CHAPTER 18
Gavin:
I climb off the bed and hold a hand out to Sam, inviting her to come with me. She takes my hand gently and rises from the bed like a goddess, all grace and beauty and class. And she’s not at all self-conscious about her nakedness. Thank heavens because I love everything about her naked body. Looking at it, touching it, worshipping it with my entire being.
I pull her along with me out of the room, down the hall, and to the bathroom. She giggles the entire time, like we’re secreting through the apartment in pursuit of some clandestine caper. When we get to the bathroom, I pull her inside and close the door, then press her against it, lean my entire body into hers, and capture her mouth in a kiss. I kiss her sweetly, gently. It’s not the lust-driven lip lock from Friday night, or the erotic embrace of a short time ago. It’s deeper, more meaningful. I’m telling her without words how I feel about her. And she’s answering me.
My cock twitches to life again, not in the least bit worn out after our last romp. Refractory period who? She must feel my erection against her stomach, because she begins a slow and sensuous shimmy against me, brushing my cock teasingly with her body. I moan at the sensation, and it’s like she takes it as her cue to kick things up a notch.
Sam pushes herself away from the wall, using her body to move me backward. She spins us slightly so that she can press me backward against the wall and uses her full weight to pin me against it. I’m so much stronger than her, but I let her have this, let her control the moment, control me.
Sam wraps her dainty fingers around both of my wrists and raises my arms above my head. She has to stretch onto her tiptoes to reach, a position that presses her breasts against my chest in the most delightful way.
She presses both of my hands to the wall above my head and crosses my wrist so she can hold them both gently with just one of her hands. She slides her free hand down, down my face, down my neck, down my chest, all the way down to grip my arousal. A moan reaches my ears, but it takes me a moment to realize that the soft sound of desire originated from me. She strokes up, then down, then up again, brushing the head of my dick with her thumb each time she strokes upward. I buck my hips, thrusting into her hand, but she stops stroking immediately.
“Uh-uh. Patience,” she admonishes playfully. When she strokes me again, I pull together all the willpower I have left in my body and hold myself as still as a statue. “That’s better.”
I almost groan in frustration when she releases my cock, until I realize that she did so in order to reach behind her and turn on the shower. I watch hungrily memorizing every curve of her body as she reaches into the medicine cabinet and pulls out a hair tie. I never thought I would find a woman putting her hair into a ponytail sex, but the sight of Sam brushing her fingers through her luscious blonde locks and securing the hair away from her face has me aching to run my own fingers through the tresses. I feel myself tighten with desire, hardening even more as I remember what it looked like spread out over my pillow, the honeyed strands like gold silk across the white pillowcase.
Once her hair is tied back, Sam sets her sights on me again and takes a step toward me. Goosebumps shoot up my torso as she gently grazes the hair below my navel with her fingernails. Instead of heading south toward my jutting erection, though, Sam reaches around behind me and pats me on one ass cheek, prompting me toward the bathtub.
Following her gentle prodding, I step into the shower, under the warm water, letting the spray flow over my back. She joins me in the shower, presses a hand to each of my hips, and turns me around so that I’m facing away from her. Her hands splay across my stomach, then reach out blindly for the spray. She uses her cupped hands to splash water toward me and proceeds to lovingly rub me clean and back into full rock-hard arousal.
After I’m thoroughly aroused, she turns me back to face her and roughly presses me up against the tiled wall behind me, then she kisses my neck, my shoulder, my chest. She traces a path down my body, gracefully dropping to her knees, dragging her fingernails down my flesh in the most painfully pleasant way. I gasp when I feel her hot breath down the length of my shaft.
A moment later, the warmth of her tongue gently grazes the tip of my extended member. My breath catches in my throat as she ever-so-slowly takes just the tip of me into her mouth. Finally, she takes my entire length into her mouth and then begins her retreat, tickling the underside of me with her tongue as she moves her mouth upward. I didn’t think it was possible for my erection to get any harder, but I can feel myself stretching, pulsating inside her mouth, against her tongue.
