I snuggle up on the sofa, not working on my thesis like I should be. Instead, I give myself a manicure and pedicure and slap Sable's mud mask all over my face. I eat ice cream out of the carton and watch bad reality television. It's cookie dough, my favorite, and it's nice and quiet here. Here there's no loud music, no obnoxious football players, and no topless girls throwing themselves at said obnoxious football players.

I'm not bitter about the non-invite.

Colton is right. What happened was no big deal. Sure, he's hot, but that's it. I hooked up with him and nothing more. In fact, I should hook up with him like crazy. Get him to do the deed, take my virginity. It’s time I got it over with. It'll be like ripping off a bandage, right? No messy feelings and no messy relationship necessary.

Yep, that's a plan.

Totally.

I take another bite of cookie dough.

When I hear the knock on the door, I sigh and get up, ice cream in hand. "Why are you back so early? Bored with Tank already?"

But it's not Sable.

It's Colton.

And I'm standing here in my shitty pajamas. With mud all over my face.

"You," I say, pushing the door halfheartedly closed in his face before heading to the kitchen to get rid of the ice cream. When I turn around, Colton is standing there.

With a purple-blue bruise under his eye.

My eyes fall to his hands, clenched into fists at his side, and I momentarily forget why I'm annoyed with him, taking his hands into mine and turning them around. His knuckles are bloody, his skin torn.

"Did you get in a fight? Or is this from dragging your knuckles on the ground?" I'm only half-joking about the knuckle-dragging caveman quip.

He doesn't answer.

He pulls me against him, his hand on the small of my back, and presses his lips roughly against mine. My body does what it always does when he touches me. Arousal rushes through me and I don’t think. When his tongue finds mine, I surrender to his kiss, forgetting about everything else.

He grips my ass, pulling me firmly against him, and I’m only half-aware of him picking me up and sitting me on top of the kitchen counter. His hands are all over me, his calloused palms rough against my skin as he cups my breasts. I slide my hands underneath his shirt, my hands roaming his chest as he kisses his way down my neck.

Every cell in my body is screaming for more. More of his hands on me. More of his lips on me. More of him.

When he pulls away from me, his voice is rough. Ragged. “It wasn’t not a big deal,” he insists. “What happened. I mean, it was a big deal.”

“You’re a dick,” I say, matter-of-fact.

“Say that again. But only the last word.”

“Dick,” I whisper.

He covers my mouth with his and I melt into him. “I’d listen to dirty words come out of that pretty little mouth all day,” he murmurs, his voice low. “Say cock.”

“How about cocksucker?” I suggest.

He growls. “That’ll do.”

His lips graze the side of my neck underneath my ear. I hear myself whimper, but not in pain, and he pulls back, looking at me for a minute.

“I just…" he begins. "I’ve… never hung around a girl after hooking up with her. I came here to – oh fuck, I don't know why I came here. I needed to cool off and I – I just thought of you. I didn't come here to do this, but then you were standing there in the doorway, looking like that… and I couldn't keep my hands off you.”

Looking like…Oh, God. My hand goes to the facemask, the mud crackled all over my skin. “Why are you making out with me?? I look like a train wreck right now.”

“Maybe I like train wrecks.”

I slide off the counter, ignoring what he just said. “You need something for your hands,” I urge him, scooting away. “I’ll get you peroxide.”

I don’t wait for him to answer. I run down the hallway to my bathroom and close the door behind me, groaning when I look in the mirror. I'm worse than a train wreck. I look like a swamp creature, between the mud mask and my unruly hair, not to mention the stained shirt and ratty flannel pajama pants.

I scrub the mask off my face and do a quick cleanup before rummaging around the cabinet underneath the sink for some peroxide. When I return, Colton is sitting at the kitchen table, his elbow propped up and his forehead in his hand. He looks up at me with an expression I can't quite place.

“I brought peroxide,” I say, holding up the bottle. I kneel down between his legs on the chair, and try to ignore the fact that I’m between his legs right now. I especially try to ignore the fact that his cock is inches away from me. “This is going to sting a little.”

I dab the peroxide on his knuckles.

“Shit! That stings a lot," he complains.

