Love Won (Winning at Love book 1) Page 23
Picking up the small container of dressing, I shake it before dumping it on the greens, and stare at the spotty liquid as it pools like frog spawn in the spinach leaves. What now? Do I mix? Stir? I hate salad.
“Mr. Graves.” Eastlyn’s familiar voice is music to my ears. I was starting to think I might be eating alone.
“Ms. Hatfield.” I run my eyes down the length of her body, drinking her in slowly. She’s a sight for sore eyes in her black pencil skirt and pink silky blouse, which I’ve decided is one of my favourites because it shows me when her nipples are hard.
“You’re eating in here?” she asks, surprised, eyeing my spread, then walking to the fridge to grab her own.
“I am. I’ve got a meeting shortly. Figured I’d better eat now,” I lie.
“Makes sense.” She takes the seat across from me, placing identical Tupperware containers in front of her, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Great minds,” I say.
“I love salad,” she says, dumping the dressing in her bowl, then replacing the lid and shaking it. Laughing, I pick mine up and do the same.
“Copycat.”
“Or just not a fan of rabbit food,” I tease, removing the lid again, happy to see the spawn is now more evenly distributed.
Picking up her fork, I watch transfixed (I clearly am turning into a total gastro-whatever-she-called-it) as she wraps her lips around the tines of her fork, staring at how it breaches her supple lips, and the way they work to pull off bits of spinach.
Fuck me.
Maybe I was wrong about salad.
Salad is sexy.
Or maybe I just need therapy.
“You okay over there?” She cocks her head, smiling seductively. Little minx knows exactly what she’s doing.
“I’m great. Can’t wait to dig in.” My voice catches, yet I smirk with a thought of my own, and slyly tuck my fork out of sight.
Picking up a few pieces of spinach, I work the coated pieces between my fingers and thumb, rolling them up before dropping them in my mouth with an exaggerated sucking sound. I repeat, continuing to eat my salad with my hands, and each time I add a few extra touches: licking my fingers, slurping the wet dressing off my lips slowly while staring at her mouth, and darting my tongue inside the centre of rolled spinach, simulating what I did to her just last night.
“Jesus. Didn’t I give you a fork?” Eastlyn asks quietly, her eyes wide and looking a little hooded.
“Must have forgotten,” I say, picking up a strawberry and bringing it to my nose for a sniff. “Hmmm. Smells really good. Wonder how it tastes? I bet it will be delicious…” I wink at her before running my tongue along the berry from top to bottom, my eyes never leaving hers. I try really hard not to laugh when I see her sit up straighter, and I’m sure it’s because she’s having to clench that gorgeous pussy of hers at my performance.
“What are you doing?” Her voice fluctuates and I feel another win looming in the near future.
“Eating a strawberry.” I tilt my head to the side. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“You need a fork,” she scolds.
“I think I’m doing okay without it, don’t you?” I sink my teeth into the berry, letting the juice run down my chin.
She doesn’t say a word.
“It’s so wet and juicy. Tastes so sweet…” My eyes hold hers again, and a soft groan escapes her throat as her fork clatters to the table.
“I’m never making you lunch again!” She grabs up her lunch and bolts toward the door.
“You started it, Sprinkles,” I call to her retreating back. “I can’t help it; you’ve made me this way.” Laughing out loud, I decide to pitch the remaining salad and head over to Pita Pit. I pull out my cell phone and shoot her a quick text:
Me: Heading out to grab some real lunch now.
I smile, a wicked idea coming to mind.
Me: Hated the salad. Loved the dressing.
Me: Stopping by Wal-Mart for a plastic tablecloth. I’m thinking we defs need to explore this sploshing business further. Starting with your nipples coated in that creamy poppyseed dressing.
I chuckle, walking to my car.
Me: Sploshing might stain the sheets. Want to be safe. ;)
Seeing those three tiny grey bubbles, I feel like a kid on Christmas morning, with the biggest smile etched on my face while I wait for it.
Sprinkles: Remember that therapist we joked about? Maybe you really are in need?
I laugh out loud.
Sprinkles: I’m calling him.
