Page 39 of Scoring Grey

“Is there a point to reliving this absurdity?”

“Yeah, the makeup sex when I bent you over Professor Stein’s desk.”

My insides clench at the memory, and I close my eyes. I remember the day. It’s a hard one to forget. I saw him coming down the hall and popped into an empty classroom to avoid him. I thought I had managed to evade him again until he walked in. I’ll never forget the mix of fury and heat I saw in his eyes. It excited me as much as it pissed me off. I hated it when I gave anything away. I was supposed to be mad, but I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. He loomed into my every back step until my legs hit the back of Professor Stein’s desk and I gave in. I didn’t want to run. I wanted every ounce of heat his glare promised to deliver.

“Blondie, the way you’re pinching that nipple says you like what you remember.”

My eyes flash open, and when they do, I see my hand has cupped my breast, and my thumb and forefinger are deliciously tweaking my nipple.

I don’t try to hide it. There’s no use, and I like remembering. Plus, he’s right. He’s not here. “Tell me more.”

“Show me more, and I will,” he counters.

I bite the corner of my lip, briefly considering his words before internally chanting,Fuck it. You want this, Lou.Propping myself up on my elbow, I slowly pull out my other breast. I don’t have big boobs. They’re a handful at most, but I’ve never minded them being on the smaller side. It just means I get to forgo a bra most of the time. “Happy?” I mock, for lack of better words.

“I’ll show you just how fucking happy this view makes me,” he says, picking up the phone and trailing it down his stomach until his hard boxer-clad erection is in full view, the gray color leaving nothing to the imagination.

“I thought you slept in the nude?”

“I like that you remember that detail,” he says, putting the phone back where it was, but I don’t miss how one hand stays off-screen. My thighs clench, knowing he’s touching himself while looking at me, and I can’t help but search for a bit of friction from the pillow between my legs. “I sleep in my underwear out of town. We get room checks from time to time, and if there’s an emergency, I’d rather run out in my underwear than naked, but if you want to see it, all you have to do is ask.”

“Stoooppp…” I try to hide my smirk.

“That’s not what you were saying when I had that black and red plaid skirt hiked up around your waist as I shoved my tongue inside that tight pussy with you bent over the desk.”

I pinch my lips together and discreetly snake my hand down my stomach and into my sleep shorts, letting my middle finger glide directly through my slick center.

“That’s the one thing I loved most about private school. Those fucking skirts. My favorite memories revolve around pulling that thong to the side and finding heaven between those thighs. But that day I wasn’t nice. As much as I wanted you to come on my face, I needed more. I needed you to feel me, and I know you needed the same damn thing because you were begging for it. You wanted me to make it hurt as much as I couldn’t get deep enough.”

I slip a finger in, and my insides instantly flutter around it. His voice and the memory of him going hard and deep consume me. I pump myself slowly, remembering how he teased me with his thick head, running it through my folds over and over again. It’s why I begged. He was teaching me a lesson: I didn’t get to shut him out.

His words are gone, and as the memory fades, I realize I again closed my eyes. When I open them, he’s watching me.

I clear my throat. “Why did you stop?”

“I don’t want to stop, but it will cost you.”

My eyes hold his, and I know what he’ll say before the words are spoken. The question is, what’s my move going to be?

“Show me how much you like the memory. I want to see what I already know that hand is doing.”

I don’t hesitate. I know what I want. “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”

A wicked smile pulls at his mouth and he repositions the phone so I can see everything. Fuck, he’s big. How is it possible he’s bigger than I remember? He strokes himself from root to tip, and by the way his tip glistens, I can tell he was doing it before I ever asked him to show me. “You’re up. Let me see how wet you are for me.”

I push myself up into a seated position against the fabric headboard and place a pillow at my feet. I keep my knees tightly pinned together, unbelieving that I’m about to have phone sex.

He sees my nerves. “You want to watch me?”

I nod, suddenly nervous for no good reason. Well, that might not be true. This body isn’t what it used to be, and Cal is one of the league’s most eligible bachelors.

“I teased you with this tip,” he says as he runs his thumb around it. “Running it up and down your swollen core, dipping it in just enough to drive you mad so you could get a taste of how I felt all week not having you.” He strokes his cock, the veins on display portraying the anger I feel bubbling up inside of him at the memory. “It pissed me off how easily you could walk away, and I wanted to give you something you couldn’t forget. We both know what happened next.”

His hand stops, and my eyes drift to his, where I finish the sentence and let my legs fall open. “You slammed in hard.”

“Fuck…” he hisses, his mouth going slack when he sees me, and it lights me up inside. “So slick. Touch yourself, blondie. I want to watch those red nails disappear inside of you.”

I slide two fingers in, and at the same time, something inside of me, something that’s been missing for too long, clicks into place. I may not be ready for him to physically be in this bed, but I need this. We need this. Intimacy builds trust; it connects the two people sharing it, strengthening their bond, and God knows we need all the help we can get if we’re going to get through the demons that have kept us apart. “Mmm,” I moan as I let myself get lost in the multitude of sensations sparking everything inside me to life. Knowing he’s watching me lose myself only amplifies my desire. I press the heel of my palm against my clit and rock into it as my fingers slide in and out. “Please… please tell me more,” I whisper, my voice nearly aching as I climb the mountain, searching for the sweet release that awaits me.

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