Spiked

“I’m going to come in you,” he responded almost immediately.

“That’s what I’m for,” I murmured back, and that did it— he came in me, long and hard and powerful, hugging me so tight to his body that I had to squirm to breathe. His heart pounded through his chest, against my back, and he gradually, limb by limb, relaxed. It was another few minutes before he rolled onto his back, pulling his cock out of me as he went.

“You’re very good at THAT, Sasha.”

“At what?”

“At making me come.”

I tried to scowl, though I felt sleepy and wobbly, even lying down. “I sincerely doubt I’m the only girl you’ve come with.”

“I’ve come with plenty of girls— but you MAKE me come. Everything about you does it. I hardly have a choice.”

I smiled at him. “Well. I could say the same about you.”

“See? That was worth missing class for, right?”

I sat up so fast that I actually saw stars. “Oh my god— I’m late!” It was nearly eight thirty— I’d barely make it to the last ten minutes, and that was if I left this instant.

“You’re not late, you’re absent. Is this your fifth one?” he asked. The school had a five absence policy— on the sixth, you were dropped from the course.

“It’s my first,” I said mournfully.

“Oh, well then, whatever. You’ve got four more.”

“I don’t miss class! Ugh. I can’t believe this.”

“Wow,” Jacob said, studying me. “You’re really freaking out.”

“Seriously— I don’t miss class. The only time I ever even missed a class in high school was when I got bronchitis and the flu at the same time,” I said.

“Well, like I said. This was a pretty good reason, right?” Jacob said, laughing a little. When I gave him a dark look, he stopped. “Ok, I promise— I won’t make you miss class again.”

“It’s my own fault. I got excited.”

A smile twitched at the corners of Jacob’s mouth, but he didn’t release it. “Well, I won’t encourage you to miss class again. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so dedicated to school.”

“Paying for it yourself with tips and minimum wage will do it to you,” I answered. “Plus I want to be able to tell future employers how seldom I’m absent.”

“Definitely not something I’ll be able to do,” Jacob said.

I tilted my head to the side, realizing something. “I’ve never ever heard you MENTION class. Just that you’re majoring in accounting. When are your classes, even? How many are you taking?”

“I take a twelve hour load to stay a full time student. Most of them are in the morning. One’s in a half hour.”

“And you’re not…going?”

“I’m not showing up to class after that North Carolina fiasco. I’m going to lay low for a while. Besides, we all have tutors so we can miss.”

“That’s insane. You’re in college. The point is to get an education.”

Jacob gave me a pitying look, like he couldn’t believe I thought such a thing was true. “The point of college, for me, is to get drafted into the NFL.”

I blinked at him. I knew pro football was Jacob’s ultimate career goal, but to treat college like nothing more than an elongated audition?

“That’s crazy,” I said, shaking my head. “Besides, why not take class seriously, so just in case the NFL doesn’t work out, you’ve got a career? Isn’t it worth at least ensuring you’ve got a backup plan?”

“Do you have one?” Jacob asked.

“Of course! I’m majoring in business, and I’m going to try to pick up the anthropology minor AND do at least one internship so at the very least, I’ve got a resume—“

“Not for that. College was your big dream, right? So do you have a backup plan for if you get thrown out? Did you have one for if you didn’t get in or couldn’t pay tuition?” he asked.

I felt my brow furrow. “That’s different. I knew I could work to pay tuition— it wasn’t up for chance like an NFL draft is.”

“Of course it was. Everything is up for chance. If you’d gotten hit by a car driving to work, you think you’d have been able to bounce back and enroll? No way. Look, I’m just saying: Backup plans are fine and good, but you and I have more in common than you think. We’re both all-in for our goals. We just have very different goals.”

“But Jacob, the NFL is a big deal. And now with this injury—“

Jacob looked away, jaw tight, and I stopped speaking. He already knew what I was thinking, clearly: That his injury might mean the years of training, of work, of abandoning all other goals, might all be for nothing.

“I’m still gunning for the NFL until the day they refuse me,” Jacob said firmly. “And if they do, on that day I guess I’ll be forced to come up with a backup plan.”