School Ties (22 page)

“Good girl.” I pinch harder for a split second before I let her go, stroking again. Her chest is heaving. File that away under things that make Erin crazy. I let her come back down before I try something else, flicking at her with a fingernail. She yelps. Ah, something to be endured, but she doesn't tell me to stop. Not at first. I try it again and she controls her response better but her breath is hard and fast. Again, again, I flick at the slick nub and after a dozen times, she whimpers. “Please, Zach. No more, please.”

“Are you going to come?”

“I, I don't know. I— Oh, please!”

“Please what?” Making her come like this wasn't in my plans, but if I can, so much the better. I flick harder to emphasize my demand. “Please what?”

“I, I . . .”

I flick at her harder and she yelps again. My dick pulses, harder when she moves to close her legs.

I close my hand with a vise grip on her thigh, pushing it farther out than it was before, and the blood in my cock surges. I love it when she obeys, but goddamn is it fun when she can't. “Don't you dare. I say when we're finished, and you're not done yet. You're going to come for me like this.”

She moans and halfheartedly thrashes as I pick up the pace, tormenting her most sensitive place. I pinch her again, using my nails this time, and then take a chance and twist hard. The sound she makes is primal, lungfuls of lust coming to a head, making her whole body convulse, her head pressing hard into the pillow. I release her clit, stroking with a finger, wringing every last aftershock out of her until she's lying limp in front of me, a flushed, giddy puddle.

“Please, Zach. Please stop. After, it's too sensitive. I can't. Please.”

Someday I'll force half a dozen more orgasms out of her for saying she can't, but for now, I'll let her off the hook. I slick my fingers over her one last time and take them in my mouth, tasting her. Maybe not my best-laid plan. It makes me want to bury my head between her legs and make her come until she cries.

I lie down next to her and fold her warm body against mine. She's trembling, so sensitive. I hold her tight against me, tucking her head under my chin and draping a leg behind her thighs and pulling her close. She likes that sensation of containment, of being held still. I can't wait to get her into some serious bondage.

When she's settled, she pulls back a little. Her big brown eyes blink up at me and she smiles. The corner of my mouth nudges up in return. I fucking adore this girl. I brush my knuckles over her cheek and study the uneven flush that creeps all the way down to her breasts.

“Did you like that?”

“‘Like' is an inadequate word. When you were . . . I didn't think I liked it at all, but when you kept going and it . . . Oh, god.” She buries her head into my chest and the sweet scent wafting up from her hair makes me inhale deeply. I want more of everything about her.

Pride rushes through me, and relief. If everything else goes to hell at least I made her come like a bottle rocket. Speaking of, my dick is so hard every time she brushes against me I swear it's bruising. At one particularly aggressive rub of her hip, I groan. I've been turned on at the club before, but it was easy to get distracted by work. Here there's not that luxury. It's just Erin's body curled against me, as pink and willing as I'd ever pictured it.

I don't want to shove my dick in her and pump the three strokes it's going to take me to come. Okay, I kind of do, but not more than I want to make her happy, make this good for her. It would be really fucking awesome to acquit myself with some dignity instead of splooging in her after less than a minute like some fucking adolescent who can't control his own cock.

I squeeze her again before loosening my grip. “Undress me.”

Her eyes light up like a girl who's never won anything before being handed the keys to a brand new car. She comes to her knees beside me and I lace my fingers behind my head so I don't touch her while she works. But when she leans over to unbutton my shirt, her soft breasts brushing against my chest, and she gives me that saucy innocent look that looks so good on her, I'm a split second away from indignity. And as she swings a leg over my hips to straddle me and brushes her pussy I know to be sopping wet, with heat I can feel on my dick through my pants, the hair trigger that's been cocked for the last half hour snaps. I come, my release shooting through me.

Shit. I was worried about three strokes and now I've blown my load without even one. For fuck's sake.

Erin

Shep's scrubbing his broad hands over his face, into his hair, and cursing prolifically under his breath. Wow, does he know a lot of bad words. I think— I think he . . . Oh, dear. I lay a hand gingerly on his chest but he doesn't scold me.

