Page 78 of Like a Power Play (Greenrock University: Icebound #1)

Forty

Darcy

" W ell if you're ever desperate for cash, you could always turn your bedroom into a pawnshop," Peyton says, tugging her sleeve over her hand to polish off a layer of dust from one of my trophies. Not to toot my own horn, but there's a lot of them,

Thirty-seven to be exact.

They're scattered around my room like beer cans at a country music festival except instead of polluting the environment and funding bigotry, they pollute my bedroom and fund my ego.

"You know they're just gold- plated , right?" I respond, flicking a brow.

Peyton turns, gesturing to the collection of plaques and trophies. "Yeah, but you have enough to scrape them all into a ring or something."

I laugh, closing the space between us and cupping her face. "What can I say?" I tease, tilting my head to the side. "I'm a winner."

Those full lips part into an amused grin, and she kisses me soft and slow. Tender. Like she's savoring it. And my heart still pounds like it did the very first time.

"So humble," she murmurs against my mouth.

I smile into her, slipping my tongue between the cut of her teeth.

Her fingers knot in my hair, nails skimming my scalp, dragging a shuddered breath from my chest. My fingertips sneak beneath the hem of her shirt, slowly tracing the muscle-carved groove down the center of her abdomen, while my other hand rests at the small of her back, anchoring her to the edge of my desk.

We kiss like we’ve got nothing but time.

Like our tongues are tectonic plates, slipping against one another, sending an earthquake down my legs.

Already desperate, I grip her shirt and tug it over her head, revealing her pale supple chest beneath her black sports bra.

It takes everything in me not to moan at the sight of her.

Not to come just from the thought of pressing my face in between them.

Instead, I slide my thigh between her legs, and press.

“You're getting cocky,” she breathes.

“Gold’ll do that to you," I respond.

A laugh tumbles from her perfect, wet mouth, and I kiss the sound right out of her, pressing her harder against the desk, feeling her perfect tits push against me. My head tips back as she yanks my hair more needily this time, a short whimper escaping me.

"I don't think you realize how badly I want to fuck you," she murmurs against my neck. "How badly I want to hear you scream my name. What I'd give to make that pretty fucking pussy of yours weep for me."

"F—fuck," I moan. Her grip on my hair tightens, moving lower to the nape of my neck. The bite of the pull sends a wet rush between my thighs, and a hot pulse spreads through my body.

"Do you think you can handle that?" she asks lowly. "Me fucking you until you're nothing but a begging, pleading mess?"

It’s been weeks since I got my chest tube out, and besides the scar, you’d never know it was there.

My chest doesn’t hurt when I laugh anymore, or breathe, or move, and even though I’m still set to get surgery next week, the new course of treatment has definitely helped the pain.

I’m on something called certolizumab pegol, which is basically a biologic DMARD.

The only downside is that it’s an injection, and I’m really not a fan of needles.

But if a couple needles a month gets me fucked by Peyton like she means it, I'd sign up for a thousand.

"Yes," I beg. "I can handle it."

She grins devilishly. "Yeah?"

My pulse hammers into overdrive, and I nod like it's the only thing I can do, gasping for air. Still gripping my hair, her free hand travels to the waistband of my pants, finger dipping just barely along the seam, scrubbing goosebumps down my burning body.

"Then go over to my backpack and show me what's inside," she commands.

Letting go of her, rather reluctantly I might add, my breath and heart don’t settle at all as I stroll over to the bed, where her backpack’s sitting. I swallow when my fingers touch the zipper, then glance over my shoulder.

She’s boasting that cocky grin again, and it makes my knees buckle. She grants me an encouraging nod.

I turn back and unzip the bag. Inside is a smaller black velvet pouch.

I don’t need to open it to know what’s inside.

“Take it out,” she says, then strolls over to the pink upholstered bench along the wall. She sits, back arching slightly, perfect tits on display as she leans against it, patting her lap. "Then come here."

“Now who’s cocky,” I say, like her telling me what to do doesn’t turn my spine to string. It’s pathetic. I hate being told what to do. Always have. But when Peyton does it?

Yeah, it wrecks me.

My fingers tug at the dainty black strings, opening the bag. When they reach inside, they feel something silicone, and flexible. Heat pools in my cheeks as I pull it out, suddenly feeling a little shy.