Me: You’re my therapy. See you tonight. Be ready.
Sprinkles: Ugh. See you tonight (maybe grab some more strawberries?)
I’m typing a reply when my phone dings again, alerting me that she’s sent a photo this time.
It’s her, sucking on a fucking Popsicle.
Point, Eastlyn.
15
Get a Room, Already!
Normally, I look forward to March Break; it’s a time to relax, unwind, and hang out with the guys. Well, it was, until Eastlyn became a steady part of my social and work life. But I find myself despising March Break this year, because my girl is jetting off to Cancun with Kami, Bev, and Marcy.
Today’s my last opportunity to see and feel her for a whole damn week. With their flight leaving so early Saturday morning, they decided to leave for an airport hotel directly after school on Friday afternoon, news I wasn’t overly excited to hear when she told me about the girls’ trip at my brother’s wedding. We’d been sitting with Keaton—and, of course, his date, Kami—and my parents, when Kami had started discussing the upcoming trip to Cancun with my mother, as my parents had actually stopped working like dogs for once to take a vacation there themselves not too long ago. Eastlyn had leaned in, speaking in a low voice about how she was going to tell me, but wasn’t sure if she was being too presumptuous in assuming I’d want to know. I’d hauled her onto my lap, nuzzled my face into the crook of her neck, and reassured her that if and when it concerns her, particularly regarding times she’ll be away from me, I want to know everything. I was rewarded with a sweet kiss and a whispered promise of her coming home with me after the wedding.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited she’s planned this trip for herself; she deserves a little fun in the sun. But you can’t blame me for being pissy now that it’s here. Back in January, we weren’t in the same place as we are now. We were together, sure, but we were just wading in the water, and now we’re fucking surfing—we’re hanging ten. Not only are the two of us committed, we’re in a love so crazy it’s as peaceful as it is chaotic, and it’s finally ours after all these years. So, yeah, I’m a little grumpy that she’s going away, and is going without me. A week with Eastlyn in a bikini, the sun kissing her beautiful face, seeing those perfect tits as they move with the ocean’s waves, and being able to take her every which way from Sunday? Yeah, I’m jealous.
And now I’m fucking hard.
Peering inside her classroom, I smile at the sight of her sitting at her desk, typing away on her laptop. The bell rang fifteen minutes ago, and yet she’s still at it.
“Do you ever stop working, Ms. Hatfield?” I tease, walking in the door. Her eyes light up, and she stands, making her way over to me.
“Coy, hey,” she laughs. “I was just making a quick Kahoot! for the Monday when we’re back. I’m a little stressed knowing I’ll get back too late Sunday to really plan my week like normal.”
I shake my head. “You’ll be fine to wing it for one day, I’m sure,” I tease, knowing how much of a planner she is. Sunday evenings she plans her entire week, getting everything prepped and ready. She says I should appreciate her anal qualities because that’s what allows us to be together the rest of the nights of the week.
“I’m going to miss you, you big jerk,” she says.
I pull her into me for a hug and laugh.
“I’m going to miss you, too, baby. You look beautiful today, by the way.” I kiss her temple.
“You
saw me this morning when I was getting dressed.” She swats my chest playfully. She’s right, I did. She’s spent most of the week falling asleep and waking up in my arms. I think that’s one of the things I’ll miss most this week with her gone.
“Are you excited?” I ask, stepping back to see her face.
“I’m always excited when you’re near, you know that,” she replies, cutting the distance again. And I know that look in her eye, the one that silently screams, “Fuck me, Coy.”
“Eastlyn.” It’s a warning.
“McCoy.” It’s mocking, and hot as hell, her brows raised in challenge, and I know that whatever is coming next, this girl is up to no good. “How about a quickie? I’ll be gone a whole week. I’m gonna miss you,” she adds, reaching out and squeezing my now hard cock through my dress pants, “and most definitely you.” She licks her lips, and I feel my knees almost give out.
