Falling Into Us (26 page)

“Now that I’ve been snuggling up against you, Mr. Sweaty Muscles, I’m gonna need a shower, too.”

His eyes heated up, and his fingers dug into the small of my back. “My roommate is gone for the weekend.”

“So’s mine,” I said, shrugging back into my coat.

“My dorm is closer,” he pointed out, winning the discussion.
 

He threw a hoodie on over his bare torso and caught up his bag in one hand, pulling me along beside him with the other. His dorm room was a ten-minute walk through the campus normally, but we made it in nearly five. Jason had his arm wrapped low around my waist, propelling me forward. I pressed my face into his shoulder to hide my grinning giggle. He was in a hurry, and so was I.
 

My arm mirrored his, slipping low around his waist, and I felt his muscles shifting under my hand as I walked. I had an image of him as he’d be as soon as we closed the door to his dorm room: shirtless, his heavy, swollen muscles tantalizing me, spiked blond hair messy and wet with sweat, gym shorts riding low around his hips to show his V-cut.
 

I pushed him through his door as he opened it, then put my back to the door as soon as it latched. I twisted the lock and stood with my feet together, hands pressed against the door behind me, head tilted back slightly. I was waiting.
 

Jason made a game of it then, once we were locked in his room. He set his bag gently down on the floor beside his bed, then dug his keys, phone, and wallet out of the side pocket and set them on his desk. He hadn’t looked at me, hadn’t so much as turned around. He was moving as slowly as he could, just to see how long I would let it play out until I jumped him.

Over the last two years, we’d discovered that I was often the aggressor in our sexual relationship. He liked it that way, and so did I.
 

He flipped open the top of his laptop, logged in, and checked his email, typing a quick response to a classmate. Then, with agonizing slowness, he peeled his shirt off, and I was treated to a view of his ridiculously muscled back, the huge deltoids, lats, and traps rippling deliciously as he wadded up the shirt and tossed it into the hamper in the corner. Then, just to tease me, he stretched and tensed his arms; he knew all too well how I felt about his back. Then he turned slowly around, and I could tell he was flexing his abs because he knew how I felt about them.
 

Yeah, I was a lucky girl.

He lifted an eyebrow at me, and I just lifted mine back. I unbuttoned my pea coat, slipped it off my shoulders, and let it fall to the ground. Then, in a private joke, I bit the corner of my lip and shook my hair like a model in a shampoo commercial. Jason tried not to laugh at me, and marginally succeeded, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a constrained smile.
 

We each kicked off our socks and shoes, then stood a foot apart, staring at each other, daring the other to move first. I broke; my fingers grasped the edge of my T-shirt and peeled it off slowly. Jason’s gaze locked immediately onto my breasts, pushed up by a basic red front-clasp bra. I teased him again, brushing one strap off my shoulder, then the other. I hesitated at the clasp, pinching the edges together so only my hands held it closed. I held the edges with one hand, slipped my arm out of the strap, then switched; in one quick motion I dropped the bra and covered my breasts with my hands, and Jason groaned out loud.
 

“You’re killing me, Smalls.” He stepped closer to me, staring hungrily at the swell of skin spilling out from behind my hands.
 

I stood in place, tilting my head up as he drew closer. “I’ll drop my hands when you drop your pants.”

“But then I’ll be naked, and you’ll still be in your pants.”

I lifted a shoulder in an insouciant shrug. “I’m sure you could help me out with that.”

He stepped out of his shorts to stand in front me in a pair of tight boxer-briefs, blue and green plaid cotton darkened by sweat. I compromised with him and moved my hands so all that covered my nipples were my two middle fingers. He drew in a deep breath, then closed the last few inches between us, slid slowly to his knees in front of me, his hands on the flesh of my hips above my skinny jeans. He kept his eyes on mine as he released the button and slid the zipper down, then pushed them down around my thighs, where they stuck.

He frowned at the pants, then up at me. “Damn, baby, these are tight. How the hell did you get into them?”

“Generous use of Crisco and a long running start,” I said.
 

He laughed hard, his face resting against my belly. “God, that was funny. Seriously, though. How do you get them off?”

