Page 63 of Noxious Boys (Groveton College)

I flip the covers off of her, only one foot still hidden by the sheets, and stare at the rest of her. The long, long length of her smooth legs, the delicate lines of her floral tattoos from her feet, up her shins, over her knees and thighs. I want to trace every inch of her with my tongue. Paint her with a glistening trail of my saliva.

Mark her.

Claim her.

Own her.

My fingers dance over her thigh, my eyes on her face, peaceful and calm. My cock thumps in rapid succession of my heartbeat, a cold bead of sweat running down my spine.

I shouldn’t be here.

I don’t even know why I came.

Right in the middle of a game, abandoning my team, my brothers. All for this.

What would I have done if she were awake?

Short tank top rolled up above her navel, I blow out a breath as my wandering fingers glide across the low waistband of her underwear, and she moves. Making me freeze, study her face, watch for every twitch, every flutter of her lashes, but there’s nothing, just a small shift of her hips as though she’s inviting me in.

I trail my middle finger down the length of her covered pussy, but the thin cotton between us can’t hide the blinding heat between her thighs. Head dropping back, I clench my teeth, squeeze my eyes closed tight, fisting my hands by my sides, trying to get control of myself, but then she shifts again, my eyes going wide, I blink, looking back down at her as she spreads her legs wider. A shiver from the cold room pricks goosebumps across her flesh, and I can’t stop myself, I touch her again. Pressing a little harder against her slit, tracing and teasing the line of her folds through the fabric.

I breathe in deep, holding the scent of her in my lungs, and let my fingers travel, smoothing a little firmer at the inside of her thigh, along the seam of her panties, always going back to her pussy.

I rub her through the fabric, soft, gentle strokes of my fingers, pushing in a little deeper, fingertips forcing the cotton between her folds. I stare at her face, watching in case she wakes, but she’s serene in heavy sleep, completely unaware, or so I think.

A small patch of wetness starts to form, glistening on my fingers through the thin, white cotton, only encouraging me more, urging me on. I touch my thumb to her clit and as though I send a bolt of electricity through her with my touch, her hips kick, back arching. I don’t stop, even as she starts to turn ontoher side, facing the window, clamping my fingers between her legs, my hand between her thighs, her back to me.

She sighs as I loom over her, my other hand pressed to the bed for balance, the length of my forearm grazing her spine. I keep stroking her through her underwear, biting down on my bottom lip as her arousal coats my fingers through the material.

A low groan rumbles in my chest, molars grinding together to lock the sound inside. I pull my fingers away from her, my breathing ragged, I stare at the side of her face, one hand beneath her head, the other planted on the mattress in front of her face.

Hand tracing over her outer thigh, my finger slips beneath the leg of her panties, curling beneath to pull the fabric to one side. I hook my ring finger in them, curling the material away, my knuckles brushing over her soaked flesh, exposing her. My groan rips free, and she moves again, rolling back onto her back, a small crease forming between her brows, eyes tightening.

Teasing her folds, I can’t stop touching her, but if I don’t do something, she’s going to wake up, and I don’t think I want her too. I’m not ready to face her.

I’m not ready to face myself with her yet.

Because everything is different now, even if she doesn’t understand it.

I lean over her as she twists her head, still asleep but more aware, bringing my lips to her ear, “Shh, go back to sleep, Princess, you’re safe.”

And just like that, her chest inflates with a slow, deep breath, the crease between her brows smoothing out.

She trusts me.

Even in sleep.

And I hate my fucking self.

But I don’t stop.

Circling my slick fingers over her clit, I press my thumb to her entrance, gathering the evidence of her arousal by smoothing it around her tight hole. Then I switch, thumb pressing to her swollen clit, I glide two fingers down the length of her cunt, my eyes captured by her peaceful face, I plunge them inside of her.

Her closed eyes tighten, lashes fluttering, parted lips releasing a soft breath.

Like a man possessed, I fuck my fingers into her, slow and careful, her pussy releasing more and more fluid, lubricating my fingers with her slick. Her heat is like fire, and I want to get burned, so I keep going. Thumb rough on her clit, fingers getting harder as they push through the slowly tightening muscles of her pussy.

“Fuck, I wanna be inside of you,” I whisper beneath my breath, leaning back over her, smoothing my free hand across her pretty face. Bringing my nose tip to tip with hers, “Good girl,” I hush over her mouth, unable to help myself.

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