Page 119 of Pinkie Promise

“You feelin’ shy about showing me your Baby Yoda shrine or something?” I ask her teasingly, and she laughs out loud, turning in my arms so that she can push her door open.

Her room is beautiful. It’s a perfect continuation of the living area, with mauve walls and warm sconce lights, a plush little bed in the centre of the small space, making it look cosy and full.

There just isn’t much ofFallonin here. There’s a tidy stack of school work on her desk, next to a small pile of paperbacks, but she doesn’t have an excess of clothes spilling out of thedark cherry-wood dresser or pictures from home taking up her windowsill.

She wasn’t kidding when she said that school is her life. One look at her room and it’s as clear as day.

“What size bed is that?” I ask, looking for something neutral to talk about as she tentatively steps inside.

Fallon turns around and tugs me in by my hand, making my chest swell victoriously with the knowledge that she needs this as much as I do. She gently pushes the door shut behind us and I feel practically high.

“It’s princess size,” she admits, brushing a little curl away from her temple. She wraps her free arm around my neck so that she can drag me down to start kissing her.

“Fitting,” I murmur. Then I growl out, “Show me the shrine.”

Fallon practically falls over laughing and then, to my absolute fucking delight, she actually pulls me over to her wardrobe, opens the door, and there at the back is a small collection of Baby Yoda pictures, grainy as hell because she obviously printed them on a college printer.

“Can’t deny it. Knowing that you’re a secret nerd gets me fucking going, baby.”

I slip my hands beneath her towel so that I can start rubbing my palms over her belly.

“D-do you have… you know… protection?” she asks shakily as she closes her wardrobe door.

I smile smugly against her cheek, one of my palms still underneath her towel, and I dip my other hand into my front pocket as we move over to her bed. I pull out a handful of rubbers and toss them down onto her sheets.

“Told you I’d keep you protected,” I remind her as I pull back her quilt cover so that she can climb up underneath it.

My eyes suddenly land on the jersey that I gave her for Christmas, stashed half-hidden beneath her pillow. My dickimmediately grows heavier, the muscles in my legs becoming tense.

“Do, uh…” I clear my throat hard, my voice so deep that it makes Fallon squeeze her thighs together. “Do you sleep in my jersey?” I ask her, my irises now completely swallowed up by my inked-out pupils.

“Maybe,” she whispers.

Hot fucking damn. I think I just grew another five inches. “Tell me that you wear it every night,” I demand.

She gives me a sweet little smile and then she whispers, “Make me.”

I groan long and low as I shove Fallon’s towel from her body. My dick swells painfully as I stare down at her breasts and she lifts her arms in the air as she unties her little bun.

Her hair cascades over her golden shoulders and she almost ends my fucking life when her curls bounce against her nipples.

“Fallon,” I rasp, my fingers instinctively unzipping my jeans. I kick my pants off my legs and fumble blindly for one of the condoms. Fallon sits daintily down in the centre of her bed, her feet tucked under her ass and her arms braced in front of her, squeezing her breasts together.

I quickly blink away from them, dropping my eyes down to my dick as I roll up the rubber, trying not to pre-come before I’m even inside of her.

I drop the foil packet to the floor and heave up onto Fallon’s bed, the springs groaning loudly beneath my knees.

Looks like this soft princess mattress isn’t used to taking the weight of a six-foot-four hockey captain.

Pink-cheeked and giggling nervously Fallon clambers over to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and her thighs around my groin.

Holy fucking shit.I push her onto her back and fall heavily on top of her, and my brain damn near explodes as my cock slaps against her belly.

“You’re not tipsy, right?” I ask her breathlessly, scanning her eyes to make sure that she isn’t inebriated. “Like, you can still consent? If you can’t, just say so and I’ll stop right now.”

She pulls me down for a kiss, moaning when I slip my tongue inside of her.

“I’m not tipsy,” she whispers. “I barely had a sip.”

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