Reese
On Saturday, the Rodner Sharks were playing an away game in Kentucky, a game the band wasn’t traveling to for budgetary reasons. Which meant I didn’t have plans for Saturday that revolved around school. Which meant… Laird was finally going to cook those steaks for us at his place this weekend. And I’d be packing an overnight bag.
My stomach fluttered at the thought, anticipation and nerves rioting out of control.
But before that, I had to pass tomorrow’s calculus exam, a totally different breed of anxiety. Derivatives, bright and early on Friday morning. Every college freshman’s dream come true.
The rest of the guys were headed out for pizza and cheap beer after the Thursday night practice we’d just finished, but I trudged the opposite direction, following the cracked sidewalk back to my dorm, where I would be solving differentials into the darkest hours of the morning. At least they’d invited me, which was more than I expected. Smith had asked me to join them and Bubba had seconded the request. Unsurprisingly, Marco had glowered from the middle of the group, a smug smirk splitting his face when I’d declined. I hated that it somehow felt like a victory for him in this battle between us.
And despite my simmering need to knock Marco off his pedestal whenever the opportunity arose, academics had to come first, regardless of how good melted cheese and cold beer sounded.
By the time I emerged from the communal bathroom on the floor of my dorm—eight shower stalls for thirty girls—my stomach growled its demands to be fed. I made my way back to room 407, a cheap towel wrapped like a turban around my head and my pajamas sticking to my damp skin, doing a mental inventory of my food stash.
Some microwave popcorn. Store-brand granola bars. A few apples and half a jar of creamy peanut butter. The requisite ramen noodle packs, chicken flavor. And three cases of Cherry Coke Zero.
It sounded like MSG for dinner with a side of caffeine to balance it out.
I stowed my shower caddy on the floor of my closet and gathered up a bowl to fill with water for my noodles. Except I got no further than opening my door again to head for the fourth-floor kitchen when I found Laird, my white knight with a full bag from Sammy’s cradled in his arm, his bookbag hanging off his broad shoulders.
I fumbled to set the bowl down and take the bag from him. It smelled like freshly baked carbs. My favorite.
“What’s this?” I inhaled, shoving my entire face into the bag, opening and sniffing deeply.
“Turkey-and-cranberry subs. Two of them. Plus, chips and brownies.” He stepped closer, his shoes inches from my bare toes, and plucked the towel from my head. My hair fell in wet clumps around my shoulders, covering my eyes and clinging to my cheeks. I shook my head, trying to clear my vision, my hands occupied with the more important task of holding dinner. Rough fingers smoothed over my forehead, parting the strands and pushing them back behind my ears. His thumbs lingered on the base of my skull, massaging small circles into the tense muscle. It took all my willpower not to purr like a cat and lean into his touch.
I sighed. “Laird, thank you. But I can’t hang out tonight. I have this huge test tomorr—”
“—and you need to study.” He reclaimed the bag, moving to the empty bed that would’ve belonged to my roommate if she’d shown up, and pushed aside the small mountain of dirty clothes I’d piled there. “So do I. I thought we could do it together. Or, not together so much as in the same room. You have Calc tomorrow, right? I have my first Anatomy test too.” I paused at the evidence that he knew my schedule so well, wondering if he knew how telling that small fact was.
He pulled out the two oversized sandwiches, kettle chips, and brownies wrapped in parchment paper. He lined up everything and set two jumbo-sized cups on the floor where they wouldn’t spill. Laird glanced up to where I hadn’t budged from the doorway, and dipped his chin, giving me a stern glare. “You have to eat dinner. And you know you’d rather have this sandwich than those noodles you were getting ready to nuke.”
My stomach betrayed me, choosing that moment to rumble an agreement, and I frowned at the pack of ramen still hanging loosely from my fingers.
He grinned and patted the mattress next to him. “Come eat. I promise I’ll behave.”
My dubious look only made him laugh.
“I’ll use this desk all the way over here on the other side of the room to study.” The paper crinkled as he unwrapped his sub. “You won’t even know I’m here.”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and finger-combed my hair, highly aware of my makeup-free face and lack of bra. “What’s in the cup?” I asked the question as if his fate in this room hedged on his answer.
“Wild Cherry Pepsi.”
I gasped, curling my lip in disgust.
