Page 68 of Lovefool

I bite my lip. “Promise?”

That single word alone is the detonator for what precedes a geyser-like stream of cum, and I feel a blaze lance through my shoulder before it dawns on me that Sutton is absentmindedly sinking his teeth into my skin to quell the intensity.

A deluge of warm arousal floods my cunt, and I orgasm the same time he does, undergoing a shower of pinpricks and short-lived dizziness. I would be embarrassed about the amount of emission that leaks out of me if I could even distinguish it from the hot mess stuffing my pussy to the brim.

The only thing still holding me up is Sutton’s grip on my hips, and I slouch against the side of the locker, so slick with sweat that a thirty-minute session on the Stairmaster wouldn’t compare to this workout.

He doesn’t pull out right away. He lets his softening cock marinate inside me as he sweeps my disheveled hair up and away from my neck.

“Baby, you’re incredible,” he whispers, still riding the high that simultaneously has my belly doing cartwheels.

“Nobody’s…ever…fucked me like that,” I pant.

“You don’t have to stroke my ego, Lake. You’ve already stroked plenty of me tonight.”

I try to turn around without disengaging, but Sutton eventually pulls out, leaving me gapingly empty. A rivulet of cum splashes up the wreck of my thighs before dripping onto the ground.

“Shit,” we both say in unison, staring down at the ever-growing puddle of viscous, white fluid that would pin us at the scene of the crime.

Sutton can’t help but laugh while he nuzzles his nose into the junction of my neck, tickling me with the fine whiskers of his beard. “I told you not to spill.”

I immediately cling to him and relish the security of his embrace—the broadness of his back, the vastness of his muscle distribution, the comforting scent of his natural musk. “That was before you sprayed me like a cannon.”

“Remind me to bring a rag next time,” he quips.

I pull back so I can look properly at him, my promiscuity growing into a physical thing that won’t retreat until Sutton thoroughly rails me against every surface in this arena. My nipples peak from the overhead draft, and despite the soreness in my abused cunt, I’m more than ready for round two.

“Next time? A little presumptuous, are we, Mr. Whittaker?”

“Baby, judging by the way you strangled my dick and moaned like a porn star, I think my presumptions are very much warranted.”

24

A LITTLE LOVE GOES A LONG WAY

SUTTON

Ishould not make a habit of lying to Lake Capitano.

One, she scares me. Two, there’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll reel the truth out of God knows where if given the right incentive. My lie is harmless, though. I’m doing this for her own good. The woman doesn’t take a day off work, probably hasn’t gotten enough Vitamin D in weeks—the sun, not my dick—and has been living off a sad diet of protein bars and whatever prepackaged monstrosity they’re now carrying in the campus-wide vending machines.

I don’t want to say that we’re officially together, but we’re getting pretty fucking close. I don’t know what she wants out of this arrangement. I should openly communicate my feelings toward her. Yeah, that seems like a smart plan of action.

I want the deeper connection. I want the stupid labels that shouldn’t be a big deal in hindsight but are. We—we fucked in a locker room, for crying out loud.

And yes, it was the best sex I’d ever had. Not because we were humping against the lockers like horny teenagers back in high school, but because we were both so responsive when it came to one another. We’re both satisfiers. We don’t have a good time unless our partner is having a good time.

Am I worried about accidentally knocking her up? No…yes? I don’t know, it’s never happened with any other girl before. And before Lake, there weren’t many of them. Short-lived talking stages here and there, sure, but nothing of substance. I don’t actively seek out relationships. A lack of effort on my part, but one that I can deduce has saved me from a multitude of terrible people.

It takes a lot to unleash a one-woman demolition team who can knock all my guards down, but when Lake wants something, she won’t stop until she gets it.

“You said Coach Lawson wanted to talk to me about my most recent article?” she repeats, sitting next to me in my Jeep with her hands steepled in her lap and a nervous bounce to her leg.

“It’s nothing bad!” I quickly save, though I think I’m a little late to the reassurance party. “He, uh, had a suggestion or something. Don’t know. The guy was very vague.”

“And he couldn’t wait to tell me on Monday? It’s Saturday.”

Shit. She’s on to me. She knows something is up. I can’t freak out. I have to stay calm. STAY CALM, DUDE.