Page 87 of Palm South University: Season 3

AFTER CASSIE, SKYLER,and Clinton leave, I’m basically alone with Jess and her date.

Erin is here, too, but she’s pre-occupied, running around taking care of girls who are too drunk and getting in those last few good impressions before we vote for president. I know she’s going to get it — hell, we all do — but it doesn’t stop her from taking on the role of KKB Mom tonight.

And then there’s me.

Feeling amazing in a beige fit and flare dress that hugs my neck and dips down low in the back, with just a few strings tying it together, and rolling completely stag.

It wouldn’t be so bad if my mind wasn’t focused on the absolute last person it should be — the one person I can’t have. I survived my internship, I only have two finals left and both of them should be easy as pie, I’m healthy and happier than I’ve been in a long time. By all accounts, I should be ecstatic tonight, but I can’t stop thinking about Brandon.

“I think we’re going to head out,” Jess says, her hand around Greg’s as they come back to the table from where they’d been dancing.

I frown, searching Jess’ eyes for a sign of the breakdown I know is coming. She loved Jarrett, and she may be trying to put on the tough bitch act, but I see right through it. “Okay. Are you guys going to be alright?”

Jess smiles, but it’s weak. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. See you later at the house?”

I nod, eyes softening. Jess just shrugs when Greg turns, heading toward where the first bus is loading up to leave.

I love you, I mouth to her, and she smiles, offering a half-wave before following Greg.

For a moment I just sit at the table by myself, sipping on my fruity cocktail and watching everyone on the dance floor. I could leave on the first bus, too, I suppose, but what would I be leaving for? Erin is still here, which means I’d be going home from my Semi-formalearlyjust to sit alone in my room.

And then it hits me.

“Why can’t I be with him?”

I actually say the words out loud before I clamp my hand over my mouth, smiling under it at my ridiculousness, but my mind keeps rolling the thought over and over. My internship is over, he’s not my boss anymore. Whycouldn’twe have a thing, even if just a casual hookup thing, now that I’m no longer his employee?

Checking the time on my phone, I jump up, motioning to Erin that I’m heading out before bolting for the doors. I bypass the bus and jump into the first taxi cab waiting, giving the address of the office to the driver as I adjust my makeup in my small compact mirror.

Mykayla said he’s working late all weekend long, so I take the chance, saying a silent prayer that he’s still there while my stomach somersaults with every passing mile.

I don’t have keys to let me into the building anymore, but luckily the night guard recognizes me and lets me in, walking me to the elevator in casual conversation. When the doors finally shut and I’m on my way up to the thirty-second floor, I feel so nauseous I actually press a hand to my stomach, trying to soothe it along with my nerves.

Please, be here. Please, be here.

When the elevator dings and the doors open, I shoot out of them, turning right immediately and jetting down the hall toward his office. His light is the only one on, and when I drop my clutch on a desk as I pass, he leans back in his chair, peering down the hallway with knitted eyebrows.

Then his eyes go wide.

It’s like the hallway is my runway, my heels carrying me down it like a force of nature — a hurricane heading straight for him. And just as fast as the surprise flits across his face, it’s gone again, and he’s standing, rounding his desk to meet me at the door with a hunger in his eyes so dark I shiver. He’s in the doorway just a split second before I am and then I’m in his arms, mine wrapped around his neck, our mouths crashing together like the first bolt of lightning.

It’s like the universe around us bubbles out before zapping back into focus, pulling both of us into its gravity with a sizzling snap of energy. I can’t calm my breaths, panting louder and louder as Brandon’s lips move from mine down my neck, over my exposed shoulder, his hands frantic as he tries to untie my dress in the back.

“I can’t figure this thing out,” he pants, kissing me again.

“Leave it on.”

Dropping to my knees, I rip at his belt and the buttons on his slacks until they’re loose, pulling his pants and boxer briefs down his legs in one swift motion. He doesn’t even have time to kick out of them before my hands are wrapped around his hard length, pulling him to my lips.

Brandon groans as I swirl my tongue over his crown, flicking at the sensitive skin under it before dragging my tongue all the way down to his base with my eyes locked on his. He drops his head back with another moan, hips flexing into my hands. I’m high off the power he gives me, the power to make him lose control, the power to bring him to ecstasy with just my hands, my mouth, my body. It’s addicting, and I don’t want to let it go.

Moving my hands from his shaft to his ass, I pull him in deep, guiding his hands into my hair to take control. He’s careful not to hurt me, working his hips slowly and pulling at my hair as I open my throat for him. When he hits the back and I gag, he curses, ripping me up from the floor and spinning me around until my palms are flat on his desk.

Chills race up my thighs as I wait, lips already swollen and heart galloping full speed. Just being in his proximity lights my skin on fire, the anticipation of him touching me almost as pleasurable as the actual act of it.

There’s a faint rip of a condom wrapper behind me and then his feet hit the inside of my ankles, making me spread my legs wider. One hand comes down on my back, pushing me flat to the desk, and then that same hand drags slowly down my back to the skirt of my dress, flipping it up and over.

Brandon groans with appreciation, running his palm over the apple of my ass before smacking it with a force that has me biting my lip and stifling my own moan. He smacks it again and I gasp, arching off the desk until my back is pressed against his chest. With his lips tracing my neck, he slides one hand under my skirt, moving my lacy thong to the side enough to run a single finger along my wet slit.