Page 52 of Blocked Score

I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth when my fist wraps around my swollen cock. My groin is tight with suppressed want, a sharp pang throbbing right at the base of my dick and begging for relief.

“Fuck,” I grit out as I slowly pump my length, keeping my grip loose and stopping right before my hand crests over my swollen and sensitive head.

I can’t take my eyes off the skimpy fabric. A fucking leprechaun could crawl out of the toilet and do a dance, and I wouldn’t glance away from Scarlett’s panties.

I’m down so fucking bad it’s scary. My cock hasn’t twitched a centimeter for another woman since I first saw Scarlett again when she was walking down the street, but here I am so keyed up that if a gust of wind brushed against the tip of my dick I’d probably erupt.

I wonder if that’s a new pair of underwear, or a pair she had back when I knew her in Chicago. If I ever made those panties wet while I kissed her. If I ever sunk my fingertips underneath the waist and pulled them down her legs …

Pleasure rips through me as I curl my grip over the top of my manhood. There’s already a knot of pressure pulsing at the base of my spine. I almost laugh at myself for being on the edge of coming after a single damn pump.

My eyes stay latched onto Scarlett’s panties as I slide my fist up and down my length, the pleasure burning hotter through my veins as memories of Scarlett’s body flash in my mind.

Her rose-petal nipples when I made them so hard they could cut glass.

The way her pink tongue looked between her open lips when I made her gasp in pleasure.

How the shape of her hip felt as I raked my palm over it.

The velvety smoothness of her legs when they wrapped around my waist.

The wet heat of her pussy when I pushed inside her.

That last thought hits me just as I slide the pad of my thumb over the tip of my cock, and immediately I know I’m past the point of no return.

My breaths are ragged as I fist my cock with abandon, hurtling toward climax.

I keep my eyes open as long as possible, gaze locked onto Scarlett’s panties, as my orgasm detonates inside me. Eventually, the intensity is too much, and my eyes clench shut while gobs of cum jet from my cock.

I press my head against the damp and steamy frosted glass to catch my breath. I shake my head at myself as I realize that I let my release fire freely through the air, past the threshold of the shower to coat the tiled floor of the bathroom in pearly white.

I husk a breath before gathering my strength to clean up after myself.

I step back into the shower. This time, I make sure to push the door closed immediately; because as utterly spent as I am, I don’t put it past myself to go for round two if I stare at Scarlett’s panties for too long again.

25

SCARLETT

Cracking my neck that’s stiff with frustration, I curse the existence of calculus.

I don’t care that we need it for, like, planes and computers or whatever. The discipline clearly takes delight in torturing me, so I’ll go ahead and content myself with a technology-bereft world if I could wish it off the face of the Earth.

I may need to call on Lane for another study session. The guys just got back from the gym, and I can tell from his voice that he’s ascending the steps.

I hear him walk into his room—and then I hear him let out a long, low, raspy groan while he plops himself onto his bed so hard that the springs creak.

Those two sounds—the growly rumble pulled from his throat and the metallic squeak of his bedsprings—meld in the air in a way that has a sudden, unexpected chemical reaction rushing through me, like a bomb just detonated inside my body.

The combination makes a memory flash to life far too vividly for me to suppress.

A balmy morning in Chicago. My room at Demi’s place. Sex with Lane on top of the covers, with the window open and a light breeze caressing the sweat on our bodies. The mattress squeaking and Lane groaning into my ear, just like I heard from next door.

How I came so hard I almost blacked out.

Suddenly I’m hyper-aware of the slick warmth gathered between my legs. The tight ache in my center, so sharp that the muscles low on my stomach are quivering.

Sheer needs shoots through my body. I roll my thighs together, sending a jolt of arousal sizzling up and down my spine. My nipples go taut under my shirt, and when I glance down I see the indentation of their sharp peaks pressing against the fabric.

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