One Hot Fall Term (Yardley College Chronicles Book1) (2 page)

For weeks, I’ve dreamed of this. But I’ve been too scared to go there. Too terrified I would scare Ryan away by revealing I wasn’t the ‘nice’ girl he believes me to be.

He sucks in a deep breath, so loud and sharp I hear it. I’m playing innocent, but I know what to do because I’m not. I just have to do it right—so he won’t guess there’s anything more to my past than what I’ve told him: that I don’t have one at all. I give him a flirtatious look, then run my tongue down over the plane of muscle until I reach his puckered nipple. Guys have no idea how sensitive they are there, I’ve heard.

Ryan is no exception. Strumming my tongue over his nipple makes him go tense in surprise. Then he kind of melts, relaxing, and he moans huskily. “Oh Jesus,” he mutters.

I suck, drawing his small, hard nipple between my lips. I love the way my mouth is making him groan. Love knowing I’m arousing him—I can feel his cock swell and push hard against my tummy.

Gazing up at him, hoping I look sweet and beautiful under my lashes, I stroke my teeth lightly on his left nipple and pinch the right. His cock tries to move—I can feel it pulse against the skin of my bare abdomen. It’s hot too, hot and as hard as an iron bar. Suddenly, my stomach feels a little damp and sticky. He has a dribble of pre-coital fluid, getting him lubricated and ready.

I am so ready.

What I can’t get over is that he hasn’t pressed any advantage. He hasn’t grabbed my breasts and tried to push his incredibly upright erection between my legs.

A stupid voice inside my head asks:
what if he’s not doing it because he’s not really attracted to you? Or he doesn’t really like you?

Stupid, stupid, because logically I know you can never measure how much a guy likes you by how much he wants sex. It doesn’t correlate. And if you fool yourself and think horniness means something, you always lose.

I draw back. By instinct I search his face. I don’t see raw lust, or triumph, like some guys would reveal. His lashes are dipped over his large, beautiful eyes, and he looks like I’ve just shown him something amazing.

“I thought you might like that,” I say. Perhaps too cocky.

Ryan stares at me, his gaze confused and intense. He’s thinking and my heart sinks. He must be wondering how I knew to play with his nipples. How I knew it would arouse him so much. In the dark, his eyes look almost black—like the midnight sky—instead of their usual sapphire blue. “Cosmo,” I say casually. Then explain, “Cosmopolitan’s last issue. Fifty Steamy Moves to Blow His Mind.”

“Cosmo is that…uh…kinky?”

“You have no idea,” I say.

“Which move is that? Out of fifty?”

I giggle. “Number 26. And the list gets way kinkier from there. I don’t even know if Forty-five is physically possible.” I’m joking to distract him, and his blond brows shoot up high.

“What is it?”

“Later, maybe I’ll show you.”

He bends a bit and his lips take mine. I love how Ryan kisses. With no sex to shoot for—because getting me into bed wasn’t something he was hustling to do—Ryan would kiss me for hours. Endlessly. Just his mouth on mine, his tongue teasing mine, changing angles, changing the way our tongues play. Ryan turned kissing into something glorious—I never knew kisses could be like that. I’d discovered that kissing finished fast when a guy’s end game was sex. Then even the sex got reduced to mere minutes because most of the foreplay had already happened in the guy’s head.

I have to fight to forget the past while I’m attempting to seduce Ryan, but I’m determined to do it. I don’t want to do what I always do—when I’m intimate with anyone I feel like I’m floating above me and the person, looking down and watching, but not feeling a thing.

This is Ryan. I want to feel every moment of this.

I slide my hands up to his wide shoulders. My fingers touch the amazing muscles that define his huge straight shoulders, the smaller ones that slope into his strong, gorgeous neck. His arms wrap around me and he lifts me off my feet. His heart pumps hard and I can feel that strong, pounding heartbeat where my breast is pressed tight to his chest.

Up go my fingers to the strong line of his jaw. I cradle it, letting my fingers stroke the defined ridges of his cheekbones. Then I thread my fingers in the silkiness of his hair. I play like this while he makes my knees go wobbly as jelly.

I want more.

And I’ll only get it if I do something daring.

This is our last weekend, maybe forever, and even if I scare him away, it will be worth it.

