Page 72 of Campus Crush
“You gonna come for me?”
“Y-yes,” she stuttered, her body tensing against me as I continued to rub circles over her needy little clit.
She cried out as she came, and the way her wetness coated my fingers had me so hard, it was a miracle I didn’t come in my pants.
She sagged against me, while both of us tried to catch our breath.
I tucked her head under my chin, holding her close as our breathing gradually slowed. The feel of her in my arms, the scent of her hair, the steady rhythm of her heart against mine—it all felt right in a way nothing ever had before.
It felt even better knowing I’d given her pleasure no one else ever had.
As she drifted off to sleep, her breathing becoming deep and even, I realized something that should have terrified me but somehow didn’t. I was falling in love with Abby Walker. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of what that meant.
“Sweet dreams, Baby,” I whispered into the darkness, knowing that mine would be filled with her.
THIRTY-SIX
I stepped onto the ice for warm-ups, my skates cutting clean lines across the freshly smoothed surface from the Zamboni. The rink smelled like home—that distinct mix of cold air, sweat, and rubber that had been part of my life since I was four years old. Our first official game of the season always carried a special energy. The stands were packed with students and alumni, and I could feel the buzz even during warm-ups.
Thursday night games were always a rush because we weren’t competing with the football crowd. Football reigned supreme at CFU, but hockey was a close second.
“Heads up, Captain!” Drew called before firing a puck my way.
I caught it on my stick, transitioning smoothly into a dangle before sending it back his way. We’d been doing this pre-game ritual since his freshman year, and it still settled my nerves every time.
“Looks like a good crowd tonight,” Liam commented as he skated past, nodding toward the bleachers that were filling up fast.
I scanned the crowd, my eyes automatically searching for one person in particular. Abby had texted that she and Sam were running late but would make it before puck drop. I tried not to feel disappointed when I didn’t spot her familiar face.
“Your girl’s not here yet?” Gordy asked, coming to a stop beside me and spraying ice across my skates.
“She’s on her way.”
“Good, because you play like shit when you’re distracted,” he said with a smirk.
“Fuck off,” I laughed, shoving his padded shoulder.
Coach Maxwell called us over, and we gathered around him for final instructions. Tonight we were playing against Bozeman Tech, a team we’d narrowly defeated last season. They had a solid defensive core and a goalie who seemed to have magnets in his gloves.
“Alright, gentlemen, time to focus,” Coach said. “Kane, start the pressure early. Farrell, be ready to pinch hard if they try to chip it out. Let’s start this season with a win.”
We tapped our sticks on the ice in agreement before dispersing for the final minutes of warm-up. As I skated toward our bench, I glanced at the stands again, and a sense of giddiness unfurled in my gut when I spotted Abby and Sam making their way to seats in the second row. Abby caught my eye and waved, her smile so beautiful it nearly took my breath away. I raised my stick in acknowledgment, suddenly feeling like I could take on the entire opposing team single-handedly.
“There’s your girl,” Drew said, nudging me. “Try not to show off too much.”
“Says the guy who does a spin-o-rama every time he’s trying to impress a girl at the game,” I retorted.
“Hey, I’m a defenseman with many talents, includingpulling the offensive, so sue me for wanting to show off my skills.”
The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of warm-ups, and we headed to the locker room for final preparations. As we filed in, I couldn’t help but look back one more time at Abby. She was wearing my away jersey—the black one with my number 88 on the back. Our jerseys didn’t have our names on them because that would be too expensive to replace every year, but knowing she was wearing my number was enough. Seeing her now, I had no doubt she would’ve looked incredible in our maroon home jerseys too. Something primal and possessive flared in my chest at the sight.
I’d never let a girl wear my jersey, and now I couldn’t picture anyone but her in it.
In the locker room, I focused on getting my head in the game. As captain, the guys looked to me to set the tone. Coach gave his final pep talk, and then it was time.
“Alright boys,” I said as we huddled up. “Let’s fucking go!”
We lined up out of the tunnel and skated onto the ice to the cheers of the crowd, the adrenaline surging through my veins. I took my position for the opening face-off, grasping my stick above the ice as I squared off against Bozeman’s center. The referee dropped the puck, and the game was on.
