Page 12 of Palm South University: Season 3

“Wait,” I whisper, pressing my hands into his chest to give us a little space.

Grayson drops his forehead to mine, our breaths mixing in a sweet scent between us as he does exactly what I asked. I don’t know what to say now, or what to do — only that I’m not ready for what he’s ready for. The one and only guy I’ve ever had sex with betrayed me, and I still don’t know how to let that go.

“It’s okay,” he whispers back after a moment, running his thumb along my jawline before cupping my chin up toward him. “We can take it slow. I just want to make you feel good.”

The way he says the words, the way his eyes glow like a rare turquoise in the soft lighting of his bedroom, the way a single strand of his hair hangs down over his forehead — it’s too much. Chills race from where his thumb grazes my skin all the way to my toes, and he notices, smirking at the reaction I can’t help but have to him.

“I want to make you feel good, too.”

“You do,” he answers quickly. “Every time we’re together I feel good, Cassie. And I can wait. Right now, tonight, I want to show you how much it meant to me that you came to my show tonight.”

I smile, leaning up to press my lips to his. Grayson kisses me softly at first, but then one hand trails down my ribs, my hip, down to where my dress is bunched, and when one of his fingers grazes the hem of my panties, I gasp into his mouth.

He kisses me harder, tongue sweeping into my mouth as that same finger slips under the cotton fabric, running the slick line of me.

“Fuck,” he groans, dipping the finger between my lips. “I love this, I love how wet I make you.”

And with that, he pushes not one, but two fingers, all the way inside.

I arch my back, hands flying from where I was grasping his neck to grip the covers instead. Just his fingers alone stretch me, and thoughts of what it would feel like if it was actually him inside me spark another wave of chills.

Grayson works his fingers as he kisses down my neck, biting at the small swell of my breast before nestling between my legs. He pulls his fingers out long enough to strip my panties off and brace my thighs on his shoulders, and then he looks up at me with a wicked grin, and disappears beneath the fabric of my dress.

His hot breath is all I feel at first, and then the rough pad of his tongue as he runs it from my opening to my clit. He sucks when he reaches it, and I arch up off the bed, moaning loud, reaching for a pillow to mute the noise. I pull one over my mouth but Grayson reaches up and throws it across the room.

“I want to hear you when I make you come.”

“Oh, God,” is all I manage before his tongue is on me again, this time aided by the help of his fingers. He slides two of them deep inside me again, working them in a rhythm, his tongue drawing circles and teeth biting with just the right tender pressure to make me squirm beneath the touch.

I lean up on my elbows and look down at him, his auburn hair between my pale white thighs, his hungry eyes gazing back up at me as he brings me closer to ecstasy with his mouth. It’s too much to watch him, so I fall back again, this time reaching down to pull his hair and guide him to the sweet spot.

The first and last guy to go down on me was Clay, and he was a drunken mess after the Halloween party at Ralph’s. I’d faked an orgasm just to get it to end, but I know I won’t have to fake it with Grayson. Not with his tongue moving like that, or his hands touching me like that, or his moans vibrating through me to my very core.

When my breathing is scarce, hands twisted in the sheets, Grayson pushes his fingers in even deeper and wiggles them quickly, hitting my G-spot in rapid fire as his tongue flicks my clit in sync. And that’s the magic combination.

I feel myself pulse around his fingers as the moans leave my lips, his name riding them like waves as they crash into the four walls around us. I can’t see, can’t feel —everything is like a numb, icy, burning fire. He wanted to hear me, and I’m pretty sure his roommates are hearing me, too, but I don’t care — I want him to know exactly what he’s doing to me.

He slows his movements as my breaths even out, kissing my clit softly before climbing up my body to kiss my mouth, instead. I taste myself on him and moan, arching into him.

“Remind me to never miss a show of yours,” I pant into his lips. “Ever.”

He laughs, and then we kiss and talk until my eyelids are too heavy to hold. And when I fall asleep on his chest, his arms wrapped around me tight, I know I’m the luckiest girl at Palm South University.