Of all the atrocious shit I've done since my father died—vandalizing cars, getting into drunken brawls—the thoughts I'm having right now are by far the worst.
I stand above Stella while she spreads the blanket out on the sand. Her skirt is in tatters in my car, so she's wearing nothing but panties and a button-down shirt. And not a single one of the buttons are fastened, thanks to some work from my deft fingers back in the truck. So she's on her knees, arranging the blanket and her tits are dangling there like forbidden fruit. My dick is stiffer than sin in my briefs, there is no one around for miles and I can't help it. I can't help but think about how easily I could make her mine right now.
I wouldn't have to use force. She's addicted to skin on skin contact with me. It makes her hot. A few minutes of making out with our shirts off and she'd be screaming for me to put it in. I'm a bastard. I'm a terrible man for considering it. One flick up my wrist and she'd be on her back. She might try and push me off, briefly, but she's too horny to fight me for long. She'd let me kiss her. I'd hump her through those threadbare panties and she'd start to crave the real thing. The way I do.
No, crave isn't the right word for how badly I want Stella.
I'm being eaten alive.
She stretches out to smooth a corner of the blanket and the shirt rides up to the small of her back, displaying her ass. Those two tight buns that I'd crawl across a thousand miles of broken glass to sink my teeth into. I'm used to getting what I want, when I want it. And I've never wanted anything more than her heart, her body, her commitment to me. Never. Nothing else even comes close. So the waiting, the torture, is something of an honor. The lust burns, but I fucking love it. It belongs to Stella. It's for her, so it's right.
I'm the man who gets to be with her. That's worth the pain.
But that doesn't mean I'm a saint.
I have to find a way to get some relief. Something. Anything. Or I'm worried I won't make it through the next two days without impressing my will upon her. And that would disrespect her thoughtfulness, her determination to make me a better man and football player. Can't do that to my future wife. I won't. I can be the good man she thinks I am.
Can't I?
I swallow the rock in my throat and close my eyes, breathing deep. Don't think about how tight her pussy is going to be. Yeah right. Every other thought in my head consists of exactly that. How she'll stretch and clench and whimper and claw.
Relief. I need it. Some measure of it. Somehow.
Already disgusted with myself, I whip off my shirt and toss it into the sand, kneeling down beside Stella on the blanket. She's in the process of finding the right page of her notes, so it takes her a moment to look up. But when she does, her double-take almost makes me laugh. Or groan. Or both. Her balance wanes and she starts to pitch sideways, so I reach out and steady her. "You all right, Stella?"
"What, me? Yes." She's staring at my abs, so I flex them and listen to her intake of breath. "I just…I just…"
"You just what, honey?"
"Didn't expect you to be shirtless."
"Isn't that what we agreed on?"
"Yes, but during the kissing parts only."
The kissing parts. Oh my God, she's so fucking cute. How am I not tackling her onto the blanket right now? "You want me to put my shirt back on?"
"No!" Her cheeks darken. "I mean, n-no."
I nod with mock seriousness. "You should probably take yours off, too. Just so I don't feel self-conscious."
She smirks adorably. "Nice try. You don't even know the meaning of self-conscious. Not when you've got all of this…" She wiggles her fingers near my chest. "Going on."
"Is that a compliment, Stella?" I wrap my hands around her waist and drag her toward me. "Ah, honey. You should see me with my pants off."
I expect a snarky retort, but she chews her lip instead. "I'm nervous about sex, Gage."
My heart drops to my stomach, cold prickles of sweat popping up and down my spine. Oh, this girl of mine. I don't like her anything but happy. I hate it. Was I really contemplating using her need for skin-on-skin contact against her? Christ, I'm such a bastard. "You don't have to be nervous, Stella. When we have sex for the first time, I'm going to go nice and slow. I'm going to make sure your pussy is wet enough to fit me. We're going to find out what you like so I can give it to you every day for the rest of your life."
Curious blue eyes search mine. "What do you like?"
"I like you, Stella." Just like every other time I remember my empty, meaningless track record with women before her, a pit forms in the center of my stomach. "Please, I don't want to think about when you weren't around." Nausea roils in my belly and I yank her closer, the magic of her presence keeping the distress at bay. "When we make love, it's going to be my first time, too. All right?"
"Make love?" she repeats dazedly into my neck.