“Zach?”

“Get off me, Erin.”

His tone is sharp, stabbing into the place he's laid bare. I slink off of him and across the bed. I curl up, hugging my knees to my chest, my ankles crossed so he can't see every part of me. Not that he's looking. He's pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and a steady stream of what I'll assume is still cursing is hissing from between his lips. A dark spot on the front of his pants confirms my suspicions.

Tears bubble up and my stupid chin starts to tremble because it's stupid. I don't know what to do. I don't want him to snap again, but I need to know he's not going to leave, that I haven't ruined everything.

“Shep? Are you— Are you angry at me?” My voice is choked with tears and I hug my legs on the last word when I can't keep my voice from cracking.

An audible “Fuck me” escapes him, an epithet of disappointment, and I burst into tears. Seconds later, he's pulling me into his lap and petting my hair.

“Don't cry, Erin, please. I'm sorry.”

He's
sorry?

“I'm not angry at you. I couldn't be further from angry at you.”

“But you sn-snapped at me.” My horrible, halting sobs make me stutter and I fight to get control of my breath.

“That was unfair. I apologize. I'll do my best, but I'm not going to be perfect all the time. I'm angry at myself, not you. Do you understand me?”

“No.”

He laughs, a short incredulous sound. “Erin.”

It's his commanding tone and I respond to it like I always do, looking up at him. His face is flushed but with amusement, not anger. “Are you serious?”

Now I feel stupid. “Yes?”

He hugs me so tight I can't breathe.

“Most women wouldn't be thrilled when their boyfriend comes in his pants.”

I tip my head in consideration. Yeah, okay, I can see that, but . . . “Am I supposed to be anything but flattered that I turn you on that much?”

“No, lamb. But one of the things I've promised you is control. If I can't control myself long enough to have you take my clothes off, how are you supposed to trust me to take care of you, too?”

A giggle escapes me. “You're twenty-two. You're hot and smart and an athlete. You worked at a sex club. I can't imagine women haven't been throwing themselves at you all that time. And yet, here you are, never having slept with any of them. If that's not self-control, I don't know what is.”

Another laugh. “Yeah, okay. You're the sweetest little thing, you know that?”

He kisses my temple and I turn my head to offer him my lips. He accepts, pressing his mouth to mine. It doesn't take long before he's hard against my hip and I smile against his mouth.

“Can we try again?”

It's forward of me, but he's not being strict at the moment. He nudges me off his lap and stands. “I'll be right back.”

He's gone for five minutes, during which I hear the shower turn on and off. Anticipation winds like a ball of yarn in my belly, the scratchy string of excitement snapping when he comes back to my room in a towel and nothing else.

Oh, my. Droplets of water are beaded in his hair and on his shoulders. There are probably more on his back, the places you miss when you're drying yourself. If he was tempting four years ago, he's mouth-watering now. Of course I never saw this much of his skin then. The way it clings to the fine planes of his muscles and the veins that stand out on his forearms even in rest is drool-inducing. I've never seen anything so beautiful in my whole life. Seriously, how did he avoid getting laid?

When he drops the towel, I'm really not sure.

“Lie back, hands off.”

“Yes, Zach.”

I ease myself onto my pillows, not taking my eyes off him. He climbs onto the bed, looking me up and down, and his cock jerks. I may be the one following orders, but oh, my, this is a heady sensation.

He straddles my thighs and sits back on his heels. “Condoms?”

“Top drawer.” I indicate the nightstand on the left with my head.

He leans over and the freshly washed warmth of him starts me pining for him. He's ripped the foil packet and is rolling the latex down his length, and then he's ready. Hovering over me, his eyes scrape over me again and he reaches between my thighs, urging my legs to part. His finger slips inside of me and I moan. To have something inside me . . .

There's a strangled sound from above me, and his face is taught with strain. “Are you ready for me? I don't want to hurt—”

“Yes.” I've been ready for him for years and I can't wait to have his body joined to mine.