So caught up in the moment am I, that I don’t even try to hide my excitement when she turns off the water and leads me, still dripping, from the bathroom and into the bedroom. She pushes me none-too-gently down on the bed and climbs atop me. Before I can make a move to initiate a closer intimacy, she’s straddling me and has pressed the tip of my hardness to the entrance of her heated inner-core. Instead of sliding down my shaft, though, she leans forward, reaches over me, and reaches into my bedside table for a condom. At least one of us had the presence of mind to think about protection. I was too far gone, lost to my most base instincts.
She makes short work of rolling the condom over me, then repositions herself so that I’m once again a fraction of an inch away from the heaven she’s offering me. Then she lowers herself in painfully infinitesimal increments. And I savor every excruciating minute of it. I revel in the feeling of her velvety flesh tightly surrounding me, squeezing me, as she slides all the way down on my erection until she’s seated fully.
Just as slowly, she begins to lift off of me, but I’m done being an observer, done letting her have all the fun. Unable to control my desire to be enveloped as deeply within her as possible, I thrust my hips upward, lifting myself—and her—off the bed.
She cries out in pleasure and throws her head back as she grinds herself against me. I quicken the pace, and she matches my speed, bouncing over me and grinding against me in a circular rhythm. I thrust upward to meet her every downward movement, and she cries out at each convergence. It becomes a dance, a competition almost. Each of us is trying to reach satisfaction but also wanting to prolong the pleasure we are feeling.
Finally, as I feel her reach her peak, feel her muscles tighten and squeeze around me, I give myself over to the pleasure. She collapses over even as I continue to thrust deep within her, letting the waves of ecstasy wash over me. My body shakes and shudders from the force of orgasm, and I’m powerless against it as I empty myself inside her. When the ecstasy begins to fade and the ability to form coherent thought returns, I relax my body and smile in satisfaction.
Sam rolls off me a few minutes later and I clean myself off before she curls against my side sleepily. I wrap my arm around her and tuck her against my chest. She falls asleep quickly, but my mind is racing, alive with all the ways things are going to be different between Sam and me now. And the implications of that.
I’ve been fighting my attraction to her since I met her, which, admittedly wasn’t all that long ago, but how will we move forward from here? Are we dating now or just having sex? Or did we just have sex once—okay, technically twice.
These are all things I don’t want to think about right now, but one thing I know for sure, whatever is happening between us needs to stay between us for the moment. Which means I need to go collect the clothes we littered all over the apartment before Robby gets home and realizes I stripped his cousin in the middle of his living room.
I slide my arm out from under Sam and shimmy out of the bed, pull on a pair of boxer briefs. I don’t bother putting on more clothes than that. I just dart out into the living room, grab all the discarded clothing I can find and duck back into my room. Luckily, Robby didn’t come home during the three or so minutes it took me to complete the mission, and I slide back into bed satisfied with a job well done.
I briefly consider waking Sam up so she can go back to her own room, but I’m selfish and I want the feel of her warm body curled next to me as I drift off into well-sated sleep. I want to curl my body around hers and hold her against me while I’m dreaming. I want to wake up next to her and make love to her all over again. If she’ll have me.
~
I’ve never really thought about the distance between my apartment and the school before. It’s not overly distant but not right next door either. The distance isn’t far or near; it just is. Until this morning, that is. This morning, it feels exceptionally close, the trip undesirably short. Mostly because Sam is riding with me for the first time. And I’m quickly becoming addicted to being this close to her, having her right next to me on the bench seat of my truck. So much so that I don’t want the ten-minute drive to campus to end. I wonder if she’d notice if I “accidentally” missed my turn and had to circle around to the north entrance. Would she mind?
Sam looks adorable today in a bulky maroon sweater with a large enough stitch that I can see through it to catch hints of the shimmery black bra beneath. And her skirt is just short enough to have me thinking long and hard—pun intended—about all the ways I could make use of the easy access to what’s underneath that shimmery black fabric. Despite the chill in the air, she’s not wearing pants or tights or leggings, or whatever women wear under skirts when the weather is cold out. Her legs are bare and soft and smooth and beg for me to reach across the seat to run my hand over her rosy skin. I keep my eyes very purposefully off of her legs. I need to get control of my errant thoughts before we get to school.