He took a bite of his sub, chewing and swallowing before he spoke again, chuckling lightly. “Relax. It’s Cherry Coke Zero. Now get your ass over here and eat dinner before it gets cold. And you’re welcome, by the way.”
Guilt sprouted inside of me, and I blushed, appalled at my lack of manners. “Thank you for bringing me dinner, Laird.” I hunched my shoulders as I crossed the room, knowing there was no way I could surreptitiously slip a bra on. “I figured you’d be heading out with the guys for pizza. It sounded like that’s where everyone was going.”
He took a long sip and waited while I settled myself on the other side of the extra-long twin mattress, standard college issue. “I still have things to figure out about you. Things I couldn’t discover if I was there and you were here.”
“Like what?” I sank my teeth into the freshly baked bread and wondered briefly if saliva wasn’t simply your taste buds ejaculating in the presence of yummy food.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched me eat. “Like if you play music while you study or prefer silence. If you read the facts out loud to yourself, like I sometimes do. If you throw your textbook when you get frustrated. If you eat to relieve your stress. Or exercise. Or masturbate.” A piece of shredded lettuce fell out of my sub, landing on the bare skin of my calf I had tucked up next to me. “Personally, I like the last option the best.”
I barely tasted the food after he started talking, the mouthful I had sliding roughly down my throat before my teeth finished doing their job. “You want to know a lot of things.” The sentence sounded dumb as soon as I said it, and I winced as I plucked at the rogue piece of lettuce and set it back on the wrapper.
Laird put his sandwich down and licked his thumb clean. I zeroed in on his mouth, on that small glimpse of his tongue slipping out. His words came out low and careful, but with authority, the way you’d approach a skittish puppy. “I want to know it all.” I lifted my eyes from the full curve of his lower lip and his gaze seared me, digging past the superficial and burrowing into the fragile, hidden depths that I didn’t allow most people to see. The parts of me most people never thought to look for.
“I feel like you’re talking about more than just one study session.” I reached down for my drink and took a nervous swallow to keep my hands busy.
A faint smile crossed his face. “If that’s an invitation, I accept.”
Was it? I turned my focus to the sub as I replayed his words in my head, needing the distraction of something simple. The tartness of the cranberry played off the creaminess of the melted cheese, and the hand-carved turkey melted in my mouth. The bread was soft and yeasty, still warm from the oven, the perfect contrast to the cool, crunchy lettuce. Sandwiches were so underrated as a dinner option.
Laird whipped his shirt off and dropped it on the bed behind him, then opened his bag of chips like nothing unusual had just happened. I lowered the partially eaten half of the sub, my eyes caught on all that skin suddenly on full display. My nipples tightened behind my thin t-shirt, one I’m pretty sure had a hole in the armpit.
“What are you doing?” Dear fearless gravity-defying Jesus walking on water.
He crunched a chip. “Eating.”
“Without your shirt on?”
“Yup.”
“Why?” I asked his abs, unable to drag my attention higher. They looked as tight as my drumhead. Tighter, maybe. My fingers itched to find out.
He glanced behind him at the discarded cotton. “Because I took it off.”
I pinched my eyes shut for a minute and tried to find my lost equilibrium. “Yes, but why is it off?”
“Oh.” He smiled. “Because I took it off.”
I wanted to scream. Or kiss him. One of those.
He held a chip up to my mouth, and I accepted it automatically, my tongue swiping at the salt on the tip of his thumb that lingered on my lower lip. He tasted better than any potato.
His eyes darkened with intent, and I pulled back, using my sandwich to create a barrier between us. “Laird,” I warned, my attention hopelessly lost in the flex and stretch of his muscles as he retreated to his side of the bed, “I have to study tonight.”
“Right. Equations. Mapping boundaries and finding the edge. Let me know if you need any help. Otherwise, I’ll just be over here. Studying anatomy. My test is on the musculoskeletal system. Memorizing the names of what forms all those curves and dips. Looks like our subjects aren’t quite so different after all.”
I want to map his boundaries.
My eyes must have telegraphed my thoughts because he smirked before raising a pointed eyebrow. “Now who’s thinking about things other than studying?”
I blamed my dry mouth on the chips. “Likewise. If you need help, let me know.”
