Dirty Curve

The hand on my chest twitches, her pupils growing larger, stirring me deep to my core.

I’m fucking aching.

For her.

For this.

For us.

She takes a small step forward, but I dart my hand out, catching her by the bicep, and hold her right where she stands.

She gasps and a low rumble works its way up my chest.

“Come any closer, baby, and you’ll feel the proof of what you do to me.”

Her throat bobs, creases forming along her brow, and I admit, it stings when her feet shuffle back, away from me.

I drop my chin. The thought of facing her rejection way too fucking much, but then her little hand glides down.

My pulse jumps behind my ribs, hard and fast and instant as my eyes slice up to hers.

I walk her backward, through our joining doors and don’t stop until her shoulders meet the wall in my room. When she swallows, I slip my foot between hers, moving in until her chest is brushing mine.

I’m rock hard for you.

Her thighs clench, and a low groan slips from me, my muscles flexing as her little hand dares farther south.

I hiss when it passes my abs, slipping beneath my shirt to meet the edge of my briefs.

Her head falls to my pecs, and her hand begins to tremble in need.

“I want you,” I tell her and swear to God, she whimpers. “I know you can sense it, feel it.” I lean forward, brushing her loose strands of hair from her face with the tip of my nose, my lips grazing along her ear. “I bet you’ve known it now for weeks, but I’ve ached for even longer.”

She shivers, and my dick twitches again.

“Don’t be afraid, Tutor Girl,” I rasp, lightly grinding against her.

Instantly, Meyer’s head falls back to meet the wall, her eyes hooded and eager. I run my thumb along the plumpness beneath her bottom lip, dying to bite on it the way I’ve watched her do so many times.

“Take from me, Tutor Girl, swear to God anything you could possibly want, I want more.”

Her fingers curl over the elastic of my boxers, and she gives a gentle tug, her heated breath fanning over my neck and driving me mad. “I have a call and you ... you have to go ...”

A deep rumble rises from my chest as her fingertips curve, digging into my pecs as she fists my shirt. She tried to reason with herself, but it’s no use. Her need is taking over.

You’re so close, baby ... come on...

“You made me a promise, Tutor Girl, and I know you want to keep it right now,” I whisper, allowing my hand to fall to her hips. I grip her there, squeezing and she inhales sharply. “Take.”

Her eyes close, her chin lifting, but then my phone begins to ring, and it’s a tone reserved for one person.

“Fuck.” I pant, blindly pulling my phone from my pocket.

.

“Son,” Coach Reid’s voice fills the air.

Instantly, Meyer’s eyes snap open, and she turns to stone in front of me.

I jolt with silent laughter, bringing my finger to my lips, but she’s already torn herself from me, and I spin, my phone to my ear as I watch her disappear into her room.

“Here, Coach.” I clear my throat, adjusting my junk in my jeans and quickly move to toss my travel bag onto my bed.

I tear my slides from the side pocket, shoving them into my game bag and make sure my eye black stick was put back where it goes after the last game.

“I don’t want you warming up until thirty minutes to game time today. I already went over this with the rest of the staff, but to cover all the bases, I’m telling you, too.”

“Heard, Coach.”

“We’re stepping out of the airport now. See you in a few.”

I hang up, a low laugh following.

Thank fuck he didn’t ask to talk to anyone. Not that he’d announce if he became aware I wasn’t on the bus anyway. If he did that, he would have to acknowledge the rule that says athletes must travel to away games together. That would end with my ass on the bench and that’s just not a fucking option.

I need to get there before the bus to play it safe.

But first, I need five minutes with the brunette next door.

Smiling, I slip inside her room, but I find her sitting on the bed, her laptop open, a dude appearing on the screen a moment later.

My frown builds.

“Hey,” I call.

“Okay, Matt, let’s start with physics. Do you have your worksheet?” she asks.

The dude lifts what she’s asked, so I slowly back away.

In the rental, I send her a quick text, and then head to the field.

The smirk on my face doesn’t leave, and for the first time in maybe ever, I’m more excited for the end of a game than I am the start of it.