"Remember that gift card Bailey and Harlowe got me?" she asks, still sprawled out like she's on display. God, if she was behind glass, I know I'd stare at her all day, just longing for a touch.

"This is it?"

She nods. I pull out the vibrator, revealing dusty pink silicone, curved like a lopsided “U.” The shorter end has a soft, open mouth, while the longer one is thick and cylindrical.

Picturing Peyton using it on herself is already enough to make the slick river between my thighs flood, but the thought of her using it on me forces my core to tighten, and my clit to throb.

"Undress."

My eyes snap up to meet hers. Those golden gems are glowing, hot and hungry.

She pats her thighs again, raising her eyebrows like she won’t be asking twice.

I move fast. My shirt flies off first, and I toss it carelessly behind me.

When I unclasp my bra and let it fall, I catch the way Peyton’s throat bobs.

By the time I’m completely naked, she’s practically squirming.

It’s kind of funny. She’s trying to act like she’s in charge, but she’s clearly just as desperate as I am.

I approach her, breath ragged, only prying my eyes from her bare, luscious chest to trail down to the button of her jeans. When I reach for it, she shakes her head, holding her hand out palm-up. My pussy tightens, slick and hot as I give her the vibrator. She nods in approval.

"Now turn around," she says.

"What are you—"

"Oh, sweetheart. You have no fucking clue what you're in for, do you?"

I swallow, my breath hitching in my chest.

"Turn around. Let me see that tight, pretty ass of yours," she repeats, softer this time.

I do as I'm told, feeling my pulse pound everywhere in my body, feeling the slick heat in my pussy drip for her. Suddenly, her hand strikes against me, a faint sting spreading on my skin. I suck in a sharp breath, and she does it again.

"God damn, Darcy," she groans, followed by a soft buzzing sound which I recognize as the vibrator.

"I should just sit here for the rest of my life and stare at this pretty little ass of yours.

Smack it." She smacks it again, and I wince in pleasure.

"Bite it." I feel her teeth sink into me, and a soft yelp slips from my quivering breath.

Then her hand clutches my waist, tugging me downward.

I only get a few inches before the tip of the silicone presses against my entrance.

Peyton holds the curve of the toy against her lap, using the leverage to slip the soft, round head between the slick folds of my pussy, lubricating it.

"So fucking wet," she murmurs, a growl as her voice trails away. "You like when I make you dripping wet, don't you? You like being desperate so I'll fuck you nice and hard?"

I nod, a whimper escaping my throat.

"Say it," she commands. "Tell me this whole time, you've wanted me to fuck you so hard you see stars."

"I have," I moan, tilting my head back as the vibrations travel though my skin, radiating in my clit. "I've wanted you to fuck me so…" I pant. "So fucking hard. I want you to make me scream your name while I come all over you."

Peyton seems to like that, on account of the deep, gravelly sound that slips from her lips. I feel her breath on the back of my neck as she glides the vibrator back down to my entrance, pushing me down on it slightly. My pussy tightens around it, the sensation buzzing through me in waves.

"You can take it," she whispers, using her pelvis to thrust it further into me. A pleasured cry slips out of me, and she buries it further inside. "Just like that. Let me fuck this tight, wet, pretty pussy."

"Shit," I cry, sinking my teeth into my lower lip until I feel my ass bounce against Peyton's lap.

"Good fucking girl," she praises. "You take me so well, don't you?"

I nod pathetically, eyes welling with desire.

Beneath me, I feel a shift, and when the mouth of that suction piece makes contact with my swollen, throbbing clit, I jolt. "F-f-f-"

"Cat got your tongue?" she teases, and though I can't see her, I'm willing to bet she's boasting that cocky fucking grin of hers.

"F-f-fuck you," I manage, though the stutter kills the bite.

Peyton just lets out an evil chuckle, one that sends a tingle down my spine. "Oh?" she challenges. Then she thrusts her hips, riding me up the shaft, my thighs crashing back down on her lap. I moan loudly, and she does it again, over and over, as the soft, rimmed suction laps at my needy clit.

"Someone's got to teach you not to run that smart mouth of yours," she coos as she pounds into me mercilessly.

When I let out a guttural cry, my hands slip back, gripping the back of her head for balance.

She covers my mouth with her free hand, thrusting harder.

Faster. "I told you I was going to make this pussy weep, and now look at you. Look at what a fucking mess you are."