One Hot Fall Term (Yardley College Chronicles Book1) Page 2

  This is our last weekend, maybe forever, and even if I scare him away, it will be worth it.

  I reach down and wrap my fingers around his cock. I’ve seen a few of these. Some big ones—on guys who are so proud of them they love to strut around when it’s hard, swinging it around. But size really doesn’t matter when it comes to pleasure. What does? Desire—maybe love. I wouldn’t know because even though I’ve slept with guys, I’ve never had an orgasm with one.

  Ryan’s cock is beautiful: straight, but with a slight list to the left. They always point a certain way. Ryan’s points toward his heart, I notice. His shaft fills my fist, getting so thick at the hilt my fingers barely meet around him. I slide my hand down, feeling the ridges of the veins, the way the velvet skin slides over the hardness underneath. I rub his prick along my palm, then I stroke my fingers in his thick, blond pubic hair, slide them up the shaft, and fondle the head, which is adorable. There’s a small brown spot, a sweet little freckle. Holding him at the base, I bend over and plant a kiss on the cute head of his prick.

  “Mia, what are you—oh god,” Ryan groans. My lips part and I take the head inside, sucking hard. My cheeks draw in. I want to stun him with this. I strum my tongue over the head, then, keeping up the tight pressure of my mouth, I plunge down on him, taking him in until I can’t do more. I’m about half way down his thick shaft.

  First I bob fast, giving him intense sensation. Then I go slowly, holding my lips tight to his satiny skin.

  He lets out a deep, hoarse moan. His legs shake. I plant my palms on his bare butt and suck him without using my hands. His skin tastes slightly salty, actually tastes warm, if that’s possible. He tastes so good. Fluid dribbles out of the head, touching my tongue. Slightly sour. I swallow it.

  “That was amazing. Would you—want to do more?” He asks it so hesitantly, looking hopeful. My heart tugs.

  Slowly I lower to my knees. The boards of the dock are wet, cool. I have to act like I’ve never done this before. Shyly, I look up at him, brushing back some of my hair. “Did you like it?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  I giggle. I suck him more, trying every trick I’ve ever heard of. I fondle his balls while sucking him. Then I run my tongue down the back of his cock, down the seam in the sac that holds his balls. I take one of his balls and hold it gently in my mouth, stroking with my tongue. I feel the long, soft hairs. I’m tempted to lick that little bridge between his testicles and his ass, but I don’t want to go too far.

  I take his cock in again, watching him, under my lashes, trying to look sweet and innocent while my tongue strums the frenulum.

  Suddenly he stops me taking him in and out. He withdraws, his prick jolting upward.

  “I’m going to—I’m not going to last.”

  “Then come down here. Make love to me, Ryan. I want to.”

  He gets onto his knees, facing me. Sometimes I can’t believe how beautiful he is. Broad shoulders. Those muscles in his biceps and triceps I didn’t even know existed. Solid, sexy forearms that make me shiver and melt at the same time. I can’t believe he’s mine.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says softly. “There’s times…I can’t believe you’re with me.” He grins.

  I’m stunned—he feels the same about me as I feel about him.

  Then he kisses me, and he lies back on the dock, pulling me with him. He reaches for his jeans, drags them over, all the while kissing me.

  I reach down, grasp his hard-on, and direct him to my already drenched pussy. I shouldn’t take charge, I guess, but he did put me on top. Probably so he’s on the hard boards, not me. I want this to be like a fantasy come true for him.

  “Wait,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I have to do this.”

  Something scrapes against my leg. The corner of a foil condom package. He puts all his attention on opening it. He fumbles with it, trying to get the reservoir right, and seems so sweetly inexperienced at putting on a rubber that my heart twists. We’re so different. But I’m never going to let him know.

  I’m on the pill but I know I should have safe sex. Just with him, with wanting him so much, I almost forgot.

  The instant he rolls the condom down to the hilt of his thick erection, I put my hand around his rigid shaft. Holding his cock high, the bubbling tip pointing toward the stars, I get up on my knees. I’m shaking with anticipation, with excitement, something that’s never happened to me before. A deep ache shoots through me, low in my belly. I need him inside. I want him to fill me, because it physically hurts now.