I reach down and wrap my fingers around his cock. I’ve seen a few of these. Some big ones—on guys who are so proud of them they love to strut around when it’s hard, swinging it around. But size really doesn’t matter when it comes to pleasure. What does? Desire—maybe love. I wouldn’t know because even though I’ve slept with guys, I’ve never had an orgasm with one.

Ryan’s cock is beautiful: straight, but with a slight list to the left. They always point a certain way. Ryan’s points toward his heart, I notice. His shaft fills my fist, getting so thick at the hilt my fingers barely meet around him. I slide my hand down, feeling the ridges of the veins, the way the velvet skin slides over the hardness underneath. I rub his prick along my palm, then I stroke my fingers in his thick, blond pubic hair, slide them up the shaft, and fondle the head, which is adorable. There’s a small brown spot, a sweet little freckle. Holding him at the base, I bend over and plant a kiss on the cute head of his prick.

“Mia, what are you—oh god,” Ryan groans. My lips part and I take the head inside, sucking hard. My cheeks draw in. I want to stun him with this. I strum my tongue over the head, then, keeping up the tight pressure of my mouth, I plunge down on him, taking him in until I can’t do more. I’m about half way down his thick shaft.

First I bob fast, giving him intense sensation. Then I go slowly, holding my lips tight to his satiny skin.

He lets out a deep, hoarse moan. His legs shake. I plant my palms on his bare butt and suck him without using my hands. His skin tastes slightly salty, actually tastes warm, if that’s possible. He tastes so good. Fluid dribbles out of the head, touching my tongue. Slightly sour. I swallow it.

“That was amazing. Would you—want to do more?” He asks it so hesitantly, looking hopeful. My heart tugs.

Slowly I lower to my knees. The boards of the dock are wet, cool. I have to act like I’ve never done this before. Shyly, I look up at him, brushing back some of my hair. “Did you like it?”

“Oh yeah.”

I giggle. I suck him more, trying every trick I’ve ever heard of. I fondle his balls while sucking him. Then I run my tongue down the back of his cock, down the seam in the sac that holds his balls. I take one of his balls and hold it gently in my mouth, stroking with my tongue. I feel the long, soft hairs. I’m tempted to lick that little bridge between his testicles and his ass, but I don’t want to go too far.

I take his cock in again, watching him, under my lashes, trying to look sweet and innocent while my tongue strums the frenulum.

Suddenly he stops me taking him in and out. He withdraws, his prick jolting upward.

“I’m going to—I’m not going to last.”

“Then come down here. Make love to me, Ryan. I want to.”

He gets onto his knees, facing me. Sometimes I can’t believe how beautiful he is. Broad shoulders. Those muscles in his biceps and triceps I didn’t even know existed. Solid, sexy forearms that make me shiver and melt at the same time. I can’t believe he’s mine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly. “There’s times…I can’t believe you’re with me.” He grins.

I’m stunned—he feels the same about me as I feel about him.

Then he kisses me, and he lies back on the dock, pulling me with him. He reaches for his jeans, drags them over, all the while kissing me.

I reach down, grasp his hard-on, and direct him to my already drenched pussy. I shouldn’t take charge, I guess, but he did put me on top. Probably so he’s on the hard boards, not me. I want this to be like a fantasy come true for him.

“Wait,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I have to do this.”

Something scrapes against my leg. The corner of a foil condom package. He puts all his attention on opening it. He fumbles with it, trying to get the reservoir right, and seems so sweetly inexperienced at putting on a rubber that my heart twists. We’re so different. But I’m never going to let him know.

I’m on the pill but I know I should have safe sex. Just with him, with wanting him so much, I almost forgot.

The instant he rolls the condom down to the hilt of his thick erection, I put my hand around his rigid shaft. Holding his cock high, the bubbling tip pointing toward the stars, I get up on my knees. I’m shaking with anticipation, with excitement, something that’s never happened to me before. A deep ache shoots through me, low in my belly. I need him inside. I want him to fill me, because it physically hurts now.

Ryan reaches down. His strong fingers slide through my strawberry-blond pubic curls and I’m breathless at the sight. His long fingers, his masculine hand, the veins on his forearm—all add up to mind-meltingly sexy. Gently, his fingers part my pussy lips, and there’s a flood of juices, wetting his hand.

