Page 4 of The Wrong Move

Circling my hips, I meet his thrusts. He releases my breasts, rips off his tee, then takes hold of my hips and hammers into me at an impossible pace. His stamina is astounding.

Right now, I’m commending my pussy.

Despite swinging between pleasure and pain, Byron’s dick inside me is gratifying on a sensual level words cannot explain.

The first wave of my orgasm hits hard.

“Byron,” I moan, my head hanging between my shoulders.

I can’t go on.

But Byron shows no sign of slowing.

When the next wave of orgasm comes, I clamp around his dick, and lightheaded from panting, I see stars. I stop thinking, turn my head, and watch as Byron shudders into a deep thrust, my name rolling off his lips. He collapses over me, his arms wrapping around my middle as he lightly dots kisses along my back.

My now jelly-like legs threaten to cave. “Byron, I can’t take your weight.” Holding me tight, he lowers me to the floor. We curl in a ball with my back to his front. His arms are tight around me, as though he is afraid to let me go. We remain motionless for a few minutes, our breathing slowing until I can no longer hear him.

“Did I hurt you?” he murmurs.

My answer is not immediate. “No.” Could I go another round? The way my pussy throbs, definitely not.

“I’m sorry, Gi.” His forehead rests on the back of my head.

What is with him?

“Is something wrong?”

“Not now. I’ve just had a bad year. The coach hates me.”

Is he serious?I push away from him, and his semihard dick falls out of me. I sit up. “You came here to feel better about yourself?”

“What? No.” He adjusts himself before pushing up onto an elbow. “I thought you’d understand.”

“Understand what, your selfishness? The delusion that basketball is your entire world and your only hope to success?”

His expression slides into a frown. “Basketballiseverything to me.”

Ugh.“Stop being such a child. You’re one of the most intelligent people I know. You can do more with your life than play ball.”

Byron springs to his feet, knots the condom, and throws it in the trash can near my canvas. He steps into his boxers and linen shorts. “I thought you’d understand.”

“Understand? What happened here wasn’t you.”

“Right now, you don’t sound like the Gigi I know either.”

“Because I’m not tolerating bad behavior?” My clothes are beside me. In one quick sweep, I collect them and dress quicker than I ever have. “You just fucked my brains out, and I allowed you to do it.” He looks to the side, and I step into his line of vision. He looks away, and again, I step forward, forcing him to look at me. I’m suspicious as fuck. “Did you take coke before coming here?”

His eyes flick over my face as he clasps my shoulders. “Please understand?—”

I slap his arms away from me. Sucking in a deep breath, I stop myself from yelling at him. His eyes glaze as though he wants to cry.

“I never meant to hurt you, Gi.”

“You didn’t. But using peopleishurtful. Stop acting entitled. You told me we all have to earn respect, and as a freshman, you have to earn the coach’s respect.”

He tilts his head at me. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” I shake my head. “What if you were caught?” Suddenly, it dawns on me. “Did you snort it in the car before coming inside?” He stares at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Fucking unbelievable.” I straighten my dress. “While your reputation is safe with me, I hope no one saw you from the street. What if my parents saw? Or worse, what if you were tested? What would happen to your precious basketball career then?”

---