“Don’t be a baby,” I whisper, cleaning up his hands the best I can.

And avoiding eye contact because he makes me nervous. My body seems to do what it wants when I’m near him.

And what it wants to do is Colton King.

“Cassie,” he murmurs. He slides his fingers under my chin and tilts my face up. “I’ve never hooked up with the same girl twice."

“Okay." I definitely don't want to talk about Colton King's sex life right now and how I'm one of many notches on his bedpost. It's not like we've fooled around much at all. So it's probably half a notch. More like an eighth of a notch.

“So I'm…” he pauses. “I'm not real good at… whatever you do after you hook up with a girl.”

“What happened to your hands?” I ask, changing the subject.

“I punched someone.”

I stand up and set the peroxide and washcloth on the table. “Who’d you punch?”

“An asshole.”

“At the party?”

“Yeah.”

“I take it he looks worse than you?”

“I hope so.”

“Why did you punch him?”

“No reason.”

I look at him for a long moment, and he doesn’t say anything. Then he bends down and picks me up, hoisting me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing at all and carrying me down the hallway.

“What are you doing?” I protest.

“What I’ve been wanting to do since the first time I saw you,” he says, opening the door to my bedroom and throwing me on the bed. “Before you even say it, don’t.”

“Before I say what?” I sit up, half-annoyed by his flinging me over his shoulder like a caveman and half-distracted by the fact that he’s stripping off his t-shirt and dropping it onto the floor.

My eyes linger on his hard chest before meeting his gaze.

“The tutor-student thing,” he says. “Don’t give me the same crap about the stupid rules because we both know that’s not why you’re hesitating. At least be honest about it.”

I slide off the edge of the bed and stand, irritated by the implication that my concern about getting caught is completely unwarranted. “Your pooh-poohing my concern about the rules is patronizing and dismissive.”

“Say more big words. I love it when you use big words." He grabs the fabric of my tank top and pulls me against him.

"Misogynistic."

"You're making me hard." He pushes his cock against me to demonstrate.

“You’re a child.”

“None of those are big words, and you’re lying.”

“What am I lying about?" I ask. “You just think rules don’t matter at all.”

“You’re scared.”

I let out a laugh. “I’m scared? You’re the one who's never hooked up with the same girl twice.”

“And you’re the girl who hasn’t hooked up with anyone at all.”

“Not true,” I say. “I just haven’t fucked anyone.”

“Because you’re scared.”

“Am not."

I’m not scared of screwing someone. Maybe of having my heart broken, but I’m not in danger of that here, because Colton King isn’t in danger of taking it.

“Why did you get in a fight?” I ask him.

“I already told you. No reason,” he mumbles. His hands move down my back, his touch gentle as well as demanding.

“Now you’re lying.”

“Someone was talking about you and I didn’t like it.”

“Talking about me,” I say flatly, working it out in my head. Oh, God. Someone at the house saw the two of us and had to be talking about the student-tutor thing.

Colton shakes his head like he can tell what I’m thinking. “It wasn’t that,” he says without even asking. “It was someone running his mouth about wanting to nail you.”

“Wanting to nail me?" I'm unable to stifle my laugh. I'm not the girl that guys talk about wanting to nail.

“I didn’t like it.” He shrugs like it’s self-evident.

I put my hand against his chest, halfheartedly pushing him away. “So you got into a fight with someone in an attempt to defend my honor? This isn’t the fifties, in case you weren't aware.”

“I wasn't defending your honor,” he says, wrapping his hand around my wrist and pulling me tightly against him. His other hand is on my lower back, pinning me against his growing hardness, and when his hand slides down further under the waistband of my pajamas, I inhale sharply.

“Colton,” I start. It sounds more like a moan than a warning.

“You’re not wearing any panties,” he notes, his voice strained.

“I wanted to be comfortable.”

“I punched the guy in the mouth because I didn’t like him talking about nailing you,” Colton says, his hand slipping lower to caress my ass cheek. He groans low under his breath, squeezing the fleshy part of my cheek in his hand. “I already told you, you’re mine.”

I laugh – Colton King, campus' biggest player, is calling me his? Whatever — but the laugh turns into something else when his hand slides around my waist and down the front of my pants. He stops, though, pausing with his fingers millimeters from my clit. The distance is agonizing.