He looks at me in sheer amazement. His blue eyes glow with their own fire. Lust. On Ryan, lust is so hot and beautiful. I push the taut head of his prick to my pussy and slide him back and forth to make him wet. Agony shows on his face; he moans and groans.

Then, smiling wickedly, I take him inside.

Chapter Two

Sitting tall, I ride him, rocking my hips, milking him with my hands resting on his rock-hard abdomen. At first, taking him inside stuns me. He’s so big, his cock so thick and hard, I feel him everywhere. My breath is long gone. My heart is pounding at bursting speed. My eyes shut as I sink down on him—down, down, until his cock is all the way inside me. I can’t move. I swear it feels like his erection is in so deep and so high it’s touching my heart.

His lashes fall over his eyes, his face contorts as my hips come down, swallowing up his huge, beautiful shaft. When I reach the very bottom, and my ass touches his thighs, we both stay there motionless. Our eyes meet.

There’s moment when the world stops. When I don’t move. Where I’m not working to drive him to ecstasy or working at making this good. It’s a moment where we just…

Connect.

It’s…

Amazing. But I don’t want him to see too deeply into me. I lift on him, drawing up on his cock until the head is just inside me, then I sink down again. But that doesn’t distract Ryan. His blue-eyed gaze burns me, it’s so hot.

I close my eyes. Wanting this to be wild for him, I fuck him hard. The dock boards creak beneath us; water slaps against wood. I lift and pump down. Each stroke tugs my pussy lips, the tension teases my clit, I’m moaning with the pleasure, but it’s not enough. I love Ryan, and this is special and beautiful, but I’m not going to…get there.

Unless I play with myself, I never do.

I want him to remember this, no matter what happens. I want him to lie in bed at his college dorm and fantasize about this night while he plays with his amazing cock. So I go crazy on him. My moans grow deeper, louder. I thrust harder, building this for him.

We’re on the dock—anyone could walk out of the cabin, come down here, and see us. The risk is thrilling. The crazed urgency of this is hot.

The thing is: he thinks this is my first time. Yet I don’t know if it is Ryan’s first sexual experience. I suspect it is. He’s never pushed for more than kissing. We dated for three months before he put his hand on my breast, and I had to grope his butt first before he tried it.

He fumbled at bit with the condom, though he did it okay.

What if I am his first? I feel a jolt of agony deep in my pussy at the thought. But the pressure to be spectacular is intense. I fight constantly to forget my first time. For Ryan, I want his first to be treasured.

I grasp his hands and pull them over his head, so I have him pinned, and I pump on him, grind on him, do everything I can to fuck his brains out.

His hips jerk up, thrusting his cock deep into me, lifting me up in the air. His strength is awesome. It’s time for me to come all over him. To draw on the best of my acting talents,

I wish this time it could be real. But it won’t be, and he’s breathing hard, and I want him to come. I sense he’s not going to let go of his orgasm until he has satisfied me. My moans become desperate cries of agony, as if I’m climaxing and it’s tearing me apart. But my cries stay carefully quiet —so no one in the cabin hears me. If anyone comes down and Ryan would stop, I fear.

God, making sounds like I’m in ecstasy excites me. I’m close, so very close. But I just can’t get there.

My heart feels full. I’m thrilled to look down on Ryan in ecstasy, to hear his soft moans. I feel almost satisfied because this is so incredibly erotic. But my body just doesn’t get off. It just
won’t
.

But I know how to make it look real because, by myself, I can make myself come until I’m crying from the pure physical sensation. My hips jerk wildly on him as if my body is going crazy with my pretend orgasm. I buck and writhe and toss my head, and come dangerously close to smacking it into his chin, to look like I’m out of control with pleasure. I grip his hands hard.

Ryan lets out a restrained groan. His eyes shut, thick black lashes resting against his cheek. His hips come up with a power that almost throws me off him. Suddenly I can feel the heat of him, even with the condom.

Watching him come is a thrill. Watching him in the aftermath, when he opens his eyes and looks at me like he’s just glimpsed heaven…I have to swallow hard not to cry.

I release his hands and he puts them at my waist, sliding them up to caress me. He arches up, his lips soft and ready for a kiss and I meet him halfway. Then he draws me down on top of him and wraps his arms around me. My cheek presses to his chest where I feel the thump of his heart and the weight of his muscular arms on my back feels so good, yet makes me want to cry.