Page 26

Chapter Two

Swayze

A sweaty sheen coats my skin as the muscles in my calves burn. Gauging by how Cole’s muscles are tensing and straining beneath me, he’s about to lose it. Thomas’s dick must have won the coin flip because it’s now out, being choked. The phone is still aimed at us, with no effort spent concealing it.

“Are you ready for your soul to leave your body, Big Man?” I slowly slide my knees farther apart until I’m fully impaled by his length. This isn’t entirely not fun.

Cole clenches his jaw, running a palm up my abdomen while the other grips my thigh. That sensual touch does more for me than having his whole dick inside me. It ignites a feeling in me, but I smother the sensation, shoving it into a box. Feeling can’t happen. I can’t catch that shit, or I’ll be done for. Every layer of my hardened exterior has cost me blood, sweat, and tears. I worked hard to build that bitch, and if I let one fissure of emotion exist, everything I worked for will crack, and I’ll lose it. Especially when it concerns the man beneath me.

My fellow cheerleader, Stacy, will never retract her claws from Cole Vanderbilt. Besides, with high school coming to an end, does he have the capacity to be more than a football star? Probably not .

His hand reaches my tit, squeezing it hard. The added bit of pain helps kill all feelings, pushing me out of my head. Placing my hand over his, I squeeze, making his grip tighter before arching back and grabbing my calf with the other. I roll my hips, making him hit my G-spot. I’ll get off in no time like this.

Hoping Cole keeps his vice grip on my tit, I release my hold to brace myself on my other calf. I roll in time with the bass of the music that’s pounding on the outside of my closed bedroom door. Cole’s abs constrict as his eyes roll back. Tension builds within me, and I must remember to be quick with my next move. Luckily, Cole’s still concentrating on the apex of my thighs, so he doesn’t notice as I drag my hand up the inside of his leg, my fingers brushing his taut sac that’s struggling not to blow.

Almost.

Gyrating my hips, my pussy flutters, clenching around him as he pushes harder into that spot. Closer. My fingers rest against his gooch—almost there.

A bang sounds as my bedroom door flies open, revealing the outline of a man. But I pay it no mind as we hit our inevitable climaxes together. There’s no stopping me now as I sink my fingers past his tight ring of muscle. Cole clinches around me this time, and the room explodes with groans, grunts, and heavy breathing. Even Thomas blows his load. His snotty sludge is a stark contrast to the dark, dingy carpet that’s a mix of brown, beige, and maroon. But who the fuck cares? It’s not the worst thing on there. The main thing I care about is if Thomas got the money shot of my digits in the star captain’s ass and his neck straining while having the best orgasm of his short life. That’s something Stacy will never be able to claim. It’s mine, and she’ll never take it from me.

I catch movement in my peripheral, reminding me of the man standing in my doorway. Hell, if I’d known I would have this large of an audience, I would’ve charged admission. It’s not one of my drunk classmates mistaking my door for the bathrooms. This is a man. There’s no mistaking his formidable figure and close-cut black hair peppered with gray. His matching five o’clock shadow tells me he’s definitely not a high schooler. I’m not sure who invited him, but I’m prepared to kick Cole out and fuck this stranger senseless. I’d enjoy every second of it, rather than being limited to these last few minutes with Cole. This man’s body is built like a temple, and I’m about to sin so I can get him alone in a confessional. His arm muscles bulge, the ripped-up black tank doing little to hide his massive pecs. I wonder what else is…huge ?

My core is still fluttering around Cole’s chub, my orgasm prolonged under the heavy gaze of this man. I sit up on my knees, pushing my coarse hair from my face and straightening my shoulders, when his face distorts from curiosity and awe into something like revulsion. The grooves around his eyes deepen, and his jaw ticks. He’s a glowering hunk of sex appeal. Crossing his arms over his chest only serves to make his muscles appear even more defined. Fuck, I want to taste the tattoos that lick up his arms.

When I’m about to open my mouth to kick these little boys out, the man speaks.

“Zair-Bear. What. In. The. Fuck. Is going on here?”