Page 76 of The Wrong Quarterback

Parker snorted, wrapping an arm around my waist as he buried his face in my neck. I shivered as his tongue licked along my skin.

“Okay,” I said, in a weird, high voice. “I’ll see you there.”

Parker dragged me out into the hallway. I pretended not to notice how…busy it suddenly was. Like word had gotten out that Parker Davis was here, and all the girls who lived in the dorm were out to present themselves. Some girls were walking around in skimpy towels, even though I was quite sure they hadn’t just taken a shower judging by the full face of makeup they were wearing.

But it was like Parker didn’t even see them. He didn’t respond to their waves or when they called his name. He just kissed the side of my head and walked me past them all.

What did he see in me? That’s all I could think as we walked. Even if this faded or burned out in a week…or tomorrow…for the rest of my life, I’d never understand what was going through his head right now.

Parker’s huge black truck was parked right in front of the building, in a clear no-parking zone. But there were no parking tickets on the dash. Even though usually the campus police had a ticket written if you even idled out front.

The rules were just different when you were a god, apparently.

He helped me into his truck and then walked around the front and got in. And I stared at him, finally having a chance to take him in, in all of his glory.

Parker leaned back in the driver’s seat, one hand gripping the wheel, his other arm draped around my shoulders as he pulled away from the curb. He was wearing a white V-neck shirt that clung to his chest and arms in all the right ways, the sleeves tight enough to show off the muscle underneath. The shirt brought out the depth of his tan, a rich warmth that contrasted with the light fabric, and I couldn’t help but stare as he shifted, his fingers absently tapping along my shoulder.

His gray sweatpants were dangerously low on his hips, and every time he shifted, his shirt lifted just enough to reveal the hard cut of his Adonis lines, those sharp grooves that disappeared below his waistband. He was wearing a backwards cap, strands of his brown hair just barely brushing against his forehead. As if that wasn’t enough…he was wearing a chain—silver, simple, resting just above the collar of his shirt, catching the light and drawing my eyes to the line of his neck, his jaw, the stubble that he hadn’t bothered to shave.

He’d probably thrown that on without a thought, completely oblivious to the fact that he looked like he’d stepped out of some daydream.

“Keep looking at me like that and see what happens,” he rasped suddenly, grabbing my hand and placing it on his lap…and not just on his lap…on his enormous, rigid dick that was stretched down his thigh.

I almost fainted. It was a fact. My panties were completely soaked, and I was trying to count backwards to get ahold of myself. But then…as if my hand had a mind of its own…I squeezed.

“Fuck,” he growled, and the truck jerked, swerving up onto the curb with a hard jolt that threw us both forward. Parker’s hands flew to the wheel, steadying us as we narrowly missed a tree, the tires squealing as he got back on the road. He came to a stop, his chest heaving, hands gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white.

He turned to me, eyes dark and intense, his breathing ragged. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low, thick with something raw. “Everything with you is…more. All I want is for your hands to be all over me, every second. But, damn, you gotta give a guy a warning, baby. I’d like to make it to the house in one piece.”

Before I could answer, his hand slid up, threading through my hair, his fingers gripping as his lips crashed against mine, fierce and urgent, like he’d been holding back everything until now. He kissed me like he was starving, like he couldn’t get close enough, his fingers tightening as if he was afraid that I’d run away.

Parker pulled away, looking torn, like he was on the precipice of some major decision.

“Just one taste,” he muttered suddenly, as if he was talking to himself.

A second later his seatbelt was off, and he was lunging toward me, his hand sliding up my thigh, pushing up my skirt. He traced the edge of my panties for a second and then slippedpast the material, teasing my slit with his fingertips before he shoved two fingers deep inside my core.

“Parker!” I gasped, my head falling back on the seat.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, baby,” he murmured. “You’re such a good girl.”

I whimpered, the praise soaking into my skin.

“Do you want me to finger fuck you, baby, give us both what we need?”

I gasped in response, and his answering sexy laugh almost made me come right then.

“Give me your words,” he ordered, sliding his mouth against mine, his tongue lazily slipping inside for a second before he pulled away to look at me.

“Fuck me with your fingers, Parker. I want it,” I whispered, dying a little as he immediately started pumping his fingers in and out, the corded muscles of his arm flexing as he moved.

“Yes. Please. Please.Please,” I begged.

“Kiss me,” Parker said roughly, his eyes glittering in the dim light as he watched my reactions.

I whimpered, and his mouth moved against mine, my lips sucking on his tongue as he forced a third finger inside.

“You’re going to choke my dick, baby. Aren’t you? Your pussy is so greedy, squeezing my fingers so tight.” He laughed when I cried out again. “I know you want more,” he soothed. “I’m going to give you more tonight.”

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