Page 73 of Conner's Luna

Conner drives onto the Caluna campus like a madman. I try to catch a glimpse of the pretty place. It's a little less green, being more southern than C State, but the truck screeches to a halt, throwing me against the dashboard.

"Conner!" I cry out, startled.

"Sorry, babe," his hands reach for me, unbuckling my seatbelt and hauling me onto his lap before I can launch any sort of protest. His fingers wind into my hair heedless of the damage they are causing my recently-set curls. I don't care, because his mouth is on mine and he's absolutely right; it is hot in here.

I whimper and squirm, wanting the ache in my lady bits to go away. I'm short, but I developed curves young and I've always been a little self-conscious about my weight. Being in Conner's arms makes me feel utterly tiny. Myabuela, who is hands-down the original feminist in my life, would pinch my ear for saying it, but he makes me feel wonderfully feminine.

"Bailey, grind your pussy on my lap, baby. I know you need it," he rasps.

Yes, I do need it. I rock myself against him, marveling at how hard and rigid he feels even through two pairs of jeans. I choke out a laugh.

"What, baby?" Conner nibbles my lower lip and slides his hands up under my sweater.

"Jeans and genes," I whisper, arching my back to press my bare skin more firmly into his warm, calloused palm.

He smirks at me, "Let's get rid of some so we can combine the others," he jokes. I laugh breathlessly, unable to concentrate because of the delicious friction Conner is creating as he moves me back and forth.

The snap of my jeans comes undone under his fingers and I whine as he tries to wriggle his hand inside.

"Too tight," I tell him.

"You'd better be talking about your pussy, baby."

"Jeans," I gasp.

"Hush," he rasps out as his questing fingers slide along my plump belly, past the tight seal of my panties, to delve inside my folds. "This is all perfect. So fucking perfect."

Like earlier - was it just hours ago? - Conner gently probes me with one finger. His eyes devour the rest of me. I drink him in; his green eyes glowing with pleasure, the stubble across his chin, jaw ticking as he fights for control.

His finger sinks in and I moan, loudly. He presses and gently wiggles. It's a different sensation than before. No matter what he says, my jeans make it impossible for him to maneuver his palm like he did before. He improvises by grinding my entire core on his thick arousal. I whimper and move faster against him. It really does hurt, the need verging on painful.

"That's it. I've got you, baby. So tight, my honeygirl," Conner kisses me again. He nips and sucks on my lips and groans when I open my mouth under his.

"I need you to orgasm on my fingers, baby. Can you be my good girl and cum for me?" he croons. He presses harder and jerks my body against his, once, twice, three times.

I convulse, held up only by Conner's superior strength. Otherwise, I would probably knock myself unconscious on the window, or something equally idiotic.

"Bailey, Bailey, shh honey. Good girl, love. Easy, shh." He rubs my back and kisses my forehead before he extracts his hand from my jeans and licks his finger clean.

"Oh, God," I bury my face in his neck and start to cry (because I'm not already embarrassed enough).

Conner doesn't say anything else. He just keeps rubbing my back and smoothing my hair that he's happily destroyed. Under my ear, the soft, satisfied rumble of his chest soothes me into a near-doze.

It starts to rain. The pitter-patter on the windows makes me smile. I always liked the rain, especially the sharp, clean scent during a rain shower.

The knock on the window jolts me up with a shriek. Outside, one of the males I vaguely recognize from the soccer game the other day is standing by Conner's window with a huge grin on his face.

Conner glares as my stomach clenches. I just had semi-sex in a public parking lot with the driver's side window of the truck wide open. Promptly, I hide my face in Conner's chest.

As I'm silently praying for a sinkhole to open up under the truck and bury me, Conner greets the man. "Jose, why are you on campus?"

"Luis is coming home for winter break, ey," Jose grins. "Hola, Bailey."

"Hi," I wave to Jose without looking up from Conner's neck.

"Your sister is here,Jefe. Ready to tour,sí?" I finally lift my head from Conner, my ears pricking with interest when I hear that he and Braxton have a sister. Jose looks at me with that lazy grin, "This is a good school,chiquita.Mi hermanogoes here, too." He turns up his collar with a jerk, hiding the tattoo of a wolf I see crawling over his skin.

"Did you go here?" I ask him. If we're going to be casual about it, then I can pretend that my jeans aren't still unbuttoned, pressed against Conner's stomach. Jose probably can't tell. Probably.

---