cab as I toss it off my shoulder, unbutton my jeans, and yank my underwear down. I grip my cock, already leaking a bit from that fucking kiss of hers.
Kokami.
I’m turning into a fucking pussy if I’m letting a basic ass kiss get me this horny. I tug my clothing further down, giving my balls some breathing room before spitting on my palm and wetting my cock.
The seat squeaks when I adjust my legs, spreading them wider and closing my eyes to envision her hand instead of mine. My thoughts turn to the moments before the kiss, her interrogation, and my frustration. And there was the solution to all my problems. A simple kiss. Just one kiss that would unravel everything in me.
As I stroke myself with an unyielding rhythm, anger, and lust fuel every movement. Anger at wanting her and the possibility of not having her. Anger that she didn’t cave so easily when others have.
And lust.
Fucking lust for a brilliant, older woman letting a hot young guy fuck the shit out of her. Own her repeatedly until she limped into her lab, standing at the front podium, giving instructions and knowing I was the reason for that limp.
Shit.
I’d make that a daily occurrence if we were together. My fist pumps faster, and my body tingles with the bliss that is about to come.
Imagining her eyes wide with desire for me. Those plump lips parting and the soft moans escaping that hot little body dance behind my eyelids.
A dream that I need to make a reality.
