"You get it now. You get it."
"Yes." My mouth is open against his cheek. I'm dazed, barely aware of where we are. Our surroundings. What day it is. "Yes, I get it."
A shudder goes through him. "You're going to tell me every single thing about you. All right? Everything. Every like and dislike. Everything that scares you or makes you happy. I want to know about them." He jerks me to the edge of the desk. "But right now, I need to make you come. Can't concentrate. Not until you're sitting in a puddle on this desk."
"A p-puddle?"
"Fuck yes." He's slowly pushing the skirt up my thighs. "I know you're a virgin, honey. There's a lot I'll be showing and explaining to you. But number one, number goddamn one, is that your pussy makes a mess when I'm around. A creamy little mess."
His palms on my bare thighs make me tremble. Head falling back, I send a whimper of his name toward the high ceiling. "T-Gage."
"I'm here. I'm right here." He leaves the hem of my skirt where it barely hides my panties. And then his hands slide back down my thighs to clutch my knees, gently easing them open. Leaning back to peer between my legs and letting out a rocky exhale over what he sees. What panties did I wear today? Gray cotton? "All it takes is my skin on yours, huh? And you're drenched. I love that and I hate it. Love it because you're responding to me, getting ready for pleasure. But I hate knowing how bad you've needed touching. Years of it. My girl. Suffering." His eyes darken. "That makes me a little insane, you know that?"
From somewhere inside me comes a wave of bravery. Confidence. Maybe it's the way he's looking at me like I'm his last meal. Whatever the reason, I lean back on the desk and inch my legs open a little wider. "M-maybe you should make up for l-lost time."
He puffs a breath, looking momentarily dazed before the lust sweeps in and he drops to his knees, his tongue snaking out to wet that chiseled lower lip. "Christ. Did you just innocently ask me to lick your pussy, honey?" He bites the inside of my knee with a snarl. "That was so fucking hot. I'm never going to be the same. I might…fuck. I might come in my pants—hold on."
His huge body shakes for several moments, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Is he really…could he really climax so easily?
And what he said…about licking…is that real?
I should have done a lot more Googling this morning.
"I-I…no. I didn't even know you could put your mouth there." His head lifts, eyes pinning me to the desk, my skin swamped with heat once again. Flushed is my new default. "I just thought you would want to put your…your…"
"My cock?"
Fire ants. Everywhere. "There. Yes."
"So that thing you did, opening your legs wider to show me your drenched little cunt, was an invitation to fuck you?"
"Isn't that what men and women do together?"
"I'm tempted to say yes. The answer is yes. But you're a virgin, Stella. You're my girlfriend and it would hurt this way." He blows out a sudden breath, looking almost dizzy. "And if you think it makes me insane to think of you lonely without so much as a hug for years, you don't want to know what happens in my brain when I think of you hurt. I could commit murder."
"You'd never hurt me," I say, with absolute conviction, my heart wedging painfully into my throat, my flesh throbbing, aching for his touch. There. Where no one has ever touched me, but instinctively I understand that he owns it. He owns me there. Right or wrong, it's fact.
"No. No. I'd never hurt you." He kisses his way up my inner thighs, right and left, his fingers twisting in the sides of my panties and tugging down, encouraging me without words to lift my hips and let them come off. Let my…my boyfriend shed my panties. "Stella," he rasps, seemingly in awe of what he has uncovered.
"Yes?"
"Your pussy…"
I hold my breath and wait.
"I just finished telling you I'd never hurt you, but…" His warm breath travels over my soaked womanhood and that alone is almost enough to push me to the edge. "But honey, I might. I might hurt it sometimes. Just a little. There's no way I'll be able to keep from…" The rest is gritted through his teeth. "Christ, I'm going to pound that sweet fucking thing."
My thighs try to shoot together from the sheer force of my orgasm. The hands I'm using to prop myself up slide sideways and I almost fall, but manage to catch myself on my elbows while the monstrous pleasure undulates through me, ripping the breath out of my lungs and constricting those low intimate muscles. And the pulsing, the pulsing, it won't stop. "Gage!"
"Jesus Christ." He grips my hips, presses my legs open with his broad shoulders and buries his mouth against my spasming flesh. "You're a miracle. My miracle." His tongue parts my sex in one long savoring drag. "Sweet. Sweet girl, Stella. Come for your man. However you want, whenever you want. As long as I'm here to lick it up."
"Oh my…oh my…" I whimper, my fingers finding purchase in his hair. Holding him closer. Scooting to the very, very edge of the desk and writhing, lifting, so I can feel more of his tongue. I'm blind. I'm shaking. I can't believe how good it feels. God oh God oh God. "Gage. More."
His licks turn frantic.
Desperate.
He uses his fingers to spread me open and he flattens that tongue against me again, again, again, making me gasp and sweat and sob, another powder keg of sensations preparing to detonate inside of me. And this time, I know how incredible it will be. I trust Gage is there to catch me, so I race toward it, screaming behind my teeth when he tucks his tongue just inside of me and rotates the tip quickly, quickly, waking up nerve endings I didn't even know existed.
"I want to fuck you," he grates against my femininity. Lapping, lapping.
