Page 19 of Hooking Her Up

With a groan, I drag her up and get her jeans open, shoving them down. Her panties cling to her curves and I nudge my hand between her thighs, getting my fingers into her sweet, wet pussy. Her gasp as she tips her head back against the wall has me ripping another pair of panties off her body.

“Not sorry,” I say.

“Me neither,” she replies, wrapping her legs around my hips. “You know what I want, Liam.”

“Tell me,” I command.

“Make me yours.” Her breath comes in ragged pants as she rubs her slippery heat against my raging cock.

“You’re already mine,” I tell her.

She bites my shoulder. “Fuck me!” she orders. “Fuck me hard and fast. I’m so close…”

I sink my cock deep inside her, the feel of her swallowing me up, her tits smashed against my chest, her breath hot against my throat.

Everything about this is driving me wild and I slam into her tight little hole until she’s pleading with me to make her come. I’m barely holding back, shocked I’ve held on this long. She drives me crazy, and I love every second of it. Holding on tight with one hand to keep her from falling, I slide my other hand between us and find her swollen clit. The second my fingers trace around it, she gasps, then buries her face against my shoulder, clamping down with her teeth to muffle her scream.

I keep dragging out her orgasm, unrelenting even when she bucks against me. I hold out as long as humanly possible, then I spill my seed inside her. Remembering at the last second that we’re in public, just feet from anyone who happens to walk past, I bite back my roar. Her legs tremble, still clenched around me and her arms are limp around my neck. Her head lolls back against the wall and I slowly ease her feet to the ground.

“Steady?”

“Barely,” she giggles, pulling my head down to kiss me. “That was…”

“Insane?”

She keeps giggling like she’s tipsy as we straighten our clothes. “Perfect,” she says. “You know, I don’t hate that word when it actually applies.”

“This was a good start. But we still have lots of things to do today. I’m going to win you so many stuffed animals you can start a zoo.”

“Not if I win them first,” she says, her sunny smile lighting up the dim alley.

I pull her out into the sunshine, hand clasped around hers, eager to show off my girl and make her see there’s something even better than perfect.

Chapter 9

Kayla

I wake up the next morning in a happy daze. My carnival date with Liam was the best day of my life. We rode every ride, played every game, and snuck away for hidden kisses at every opportunity. Between us, we won so many prizes, we couldn’t carry them all and gave them away to passing children on our way out.

Liam urged me to spend the night at his place and I’d never wanted anything so much before, but I was already pushing it and there were worried messages from my mom. Thankfully when I got home, they were still at the club, so I fell into bed to dream about all the wonderful things my man can make me feel.

But is he really my man? He said he was falling for me but he’s going to get tired of sneaking around. My dad’s going to put his foot down eventually.

Shaking off those rough thoughts, I go downstairs for coffee, bracing myself for questions. It’s still quiet after my parents’ late night out at whatever social gala they were at, so I take my caffeine hit back to the safety of my room. It’s too early to be grilled.

Under my laptop and a few schoolbooks I brought home with me, is my old high school journal. Sipping my coffee, I open it and read the last few pages. Even back then I had trepidations about business school, but an old recipe for lemon bars I created makes me smile.

Liam loved those cookies I made for him, and I’ve only ever gotten rave reviews from my baking. If only…

Taking a pen, I start scribbling all my forbidden dreams, shaping what my perfect life would look like if I had any choice in the matter. It should be attainable, but I’m so far off course and have no resources without my father’s financial aid. Even a full-time bakery gig would barely pay rent in the city. All I can do is write it down, as practical as throwing pennies into a wishing well.

I hear my father grumble in the hallway. “Is she back yet?”

“I’m sure,” Mom answers. “Don’t wake her.”

Not listening, Dad flings open my door. I splash coffee on my journal in my shock. While I hastily dry my precious wishes, trying to pretend he’s not there, he yanks the journal away so I have to face him.

“You were supposed to go to the office yesterday,” he says, crumpling the pages.

---