Page 53 of Blocked Score

I was already wound so tight with frustration over my math homework, that the added tension of the sudden desire that’s wracking my body has me feeling knotted up from head to toe.

I get up from my chair and walk over to my door, closing it quietly and turning the latch under my doorknob to lock it.

Just as I slide under my blankets, I hear another raw groan through the wall between my and Lane’s rooms. The muscles at the height of my thighs pull.

My left hand pushes up underneath my shirt to draw a circle around my firm nipple while my right hand sinks under my shorts.

I’m surprised by just how wet I am when I drag my finger up the length of my slit, letting pinpricks of pleasure dance over me as I strain my ears, hoping to hear another moan from Lane through the wall that separates our rooms.

My pulse thumps in my neck when I do, my ears catching the vibrations of a hoarse groan. He must be trying to find a comfortable position on his mattress, because his bedsprings creak again.

I circle my finger around my clit. My breath hitches at the burst of pleasure behind my sternum. I can’t remember the last time I made myself feel so good with my own hand. My body is thrumming, nerve endings lit up and hyper-sensitive.

If just touching myself with Lane on my mind feels this good, how good would it feel if Lane were the one doing this to me?

How good would it feel to have his rough, powerful hands raking over my soft, sensitive skin again? Feeling him work me with his finger, filling me with his big, strong digit and making me squirm with bliss before taking it out and replacing it with his cock?

I wish he were over me right now, the jagged ridges of his physique pressing against my tits and my belly. I wish I could press my face into his skin as I lose myself in ecstasy, and press my teeth into the knotted muscle of his shoulder as I come.

That fantasy sends fire roaring through my blood, and soon my back is arching as I stroke myself toward release.

A throbbing ball of pleasure expands inside me until it fills my entire core. I feel like I’m about to burst with sensation. Only my teeth clamped over my bottom lip are keeping me from crying out; and even still, if someone in the hallway put their ear right at the space between my door and the doorjamb, I’m sure I’m breathing loud and ragged enough for them to hear.

With one more slant of my finger over the nub of my clit, I careen off the edge. My orgasm roars to life inside me. Every muscle in my body pulls taut as shockwaves of pleasure coil through me with enough intensity to turn the backs of my eyelids into eruptions of color and light.

I’m a mass of quivering jelly when I come down from it. My limbs are heavy and useless. All the tension in my body has been replaced with pure relief.

My head lolls to the side on my pillow, toward the wall that Lane’s on the other side of.

I lost myself for a minute there. Did I get so loud that he heard me?

If I did, did it do anything to him? Did he have to slide his hand below his waist and grip his cock just to maintain his sanity? Did he feel a tug of temptation to walk the two steps to my room and knock on my door to offer his assistance?

Or is he totally oblivious, his phone in his hands, maybe even texting another girl?

A taste like curdled milk seeps into my mouth.

Luckily, I’m so sated and exhausted that I can’t dwell on it. Soon enough, my head is empty of thoughts as I sayfuck itto my homework and slip into a nap.

26

LANE

Don’t get cocky.

Words I’ve said to my teammates countless times when we’ve been ahead.

Time and time again, I’ve had to remind the guys that a win isn’t a win until the buzzer sounds for the end of the game, no matter how many points we’re ahead, how well we’re playing, or how shitty our opponent is playing.

But when Kiran scores a goal that puts us up 4-1 in the third period and the Brumehill home crowd surges to its feet again, it’s getting a little hard for me to take my own advice.

My first home game has been everything I wanted it to be.

We’re against Fraiser University from New York. They’re no slouches, and they’re having a hell of a year, one of the best in the history of their hockey program, but they came to Cedar Shade for a shellacking.

My lips twitch. I heard Scarlett’s friend Harper say that word when they were hanging out at the house the other day, and I’ve been looking for an excuse to use it. Thank you, Fraiser U.

When I sit back down on the bench after standing up to chest bump Carter next to me and fist-pound Rhys over his shoulder, my eyes settle on the crowd. One spot in the crowd in particular.

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