  Ryan reaches down. His strong fingers slide through my strawberry-blond pubic curls and I’m breathless at the sight. His long fingers, his masculine hand, the veins on his forearm—all add up to mind-meltingly sexy. Gently, his fingers part my pussy lips, and there’s a flood of juices, wetting his hand.

  He looks at me in sheer amazement. His blue eyes glow with their own fire. Lust. On Ryan, lust is so hot and beautiful. I push the taut head of his prick to my pussy and slide him back and forth to make him wet. Agony shows on his face; he moans and groans.

  Then, smiling wickedly, I take him inside.

  Chapter Two

  Sitting tall, I ride him, rocking my hips, milking him with my hands resting on his rock-hard abdomen. At first, taking him inside stuns me. He’s so big, his cock so thick and hard, I feel him everywhere. My breath is long gone. My heart is pounding at bursting speed. My eyes shut as I sink down on him—down, down, until his cock is all the way inside me. I can’t move. I swear it feels like his erection is in so deep and so high it’s touching my heart.

  His lashes fall over his eyes, his face contorts as my hips come down, swallowing up his huge, beautiful shaft. When I reach the very bottom, and my ass touches his thighs, we both stay there motionless. Our eyes meet.

  There’s moment when the world stops. When I don’t move. Where I’m not working to drive him to ecstasy or working at making this good. It’s a moment where we just…

  Connect.

  It’s…

  Amazing. But I don’t want him to see too deeply into me. I lift on him, drawing up on his cock until the head is just inside me, then I sink down again. But that doesn’t distract Ryan. His blue-eyed gaze burns me, it’s so hot.

  I close my eyes. Wanting this to be wild for him, I fuck him hard. The dock boards creak beneath us; water slaps against wood. I lift and pump down. Each stroke tugs my pussy lips, the tension teases my clit, I’m moaning with the pleasure, but it’s not enough. I love Ryan, and this is special and beautiful, but I’m not going to…get there.

  Unless I play with myself, I never do.

  I want him to remember this, no matter what happens. I want him to lie in bed at his college dorm and fantasize about this night while he plays with his amazing cock. So I go crazy on him. My moans grow deeper, louder. I thrust harder, building this for him.

  We’re on the dock—anyone could walk out of the cabin, come down here, and see us. The risk is thrilling. The crazed urgency of this is hot.

  The thing is: he thinks this is my first time. Yet I don’t know if it is Ryan’s first sexual experience. I suspect it is. He’s never pushed for more than kissing. We dated for three months before he put his hand on my breast, and I had to grope his butt first before he tried it.

  He fumbled at bit with the condom, though he did it okay.

  What if I am his first? I feel a jolt of agony deep in my pussy at the thought. But the pressure to be spectacular is intense. I fight constantly to forget my first time. For Ryan, I want his first to be treasured.

  I grasp his hands and pull them over his head, so I have him pinned, and I pump on him, grind on him, do everything I can to fuck his brains out.

  His hips jerk up, thrusting his cock deep into me, lifting me up in the air. His strength is awesome. It’s time for me to come all over him. To draw on the best of my acting talents,

  I wish this time it could be real. But it won’t be, and he’s breathing hard, and I want him to come. I sense
he’s not going to let go of his orgasm until he has satisfied me. My moans become desperate cries of agony, as if I’m climaxing and it’s tearing me apart. But my cries stay carefully quiet —so no one in the cabin hears me. If anyone comes down and Ryan would stop, I fear.

  God, making sounds like I’m in ecstasy excites me. I’m close, so very close. But I just can’t get there.

  My heart feels full. I’m thrilled to look down on Ryan in ecstasy, to hear his soft moans. I feel almost satisfied because this is so incredibly erotic. But my body just doesn’t get off. It just won’t.

  But I know how to make it look real because, by myself, I can make myself come until I’m crying from the pure physical sensation. My hips jerk wildly on him as if my body is going crazy with my pretend orgasm. I buck and writhe and toss my head, and come dangerously close to smacking it into his chin, to look like I’m out of control with pleasure. I grip his hands hard.

