Page 53 of Best Man on Campus

“As if that’s going to help.” But he doesn’t stop, and his determination, his strength of will to know what’s right calms me.

“A social worker came by the next day. She sat me down and handed me a sick new version of my life to pack away. In addition to being a musician, Killian had a record for selling prescription drugs and they found out that Grams had been a customer. Pain meds for her arthritis.”

“That’s it? No explanation why the chick Sarah killed him?”

“I don’t want to know any more.”

“Liar.”

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. The social worker never found out and that was the end of it.”

We both know there’s more to the story, and that I’m too chickenshit to find out the truth.

To change the subject, I say, “Shortly after that, I got my license, jacked a car, and skipped out.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, wrapping me in his arms, strong and solid, no shakiness, no question of who he is and what he’s about.

“When they caught up with me, They didn’t put me in juvie, they put me with Majik—she said to call her Majik. You know the rest. My fucking pathetic life story.”

“Want to hear mine?” he says, and he’s sincere.

“Why the fuck not?” I could use a Disney story about now.

“I’m not a fan of birthdays either. The first time my father took off with Doctors Without Borders was the day before my eight birthday. They went to Nepal. That was my mother’s first bout with depression. Dad said there’d be other birthdays, but then there were always other trips too. Every fucking year. He’d always be home for Christmas though. He promised us that and he kept that promise.”

“Poor boy. You have a mother and father who raised you and you’re complaining?”

“No. Sharing. I’m aware that I’m lucky. Especially lucky and grateful that you shared your story with me, babe. I know how hard it was.” He gives me a deep kiss, playing his tongue against mine, soothing and titillating at the same time. Having his stiff cock brush up against me should be the last thing I want right now, but the feel of it, the solidness, knowing it’s Ben and who he is and everything he does, sends a shot of desire through my core, makes my pussy clench and cry.

“You okay, Jazzy? You must be exhausted, emotionally drained after unloading so much.”

“I’m not tired in the least. I’m hot and horny,” I say. Being honest has dug into me with intoxicating effect.

He smiles, but he looks unconvinced, like it’s too good to be true.

“You know what I need from you?” I take hold of his scalding hot cock and smile back at him, a real smile, not the I-want-to-eat-you-alive kind I’ve had for him before. I don’t know what this smile means, but it’s true and filled with emotion.

“I can guess,” he says, giving me a pump of his hips in encouragement.

I snort. But I have no intention of getting him off with my hand or my mouth tonight. The burning need in my pussy to have him is more than matched by a burning need in my soul. Turning to face him, he moves his hand down my back, clutching my ass to press me forward. He’s growing and getting hard as I stare into his eyes.

“Are you sure you want sex right now? Maybe we should—”

“I’m more than sure, hockey boy. Don’t take your stick off the ice now.”

He chuckles but doesn’t look convinced, so I stroke him, squeeze his cock and kiss him to keep him from saying another word. Growing against my belly, he feels hard and alive and I imagine having him inside me, my pussy clenching with the wet feel of his leaking juices. Torn between touching myself and taking his hand to force him to touch me, I move my hips, trying to grind against him, feeling his balls against me. My breath hitches and I let go of his mouth, my lips wet and his breathing heavy.

“Jazzy, do you know how much I want you, how much I’ve always wanted you? But I don’t think tonight is—”

“Yes it is.” To prove my point I throw a leg over his hips and push the tip of his cock to my opening, hot and wet and waiting for him.

“Jesus Christ…” He groans and puts his hand over mine, trying to stop me. But I don’t let him.

“Don’t you dare,” I say, pushing him backward and rolling on top of him, straddling him, his cock still in my hand as I rub myself against the base of him. His hands are planted on my ass and I’m well aware he could lift me off him and put an end to all this. “Don’t, please don’t stop me.” My voice is hoarse with a pleading need to be inside him.

“Jazzy, at least let me get a condom,” he rasps, his eyes glassy and his cock hard and fully grown, twitching under my touch. I barely listen to his words, don’t care, don’t want any excuse to stop.

“No, no stopping.” I lift myself up and pull his cock to my opening, rub it on my clit and let out a moan. “You feel so fucking good, Ben. I need to have you…”