“I may take you up on that. In a strictly academic sense, of course.”
“Of course,” I echoed faintly, my eyes glued to where his obliques dipped beneath the waistband of his gym shorts. My favorite muscles of his. The ones I fantasized about licking.
But, true to his word, after dinner was over, he settled in at the other desk and studied on his laptop, completely ignoring me. I was torn between being annoyed at him for being able to tune me out, and grateful that he was taking me seriously when I said I needed to study.
By quarter to midnight, I’d waded through as many practice problems as I thought I could handle without my brain turning into absolute mush.
I stopped, stretched my arms above my head, then padded to the spare bed to retrieve my brownie. I’d been saving it as a reward for finishing.
Laird glanced over, a banked hunger in his gaze as it raked down my body. “That offer earlier to help me. It still on the table?”
Surprised, I nodded around a mouthful of chocolate. “Of course,” I answered, holding my hand in front of my face to hide the fact that I was talking with my mouth full.
“Stay there,” he ordered. Scooping up his computer, he settled on the mattress behind me and brushed my damp hair over my shoulder until the side of my neck was bared to him. I was nestled between his legs, framed by his strong thighs, the heat of his naked chest warming my back through my shirt. With one finger, he traced a slow path down the curve from my ear to my shoulder. “The muscles here have terrible names for such a sexy place.” The stubble on his chin caught me off guard as he pressed his mouth to my skin, and I giggled before the sound morphed into a low moan in response to his tongue.
I forgot about the brownie. I forgot about everything except what he was doing to me in that instant.
“The sternocleomastoid and the platysmus.”
Laird tugged on the loose neckline of my shirt until it slipped over one of my shoulders. His lips swept along the newly exposed flesh, and a spark zinged down my spine while my arms erupted in goose bumps.
“The deltoid.”
His strong hands massaged my back, thumbs digging into the stubborn knots along my shoulder blades, tight from the weight of the snare.
“Then there are the muscles of the rotator joint. Supraspinatus, infraspinatus, subscapularis, and teres minor.”
I whimpered and tipped my head back to rest on his chest. His hands swept down my torso, brushing the sides of my breasts and causing my nipples to bud.
“Latissimus dorsi.”
He traveled back up my spine, rubbing out all the tension from the week. Tingles spread to my scalp, that same addicting feeling I’d gotten after someone played with my hair when I was younger.
“A trio of muscles here, remembered with the mnemonic I love spines. Iliocostalis, the longissimus, and the spinalis, from superficial to deep.”
Laird was thorough when he studied. After he finished with my back, he barely paused before reaching around to my pec major and pec minor, his hands cupping and kneading my bare breasts under my shirt. I melted beneath his expert touch, heat simmering between my thighs. When he rolled my aching nipples between his fingers as my breasts swelled to fill his palms, a moan escaped my parted lips, but he didn’t linger nearly as long as I would’ve liked.
He continued his journey southward, his palms skimming down my stomach, and he rattled off more names as his fingers followed the flare of my hips.
“The sartorius starts here,” his thumb pressed just below my hip, “and wraps around the front to the inner thigh before finishing just below the knee.” He mapped the distance, his fingers so close to my damp panties I held my breath. “It’s the longest muscle in the body, and damn if it doesn’t cover some of the best ground too.”
Laird retraced his path, his fingers pushing aside my tiny sleeping shorts and flirting with the lace edging the thin cotton between my legs.
“Except for the gracilis. That one might be my favorite. It connects down here,” he drew a soft circle on the inside of my knee, his voice deeper, rougher than before, “just behind the sartorius, but it’s a little more direct. It runs right up the inner thigh until it runs out of leg. A straight pathway to heaven.”
He demonstrated, and this time, he didn’t stop until his palm cupped me fully. I dug my nails into his hard thighs and arched my back, wordlessly asking for more. One long finger traced my seam, and I bucked against him.
“I think it’s my favorite too,” I whispered raggedly.
“I’m thinking I need to study that one a little closer.” His lips closed around my earlobe and I shuddered.
“Wouldn’t want you missing”—and my breath hitched as his thumbs hooked the waistband of my shorts and pushed them over my hips—“that one on the test.”
After he memorized the path with his hands, he slid to his knees on the floor and retraced his steps with his tongue.
And I lost the ability to think altogether.
