Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Zach twists my shirt in his fingers and pulls me close. “I will never say no to that.”
I press my mouth against his, and he kisses me back with new confidence.
His hands weave into the back of my hair, holding me to him.
My hips grind against him, my cock screaming for attention.
Zach pulls away and looks down. “Oh. I should maybe—”
Bang, bang, bang. “Hurry up and finish fucking in there. Some of us need to piss.”
I laugh.
So romantic.
“You can make it up to me later.”
“Uh. Yeah. Right. Umm, later.”
I kiss Zach’s forehead and step back, trying to think of something that will deflate my cock.
It’s not possible when I catch Zach’s flushed skin and satisfied smile.
I throw his too-small jock in the wastebasket in the corner of the bathroom and use Zach as a boner shield as we make our exit. Even though I can’t see it, I know his face is burning brighter at the long line of people waiting.
“Sorry not sorry.”
Some of them laugh. Some look pissed. In their defense, they’re probably about to wet themselves.
We head downstairs, and I’m about to suggest to Zach we get the hell out of here earlier than planned, but Cohen cuts us off.
“Thank fuck you’re here.” His eyes are wide, and he looks slightly panicked.
“What’s up?”
“Dumbass freshman players are fighting over some girl.”
“And that’s my problem how?” I want to get laaaaid.
“Oh, I don’t know, Captain. Why don’t we let them beat the shit out of each other, possibly injuring one or both of them and be down two more players for the season opener next week.”
“Fuck,” I hiss and turn to Zach. “I know I promised I wouldn’t leave you—”
“Go. It’s okay. I’ll … uh … get another drink.”
I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
20
Zach
Okay. That actually happened.
Foster had his mouth around my cock.
His mouth.
Around my cock.
I had my first orgasm produced by something other than my hand, and it was better than I’d dared to imagine.
I run my hands through my hair as Foster heads off, and I’m still a little too dizzy from him sucking me dry to even consider following. Now that the dumb jockstrap has been left for someone else to deal with and the beer has set a pleasant hum in my veins, I’m nowhere near as freaked out by the concept of this party as I was.
The concept of returning the blowjob on the other hand … sweet Jesus, why didn’t I think to research oral stimulation?
I’d have liked nothing better than to sink to my knees and pull down his pants like he did to me. To wrap my mouth around his cock, to lick and taste, to see Foster completely lose control.
Later, he’d promised.
But I’m no closer to knowing what to do with a dick once I get it near my mouth.
The basics obviously, but how do you manage to lick and suck simultaneously while trying to take it all and using your hands?
I’m sure Foster has had countless competent blowjobs …
Before the bitterness can take hold, I derail that train of thought.
Foster is easily the hottest guy here, and tonight I’m the one he’s taking home with him.
I move off to the side of the kitchen and lean against a counter, far away from the couple groping each other by the fridge. While I don’t feel comfortable here and I wish Foster hadn’t run off, I’m also determined not to be his shadow. If I’d been here with Seth, we’d have been stuck to each other’s sides, but Foster didn’t think twice before leaving me.
I like it.
Sort of.
I mean, I feel like I might suffocate under the weight of my anxiety at being solo in this kind of setting, but I appreciate that he assumed I could handle it.
There’s a commotion by the door and a very large, possibly very drunk Christopher Jacobs walks in. The sides of his head are shaved, but his hair is so long on top it falls in his eyes.
“Oh, hey.” He drags out his words. “It’s the TA.”
“Zach.”
“Right.” He ambles over to me and grabs a bottle of something clear from behind me. “Where’s my boy?”
“Foster?”
“Yeah, Foster. Figured you two would be glued together tonight.”
“There was a situation with some freshmen.”
“Fucking freshmen.” Christopher pushes a cup into my hand and knocks his own against it. “Cheers!”
“Oh, no, I … shouldn’t accept drinks from strangers. That’s college partying 101.”
He laughs. “Strangers? You’re dating my best friend. He’d murder anyone who hurt you. Including me.”
“We’re not dating.”
“Hanging out. Whatever.” Christopher nudges my cup back toward me. “It’s your standard, run-of-the-mill lethal tequila.”
“That doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.”
“I disagree, Zachy-boy. That’s exactly what tequila does.”
Confidence, eh? Given my finite supply, I figure a little help can’t hurt. I tip the drink back and cringe dramatically as it snakes a path down my throat. I start to cough. “What the … fuck?”