“I’m going to miss you, too,” I growl, pulling her in for a searing kiss. I walk us back towards the classroom door so I can lock it, my hands working the buttons of her pink floral dress, exposing a white bra that barely contains her full, beautiful breasts. “Going to miss these sweet tits.” I run my open mouth along the swells of each as I push her up against the wall, pinning her with my thighs, confident we’ll be out of sight. The bell went twenty minutes ago, and I’m pretty confident that most of the others are gone, but we still need to be careful.
“Please, Coy, hurry.” Her hands are at my belt, frantic. They work until they free my cock, and he jumps, knowing he’ll be sliding into home very soon. Her hand works my shaft as I pull up her dress. I push her panties aside, dipping my finger where she craves it most. “Oh, God, yes!”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Hey, lovers. The walls aren’t that thick, you know. Right? You’d think being concrete bricks they would be, but…” Kami’s muffled voice continues through the wall from her adjacent classroom, and I rest my forehead against Eastlyn’s.
“Just slip it in, Coy, please,” Eastlyn whispers. “You can’t leave me like this.” Her lust-filled eyes are pleading, and who am I to deny her? As quietly as possible as Kami carries on about the school’s shoddy construction, I slip into Eastlyn and take her with painstaking slowness, careful to make sure we don’t break the wall down.
“…so, basically, you two should go get a room,” Kami’s voice continues. “I wonder if the Holiday Inn down the street still rents by the hour? And…”
“Kami?” I finally call, desperate to shut her up.
“Yes, boss?”
“I would go get us a room, but you’re taking her away with you,” I deadpan.
She snorts. “Oh…right.”
“Makes it hard.” You make me so damn hard, I mouth to Eastlyn, who’s working really hard not to moan while I pull on her nipple with my teeth.
“Carry on then,” Kami quips, as Eastlyn’s hands grab my ass to thrust me in deeper, and whispers how’s she going to come all over my cock.
“I’ll just go down and meet the others,” Kami calls, humour lacing her tone.
“Thanks…” Eastlyn tries to call back, but it comes out as a hoarse rasp, she’s so close.
“I’d say you have about eight minutes of me running interference before the other ladies come to hunt your ass down,” Kami calls, her voice now coming from the hallway.
“You’re…the best…Kam,” Eastlyn says. It comes out like a chant as my cock drives into her and my mouth sucks her tit.
“Not sure I’d say I’m the best, by the sounds of it.” Kami starts laughing as she walks away, the sound falling on deaf ears as Eastlyn’s pussy starts to contract around my cock. Her orgasm overtakes my senses, and I follow suit, leaving us five minutes to spare before it’s time for Eastlyn to go meet her friends.
16
Introducing: Hellcat
It’s Wednesday, and I’ve been summoned to meet Keaton and a few buddies at Brass Tapps to play trivia. With the girls away, Keaton’s team consisted of pretty much just him until he recruited our friends Philip and Brody, plus Tristan—his buddy from work—then me.
We’ve just finished eating and shooting the shit over a couple of beers, and now the game’s about to get underway. From what I can tell, Tristan is really the only one Keaton needs to take the prize home—the guy is full of useless information. Glancing at my phone for the hundredth time today, I wonder what Eastlyn is up to right now. We’ve been messaging on and off throughout the week, but we’ve yet to chat today, and I’m getting antsy to hear from her. I texted her a while ago, telling her I was coming tonight and for her to have fun today. They were going shopping in some town near Cancun with a bunch of other tourists from the hotel.
“That’s Helen Hunt,” Tristan says, interrupting my thoughts as he points at the Picture Round page we’re working to fill in before the final round. The question asks, “Whose eyes are these?” and showcases a cropped headshot of a pair of some woman’s eyes.
“Yeah, I agree,” Brody adds, and Keaton fills it in before looking at me.
“You with us tonight, Coy? She’ll be home in three days, you know,” Keat laughs.
Oh, trust me, I fucking know. I’ve been counting down the hours.
“Shut. Up.” I take a pull from my pint of Goose Island.
“Touchy,” he says, and the guys all laugh.
“As if you’re not pining away for your little running buddy, Keaton. You aren’t fooling anyone at this table, either. Too bad you’re too pigheaded to admit what we all know.”
