Page 105

I run my hands under the hem of his shirt, and he helps me strip it off. I suck at his throat, his collarbone, the pale line of his chest, leaving love marks behind. He shivers and rocks down into my lap. I’m so fucking hard I can barely think straight.

I lean back enough to see his face. “Say something dirty to me.”

His blinks, his tongue darting out to taste our leftover kiss. Then his ears go pink, but he doesn’t make me ask again.

He bites his lower lip and releases it slowly. “A few months ago…I stole a shirt you left on the floor,” he says. “It smelled like you do after practice. I took it to my bed and I got myself off with it while breathing your scent in. I came harder than I ever had in my life. I thought about your hands. I thought about your mouth. I have thought about it since then, too. Now…sometimes I get hard when you come back from practice without showering, because it reminds me of that day.”

I groan, my eyes shutting to take in his words. Fuck me.

“Quinn—”

“Was that⁠—”

I flip him. He yelps, then laughs, then stops laughing because I’m over him and I’m not playing anymore. I get his jeans open with hands that are not as steady as I want them to be and drag them down with his underwear, and he lifts his hips to help.

“You can not just say that,” I tell him, kissing down his stomach, “and expect me to have any blood left in my brain.”

“You asked.”

“I know I asked. And you did so fucking good, I’m going to show you how good you did.”

I get my own clothes off in a mess of fabric over the side of the bed. Then I look at him. Really look at him. He’s pale and soft, his cock hard against his belly resting in the hair that leads down from his navel. I kneel between his legs, running my fingers up his thighs. Goosebumps explode under my fingers and his cock twitches up off his stomach.

Leaning forward, I swipe my tongue up the length of him, swirling it around his swollen head. He lets out a whimper that goes straight to my balls.

“I know, baby,” I say. I spread his legs wider and lift his thighs off the bed to encourage him to bring his feet up. He lets them fall open, completely trusting me. It makes me feel ten feet tall. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Lube is on the desk. I can reach it without getting down, which is the only smart thing I’ve thought to do in this dorm for months. I grab it, warm it in my hand, and get my mouth back on his while I slide a slick finger over his taint back to his hole. He startles at the contact, and then pushes into the touch, in that greedy way he gets when he wants something.

“Breathe,” I say against his mouth. “Same as last time. Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not.” His eyes are huge as I press a single finger past the barrier of muscle. “Please don’t stop.”

I don’t. I work him open slowly, one finger until he’s shaking beneath me, two when he asks with his hips. I kiss his chest, his throat, the hinge of his jaw.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” I mouth against his throat.

He bares down on my hand, and I slip another finger inside. He moans, loud and broken. “It feels so full.”

“You’re doing so good.”

His asshole flutters on my fingers, and I know he’s close. I run my free hand between us and squeeze the base of his cock, stopping his orgasm from coming. He keens out another moan.

“Daniel—”

“Not yet.”

“That’s—that’s edging. I read about⁠—”

I laugh into his neck. “Of course you did.”

“I hate it.” He thrusts into my hand. He doesn’t hate it. He’s dripping all over his stomach and trying to suck my hand inside of his body. “I also don’t hate it. More. Please.”

“More what?” I curl my fingers and watch his back leave the mattress. “Use your words. You were so good at them five minutes ago.”

He swallows. His eyes are unfocused and bright. “More of your fingers. Or—or you. I want you inside of me. I asked once and you said I wasn’t ready. I’m ready now. Please.”

His words steal my breath. I hadn’t planned to take his virginity tonight. But I can’t deny him anything, apparently.