Page 34 of Reverse Pass
My muscles are so fucking sore from practice and lifting weights that my forearm aches as I move faster, but I mentally beg them to hold on for just a little while longer. Just long enough to let me have the rest of this fucking memory. One that’s just her and me.
A little gasp escapes her lips, and she shifts her thighs further apart. I bite my tongue, a million things I want to confess, but I refuse to ruin the moment with her. I just want the soundtrack of skin against skin, her gasps, and our stuttered breathing to remember this by.
I can feel myself swell, only needing a few more strokes before I come, and I realize I don’t have a towel or tissue close by, so I lean over to grab one off the nightstand. She watches me and something flickers in her eyes.
“You could, if you want…” She doesn’t say the words but her free hand travels down her chest through the valley between her breasts.
I might choke on my own tongue trying to respond.
“Are you sure?” I rasp out the question.
“I want you to.”
Fuck me.
I move toward her, and she slides down halfway on top of my pillows, her breasts sway with the motion, giving me the perfect angle to take her in. I ease up on my knees next to her, bracing my free hand against the headboard over her.
I stroke myself a few more times. I’m so desperate for fucking relief but I feel like I’m playing with fire by doing what she’s asking. I look down at her, and she must see the worry in my face.
“Please, Ben,” she whispers the words and it’s all I need to hear.
I lean over her. It only takes me a half second, and I’m coming hard against my own hand, watching as the stream lands on her breasts and flows down. I’m breathing so hard my chest feels like it’s on fire, and I watch her take two fingers and slide through the band of pearlescent liquid, rubbing it up and over one of her nipples. Then her eyes close, and I hear her gasp for breath and realize that her hand is still working between her thighs. I lay my forehead against my arm, sweat beading on my temples as I watch her eyes shutter closed and her body give one last little shake beneath me.
This image of her is going to ruin me. It is going to be on repeat in my head for eternity. I collapse in a heap next to her, too dumbfounded and exhausted to say anything. When I glance over at her after a few minutes, she just gives me a little smile. She stands then, grabbing her shirt off the chair, throwing it over her head, and pulling it down.
“Night, Ben,” she whispers.
“Night, Violet.”
And then she disappears out the door, leaving me feeling like a pining awkward sixteen-year-old boy all over again.
TWELVE
Violet
I’m sittingat my desk in my little office, peering out through the doorway and across the hall where I can see out the window. There are clouds forming in the distance and I worry about the rain hitting before my office hours are over. It’s Friday night, and I’m desperate to get out of here and get back home. Joss has her annual Halloween party tomorrow night and I have several things I promised to help get ready for her.
And I might also, maybe, be hoping to see a certain football player. We’ve been so busy the last few days there hasn’t even been the opportunity to chat more than in passing on our way in or out of the house.
Which is why when I hear his name come up outside my door, instead of minding my own business, I start eavesdropping. I can tell from the context of the conversation it’s a group of undergrads discussing the weekend’s parties and what costumes they plan to wear.
“Do you think Lawton will be at the football team party even though he’s suspended?”
“Who knows. He’s been laying low from what I’ve heard, so he can get off suspension.”
“Why do you want to know where he’s going to be?”
“As if that’s not obvious. She’s hoping she can be his pick for the night.”
“Yeah, you can forget that unless you want to start dyeing your hair blonde.”
“What? Why?”
“He doesn’t like brunettes. Supposedly he’s never hooked up with one.”
“Blonde is too much work. Can you imagine all the appointments to keep the roots up?”
“Then apparently Lawton is too much work for you.”
