Page 41 of Off Limits

He grins back. “The team nutritionist might kill me over this week’s food log, but yeah, let’s do it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Simon

Ellie really is the perfect girl. Misunderstandings fixed with a minimum of embarrassment and fuss? I could get used to this really easily.

My last girlfriend liked to dissect every statement, every slight change in expression, the various shades of meaning behind word choices until we sat in the middle of a disarticulated mess of torn up words and broken phrases.

It was exhausting and a big reason I haven’t bothered with more than hookups since then.

But Ellie doesn’t do any of that. She takes my words at face value and gives me the same in return. And when she settles back on my lap after I order the pizza, all is right with the world. I wasn’t sure if this was just going to be a booty call when she said she was waiting in her room, and the fact that she wants to spend more time with me than that is reassuring. I want more than a booty call. But we weren’t exactly clear on the parameters of our relationship last night, just that we were going to give things a try and see what happens. I know what I mean by that, but I’m all too aware that not everyone operates under the same definitions.

For now, I’m not going to stress. And as things progress we can have the exclusivity/define-the-relationship talk when the moment seems right.

The right thing in this moment is Ellie’s mouth on mine, her sweet little curves under my hands, her hips rocking over my hardening dick. I’m not sure I can handle just this until after the pizza gets here.

“How long is the pizza supposed to take?” Ellie murmurs against my lips. Did she just read my fucking mind?

“Forty-five minutes,” I tell her, recapturing her lips and tasting their sweetness. She put on some kind of flavored lip gloss, and she tastes like candy, and it’s killing me in the best way. I can’t get enough of her.

She grinds down on me, the heat of her center almost scalding through the thin layers of fabric separating us. With her in a dress and me in athletic pants, there’s less there than last night in my truck, and it’s both so much better and so much worse.

I’m dying to touch her. To sink my fingers inside her again, to get to see all her treasures, to watch her fall apart for me, to tease her and bury my dick in her sweet, slick pussy until we both come undone.

She pulls her mouth from mine, and I take advantage of that fact to kiss my way down her neck to her collarbone. “How tired are you from practice?” Her chest rises and falls rapidly under my lips.

“Not at all.” I nuzzle her cleavage, moving the fabric of her dress aside with my face. It’s stretchy and soft, giving way easily, and I’m more thankful than ever for her clothing choices. She looks hot as fuck, and the access? This would’ve been perfect last night. Perhaps she would’ve worn something like this if she’d known I was going to take her out to dinner. Which means she dressed expecting something closer to a repeat of last night. That thought makes a shard of guilt thread through my chest, but when I try to lift my head to ask if she’s sure pizza in her dorm room is really okay, she clutches my hair and holds me in place.

Smiling against her skin, I nip the top of her breast and then kiss away the sting, enjoying the way her breath hitches and the little bloom of color that shows up as a result. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” I whisper to her chest.

She lets out a throaty chuckle. “Right back atcha.” She starts another slow grind on my dick and whimpers when I cup her ass and don’t let her move, my fingers digging into the firm, round globes hidden by the soft fabric of her dress. I want to be under that dress, my palms against her bare skin, her sinking down, impaling herself on my dick, not just dry humping me on the couch. “What’s the room rule on sex in the common areas?”

Because all I need is the go ahead, and I’m fishing out a condom, shoving aside some fabric, and taking Ellie on a ride neither of us will ever forget.

But she freezes, her mouth wide open, but in surprise instead of orgasm. Her gaze focuses on mine, and she giggles. “You know, we haven’t actually discussed that.”

I raise an eyebrow, waiting while she screws up her face in thought.

At length, she shakes her head slowly. “As much as I hate the thought of disrupting this to move, I feel like sex on a shared couch is a faux pas.”

“Gotcha. Which way is your room?” I pick up my backpack and toss it in the direction she indicates then tighten my grip on her ass, making us both let out a soft groan as I pull her tight against my belly, her center lodged right above the tip of my dick. “You know,” I whisper, “if we were naked, I’d be fucking you right now.”

She shivers, a wave of goosebumps rippling over her neck. “Oh yeah?”

I nod slowly.

She licks her lips. “Let’s get naked.”

In one swift move, I stand, still holding her. “That’s the plan,” I tell her, carrying her to her room. “We’ll just keep our clothes handy so we can open the door when the pizza gets here.”

Her room consists of an elevated twin bed, a small desk at its foot, and a closet with a dresser taking up half of it. There’s not much extra space, but it’ll work fine for us. Mostly because we won’t get any unexpected interruptions here.

Right now, though, I’m hungry for something else entirely. I set Ellie on her bed, my hands trailing down the outsides of her thighs, pulling them higher around my waist as I step between them and grind against her hot little pussy. I can’t wait to feel her clenching around me.

She leans back on her arms, practically offering herself to me like a present to be unwrapped and savored. And I want to savor every second of it, but impatience has me rushing to get to her skin. My fingers push under her dress, hitching it higher until the black satin fabric of her panties comes into view.

Hers aren’t the first pair of sexy women’s underwear I’ve come across, but something about them is so delectable that I can’t even put into words what the sight of them does to me. I want to tug them aside and touch her. I want to pull them off and stuff them in my pocket so I can take them out and do dirty things to them when she’s not around. Not as a souvenir—that sounds cheap and tawdry—but as a reminder of this moment.

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