{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.
****
The night that Beau Martin spends with Collins Bryant is the best one of his life. He wants to...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"REMIND ME, COLLINS. It was two fingers, right?"
Beau's cocky grin should be a turnoff, but his knowing look only served to make me squirm. He knew what he was doing to me. I was stripped completely raw, completely vulnerable, spread out on the bed. And my whole body ached for him.
I shook my head, still trying to catch my breath. No, not two fingers.
A raised brow was my only warning before Beau ignored me, slipping two fingers into my pussy. I cried out, desperate for another release, for more of his touch.
He swore beneath his breath. "You're so goddamn responsive. I can't fucking wait to see what happens when I introduce you to more than just my fingers."
Sweetness blossomed inside me as I arched up to meet Beau's lazy thrusts. I whined his name, hoping to incite a little more urgency, a little more...something. He bit down on his lip, eyes scanning over me greedily.
"Baby girl wants more, huh?"
"Yes," I hissed, about ready to twist my fingers into his hair and hold him where I wanted, just like he had done to me.
Beau chuckled, and I felt the blissful pressure increase between my legs before he lowered himself, opened his mouth, and...oh fuck. His tongue flattened over my clit once before he began licking in long, slow strokes.
When I moaned, loud and long, Beau raised his eyes slowly until they met mine. He pulled back, just slightly.
"You know when I told you that I'd return any favor you gave me?" he muttered.
I nodded, licking my lips. The taste of him still lingered.
Beau cleared his throat, but the raspy husk didn't leave his voice.
"Then just remember...my face is yours to fuck, sweetheart."
—
Images of Denver flashed through my mind. Denver from grade school, Denver from high school. Denver on that night, surrounded by flashing lights and the sounds of tires screeching, people yelling. Denver yelling. The smell of leaking gasoline and burnt rubber. Hazy smoke rising from an engine, masking the headlights of a squad car. Thunder in the distance. The knowledge that there was a storm on the rise.
When I woke, it was with a start. With a thrust back into a reality. I gasped, jerking upright as I looked around the living room. The cozy, calm living room. The only lights were the ones on the Christmas tree. The only voices were the ones on the TV. Will Ferrell and Zoey Deschanel. The only smell was Beau's smell. A bit of spice and manliness.
"Beau?"
That was Beau, right? I wasn't losing it? He was really sitting there at the end of the couch?