The heat from his mouth ripped a harsh exhale from my throat, and I rolled my hips in response. The mere sight of his dark hair between my thighs was enough to have me panting. I don’t know why, perhaps just from my past experiences, but I didn’t expect a guy like him, who could have his choice of girls servicing him at a moment’s notice, to put my pleasure first. But, fuck, that dark glow in his green eyes when he peeked up at me erased any doubt I had that he was just going through the motions. It was the look of a man who was finally getting something he’d been denied for far too long. Bold and greedy, but tinged with a certain softness I’d never seen before.
His hands closed around my waist, dragged me to the side of the bed, and settled my thighs over his shoulders, before slipping lower to cup my ass. There was no time to feel shy or embarrassed or self-conscious, because his tongue swept away everything except for an achy restlessness.
He licked me, traced my opening, learned all my most intimate secrets. And all I could do was fist his hair in my hands and pull him closer, his name the chorus to the incoherent chant I mumbled, curses and pleas forming the verses.
When he sucked on my clit and hummed a primal sound deep in his throat, it sent me over the edge, and my thighs closed around him like a vise, my toes curled and tense. He continued, the suction and the flutters of his tongue relentless as I hovered in that place of blinding ecstasy, suspended between heaven and earth.
When my fingers loosened their grip on his dark strands, he lessened the intensity, but didn’t stop. It wasn’t until I’d said his name for the third time that he lifted his head, his face smeared with my release.
“Laird,” I repeated, scooting his direction, until he had no choice but to sit back on the floor. I followed him, straddling his lap, my wet core throbbing anew as his hard cock rose against me beneath the thin barrier of his shorts.
The satisfied smirk barely had time to settle on his face before I took his mouth in a hungry kiss, thanking him without words. One of his arms circled low on my hips, while the other aligned with my spine, his hand gripping my neck to angle me the way he liked.
His hot length pulsed under me and I rocked on top of him, relishing in the deep groan that vibrated his broad chest. I tucked my knees on either side of his hips, then leaned forward into the kiss, until he fell back onto the Moroccan-style area rug I’d brought from home.
And once I was astride his hips, I pulled back and grinned down at him before biting my lip. His lips were full and dark, his cheeks flushed, the green of his eyes barely visible beneath his hooded gaze. A sense of wonder slid into the silence between my heartbeats. I’d put that look on Laird’s face. Me. Those gorgeous arms of his were relaxed as his palms rubbed my legs softly, in contrast to the steely tension in his thighs as he pressed himself to the damp heat between my legs.
I leaned down and licked his neck, closing my eyes when he sucked in a sharp breath. My lips pressed an open kiss to the angle of his jaw as my fingers gripped the waistband of his shorts.
“My turn,” I whispered.
And when his shorts were gone and my tongue was sliding over the swollen head of his dick, I got it. With past guys, blowjobs had always felt more like a chore, performed more out of expectation than desire on my part. But with Laird, I understood the sweet power that came from taking a man in your mouth, knowing at that moment, he was completely at your mercy.
I savored the way Laird lost himself to my touch, and the unselfish way he shared his surrender. As I hollowed my cheeks and took him deep, my hand rolling his balls at the same time, his fingers traced my jaw and tugged my hair into a messy ponytail. Rough sounds of pleasure came from his throat, and he flexed his hips. The pressure from his hands never increased though. He let me control the tempo and depth.
I remembered the lesson from the storage room, how he liked it, and when I switched from soft and fast to slow and deep, I was rewarded with Laird hissing out a curse before whispering my name.
And when I lightly squeezed his sac and brushed my thumb over that thin skin just behind it, he spilled in hot spurts into my mouth, his strangled warning coming too late for me to do anything but swallow him down. Those green irises were nearly molten as he watched the motion of my throat, his fingers tightening in my damp hair.
With an impatient growl, he hauled me up to his chest, seizing my mouth in a fierce kiss that had me thinking things I had no business thinking when it came to him.
“Fuck, Reese,” he murmured against my lips, his hands slipping up to frame my face. “What am I going to do with you?”
I lost myself in the nocturne of his kiss, the endless way his mouth slanted over mine, our bodies tangled together like a chord. I kissed him until I was breathless, the answer to his question settling quietly between my ribs.
Everything.