{18+ COLLEGE ROMANCE COMPLETED}
What sucks more than being rejected by the girl of your dreams? Finding out afterward that she's moving in with you.
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The night that Beau Martin spends with Collins Bryant is the best one of his life. He wants to...
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WHEN COLLINS REMAINED wordless, I brushed my nose against hers to get her attention.
"We don't have a lot of time," I murmured, kissing her softly. "Talk to me."
Collins responded with a low moan as I pumped my fingers inside her, slowly rubbing her clit with my thumb at the same tempo. Her eyelashes fluttered shut in a pleasured sort of way that made my lips turn up.
"I know you can count, baby girl." I slipped one finger out of her pussy, leaving a single digit to curl into her g-spot. When she gasped, my smirk grew. "Do you want just one finger?"
Collins bit down on her lip.
"Two?" I thrust my other finger back in, and she grabbed at my tie again, giving it a tug.
So she wanted to play with ties, huh? Noted.
"Beau," she groaned, a clear plea for more.
She was already edging on an orgasm. I could feel it in the sweet hum of her body, her slight trembles and desperation. As I kept my pace finger-fucking her like a good boy, I nipped at her earlobe before muttering in it.
"What comes after two, Collins?" She sucked in, and I added, "If you want it, you're going to have to answer me."
"Three," she cried, and I didn't hesitate. Another one of my fingers got to feel her hot, tight pussy right before it started clenching. Spasming.
"There you go," I said with a smile. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"
—
It was possible that I was a nervous mess. An excited, nervous mess.
Knees weak, palms sweaty, arms heavy. All that Eminem jazz.
Even though I'd been living with Collins for a few months now, the idea of spending the weekend with her—and the rest of our friends—was oddly nerve-wracking.
In our apartment in Oakland, we had things figured out. To some extent. I understood the routine. I knew when to expect her home, knew when I needed to have my guard up and when I could keep it down. I knew that the kitchen and living room were safe and bedrooms were forbidden. Like that fucking apple in the Garden of Eden. And if we took a bite...sin. It felt inevitable if we got too close.
There were rules, and they were working.
But here, at what I liked to call Mammoth Mansion, all of my self-imposed guidelines were out the window. We were going to have to wing it, and for some reason, that terrified me.
Not to mention, flying down a half-pipe suddenly seemed a lot scarier when Collins Bryant was one of the people standing at the end of it, watching.
