Page 35 of The Midseason Fakeout

“Yes,” I cry out. Already, I can feel the end is in sight. Relief. Sweet, sweet relief.

“You like my dick like this?” He pins me while he rocks into me, harder, faster.

“Yes! Please.”

“Tight fucking pussy. So fucking good. I want this. I want you impaled on my dick.”

My orgasm hits with the speed and ferocity of a freight train, and I couldn’t contain my scream even if I tried. My body convulses, shaking in Aidan’s sure hands while he holds me upright, his palm moving over my mouth to temper the volume.

But his fingers…his freaking fingers eke every last bit of aftershocks out of me until I finally open my eyes to find him staring. “That scream? It was meant only for me.”

All of this was meant only for him.

My body shudders again, and Aidan holds me in place, slowly removing his hands from all my sensitive places until he’s standing behind me, his arms maneuvering around my midsection.

“Only for me,” he says again, eyes locked with mine until I nod.

Then, he straightens and leaves. I try to call for him, but he’s gone, the door snicking shut behind him.

Heart racing, I peer at my reflection in the mirror until the thought of repercussions threads into my guilty conscience.

That was a mistake. A terrible mistake.

I breathe in a few calm breaths, then throw some water on my face. I’m flushed, yet completely satisfied. More satisfied than I’ve been in a long time.

My mind tries to wander to what else Aidan could do to me, but that road is littered with potholes and broken hearts.

I need to find him; to tell him we shouldn’t do that again.

Someone knocks on the door, and that finally pries me away from the privacy of the bathroom. When I open the door, it’s Kenna. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey. Aidan sent me up here to see if you were okay. He said you’re a two-sip jersey chaser.” She laughs and rolls her eyes. When I don’t laugh in turn, she asks, “Seriously, are you feeling okay?”

Her worry pulls me out of my head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Maybe he’s right,” I tell her, going along with his story. “Maybe the alcohol did get to me.”

She loops her arm in mine. “Here, I’ll take you back downstairs. You seem a little flushed. It can get hot in here with all these bodies in tight spaces.”

Embarrassment claws at me. If she only knew what I was actually flushed from…

Oh my God, in an upstairs bathroom at a fraternity? Could I be any more cliché right now?

“Yeah,” I agree absentmindedly. “Tight spaces.”

As we descend the stairs, I keep my gaze on the steps. I’m not ready to see Aidan yet. Partly because I have no idea what I’m going to say to him. How I’m going to face him knowing he’s touched my most intimate parts. I should crawl under a rock.

“You know,” Kenna says, “I used to wonder what kind of girl Aidan would find. You don’t disappoint.”

“How so?”

“I think you’re just as nutty as he is. Please, take that as a compliment. He’s so carefree, you know? Fun loving, funny. You took the whole throwing-you-over-his-shoulder-and-taking-you-upstairs in good stride.”

I shrug. “Well, that’s Aidan.”

She smiles. “Exactly. And we can’t change the weird parts about our guys. We like them because of those things.”

I follow her gaze to find West. The love radiating between those two is so obvious. Almost palpable.

That would be nice to have someday.

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