"This is mine," he declares.

“I’m not yours,” I say.

He moves one finger across my pussy lips — first one, then the other — teasing me and refusing to touch me anywhere else. The heat from his fingers radiates through my body and makes me feverish with anticipation.

"You don't get to claim me," I argue.

If this is what he means by claiming me, he can claim me all night long.

I don’t say that out loud.

“I'm going to claim you Cassie," he growls. "All of you. Over and over again. You're going to beg me to claim you."

“You…can’t say…that,” I breathe, my words punctuated by inhalations as he keeps teasing me, touching me everywhere else except where I want to be touched.

“No?” He slides his hands up my body. For a second, I’m disappointed. But then he pulls the bottom of my tank top up over my stomach, his fingers grazing my skin. His touch sends a shiver through me that goes straight to my core.

“Nope,” I whisper.

“Then let me say something else,” he says.

“Say it.” I stare at his lips, hanging on his every word. I want his lips on me desperately. I want his lips moving across my skin, caressing me, his mouth between my legs.

“Let me tell you what I’m going to do next,” he says. “Right now, I'm going to take off your shirt, and then your pants. Then I'm going to lick you until you’re gasping for breath. I’m going to fuck you with my tongue until you’re bucking against my face. I want to hear you call my name when you come. Over and over. I want to hear you moan my name.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, which is good because I don’t fucking have one after that. His words send arousal coursing through me, pooling between my legs. If I were wearing panties, they’d be soaked. The way he talks, the way he tells me exactly what he wants to do to me, no one has ever talked to me like this before.

No one has ever wanted me like this before.

My body is on fire, the flames of lust stoked because of him. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want him.

He lifts my tank top over my head with no resistance from me, kissing his approval down the side of my neck as he runs his finger down my chest and between my breasts. I arch my back to meet his touch, already needy for him.

"Then I'm going to finger-fuck you, Cassie Rae," he says, his voice thick as he kisses his way down my breasts. "I'm going to fuck you with my fingers until you're begging for my cock.”

I whimper as he traces circles around my nipples, one at a time, with his tongue. He does it excruciatingly slowly, and my nipples harden at the sensation.

"And then what?” I ask. I can hardly get the words out, my breath catching in my throat as he drags his teeth along my sensitive skin. He sucks my nipple into his mouth more forcefully, pinching it between his teeth, and even though it sends a shock of pain through me, the pain is eclipsed by the heat that overwhelms everything else.

“Then nothing,” he says. “Because I’m not going to fuck you.”

“No?” I barely choke out the word.

“Not until you’re ready,” he amends. “However long that is. Not until you want me to fuck you.”

The way he touches me, that may be a lot sooner than he expects.

He slides his hand down the front of my pajama pants, but instead of teasing me, this time he slides his fingers over my clit, then further. “Shit, you’re wet as hell.”

I whimper at the sensation of his fingers between my legs. I pull my lip between my teeth, trying not to cry out as the heat from his fingertips radiates through me.

A pained expression crosses his face. "Feel what you do to me, Cassie."

He reaches for my hand and places it between his legs. His cock presses hard against his jeans, and when my palm presses hard back, he groans.

His groan.

That sound. It makes me want to make him do it again and again.

I fumble with the button on his jeans and he shakes his head. "Not yet," he says. "Your lips will be wrapped around my cock soon enough."

"Oh God," I whisper. The thought of his cock in my mouth, tasting him on my tongue, makes me hot.

His fingers press against my entrance, teasing me. “You’re soaked,” he observes. “This is how you’ve been when you’ve been tutoring me, isn’t it? Your panties wet underneath that little black skirt of yours, sitting with your thighs pressed together, your pussy throbbing. Fucking yourself with your vibrator and thinking about me.”

"I've been very professional," I say haughtily.

“I wanted to rip your damn clothes off the first time I saw you,” he growls. “Your fucking clothes annoy me.”

“What’s annoying about my clothes?”

He kneels down, his hands on the sides of my pants and yanks them to the ground, then tosses them aside. “The fact that you wear any,” he answers.