“It’s true,” says Philip, “it’s like a perpetual game of foreplay with you and Kam. Aren’t your balls purple by now?”
“Fuck off. We’re friends. It’s good the way it is.” Keaton waves Sandy over and orders another round.
“I have to make a call. I’ll be right back.” I stand, picking up my cell from the centre of the table.
“Hurry up,” Keaton calls. “And tell my sister how pussy-whipped she has you while you’re talking to her.”
I flip him off as I walk out front for some quiet. I’m actually about to call my brother, Rory. I just remembered he’d asked me to call him back in his message when I’d missed his call earlier. He’d needed my input about a possible birthday gift for our mother. A task I’ll gladly let him take on, said it was pretty important.
Stepping into the bar’s foyer, my phone buzzes again and a wave of excitement rushes through my body, thinking that this time it must be Eastlyn. I’m quickly disappointed again, however, when I see it’s only Kami.
But when I tap the phone’s home button, I see that I’ve picked up the wrong phone. The one in my hand is Keaton’s, and it’s apparently not password-protected. So, like the nosy shit I am, I tap the message app to read what Kami has messaged Keaton.
I can’t say I’m surprised to see that there are a lot of messages between these two. Reading back for some ammunition of my own to use against Keaton, I smile, seeing that my friend might easily be as whipped as I am. Except where I own it, he’s completely in denial.
I read their texts from Saturday morning…
Keaton: Tell me when you land safe, pls
Kami: Why? Get East to message you.
Keaton: Just do it, Kam.
Kami: And if I don’t?
I laugh out loud, seeing exactly why East and Kam are friends. They’re both pains in the ass.
Keaton: I’ll hop on the next fucking plane, Hellcat.
“Hellcat”? Well, that’s new. I can definitely use that shit.
Kami: Easy, killer. I’ll message you. Wouldn’t want you coming here to interrupt me from going native ;)
Keaton: Not fucking funny, Kamilla.
Kami: I think it is. Boarding.
Keaton: Safe flight. Message me.
Kami: Yes, boss! SMH
Nothing going on, my ass. I read on…
Kami: Landed. Heading to hotel.
Keaton: Now was that so hard?
Kami: You’re annoying.
“Those lying shits,” I mutter.
My eyes scan the newest message…
Kami: I’m drunk, and I miss u. But in the morning when I look, I’ll remind myself u rd this. then I’m gonna pretend you deleted it like it didn’t happen. And—like Voldemort—we’ll never mention it again. Okay?
These two are as fucked as East and I were. I shake my head and walk back inside to our table.
“Everything all right?” Brody asks.
“Yeah, I was going to call my brother back, but I grabbed the wrong phone.” I nod to the table where four identical black iPhones sit. “We need to get cases or something. Anyway, here, Keat. I had yours.” I drop it in his hand.
“Yeah, I caught that when I picked up what I thought was my phone when it rang and Eastlyn couldn’t figure out how she misdialed. She said to tell you she’s in her room for the night, and to call her after we kick ass in trivia.”
“Perfect, thanks.” I sit back down, a familiar feeling of contentment taking over, knowing I’ll get to talk to her later. I’m back just in time as Jenn taps her mic and is about to start her weekly spiel before officially starting the next round. I lean towards my friend. “Oh, I almost forgot, Keaton. There’s a new message from your little Hellcat on there. Might be a few by now, your phone was going off like crazy when I was on my way back,” I tell him, a shit-eating grin on my face, because while the game is on there’s no cell phone use permitted until the next break (and we can thank the lame asses who decide to cheat and look up the trivia answers on their phones for that rule).
“Asshole,” he says, looking like he’s going to crawl out of his skin, unable to check his phone now that I’ve told him Kami’s messaged him or our team might get disqualified.
“Who the heck is ‘Hellcat’?” Philip asks, and—being the shit I am—I ask him, too.
“Yeah, Keat. Tell us about this Hellcat of yours.”
“She’s not mine,” he says, and moves his gaze over to Jenn, the Quiztress, praying for her to ask the next question to distract us, I bet.