Page 8 of 3rd and 4
My steps slow and I nearly trip over my own feet. Dammit. He’s right.
Addy:Lesson learned.
Ty:Good luck groveling. I’ve heard oral settles a lot of arguments.
Addy:Don’t know from experience?
Ty:Not with anyone long enough to argue. Perhaps my oral skills are so good that it prevents any arguments from ever happening.
Addy:Asshole.
Ty:Yes! Play a little with her asshole, some girls really like it.
Ignoring him, I try calling Daya again. Voicemail. Fuck!
Standing outside her dorm, I scream, “DAYA!” at the approximate location of her window. “DAYA MOUL! ANSWER YOUR PHONE!” I call, she doesn’t answer. I text, she doesn’t respond. “DAYA! BABY, I’M NOT LEAVING UNTIL YOU TALK TO ME!” I look around the ground for a pebble, a rock, a projectile of some sort to throw at her window. Nothing. I’m coming up with a lot of nothing and I’m fucking pissed about it. I’m pissed Shaye touched me without consent. I’m pissed Daya saw it. I’m pissed she ran. I’m pissed she’s not answering.
I’m pissed at myself. I’m disappointed in myself. Ty’s right, I should have been smarter around Shaye. We know she’s always scheming; I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be in that position. Yes, Shaye is guilty, but I’m just fucking dumb. And that’s why I’m disappointed and pissed at myself. I fucked up. And hurt Daya—
The doors fly open, and my little ball of beautiful muscle runs full tilt toward me. Without thought, I open my arms and wrap them around her when she collides, lifting her up so I can breathe her in. She’s in my arms, she’s here.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve never kissed Shaye, never been with her before. Would never be with her. She did it on purpose. Set me up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner, I’m sorry I put myself in that position. I’m sorry you were hurt. Please—”
“Addy, shh. I overreacted; you didn’t do anything wrong. You can d-d-date or k-kiss whoever you want. I don’t have any claim—”
I rear back and stare at her aghast. What the fuck? “Yes, you do.” Her brows dip in confusion. It’s adorable but apparently, we have bigger problems than rogue kiss attacks. “The only person I want to kiss, EVER is you!”
“What?” she whispers, tears welling in her eyes. My poor girl.
“Daya, you can’t be serious. We’ve been dating for weeks. You absolutely have—”
“We have?” I drop her to her feet, cupping her cheeks, staring into her eyes.
“I thought so.” I chuckle, though I’m finding no humor in this situation.
Her nose wrinkles. “Did you think to tell me that at some point?”
“I thought you knew.” I shake my head, unable to figure out where things went wrong. We’ve spent so much time together since we met. Meals. Walks around campus. Spotting her at the gym. I went to the bookstore with her and carried all her supplies. Held doors open, pulled out her chairs. I haven’t kissed her, or pressed for more because I get the impression, she’s not very experienced. I didn’t want to scare her off with how much I want her.
Her lips tip down in a frown. “I’ve never dated before. Never had a boyfriend. I don’t even have any male friends. Well, my brother, and you. I thought…I thought you just wanted to be my friend.”
I smile, can’t help it. She’s so adorably clueless. “I have female friends, Eva for example. But I don’t spend hours every day with them.”
“Oh.” I pick her up again and sit on the closest bench with her in my lap. Her eyes dart back and forth as her mind tries desperately to catch up.
She’s never had a boyfriend. Never dated. She’s a virgin? My cock goes rock hard in my pants beneath her little tush at the thought that she’s completely untouched. I’m a modern man and virginity is not a requirement, but I’m not going to balk at theidea of being the only man to ever touch her, kiss her, feel her tight pussy clutch my cock.
“But…I don’t…I don’t look like the other girls.” Her cheeks flame red as she leans closer to my ear to whisper, “I don’t have any boobs.” Cute and ridiculous.
I scoff, “Do you have nipples?”
“Uh…yes?”
I shrug. “Then I’m good. You got a slit between your muscular thighs with a tight little opening I can rut into?”
“Uh…yes?” she replies again, her words coming out more like a question.
Dropping my head to her neck, I breathe her in once again and trail my mouth up her neck to her ear. “Then as far as physical requirements, I’m all set. But Itty Bitty, I want to date you because of you. Who you are, not what you look like.” I lean back to meet her eyes. “Though, to be fair, you’re effortlessly gorgeous.”