“Pull them by the cuff.”

He lifted my foot and tugged the jeans off one leg, then the other, and I was naked in front of him except a V-string thong.
 

“Holy shit, when’d you get those underwear?” He took me by the hips and turned me in place so I faced the door. “Damn, Beck. That’s like dental floss and a Band-aid.” His hands slid over the sides of my buttocks, then curved inward to cup the swell, kneading the flesh and muscle greedily.

I laughed breathlessly. “I bought them yesterday. Victoria’s Secret was having a sale, so I actually got a few pairs.” I arched my back, pushing my chest forward and my backside out, drawing one leg forward and stretching the other, a pose that felt silly to me but clearly drove Jason wild, judging by the growl in his chest and the way his hands palmed my thighs and ass. “They don’t cover much, do they?”

“Cover
much
? They don’t cover
anything
. Your entire ass is completely bare.”

“Good thing only you will ever see them, then, huh? Well, except my roommate.”

“She’s not a lesbian, is she?”

I quirked an eyebrow at him in question. “Would it bother you if she was?”

“Not in general, no. But as it concerns you, yes. You’re mine. Man, woman, it doesn’t matter. No one else can have you.”

I sighed at him. “No, she’s not. She’s kind of a skank, actually. She brings guys back to our room almost every night, and they have sex whether I’m in the room or not. Like, they don’t always even bother to pull the blanket over themselves. It’s gross.” I tilted my head as a thought struck me. “I thought guys were supposed to be turned on by the idea of two girls going at it?”

Jason hooked his index fingers into the string of my thong and drew it slowly down, pulled it off, then held it to his nose and sniffed, much to my mortification. “It’s more of a visual thing, I think,” he said, sliding up my body so his erection nestled between the cheeks of my ass, his hands slipping around my waist to cup my hipbones. “I’m pretty sure for most guys it’s not really the idea of two women having sex that turns them on, in a homosexual sense. It’s more the visual of two naked women together, all those curves, you know? And no, watching you with another woman would not turn me on. I’d be just as possessive and jealous over that as you with another guy.”

“Good to know,” I breathed.
 

His fingers were inching toward the joining of my thighs, and I was struggling to hold out, to not spread my legs for him and beg him to touch me. Instead, I ground my backside against him, sliding up and down his rock-hard length. I wanted it, but I wouldn’t give in. He had to break first, or I’d never hear the end of it.
 

I was still covering my nipples with my hands, and Jason tried to nudge my hands out of the way. “Uh-uh, buster. You know the rules. Underwear, then you get to touch.”

“Oh, that’s the rules, huh? Since when?”

“Since right now.”

He pressed his lips to my shoulder in a kiss, then across to my spine and down, down, each kiss sending trembles through my body, shivers along my skin. He was kissing my spine as he slid out of his underwear, and then I felt them settle on my head. I squealed and brushed them off.

“Gross! I don’t want your sweaty boxers on my head, you jerk!” I spun in place, glaring at him.

He was laughing, and he used my momentary distraction to reach up and cup my breasts, which I’d released as I planted my hands on my hips to accentuate my irritation.

“I win,” he said.

I tried not to gasp when his thumbs brushed over my nipples. “No…you…don’t,” I moaned. “I let you…”

“Let me what?” He had the hard-beaded peaks pinched between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling them until I was unable to think.
 

“Let you…win.” I had to take the control back, I knew I did, but his hands knew all too well how to keep me distracted, and then his mouth descended to my breasts and laved hot kisses over my skin, and I was gone, unable to prevent myself from arching into his mouth. “Oh, god, don’t stop.”

“No? You like that?” He paused his oral attention to smile up at me, smirking, knowing I’d given in.

“Yeah, you know I do.”
 

“You want more?” I could only nod and remind myself to breathe.
 

We’d both been so buried in schoolwork that this was the first chance we’d had to make love in over a week, and we were both desperate. I needed more, and he knew it, but he wanted to hear me say it.
 

“Yes, I need more,” I whispered, holding his head against me, fingers tangled in his hair.

“What else do you want?”

I sucked in a breath as he pinched my nipple in his lips and stretched it away from my breast, releasing it with a pop. I had to take back some kind of control. I racked my brain, and then smiled to myself as I came up with a plan.