  Ryan lets out a restrained groan. His eyes shut, thick black lashes resting against his cheek. His hips come up with a power that almost throws me off him. Suddenly I can feel the heat of him, even with the condom.

  Watching him come is a thrill. Watching him in the aftermath, when he opens his eyes and looks at me like he’s just glimpsed heaven…I have to swallow hard not to cry.

  I release his hands and he puts them at my waist, sliding them up to caress me. He arches up, his lips soft and ready for a kiss and I meet him halfway. Then he draws me down on top of him and wraps his arms around me. My cheek presses to his chest where I feel the thump of his heart and the weight of his muscular arms on my back feels so good, yet makes me want to cry.

  I thought I’d be happy—I could keep the memory of making love with Ryan in my heart forever.

  It just makes letting him go hurt so much more.

  Inside me, his cock softens and when I shift to snuggle against him, it slides out. He pulls off the condom and leaves it by his jeans. I know he’ll actually put it in the garbage, not toss it in the woods. Funny, how all these small things make him so wonderful and special to me.

  He kisses the top of my head. His chest moves quickly up and down.

  “I wish I wasn’t going, Mia,” he says huskily. “Right now, I want to spend the rest of my life in bed with you.”

  I giggle but it hurts. I stroke his hip, loving the way his hipbone is a solid, prominent ridge. He has the sexiest hips and the most beautiful flat, taut abdomen. “We aren’t even in a bed,” I tease. “And military college has been your dream for years. You have to go.”

  One arm is around me. With his right hand, he smooths my tangled hair. “I wouldn’t be going to college if it weren’t for you.”

  “You would. I bet you were their first choice.”

  “I doubt that, Mia.” He sits up to look at me. “But if you hadn’t tutored me in calculus and functions and algebra, I never would have had the marks. How were you so patient with me?”

  “You’re smart, Ryan.” It wasn’t his fault that he had to look after a drunken father for most of his life, so he missed a lot of school. Homework wasn’t a priority when he worried about his dad either dying in a car accident, a bar brawl, or from alcohol poisoning. Ryan had barely learned to read, I realized when we started dating. It meant he couldn’t cope with subjects like math and science, too, never mind English lit. How could he learn mathematics when he couldn’t make any sense out of a word like ‘congruent’?

  I tutored him, and soon realized just how smart he was. I made him see that he could achieve his dreams and he worked hard to do it. When he got his scholarship, I felt just as happy as he did—we’d done it together.

  Ryan nuzzles my neck. Then he whispers, “We’re going to make this work, Mia. We can keep in touch, and we’ll see each other at Thanksgiving and winter and spring breaks.”

  He straightens, looks as me earnestly.

  I nod. This isn’t what I expected. I thought…I thought we would be letting each other go.

  “We will make this work,” I repeat, as though saying the same words somehow makes a pact with fate.

  But I’m determined to do it. When you’ve been given the perfect guy on a silver platter you would be insane not to make it work.

  A screen door slams up at the cabin, the sound echoing over the lake. I jerk up from Ryan’s chest, and he gets to his feet. Next thing I know, he’s handing me my clothes.

  “We’d better go back to the party,” he says.

  His going away party, combined with the last blowout of our graduating high school class. This is our last weekend before college. The last weekend I’ll see Ryan until Thanksgiving.

  Tomorrow I go back home and spend my last evening with my mom. On Monday, I go away to Yardley College, while Ryan finishes packing for military college. My dad will drive me to Yardley. I’m scared thinking about the looooong drive. But what can I do?

  I’ve been with Ryan and now everything’s changed.

  I’m dressed and so is Ryan. I grasp his hand, ready to go back to the party, but he turns me to him and cups my face. His hands are strong but gentle when he touches me. He pulls me into a long, slow, steamy kiss. “I love you, Mia. I’m never going to let you go.”

  Guilt, happiness, joy, apprehension—it all explodes in me. I keep the damage to two tears that fall to my cheek.

  Ryan brushes them away. “Don’t cry. We’ve still got another day.”

  I wish…

  I don’t know what I wish. I can’t tell Ryan the truth about me, but I can’t make him love me based on lies, can I?