"Yes," I gasp. "Please." Any way to feel closer to him. My boyfriend. My savior.
"No, you can't. You can't." He seems to be arguing with himself. Then to me, he says, "I'm saving such a fat nut for you, honey. It's going to look like someone spilled a gallon of milk on this virgin pussy when I finally get into it."
With that, he closes his lips around this place, this spot he's been licking that feels so incredible and he gives it a raspberry, suctioning lightly, and my back arches involuntarily, another, more powerful tidal wave of pleasure pulling me down into a whirlpool of blind sensation, my sex tightening and releasing, releasing wetness, my secret muscles screaming with relief and shock. "Gage," I whine, voice jagged, high pitched, fingers yanking on the ends of his hair while lust makes me its prisoner. And then I finally collapse, limp on the desk, once again boneless in his presence, just like last night.
He wraps me in his powerful arms, picks me up and sits down in the professor's chair, rocking me in his lap. I feel his hardness beneath my bottom and I want to ease that pain. I don't know how I'm so positive there is pain involved. Maybe it's the rigidity of his muscles or the way he's still breathing hard. But I want to be his antidote. My gut, my soul, my mind are telling me he's my responsibility. I'm his and he's mine.
Somewhere in the room, there is something buzzing. A phone?
Gage seems to know who is calling and why, because he sighs into my hair. "It's probably my coach. I'm late for practice."
I nod, starting to sit up.
He pulls me back into his embrace, tighter than before. "No."
"No?"
"No leaving me. No sneaking out of our bed in the morning. Just no." He kisses a path from my shoulder blade up to my ear. "I've never felt anything like this, didn't even know I could, so try and be patient with me. I'm possessive as fuck over you. I know what it means to be abusive, Stella, and Jesus, everything I want from you fits that bill."
Concern sweeps into my chest, battling with joy. I don't understand these conflicting emotions. What is wrong with me? How is this happening so fast? Yesterday the most important part of my life was an education. Now he's blocking out the sun. Demanding every ounce of my attention. "What do you want from me…that's abusive?"
"For one, I just interrupted your class and carried you out of there without permission. Did it last night, too. I'm controlling you. I'm taking up all of your air and I…like it. Love it. I want to be the center of your universe because you're the center of mine." He breaks off, shuddering. "Goddammit, I need to fuck you so bad. I want that cherry dripping down my cock. My thoughts are sick when you're so innocent. Young, too. Eighteen."
"You're only four years older than me, right?" I breathe, threading my fingers through his hair. Driven to comfort him, even as he details his "abusive" behavior. The fact that he doesn't want to stop. Warning me that it will escalate. Why is excitement fluttering in every cell of my body? I need to get control of this. Of myself and him, before this gets carried away. "You can't take me out of classes anymore, Gage. You have to let me learn."
Soulful eyes lift to mine, perturbed and slightly dangerous. "There are men in your classes, Stella." His chest rises and falls faster. "Sitting close enough to smell you. I can't stand it." Thoughts churn behind his light brown gaze. "I'll let you go to classes if I can spray you in my cologne in the mornings. And you wear my jacket. All day, no taking it off."
My mouth drops open. "It's going to be like wearing a tent."
He grins. "Exactly."
I huff a breath, looking down at my oversized shirt. "I guess it won't be that different from what I usually wear."
"I love the way you dress." He presses his tongue to the base of my neck, right on top of the pulse. "I love every damn thing about you, honey. Tonight at home, I'll kiss every single one." When his phone begins buzzing again, he curses, thinks for a second. "Yup. You're coming to practice with me."
"What?" I blink, trying to scramble off his lap, but he easily keeps hold of me. He stands up and urges my legs around his waist, gaze darkening when I continue to struggle. It takes me several seconds to realize I'm wiggling all over his erection. "I have to go back to class."
"You're a genius. You'll catch up in no time." He coaxes me into a kiss, giving me a pleading look that I have to admit is extremely persuasive. Is this beautiful man really my boyfriend now? "Come watch me play football? I need you where I can see you. Still haven't recovered from waking up alone. Still waiting for an apology for that, by the way."
"Keep waiting," I tease him.
He rolls his hips, groaning. "Honey, believe me. If I can wait until tonight for this tight pussy, I can wait for an apology." His hands find my bottom beneath my skirt, kneading each bun with relish. "And I can think of a lot of ways to get it out of you."
Playfulness comes naturally with him, I find. A side of me I've never been able to explore. "Maybe I can negotiate your cologne rule in the same ways."
"That is non-negotiable, honey." He narrows his eyes at me, a smile playing around his beautiful mouth. "But I want to hear more about your tactics."
I purse my lips, trying not to look as shy as I feel. "I'll need some time with Google first."
"Fuck Google." He grips my bottom hard, walks me toward the door. "I'm your search engine, honey, and I run all night." Before I can respond to that boast, he bites my neck. "You stay where I can see you during practice, understand?"
I should probably kick him. Or say no, at the very least. But I'd be lying to myself if I pretended his possessiveness didn't excite me. If I pretended it didn't feel right and inevitable. If I pretended it didn't make need course through me like a wild river.
"Yes, Gage," I murmur, laying my head on his shoulder and letting him carry me away.