“Take me,” I murmured.

He slid up my body, his erection stuttering against my thigh and resting hot and hard against my belly. He pulled me against him, kissed me, and bent to lift me in his arms, intent on carrying me to the bed.

I pushed him away. “No, not there.”

He frowned in confusion. “Then where?”

I turned away from him, facing the door once again, and stood with my palms flat on the door, feet wide, bent slightly at the waist, head turned to watch him through a curtain of black curls. “Like this.”

“Oh, fuck. Are you serious?” His hands gripped my hips, paused, and then curved over my backside.

“Like this, right now.”

He reached between my legs to trace a finger through my damp folds, dipping his middle finger into me, sliding up to circle my clit. “I lied,” he whispered, taking his erection in his hand and guiding himself to my entrance. “You win.”

“Don’t you forget it,” I said, and then lost capacity for speech as he slid slowly into me, burying himself deep and deeper, until his hips were flush against my ass.

One hand on my hip, the other sliding up my back, he drew slowly out, then pushed back in, groaning. He thrust twice, then three times, and I nearly lost it right then, nearly fell over the edge just from the bliss of him inside me, but I struggled to hold it back. I wanted to go with him, wanted to feel my walls clench around him as he released.
 

He started to move faster, and even though that was exactly what I needed in that moment, I slowed him with a whisper. “Not so fast, Jason. Slow down. As slow as possible.”

He halted mid-plunge, sliding in the rest of the way in a glacially slow thrust. “Like this?” He pulled back at the same pace, so slow it was barely movement.

“Yes,” I gasped. “Just like that. So slow.”

“Why?”

I tweaked my nipple with one hand, sending a bolt of lightning shooting through my body as he slid back in. “So I can feel every inch of you as long as possible.”

He reached up to cup my breast, rolling my nipple between his middle fingers, pinching almost too hard at the same moment that he impaled himself in me. I gasped, ducking my head as the impending climax washed over me, built up within me. I felt his orgasm nearing as well, evidenced by the shuddering, spasmodic slide of his shaft into me.
 

He began to lose control of his pace, gripping both hips in his hands and driving himself in, jerking out and groaning as he slid in again. I loved it when he lost control. I loved being able to do that to him, make him feel so good he couldn’t hold back. I had to move then, lifting up on my toes and driving down to meet his thrusts, bending lower and pushing away from the door with my hands, letting him drive me forward with increasingly powerful thrusts. Soon the room was filled with the slap of flesh against flesh and our joined sighs and moans, and then I felt my body clamp and spasm, a hot judder of pressure unleashing inside me, climax detonating within me. I bit my arm and screamed into my flesh as I came, and I felt him tense behind me, his fingers digging into my hips.

“God, Beck, you feel so good like this,” he growled.

I couldn’t respond—I could only whimper and shove myself against him as he slammed into me, frenzied now and thrusting harder than he’d ever done before. I heard him growl, and then he pulled back, paused, and thrust, the hardest yet, and I couldn’t stop a cry from escaping me as he buried himself in me, slapping against me almost painfully, but not quite. It never took much to set me off, but feeling him lose control completely then, slamming into me again and again, groaning with each thrust, taking me for his own…that set me off a second time. The slap of flesh, the way he buried deep, stroking against me just right, his fingers in the hollow of my hips, pulling me against him…I came again, unable to stifle my cry this time.
 

“Oh god, oh Jesus,” I whimpered, going limp and boneless, only his body and hands holding me upright, but still fluttering my backside against Jason’s hips as he continued to thrust, lost in his own impending climax. “Are you gonna come now?”

“God, yes. Right now,” he groaned.

He thrust home one last time, and then I felt the hot gush of his release inside me and I cried out as he pressed himself deeper and deeper, not thrusting but crushing himself against me as he came, gasping my name over and over again.
 

When he was still, I pulled away from him and stumbled to the bed, collapsing onto it and pulling him with me. He fell in next to me, burying his face against my breasts and sighing. I held him there, feeling his scratchy stubble brush the soft skin, feeling our pulses hammer in tandem.