Stone Creek Davis, Lainey (best android ereader txt) 📖

he clarifies, "Not the changing rooms. There are actual offices in there. You know that, right?"

"Yes, Neal, I know there are offices in the hockey building. There are classrooms, too--I've given presentations in there before. More than once."

He seems halfway impressed, but presses on. "I can't concentrate here. I don't see why we can't meet in the Earl."

I furrow my brow. "Earl?"

"You know. East Area Locker Room. Earl. Those study rooms there are much quieter." He starts to lean closer to me. I'm pressed back into my chair as far from him as I can manage, and my brain betrays me again, dropping my thoughts back to his damn mesh shorts, and up his body to the muscles straining the seams of his SCU t-shirt. God, how I want to run my fingers through that curly hair.

"It wouldn't be appropriate for us to meet there," I say, my voice whisper quiet.

"Why not, Dahlia? Are you afraid of the angles we'd discuss in a private study room?" I feel myself swallow. His blue eyes are boring into mine, like he can see straight through to my thoughts. Damn my filthy mind and those distracting shorts he's wearing. He's whispering now, too. "I know it's not cold in here, Dahlia. So either the math turns you on or you're not as professional as you think you are."

I feel the flush deepen. I was afraid he could see my nipples erect through the fabric of my bra and worn t-shirt. Damn my body and its traitorous response to Neal Sweeney! His hand is back on my leg, only this time he slides his fingers lightly up my thigh until he's nearly at the crease of my hip. One of his long fingers sinks down in between my legs, where a moist heat simmers. As the tip of his finger brushes my clit through my jeans, I let out a moan involuntarily.

I close my eyes as the invading digit circles. To my horror, I realize I'm seconds away from orgasm in the middle of the student union. With one a tutoring client for my work study job. Shit! "Stop," I say, finding my stern voice at last and pushing his hand away.

I stand up and try not to think about how many other vulvas those hands have touched. I know how college athletes are.

"I'll text you tomorrow about meeting somewhere more quiet. Your coach sent my boss your cell," I add as an explanation for how I suddenly have his phone number. I hear him laughing as I really do walk out this time.

CHAPTER TWO

 

 

"What an asshole!" my roommate listens sympathetically as I explain the whole saga, starting with my dad and the papers and ending with Neal Sweeney's finger in my crotch. I leave out the part where I'm deeply aroused by his attentions, so admittedly Linda has sort of the wrong idea about Neal. He's not some predator. He's just a hotshot athlete used to women spreading their legs for him.

I tell this to Linda, who shakes her head. "Nuh-huh. Dahlia, you need to tell your boss that he was inappropriate with you!"

"And what, Linda? He'll find someone else for the job? I need this position to pay my tuition this semester. I just need to wear iron underwear and tough this out for a few months. Hopefully I can get my old job back for spring semester…"

Linda plunks a plate of chicken and roasted potatoes in front of me. "There's got to be some other way, Dahlia. I don't like the sound of this guy. He's trouble." We've lived together since freshman year, and Linda has assessed every male figure in my life with much the same observation. "When have I ever been wrong about this stuff, hm?"

I sigh, digging into the delicious food. I love it when it's Linda's turn to cook dinner. She grew up with regular parents, so her folks actually taught her things like how to cook and how to take care of plants. "Never, Linda. You have a keen radar for spotting jerks."

She laughs and we dive into a conversation about our prospects for romance this term. It's only the first day of class, but Linda has her sights set one of the guys in the apartment upstairs. "Tim and his roommate are both single," she says. "Maybe we should go on a double date! They're both engineers I think…we could geek out about differential equations!"

It's good to laugh with Linda. I feel so at ease with her. I don't like that I have a secret from her--that everything about Neal Sweeney turns me on in a way I have no explanation for. I never go for guys like that. Beefcakes who care more about their bodies than academics. But man! Caring for his body has sure done Neal a lot of favors. Everything about him looked rock hard, including that ice blue stare. I try to find a way to bring this up to Linda, but decide against it.

Later, I go to my room and lie awake, unable to get the afternoon out of my mind. I remember the feeling of Neal's hand teasing my clit, how close I was to orgasm. Thinking of it sets me on edge again, and I feel desperate for release. I slide my hand down the front of my panties and quickly, ferociously strum my clit until I cum, shuddering. Afterward, I drift off to sleep, thinking about the tight springs of Neal's curly hair and how they'd look stuck to his sweaty face after sex.

In the morning, I scope out the library. The study carrels are all reserved by grad students, but there is a section on the fourth floor of the stacks that seems to have enough traffic to be public, but is quiet enough that I think Neal should be able to concentrate. Satisfied,