  Footsteps sound on the gravel path that leads down from the cottage to the dock. Now is not the time for admitting crappy stuff, I know. I want to keep this special.

  I’ve found love, as amazing as that is.

  There is no way I want to let it go.

  ***

  My dad honks his horn in the car at eight in the morning. I was watching out for him, and I go out, carrying my backpack and my battered duffel bag, letting the screen door slam behind me.

  My eyes are red and aching because I cried until late last night, then got up at six, and cried some more in the shower. Tired, depressed, I stumble down the steps of mom’s house wrestling with my over-stuffed duffel. The handle breaks and it rolls down the rest of the steps. I run after it. My hair is a half-dried tangle in front of my eyes, and I shove it back. But suddenly my backpack is taken from my shoulder and someone hauls my duffel up by its one good handle.

  I look up, surprised Dad would have done it—

  I was staring into Ryan’s blue eyes.

  Dreaming—I have to be dreaming. I rub my eyes, but Ryan is still there. The sun is coming up, and the glow of it illuminates him with gold. His lop-sided grin melts my heart. “Did you really wake up at this insane hour to say goodbye?” I whisper.

  Then I panic. I know I look like crap. My eyes are puffy, as if I’ve stuffed cotton balls under my eyelids. There are purple shadows below them, and they’re rimmed with red. I didn’t even bother to comb my hair. I was too busy stuffing last minute things into my bag, and dealing with mom who had overslept and was having her own panic as she raced around in an long t-shirt and bare feet to make me breakfast.

  Mom doesn’t want to see Dad. So she’s inside, watching from the living room window. To say my last goodbye to her, I’ll have to go back in—because she won’t come out.

  But there’s only one thing I care about at this moment.

  This is the way Ryan will remember me. Desperate, I try to claw through my hair with my fingers.

  He smiles at me. I paw at my hair faster. He carries my bag as if it weighs nothing and puts is in the back of my dad’s Mercedes SUV. That vehicle makes me laugh. It cost a fortune, I’m sure, but the Mercedes logo is so huge on the front it looks more like a kid’s toy. As if it was made by Tonka’s high end division.

  With his hands free, Ryan reaches up and touches my cheek. “I didn’t sleep last night, Mia.”

  I did, a bit. And I feel gui
lty that I did at all. It makes my heart do strange things—grow bigger, skip beats, hurt like crazy—to know he stayed awake all night. I stroke his arm, my fingers brushing the bulge of his biceps, his solid muscled forearm.

  “I couldn’t let you go without one more kiss,” he says.

  Actually, I wish I could hook my fingers in the belt loops of his jeans, drag him behind some bushes and make love to him one more time. It’s too late for that. My dad passes us.

  He’s not really my dad, because my birth father took his own life when I was really small. When I was two, my stepfather married mom. He’s the only father I’ve known, even though he and mom have been divorced for over four years now. He is good-looking, almost as tall as Ryan, in fairly good shape, with boyish features, and dark-brown hair that’s still thick but is going grey, and dark brown eyes. I take after my mother, inheriting her red-blond hair and blue eyes.

  “Is that everything, Mia?” Dad asks. “We should get on the road.” He looks at Ryan.

  But I have no desire to introduce them. Why bother when my stepfather is barely a part of my life—and that’s the way it has to be? When he first insisted on paying my way through college, I told him no. Flat out no. I had money saved up. Not enough, but I knew I would get to college eventually.

  Mom and Ryan convinced me to let him do it. Mom said he owed me—she knew why. Ryan didn’t know anything about why my stepfather would owe me—and I would never tell him—but he couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t take the opportunity.

  Ryan’s father obviously couldn’t send him through school. Ryan essentially supported and looked after his dad.

  I took my stepfather’s offer. But I applied to smaller colleges, away from Washington D.C. where my dad lives. I decided to go to Yardley College which is in New Hampshire, to study Architecture. This is my dream. I only wish the price wasn’t so high.

  Ryan and my stepfather are looking at each other and I know I have to act like any other girl would—a normal girl without a lot of baggage. “Ryan, this is my dad, Daniel Reynolds. Dad, this is Ryan Taylor, my boyfriend. He went to high school with me.”