Page 57 of Like a Power Play (Greenrock University: Icebound #1)
“You like that?” she asks tauntingly, her thigh slipping against the raw ache between my legs. My body jolts as she moves it, another hitched breath tumbling out of me.
“God yes.”
The words slip out on their own, but I don’t regret it.
Because the moment it leaves my mouth, Darcy begins rocking and grinding against me, and the more she moves, the more I need her.
I let myself collapse onto her, catching my weight on my forearms. Our chests glide against each other as we move.
Her pussy is wet and warm against my thigh, and when I press it harder, pushing against her clit, she curses again.
“Shit, Peyton,” she moans, her fingers tightening in my hair. My head gives way to the pull, tilting back as we grind. I start to move faster, and when I do, her hips lift slightly off the mattress, back arching.
A low groan hums in my throat, vibrating against her ear as I rock and press and buck against her.
“You feel so good,” I rasp, my movements becoming more urgent. The heat between us is intoxicating, and I can feel her clenching around my thigh. “So fucking good.”
She throws her head back, a strangled cry escaping her. “Peyton… Oh, shit, Peyton… Fuck …”
Her words are a ragged whisper, lost in the rhythm of us. I press harder, focusing on the small, sensitive nub against my thigh. And the best part is that every time her clit rubs against me, mine receives the same pressure. Darcy’s moans grow louder, more desperate and her nails dig into my back.
Short, sharp gasps slip out of me as my vision tunnels. I can feel the tension in my stomach, coiling tighter and tighter, but I don’t stop. Not with her, gripping me like a lifeline, begging for the pressure in her body to release.
“Almost—I’m almost—” she pants, her body trembling beneath mine.
And then, with a final, shuddering cry, she arches off the bed, her muscles clenching around my thigh in a series of powerful spasms. The wetness against my legs becomes slicker, the heat radiating between us hotter. And when she lets out a final, pleasured sound, my body absorbs it.
I hold her tight, burying my face in her neck as the last tremors wrack her body. My own release follows quickly, the tight coil in my stomach unraveling. I collapse against her, our bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in unison.
“Fuck,” I pant. I lift my head, my gaze meeting hers. Her eyes are glazed, her cheeks flushed, and a soft smile tugs at her lips. She looks utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.
“Yeah,” she agrees, brows drawn tight as her chest still heaves.
We lay there for a moment, just catching our breaths, bare bodies pressed together.
And when our eyes meet again, this time, laughs slip out of the two of us.
I slide off her, letting my wet back fall against the mattress, running a hand through my damp hair.
I blow a slow, steady stream of air through my lips.
“We should’ve been doing that this whole time,” I say, flitting a finger between us. Darcy laughs, then tilts her cheek against the mattress to look at me.
“I don’t know about that,” she says, grinning cheekily. I raise a brow, dragging a hand up her thigh. Slowly. Intently.
“Oh?” I tease, flirting with the dip in her hip. “So you’re saying you didn’t enjoy yourself?” Her back arches just before she smacks my hand away.
“Okay, okay,” she surrenders, pulling the pillow out from under her head. She lays it on top of her body, wrapping her arms around it like a koala to shield herself. “It was unregrettable.”
I stare at her earnestly. “Unregrettable?”
She hitches a shoulder. “Yeah.”
“Is that even a word?”
"Shut up." She rolls her eyes.
“So what does that mean, then?” I ask. “This being ‘unregrettable’.”
Something flares in my chest before I can stop it.
That annoying little spark of hope, showing up uninvited.
I shouldn’t let it stay. Darcy’s made it clear.
She’s not looking for anything real. Not with me.
Probably not with anyone. And I thought I was clear too, but ever since I met her, everything has become blurry.
And that doesn’t stop the part of me that wants her to say something. Something that sounds like “maybe,” like “not yet”, like “almost”. Something that would make it okay for this to mean more to me.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, then goes quiet. Her eyes catch mine, and something in them softens. “Look, I don’t—I can’t do anything serious,” she says.
My throat goes dry. But I just nod, like it’s nothing.
“Yeah, I know,” I say. And damn, I should’ve majored in theater, because it rolls off my tongue, so smooth, so sure, like I wasn’t just out here wishing on some goddamn star that Darcy Cole might change her mind for me, might be feeling what I’ve been feeling too. I almost believe it myself.
“I wasn’t suggesting that. I mean, I can’t either. I don’t have time.”
It’s almost the truth, but it feels so far from it. Because if I had the choice, I’d spend all my time with Darcy. And yet, that’s part of the problem.
Her head bobs, but something flickers in her eyes when I say it. For a second, I almost mistake it for disappointment. Almost. But I pull myself back.
“Yeah, no, I knew that,” she says, turning her head away. She stares up at the ceiling.
I stare at her.
We sit there silently for a bit, as we always do. I usually enjoy the silences. These little stretches of nothing but breaths and heartbeats. But this one isn't as magnetizing as the ones before. It's not pulling us closer. And all I want to do is break it. To tell her the truth.
I know if I do, she’ll just pull away. So I hold my breath and stare at the ceiling too.
“Are you staying in Seattle for winter break?” she asks after a minute. I shake my head against the sheets.
“Nah, I’m going back to the valley,” I answer.
“Oh.” In my peripheral, I see her tilt her head to look at me again. My heart pounds against my ribcage, and I swallow before turning to look at her too. Our noses touch.
“I should go,” I whisper.
I watch the lump in her throat bounce as she swallows. “Yeah.”
But I don’t. Instead, I lay there until Darcy drifts to sleep, and I sneak out of the room just past midnight, wishing I had a reason to stay longer.