"That's what I said." I can't stop my hands from creeping up underneath the tail of her button-down shirt, delving down the back of her panties to massage her ass cheeks. "You think it's crazy to love you after one day, honey? You ain't seen nothing yet." I'm coming dangerously close to revealing what an absolute fanatic I am for her. Maybe I have already, somewhat, but she doesn't know how deep this obsession runs. I'm not sure I even know yet. I don't want to show Stella too much intensity and scare her away, though. So I harness every iota of my willpower and ease her out of my embrace. "We better get studying," I rasp.
"Y-yes," she responds, shaking herself.
My hands curl into fists to keep from reaching for her as she picks up the textbook and her notes, settling both in her lap. "We should start with Ancient Greece and Hellenistic Civilization…"
For the next hour, Stella tutors me. And I memorize every single word. There is no way to forget a single thing that passes through her beautiful lips. The sun sets around her in pinks and golds as she goes through her notes, so intelligent and studious, my heart is in my throat the whole fucking time. I don't forget for a single second that we have a deal, either. For every answer I get correct, she's going to kiss me somewhere on my body. She's going to do it topless, too. Jesus, if every man was lucky enough to study this way, there wouldn't be a single failed test for the rest of time.
Jealousy tightens my gut. She's never tutoring anyone else but me. I hadn't even considered the possibility until now, but I don't like it and it's not happening.
"Medieval history doesn't seem to agree with you," she muses. "You're scowling."
"Am I the first guy you've tutored?"
She nods. Calmly. As if I didn't just shout that question at her.
Relief rushes through me so swiftly, I get dizzy. "You can tutor other females if you absolutely have to, but I'm still coming with you."
"Sure." She giggles—making a significant dent in my irritation. "That won't be distracting at all."
"Distracting how?"
"The entire time I've been going through my notes, you've looked like…I don't know. Like you're ready to pounce on me."
"I am."
She tilts her head, exasperated, and it's almost as hot as the eye rolling. "Have you paid attention to a single word I'd said?"
"Every fucking line, honey. Quiz me." I beat my chest with a fist. "Let's do this."
"Very well, we'll start easy. Who fought in the Peloponnesian War?"
"Athens and Sparta. Kiss my neck." I crook my finger, beckoning her closer. There has been way too much space between us for way too long. "Might as well stay right here in front of me, because I'm getting them all right."
"You're so confident."
"Your mouth is on the line, Stella." Slowly, I tip my head to the right, watching her gaze slip to my neck and heat. "Kiss it. Take your time. We never decided the kisses had to be quick."
She sets down her book, notes, rising up on her knees and coming toward me, the breeze almost blowing open her unbuttoned shirt. Just enough to see the center curves of her tits. My cock has been solid as fuck this entire time, but my balls start to hum and clench now, needing to spend. Wanting to do it inside of her. All over her. For her.
When Stella reaches me, she chews her bottom lip a moment, then slowly peels off the dress shirt, putting her in a thin pair of panties and nothing else. And my sweet lord, those tits. Perky fucking peaches. I want to worship and defile them. I want to put them in expensive bras encrusted with diamonds—and just watch me, I will. I'll spoil her so rotten, every day will seem like Christmas for her.
Her delicate hands perch on my shoulders and I make a hoarse, involuntary sound, my dick stretching in my briefs. I hold my breath as she leans in and presses her lips to the area beneath my ear. Kissing me. Inhaling me shyly. Losing her breath against me when her hips meet mine. She feels what she's done. What she'll always do to this cock.
"Next question, Stella," I grit out, my hands shaking with the need to crush her hips closer, where I can grind out some relief. "I need to earn another kiss."
"Right." She wets her lips, still so close to my neck, it's the best kind of torture. "Which battle ended the war and how?"
"The Battle of Aegospotami. It ended in the destruction of Athens' fleet of ships."
I'm not going to lie, when she cuts me an impressed glance, I almost ejaculate then and there. Who knew I would like to please my tutor so much? "You were listening," she says.
"I'll never forget a single word you say." My fingers climb the nape of her neck, sliding into her hair to cradle the back of her head. "Kiss my mouth now."
There's an eager quality to her expression now. She's a horny girl. Fuck the football field, the best moments of my life are going to be spent making her come. I live for her. It's killing me not to pin her down on the blanket right now and thrust home. The pain in my stomach is nearly unbearable, but the way her nipples drag up my pecs? The way her mouth meets mine from below in a feather-light kiss, slow, slow, slow, makes the torture worth it. She's so motherfucking sweet.