her about his dad, his mother’s death, his drive to
be better, to prove that he was everything John Gordon would never be. She’d
chided him before, but now she just held onto him.
“Um,
yeah.” She shifted when his erection made itself well known beneath her. “I
should go. You need to pack.”
He
tightened his grip and she didn’t resist all that much. When he found her lips
with his, their instant familiar softness made him sigh. They’d been here
before, on a winter break trip when they’d gotten drunk and high and ended up
together more than once that long weekend. It had taken Jack weeks to work up
the courage to call her after that and she’d avoided him too. Finally he’d seen
her at a party, pulled her aside and they’d agreed that it had been a one-off,
fun and all, but their friendship was more important. He knew it then—he
probably did love her, should love her. They would make a great couple. So he
had to avoid her like the plague.
She
sighed as he parted her lips with his tongue gently, with no urgency, no rush,
just a sweet moment, a perfect fit. He groaned as she turned to straddle him,
lifting her skirt just enough so he could feel her heat against his. The kiss
got serious then, as he ran his lips down her neck, cupped one of her pert
breasts. The familiarity of it was a relief, and more of a turn-on than any
challenge he could remember.
“Jack,”
she whispered, her breath getting ragged. “We…I’m…oh…,” she sighed as he lifted
her shirt so he could tug one of her peaked nipples into his mouth. She tasted
like tart, red-headed perfection. His brain was flooded with a need so strong
he couldn’t get his hands around it, couldn’t control it. That scared him, but
he refused to slow down. Her hands were fisted in his hair, her petite body
wrapped around him. He took her face in his hands and stared at her.
“I
can’t do this again, Suzanne. It will…mean too much. Not after…you know.”
Without
a word she reached to his drawer and pulled out a condom.
“No,”
he whispered.
She
opened it, slid the thin latex over his shaft. When she stood and shed her
shirt and skirt it was like a dream, a bizarre half-sleeping moment. She pushed
him onto his back, leaned down to lick his nipples, making him groan and shift
his hips involuntarily. He pulled her up to meet his gaze. “You’re sure?”
Suzanne
nodded, but he stopped when saw the tears in her eyes. He would not make this
girl cry, not for anything, not even if it meant cutting her off as a friend.
They would never work. He was a shit. She was perfect.
Her
lips covered his and his resolve broke into a million pieces. He flipped them
over, slid his hands down her small frame. Cupping each breast, he lapped at
her flesh, then slid his fingers along her sex. It was exactly as he remembered
and had spent months trying to forget.
She
sighed, spread her legs. He coaxed a lovely orgasm from her, teasing her G-spot
as he stretched her flesh, remembering Mindy’s advice.
Stop.
Gordon. This is a bad idea. Think with your upper brain for a change.
“Please,
Jack….” She exhaled as the climax left her shaking and still pulsing around his
fingers. He climbed up between her legs, covered her lips even as she told him,
“Fuck me.”
That
sometimes elusive upper brain closed down once more as he did as he was told,
twice, before they emerged, her blushing and a little angry for missing her
study group. Him packed and headed home to face the Gordon family crisis. He
held her at his truck, kissed her hard, not caring who saw them. Just as he was
about to ask her to accompany him home, to be with him, be his girlfriend, she
spoke.
“Last
time,” she said against his chest. “Okay? Because I still think we should not
be more than…friends…you know, who can, um, have sex and stuff. Without any
awkwardness.”
He
laughed so hard she stepped away, frowning at him. He finally collected himself
and yanked her close, taking in
be better, to prove that he was everything John Gordon would never be. She’d
chided him before, but now she just held onto him.
“Um,
yeah.” She shifted when his erection made itself well known beneath her. “I
should go. You need to pack.”
He
tightened his grip and she didn’t resist all that much. When he found her lips
with his, their instant familiar softness made him sigh. They’d been here
before, on a winter break trip when they’d gotten drunk and high and ended up
together more than once that long weekend. It had taken Jack weeks to work up
the courage to call her after that and she’d avoided him too. Finally he’d seen
her at a party, pulled her aside and they’d agreed that it had been a one-off,
fun and all, but their friendship was more important. He knew it then—he
probably did love her, should love her. They would make a great couple. So he
had to avoid her like the plague.
She
sighed as he parted her lips with his tongue gently, with no urgency, no rush,
just a sweet moment, a perfect fit. He groaned as she turned to straddle him,
lifting her skirt just enough so he could feel her heat against his. The kiss
got serious then, as he ran his lips down her neck, cupped one of her pert
breasts. The familiarity of it was a relief, and more of a turn-on than any
challenge he could remember.
“Jack,”
she whispered, her breath getting ragged. “We…I’m…oh…,” she sighed as he lifted
her shirt so he could tug one of her peaked nipples into his mouth. She tasted
like tart, red-headed perfection. His brain was flooded with a need so strong
he couldn’t get his hands around it, couldn’t control it. That scared him, but
he refused to slow down. Her hands were fisted in his hair, her petite body
wrapped around him. He took her face in his hands and stared at her.
“I
can’t do this again, Suzanne. It will…mean too much. Not after…you know.”
Without
a word she reached to his drawer and pulled out a condom.
“No,”
he whispered.
She
opened it, slid the thin latex over his shaft. When she stood and shed her
shirt and skirt it was like a dream, a bizarre half-sleeping moment. She pushed
him onto his back, leaned down to lick his nipples, making him groan and shift
his hips involuntarily. He pulled her up to meet his gaze. “You’re sure?”
Suzanne
nodded, but he stopped when saw the tears in her eyes. He would not make this
girl cry, not for anything, not even if it meant cutting her off as a friend.
They would never work. He was a shit. She was perfect.
Her
lips covered his and his resolve broke into a million pieces. He flipped them
over, slid his hands down her small frame. Cupping each breast, he lapped at
her flesh, then slid his fingers along her sex. It was exactly as he remembered
and had spent months trying to forget.
She
sighed, spread her legs. He coaxed a lovely orgasm from her, teasing her G-spot
as he stretched her flesh, remembering Mindy’s advice.
Stop.
Gordon. This is a bad idea. Think with your upper brain for a change.
“Please,
Jack….” She exhaled as the climax left her shaking and still pulsing around his
fingers. He climbed up between her legs, covered her lips even as she told him,
“Fuck me.”
That
sometimes elusive upper brain closed down once more as he did as he was told,
twice, before they emerged, her blushing and a little angry for missing her
study group. Him packed and headed home to face the Gordon family crisis. He
held her at his truck, kissed her hard, not caring who saw them. Just as he was
about to ask her to accompany him home, to be with him, be his girlfriend, she
spoke.
“Last
time,” she said against his chest. “Okay? Because I still think we should not
be more than…friends…you know, who can, um, have sex and stuff. Without any
awkwardness.”
He
laughed so hard she stepped away, frowning at him. He finally collected himself
and yanked her close, taking in
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