Page 107 of The Tape Job
“You’re a good girl, sometimes though,” he whispered.
I shivered slightly before my hands found his nape, twisting my fingers into his hair.
He pulled back and looked at me. “Do you like me calling you a good girl? Because there’s a look in your eye that makes me go all woozy.”
Words had caught in my throat. He had shifted my position on his lap so I could feel the lump in his jeans.
“Answer me, Vicky.”
I gulped. “You know how much of a control freak I am, Lee, but you …” I kissed along his jaw. “… you can take the reins in some circumstances. You know that, right?”
He breathed deeply, and I knew I had his attention. I leaned forward and whispered into his ear. “Are you—”
“I’m always fucking hard for you, Vic.”
I wriggled on his lap and leaned back slightly, surprising myself by popping the button on my jeans before sliding my hand inside. I was just as horny as he was, and I wanted him to know it.
“Vic …” he looked around, probably checking that no one could see us. His eyes divert back to me as I pulled my hand out from my jeans and slipped my fingers into my mouth. “Vic …” he said again.
“Are you going to make mestop?” I asked.
“Study room. Now,” he growled at me, and I slid off his lap and away. Getting caught added to the excitement.
He fucked me against the door of the study room. If someone had walked past, they would have definitely seen us. And that moment was just the beginning.
But right now, we both knew that ‘one more time’ would turn into ‘just one more time.’
As I stood in the corner of the showers after practice, my leg hitched up over Liam’s shoulder as I held my hand over my mouth. I knew it wouldn’t be the last time. Nor was the time I spent on my knees in the media room, Liam’s back against the closed door.
And it’s only getting more frequent.
All of that became apparent when I got a text from him last week.
Liam
Meet me in the equipment storage room.
And it was oh so good. Now we’ve practically lost count. But there’s a pressing matter that’s frustrating the hell out of me. I’m mulling it over as I lie in bed after our most recent encounter.
“Why won’t you have sex with me?” I ask when he returns from the bathroom. My post-orgasm fog has cleared and I’m ready to talk.
“What?”
“Why won’t you have sex me?”
“We’ve had sex loads of times,” he says, climbing into bed.
“Not recently, we haven’t. I mean, we’ve been fooling around for weeks now, and I’m desperate for you to fuck me. There I said it.”
“We’re just building up to it, aren’t we? Taking things slow.”
“You’re kidding?” I scoff.
“No?”
“Lee, I don’t think we’re the type of people who ‘take things slow.’” I use my fingers to do the air-quotes, and he laughs. “You’re just being mean!” I throw him a pouty face, hoping it’ll annoy him enough so that he feels he has to teach me a lesson, but it doesn’t work.
“Stop being a brat, Vic. Just let us get there. It’ll be worth the wait.”
