Page 25

25

SCARLETT

C racking my neck that’s stiff with frustration, I curse the existence of calculus.

I don’t care that we need it for, like, planes and computers or whatever. The discipline clearly takes delight in torturing me, so I’ll go ahead and content myself with a technology-bereft world if I could wish it off the face of the Earth.

I may need to call on Lane for another study session. The guys just got back from the gym, and I can tell from his voice that he’s ascending the steps.

I hear him walk into his room—and then I hear him let out a long, low, raspy groan while he plops himself onto his bed so hard that the springs creak.

Those two sounds—the growly rumble pulled from his throat and the metallic squeak of his bedsprings—meld in the air in a way that has a sudden, unexpected chemical reaction rushing through me, like a bomb just detonated inside my body.

The combination makes a memory flash to life far too vividly for me to suppress.

A balmy morning in Chicago. My room at Demi’s place. Sex with Lane on top of the covers, with the window open and a light breeze caressing the sweat on our bodies. The mattress squeaking and Lane groaning into my ear, just like I heard from next door.

How I came so hard I almost blacked out.

Suddenly I’m hyper-aware of the slick warmth gathered between my legs. The tight ache in my center, so sharp that the muscles low on my stomach are quivering.

Sheer needs shoots through my body. I roll my thighs together, sending a jolt of arousal sizzling up and down my spine. My nipples go taut under my shirt, and when I glance down I see the indentation of their sharp peaks pressing against the fabric.

I was already wound so tight with frustration over my math homework, that the added tension of the sudden desire that’s wracking my body has me feeling knotted up from head to toe.

I get up from my chair and walk over to my door, closing it quietly and turning the latch under my doorknob to lock it.

Just as I slide under my blankets, I hear another raw groan through the wall between my and Lane’s rooms. The muscles at the height of my thighs pull.

My left hand pushes up underneath my shirt to draw a circle around my firm nipple while my right hand sinks under my shorts.

I’m surprised by just how wet I am when I drag my finger up the length of my slit, letting pinpricks of pleasure dance over me as I strain my ears, hoping to hear another moan from Lane through the wall that separates our rooms.

My pulse thumps in my neck when I do, my ears catching the vibrations of a hoarse groan. He must be trying to find a comfortable position on his mattress, because his bedsprings creak again.

I circle my finger around my clit. My breath hitches at the burst of pleasure behind my sternum. I can’t remember the last time I made myself feel so good with my own hand. My body is thrumming, nerve endings lit up and hyper-sensitive.

If just touching myself with Lane on my mind feels this good, how good would it feel if Lane were the one doing this to me?

How good would it feel to have his rough, powerful hands raking over my soft, sensitive skin again? Feeling him work me with his finger, filling me with his big, strong digit and making me squirm with bliss before taking it out and replacing it with his cock?

I wish he were over me right now, the jagged ridges of his physique pressing against my tits and my belly. I wish I could press my face into his skin as I lose myself in ecstasy, and press my teeth into the knotted muscle of his shoulder as I come.

That fantasy sends fire roaring through my blood, and soon my back is arching as I stroke myself toward release.

A throbbing ball of pleasure expands inside me until it fills my entire core. I feel like I’m about to burst with sensation. Only my teeth clamped over my bottom lip are keeping me from crying out; and even still, if someone in the hallway put their ear right at the space between my door and the doorjamb, I’m sure I’m breathing loud and ragged enough for them to hear.

With one more slant of my finger over the nub of my clit, I careen off the edge. My orgasm roars to life inside me. Every muscle in my body pulls taut as shockwaves of pleasure coil through me with enough intensity to turn the backs of my eyelids into eruptions of color and light.

I’m a mass of quivering jelly when I come down from it. My limbs are heavy and useless. All the tension in my body has been replaced with pure relief.

My head lolls to the side on my pillow, toward the wall that Lane’s on the other side of.

I lost myself for a minute there. Did I get so loud that he heard me?

If I did, did it do anything to him? Did he have to slide his hand below his waist and grip his cock just to maintain his sanity? Did he feel a tug of temptation to walk the two steps to my room and knock on my door to offer his assistance?

Or is he totally oblivious, his phone in his hands, maybe even texting another girl?

A taste like curdled milk seeps into my mouth.

Luckily, I’m so sated and exhausted that I can’t dwell on it. Soon enough, my head is empty of thoughts as I say fuck it to my homework and slip into a nap.