“Then get me there,” she dares.
Challenge accepted. I wrap my lips around her clit and suck.
She squirms in delight. “Oh, that’s good. Do that again.”
With my tongue tending to her clit, I bring my index finger into the mix and push it inside her. She’s so wet and so tight and I am so close to erupting in her mouth. It takes all the willpower in the world to hold off.
“Come on, babe,” I whisper. “Don’t make me come alone.”
She moans quietly and rocks her hips.
“That’s it,” I coax.
Her lips tighten around the head of my cock. She mumbles something against it, I think signaling her orgasm, because suddenly I feel her inner muscles contracting around my finger, her clit throbbing beneath my tongue.
I explode without warning, but my mouth is occupied and I hope she doesn’t get pissed that I don’t ask for permission. The orgasm surges to the surface and fills her mouth. The pleasure’s so intense I almost black out.
I feel moisture pool on my abs. Brenna sits up and says, “Sorry, Jakey, I don’t swallow. Let me get a tissue.”
And now I’m sputtering with laughter because only this girl could do what she just did to my body and then crack me up.
She grabs a wad of tissues from the box on the nightstand and cleans me up. “That was fun,” she informs me.
I fully agree. “Give me like ten minutes and then we can do it all over again—”
“Brenna?”
We both freeze.
“Who are you talking to?” a brusque voice demands. “Who’s in there?”
“Nobody,” she calls, cautioning me with her eyes to keep quiet.
Right, like I was about to open my mouth. That’s Chad Jensen on the other side of the door. He’d probably skin me alive if he found me in here.
“I heard his voice, Brenna, and don’t tell me it was the TV because there’s no TV in there.”
“I’m watching something on my laptop,” she lies.
“Bullshit. I know when you’re lying. How about you introduce me to your friend?”
I don’t miss the flare of panic on her face. “No, Dad, how about I don’t.”
There’s a tense pause. “Can we have a word, please?”
Brenna’s jaw is locked shut. It looks like she’s grinding her teeth as she tries to unhinge it. “One second,” she tells the door. Then she’s hurriedly putting on her pants, while gesturing for me to do the same. “I’ll be right back,” she mouths.
Maybe coming here was a bad idea, after all. As Brenna steps out into the hall, I pull up my boxers and cargo pants, tug the zipper closed, and say a prayer that I’m not about to get murdered.
Brenna’s voice is muffled, but her father’s isn’t. Coach Jensen is a commanding, terrifying figure. And yet I still find myself creeping toward the door.
“…talked about this.” Brenna sounds annoyed.
“You can’t lock your door with some stranger in there. If you’re going to have guests over, then you should be prepared to introduce them to your father.”
“You’re being ridiculous. I’m not introducing you to every single person in my life. It’s just a friend.”
“Then there’s no reason for you to hide him, is there?”
“Dad, please drop it, okay?”
“I’m not going through this with you again.” Coach Jensen is clearly starting to get upset. Not angry, but genuinely upset. Which triggers my uneasiness. “I can’t deal with all the secrets and sneaking around again. You know what happened the last time we weren’t upfront with each other.”
“There’s nothing to be upfront about,” she replies in frustration. “It’s just some guy.”
I flinch. Just some guy?
I mean, she’s right. It isn’t like we’ve been dating for years. I don’t have an engagement ring in my pocket. And I understand why she can’t tell her father that she’s hooking up with the hockey player who’s going to demolish his team next week. But I’m more than just some guy.
Aren’t I?
It’s not an easy pill for Coach Jensen to swallow, either. “So it’s some casual Craigslist thing?” he roars.
“Dad! Ew! First of all, nobody my age uses Craigslist! It’s a breeding ground for pedophiles and deviants.”
I choke down a burst of laughter.
“And second of all, my personal life is none of your business.”
“When you live in my house, it becomes my business.”
It’s starting to get intense, so I edge away from the door.
“Please, Dad. Just…go to sleep,” she says wearily. “My friend is leaving, anyway. I have to finish writing my article for tomorrow.”
“Fine.” Her father doesn’t sound at all appeased. “Tell your friend to use the front door this time. I don’t want him breaking that drainpipe out there, or the lattice, or whatever the hell he used to get up here.”
Busted.
Heavy footsteps thud in the hallway, while softer ones approach the door. When Brenna reappears, the flush has left her cheeks. Her eyes are devoid of desire. Of any emotion, actually. “You need to go.”