Whore. Slut. Typhoid Mary.
I've been called all these at Central College. One
drunken night, one act of irresponsible behavior, and my reputation was ruined.
Guys labeled me as easy and girls shied away.
To cope, I stayed away from Central social life and away from Central
men, so why is it that my new biology lab partner is so irresistible to me?
He's everything I shouldn't want. A former Marine
involved in illegal fighting with a quick trigger temper and an easy smile for
all the women. His fists aren't the danger to me, though, it's his charm. He's
sliding his way into my heart and I'm afraid that he's going to be the one to
break me.
Impulsive.
Unthinking. Hot tempered.
I allow instinct to rule my behavior. If it feels
good, do it, has been my motto because if I spend too much time thinking, I'll
begin to remember exactly where I came from. At Central College, I've got
fighting and I've got women and I thought I was satisfied until I met her.
She's everything I didn't realize I wanted and the
more time I spend with her, the more I want her. But she's been hurt too much
in the past and I don't want to be the one to break her. I know I should walk
away, but I just can't.
Once inside my bedroom, his lips were on mine
before I could open my mouth. Every kiss before had been a gentle stroke of lip
against lip compared to this. This kiss conveyed bone deep want.
Bo's mouth
ravaged mine, biting and sucking on my lips, his tongue seeking out every
crevice and surface like he wanted to absorb me. I forgot about our talk as the
blood pooled in my lower body. Bo's hands were up under my shirt, the fabric
preventing him from reaching his desired destination. He brought one arm down and
lifted my legs up around his hips, urging me to wrap them around him. I did so
and he lifted me higher, keeping one hand under my butt and the other pushing
my shirt up to expose my bra. I whimpered with need.
He shushed me and bent his head to lick between
my breasts, pulling down one lace cup with his teeth to suckle hard on my
nipple. My legs were splayed open but I wasn't getting any relief from his
chest. I pressed harder and wiggled against him. Bo's hand left my breast and
went to the juncture of my legs. Through the denim and the lace of my panties,
I could feel his hand, but this only made me want a closer, stronger touch. I
canted my hips toward him. Bo undid my snap but could not get the zipper down
with my legs spread open and his one hand under my butt.
He lowered me to the bed and pushed my jeans down
just far enough that he could insert his hand between the denim and my flesh.
His mouth never stopped working mine. I became just a mass of awareness. I
could only feel his lips, his hands on my body. There was only one thought in
my mind. How to get closer to him. He rubbed me in circles, his hand wet by my
arousal.
"I love that you’re so wet for me."
I shivered, the pulse of my blood drumming so
loudly in my ears I could barely hear him. He pressed the heel of his palm hard
against my pelvis bone and his two fingers pushed slowly inside. I was dying,
one infinitesimal centimeter at a time.
"So hot. Tight. Can't fucking wait to be
inside you." Bo's words were more grunts than complete thoughts. I
understood. I had no ability to form complete sentences either. My sole focus
was on the slick between my legs caused by the movement of his fingers
thrusting in and out and the abrasion of his palm, rough and calloused, against
my clit. “I want to stay inside you for
hours. Live here.”
All my nerve endings reached for something and
then, like an explosion, sensation rushed down to my center and exploded
outward. I was grateful to be lying down because my legs felt like noodles and
I could only see sparkles of light from my eyes.
Bo kept his hand firmly against me, drawing out
as many shudders and shocks from my body that he could and when I finally came
down off my high, he withdrew his hand. He wiped his fingers on his sweatshirt
that he’d discarded up entering the room and gave me soft, soothing kisses.
As I felt his insistent erection against my
stomach, I knew I wanted to give him the same pleasure, have him under my thumb
just as he’d overpowered me with emotion and need. Bo leaned forward and lifted
the heavy fall of my hair aside as I slid off the bed to kneel in front of him.
"You don't need to do this."
I pressed my hand against him. "I want
to."
Jen
Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog. She's been reading stories all her life but
never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop
her a line at jensfrederick@gmail.com.
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