Colton slides his hands up my legs, one palm on each thigh, and spreads them apart. He puts his face close to my pussy, so close I can feel his hot breath against my skin, but he doesn't touch me. Instead, he inhales deeply.

Inhales me.

Then he looks up at me from between my legs, his eyes hooded, face racked with lust. "This is what I've been waiting for." He covers my pussy with his mouth, groaning loud and long when he tastes me, and the sound he makes is nothing compared to the moan I let out. I think I might have died and gone to heaven.

He flicks his tongue over my pussy, exploring me slowly like he has nowhere else on earth to be, and my head lolls back as he works me over. This is like nothing I've ever felt before, definitely not from the college boyfriend who couldn't have been less interested in going down on me if he tried.

But Colton… Colton murmurs his approval from between my legs. I run my hands over his head, pulling him against me and arching my hips toward him as pleasure washes over me like a wave, growing more and more intense as his tongue explores me.

Holy shit. How have I been missing out on this?

My vibrator and my fingers don't compare to this at all.

He eats me for what seems like an eternity until I'm on the verge, delirious from near-orgasm and pent-up frustration.

Then he pulls away, grinning at me, his mouth still glistening from my wetness. "Don’t worry, Cassie. I'm going to let you come."

I whimper at the promise.

"Turn around," he commands.

I comply, my heart thudding in my chest. Part of it is arousal and part of it is excitement, the nervous anticipation of not knowing what he wants from me. Colton runs his hands over my hips, gripping the flesh of my ass as he speaks. I wonder if he's going to bend me over and take me here, thrusting his cock into me the way I fantasized about.

I think I want him to bend me over and take me.

"I told you I wanted you to come on my face," he reminds me. "Stand still. Spread your legs."

I stand there motionless, my hands on the bed, as he lies on his back on the floor, his hands gripping my ankles.

"Do you know how many times I thought about this view?" he asks. "I fantasized about you standing over me in that little black skirt and those heels."

I inhale sharply at the mere suggestion.

"Kneel down, Cassie," he orders, his voice insistent. "I need your pussy on my face."

He needs it.

I do what he asks, barely hovering over him for a second before he grabs my ass and pulls me down on his face. Bracing my hands against the bed, I close my eyes, reveling in what he's doing to me. This time, it's not slow. This time he doesn't just eat me. He devours me, pulling my clit into his mouth, fucking me with his tongue.

He lifts me off his face just long enough to tell me what he wants from me. "I want you to fuck me, Cassie," he tells me. "Don't hold back. I want you to let go."

I suppress a whimper as he pulls me hard down on him again. His hands travel up my back, over my stomach, and then they're on my breasts, pulling at my nipples as I lean forward to brace myself against the bed.

I'm too far gone to be self-conscious and I'm too far gone to think about anything else except the way his touch feels on my skin, or the way his mouth feels, warm and wet, between my legs.

My hips grind against him the way I want to ride his cock. From somewhere outside myself, I can hear my whimpers turn into louder cries, totally unintelligible, or maybe it's his name I'm calling over and over. The sensations are so intense that even though I want to hang on, to savor this moment more than anything else, I'm overpowered by a wave of pleasure that takes me by surprise.

When Colton thrusts his tongue into me fiercely, it sends me over the edge. The orgasm is practically blinding, and I clutch the side of the bed as I cry out. It washes over me, wave after wave, until I'm lost in it.

But Colton doesn't give me a moment's reprieve. He grips my hips and lifts me up gently, his eyes fixed on mine as he licks me again.

"Colton," I protest, pulling him away from me.

"You're embarrassed," he says, laughing.

"I — yes." I stammer the words. "I was…loud."

A grin spreads across his face. "That's the hottest thing I've ever heard. And now that's out of the way."

"What's out of the way?" I ask.

"Your first orgasm from me."

First orgasm? My college boyfriend was more of the wham-bam type (except without the bam, I guess), squeezing my breasts perfunctorily and rubbing his finger on my clit until I came and he could get his turn.

Colton is talking about getting the first orgasm out of the way? What the hell does he want to do with me now?

He answers my question before I even ask it. "I'm going to lick you clean," he says. "And then I'm going to make you come again."