Sam, apparently, has other plans. Her hand lands high on my thigh and her fingernails tickle at the fabric of my slacks. I dart a glance away from the road to find her watching me, like she’s waiting for my reaction. I do my best to ignore her fingers inching up my thigh and focus on the traffic around us. But when we come to a red light, I’m at a loss for distraction, and that just happens to be the moment her hand reaches my crotch.
She settles her palm on my dick like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like it’s just a convenient place for her to rest her hand. And I’m sure as hell not going to argue otherwise. Even if the contact does have me rising to attention two blocks from the parking lot where I will have to get out and walk across campus in front of everyone. I could be about to walk out on a stage in front of thousands of people, and I still wouldn’t have any desire for her to stop touching my ever-hardening dick.
“Hmm… what’s this?” She asks, giving me a slow, gentle stroke with her palm. Then she cups her hand to squeeze my semi ever so softly.
The light turns green, saving me from having to try to think of a response, and I accelerate with the traffic around us. In seconds, we’re two blocks from our destination, and I’m half-hard. Then one block, and I’m granite under her hand.
By the time we pull into the parking lot, she has my zipper down and her fingers are delving inside to rub me through my boxer briefs. I shift my hips to give her better access, and almost rear end the little blue sedan in front of us waiting for another car to pull out of a parking stall so they can pull in. “Sam.” My voice comes out like a whine.
“Yes?” She asks innocently.
The car in front of us pulls into its space and I steer the truck farther down the row to the next open stall. Instead of pulling in, though, I pass it by and turn in the direction of the back end of the parking lot, the part that’s practically devoid of cars and people. I pull the truck into the very last stall in the very last row just as Sam slips her hand inside my underwear and wraps her delicate fist around me.
I throw my head back on a groan and buck my hips against her hand. The truck jolts forward, jarring me out of the moment. I forgot to put the engine in park when I pulled in, and almost drove us right over the curb onto the sidewalk because I was so distracted by Sam’s hand on my dick.
“Shit!” I slam the shifter to park and straighten in my seat, then turn to look at Sam. “We should go inside,” I tell her, hoping she’ll argue with me. Or ignore me and keep right on stroking me to completion.
But she listens instead. “Yeah, you’re right. I’d better get to class.” She pulls her hand out of my pants and folds both hands in her lap where she sits looking at me primly, the very picture of sweet innocence.
I drop my head back against the headrest again, this time in sexual frustration rather than pleasure. “I’m going to need a few minutes,” I tell her, referencing the steel rod tenting my pants in the middle of my lap.
Sam’s response is to giggle at me teasingly. “What’s the matter? Don’t want to walk around with a hard-on?
I slice a look in her direction and she’s smiling at me cheekily. “I’ve walked around with an erection plenty of times in my life, but it would probably raise eyebrows if I did that while accompanying one of my students.”
She nods. “Probably.”
And then we sit in silence while we wait for my dick to go limp. It takes approximately a million years for it to start to soften. Mostly because her sitting there, staring at my crotch, is the opposite of helpful right now. Especially when the look she’s giving me is hungry and wanton and so damn sexy.
Somehow, I manage to will my erection away enough that I think it may not draw too much attention from passersby. “Okay, let’s go.” I shut off the engine and am out of the truck before she can say or do anything to undo all of the progress I’ve made in getting myself under control over the last several minutes.
Sam is a little slower getting out of the truck, and as I reach back inside to grab my briefcase off the passenger floorboard, I try hard not to notice the way her skirt rides almost all the way up as she slides across the seat and down out of the truck. I try to forget the glimpse I got of pale ass cheeks and a tiny black thong. Needless to say, I’ll be carrying my briefcase in front of me on my walk to the classroom.