Page 12 of Best Man on Campus

He whispers words, tells me how beautiful I am. I put my good hand down his pants, wrap it around his cock. I’m not prepared, though I should be, as he slides his hand into my jeans, under my panties and dangerously close to my pussy. Withholding the automatic flinch takes all my cool. Trying to keep my shit together, I say, “Don’t bother.” And I pull his hand from my pants.

That makes him sit up. He lifts me with him and looks at me. I keep my hand on his cock.

“I want to get you off.” I don’t mean to sound so pleading. He shakes his head. His cock so hard and powerful in my hand I want to squeeze it, I want it in my mouth and I want to feel him lose every ounce of control he’s ever had, coming into me, spending himself on me.

“What do you mean don’t bother?” he asks, all kinds of calm caring in his voice. None of the judgment or disdain I expect.

I sigh. “Just what it sounds like. I won’t come no matter what you do. I can’t,” I insist even as my pussy clenches under his stare. I’d tell him better men than him have tried but we both know there are no better men than him. Not in my life. Not since Killian.

But I’ve been wrong before. Was I wrong about Killian?

“You can’t mean… That’s impossible. Someone hasn’t been treating you right.”

“Don’t get all melodramatic,” I say in a fit of irony. He gives me a half smile.

“Tell me about it, Jazzy.”

“You’re crazy. There’s nothing to tell.”

“Like hell. Then sing me a song,” he says.

“Sing you a song?” It’s the most audacious request I’ve ever heard. But it’s not ridiculous. It’s so on point, so irresistible, that I want to do it. I sing to him.

“There once was a girl named Jazzy, she couldn’t get off on her snazzy. Not since that night…” I stumble and stall, but I forge on, not wanting to lose the light-hearted interlude, the dark-comic spike in my mood. I belt out the last refrain on a high note. “Five years ago!”

He laughs in encouragement more than amusement, shaking his head, all too aware of the darkness under my clownish admission.

“You’re too beautiful, too full of passion to be so deprived.” He comes close, leans his forehead against mine and I wait for it, knowing it’s coming.

“Let me be the one, Jazzy. Let me make you come with an orgasm so big you’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven.” His breath is hot and clean, like all of him down to his soul.

“Majik told me about some of the things you’ve done.”

“Like what?” He sounds unsure, but there’s a real smile because he knows it can’t be anything bad.

“Like random acts of kindness, like you’re St. Paul U’s version of Mother Teresa.” He chuckles and wraps an arm around me, giving me a chill, the kind that warms me, makes me want more of something because I can’t have it.

“Majik exaggerates—”

I shake my head. “No. She told me all about you. About how you shoveled out Dean Lassiter from a snow drift in January when no one else was around. Arranged a tow truck and gave him a ride home. It’s why Lassiter, the one guy in charge at St. Paul’s who truly hates jocks, is actually in love with you.” I enjoy seeing the shocked look on his face.

“She told you that? I swore her to secrecy. She was the only one at BMOC House that day. We were snowed in. It was still winter break. I came back early.”

“Yeah? Tell me why you came back early.” I laugh when he clamps his mouth shut.

“You already know.”

“You took Majik to the hospital for surgery. You arranged the whole fucking thing—you used your father’s doctor connections to make sure she was taken care of.”

“Fuck, Jazzy. You seem to know my life history and here I was feeling guilty I didn’t share—”

“Because you didn’t. But I already know. I would know even if Majiski didn’t tell me. You’re all over social media. Your pristine good-boy reputation is famous. Almost as famous as your scoring title on the hockey team.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve had your eye on me, Jazzy. You been dreaming about me?” He slips his hand under my shirt and I let him.

“Don’t get a hard-on over it. I’m not trying to give you a big head.” He laughs at my double entendre.

“Clever girl.”