He doesn't hesitate, moving first one leg and then the other between my thighs, and then he's bumping at my entrance. The angle is weird and though I'm soaked for him, he's having trouble penetrating me.

“Spread yourself for me.” His voice is rough, raw. My hands move lightning fast, not bothering to be self-conscious, spreading my lips and angling my pelvis to give him better access. I watch as he grips the base of his cock and directs himself to my opening, finding the way our pieces fit together. When the head breaches me, I moan and he claps a hand over my mouth. “Pinch me if I hurt you, if you want me to stop, but I can't . . .”

He trails off, his eyes closing. I can see him fighting against the building tension. I don't mind him gripping my jaw, hard. It's possible I more than don't mind it, have to keep from flexing my interior muscles, because that would surely set him off. He inches into me, slowly, torturously, pausing so often I want to scream. Instead I stay still, not daring to breathe, staring at him, his eyes shut so tight he must be seeing stars behind his lids. My hands are clenched tight in the bedclothes at my sides so I don't reach for him, but my body wants so badly to be closer to him even my nipples are hard and straining toward him.

When he's finished his slow but steady assault, he shudders and I panic. I only care because I don't want him to berate himself again, but there's no pulse of a male orgasm inside me. No self-control, my butt. This man is the definition of self-control.

He pulls out a few inches, sucking a breath into his lungs as he does, and then slides in again. I mewl and his eyes fly open. I don't want him to stop,
please don't stop
, so I nod as well as I can behind his palm, willing him to know I'm okay. His eyes bore into mine and he smiles before kissing my forehead. He withdraws again and my whimper of protest is silenced by a hard thrust. Holy sweet hell.

He finds his pacing and though it's faster than I'd like, I catch up quick, tilting my hips in time to meet him. He's asked me to stay still but I can't anymore. I don't care about punishment. I want to be . . . fucked. Yes,
fucked
. My fingers rip out of the sheets and I find his shoulder blades, gripping him, grasping him as he pumps at me.

It hasn't been long, nor technically brilliant, but I've been waiting for this for so long, I don't need more. I plead with him through the fingers muzzling me, my pleas coming desperate and fast. Though they're garbled, he doesn't need translation, saying: “Yes, Erin, come for me.”

I buck underneath him, making the last few contacts with my clit I need to come. I explode, clutching him closer as my orgasm rips through me. He follows not far behind, his body jack-knifing above me and in his convulsions, he head-butts me. I've bitten my tongue and tears well in my eyes at the impact but I'm laughing, too. And still enduring the aftershocks of my climax. It's an overload to my systems and the act of breathing is about all I can handle, made difficult by Shep's heavy body collapsed on mine.

I nudge at him with my shoulder and run my fingers down the few square inches of skin I can reach, pinned as I am. He doesn't respond and I squirm more emphatically to get his attention.

Shep

My brain has gone blank, white-washed with pleasure. I knew I'd been missing something, but I never expected the heat of her surrounding me, the thrust of her hips because she wanted more of me inside of her. It'll get better, too, when we can ditch the condoms, but for now I'm grateful for the thin layer. It will let me practice and not embarrass myself quite so much next time. The creep of shame hauls me back over the edge. Fuck.

Erin's struggling underneath me. I must be crushing her. I rip my hand away from her mouth. How could I have been so thoughtless? She must think I'm an animal. And I . . . Ow, my forehead hurts. I have this vague recollection that I clocked her.
Real suave, Shepherd.
For fuck's sake. Poor Erin.

I pull back to see her face and she's pink-cheeked and laughing. Beautiful. I put some of my weight into my arms, not wanting to pull out quite yet, enjoying being buried in her warmth. I brush some hair out of her face and I can't help but kiss her. When I do, there's the faint tang of blood.
Blood?
Did I do that? I don't think I bit her, but Christ—

“Are you okay?”

She nods and smiles. “I just, I bit my tongue when you—”

“When I head-butted you?”

Her smile dissolves into giggles and her pussy tightens around my dick. Okay, I need to get out of her before I shag her raw.