Page 13 of Breakout
That usually means we hook up here, but today I am too high-strung. I got a “C” on my last sociology paper, so I need to work harder at it. I cannot afford another one.
“I really need to study,” I warn him, unlocking my door and opening it.
He steps in behind me, shutting the door before he hugs me from behind, kissing my neck.
“Then study. I’m just hungry.”
I pull out of his arms, giving him an odd look. “I don’t have much, but what I have is yours. Take whatever you want.”
I wave toward the small stand Cora and I keep our food in with a microwave on top. It’s not much, but it saves me from eating out all the time.
Ignoring Beckett and whatever his game is, I pull out the chair at my desk before setting my bag on it. After unloading my books, I put my bag to the side and take a seat.
I am dreading this project for sociology. This week is all about family units and how the family affects the individual.
Our professor wants us to draw on our own experiences in our paper discussing this week’s topic. It’s a sensitive topic for me. I hate talking about my family, mostly because all I remember about my parents is that they loved me very much. Other than that, I have nothing left of them. Since I was so youngwhen they died, they threw everything away from our home and sent me to foster care with the clothes on my back.
I don’t want to talk about that.
Letting out a sigh, I get to work. I actually forgot Beckett was even there as I started writing the intro to my paper. So when he pulled back my chair, I let out a scream.
“Whoa, didn’t mean to scare you.” He holds his hands up.
I roll my eyes at him. “Sorry. I’m in the zone. I really don’t have time for whatever it is you are here for.”
He nods. “I can tell. You seem tense. I only want a snack. Once I get it, I’ll be out of your hair.”
Of course he does. Guy has tons of money yet wants to eat my snacks. Whatever. I won’t tell him no.
“Sure, whatever you want.”
I go to pull my chair back in, but he stops it, dropping to his knees.
When he taps my thigh, I instinctively lift my hips. “What are you doing?”
“Having a snack,” he tells me, pulling my yoga pants and underwear down in one go.
I gasp, but he somehow fits his big body under my desk, pulling my chair back in. Then he spreads my legs, putting my now tied-together-by-my-pants ankles over his shoulder.
“Study, Pey. I’m just going to eat and go.”
“Beck,” I start, but when he kisses my inner thigh, the protest dies on my lips.
I need to be writing, but all I can focus on is his tongue as he swipes it through my folds.
God, the man is a fucking menace with the way he teases my clit. Lightly sucking and applying pressure but never pushing me over the edge.
My body is already tense, so it doesn’t take much to have me feeling like I might explode.
My pen drops from my hand as my head falls back, moans falling from my lips.
“Beck,” I moan out his name.
It must be what he is waiting for because the teasing stops. Instead, he slides two fingers inside of me as he sucks my clit between his teeth.
I bury my hands in his hair and grind against him, needing more. More pressure. More thrusting. More Beckett.
“Fuck, Beck. I’m almost there.”
