The Junior (College Years 3)

Without warning, I spread my legs and pull her down in between them. The chair I’m sitting in is wide enough, so she’s a perfect fit. She glances up at me, sending me a questioning look and I just stare back, unsure of what to say. I want her close. As close as I can get her while we still have clothes on.

I’m hoping later tonight will end in more fireworks with no clothes on, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself either.

“You still have the stars on your head,” she murmurs, though she’s not looking at me. Her face is angled upward, watching the show.

“They turning you on?” I ask, sounding extra hopeful.

She laughs, which is the reaction I was hoping for. “Maybe.”

“I knew you were into some kinky shit, G.” I dip my head, nuzzling the side of her face. “Want me to wear them later tonight when we’re naked?”

“No,” she says firmly.

“Aw, why not?”

“Because we’re not getting naked tonight,” she says, again very firmly.

Too firmly.

The disappointment is real, but I banish it. “I thought that was the plan.”

“We shouldn’t rush things.”

Now I’m just frustrated. “Why not?”

“I’m not out for a quick bang,” she says. “Is that what you want?”

Hell to the fucking yes. I’m dying for a quick bang. And a long, slow one too. Whatever kind of bang it is, I want to bang Gracie.

“You know what I want,” I say instead, tightening my arms around her, just as three fireworks fill up the sky. Red, white and blue –in that order, too.

“No, Caleb, and that’s my problem. I have no idea what you want,” she says, her voice the slightest bit shaky.

Huh. This is not very Gracie-like behavior at all. She’s always so confident, so sure of herself and what she wants. Am I making her feel unsure?

That’s not cool. That’s the last thing I want this beautiful, bright woman to feel.

I touch her face and she leans to the right, away from my hand before glancing up at me, her gaze meeting mine. I can’t tell what color her eyes are at this moment, but she looks pretty. She always looks pretty.

“I want you,” I tell her with all the sincerity I can muster. Not that it’s difficult. I’m telling the truth. I want her. I want to get closer, as close as I can get. I want to know what she likes, what makes her respond, what makes her come. I want to know all of it.

Every little thing.

“If this is just a line, I’m going to kill you,” she says, her voice full on edgy. Like she could kill me with her bare hands if I make the wrong move, say the wrong thing.

I can’t help but chuckle. “I’m full of lines, G. You know this, yet here you are.”

She reaches for me, her fingers wrapping around my nape and tugging my head down, until our mouths are perfectly aligned. “Please stop talking. You’re ruining everything.”

I part my lips, ready to say something stupid, but she kisses me before I can get the words out. Probably the best move. She’s right. I would’ve ruined it all, or we could’ve started arguing.

Instead, I’m kissing her. Soft, teasing kisses, with no tongue. Not yet. I’m trying to warm her up, get her in the mood, savoring her taste. In the privacy of the office, with all sorts of

people surrounding us on the dock, it’s easy for me to take my time and learn what makes her whimper.

What makes her moan.

Her fingers tighten in my hair when I take the kiss deeper, my tongue flickering against hers once. Twice. Before I retreat. My neck is starting to ache and my dick is starting to harden, but I ignore everything else to concentrate on this kiss.