The Goal

“Is that also wife knowledge?” I tease.

“I’d consider it engagement stuff.”

I put that thought aside and consider his question. “Completely graphic doesn’t do it for me. I need context, like I said before. Your fist around it would be hot. You have good hands.”

There’s a rustling sound, footsteps, and then a door latch clicking shut. He’s gone somewhere private, and that knowledge makes certain parts of my body pulse excitedly.

“I had to leave the living room. We’ve got people over, and you thinking about my dick is hot as fuck. I’m too hard to be in public.”

My breasts feel so heavy that I’m finding it hard to breathe. As I shift underneath the blankets, I hear his breath catch.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs.

I drag in some air to fill my suddenly depleted lungs. I know where this is going. If I stay on the phone, we’re going to end up turning each other on to the point that I’m going to have to masturbate once I’m done. Tucker remains silent, leaving the decision up to me. I dip my hand between my legs as if the pressure could make the ache go away, but the contact only intensifies my desire.

My voice is hoarse when I start speaking. “I’m fixated on you holding your dick. Only now you’re moving your hand, stroking yourself.”

When there’s no immediate response, I blush, thinking I’ve gone too far for him. But his next words tell me he’s right with me.

“You’re killing me.”

I bite my lip and rub harder. “I’m getting worked up too.”

“That doesn’t help, because now I’m picturing you all flushed and needy. You wet, Sabrina?”

My fingers slip across my pussy. “Very.”

“Fuck. What would I be doing if I was there?”

“Licking me,” I say instantly. He has a great tongue.

On his end, there’s more rustling and then a husky, “You need a toy?”

“Yeah, give me a sec.” I fumble in my desk drawer and find the box of tampons where I hide stuff from Ray—some cash rolled up in an empty tampon cartridge and my vibe. I fish the latter out and flick it on.

“Ready,” I tell him as I place the quivering toy against my clit. My hips arch up and a small cry escapes me.

“Goddamn,” he groans. “Slide it inside, slow and steady. It’s my hand on that vibrator and my tongue is on your clit.”

As he issues his commands and paints an erotic picture, I work the toy in and out. It’s such a relief not to have to think, to give myself completely over to him. I don’t say anything more. I can’t, really. I’m too focused on listening, letting his southern drawl pour over me like warm syrup, listening to the hoarse, dirty instructions telling me to pump the vibe harder, imagine him licking my pussy, telling me how gorgeous and sexy I am, and how he’s never been harder in his life.

I come as the sounds of him working his own flesh mix with my gasps of pleasure. His voice fills my world.

“Night, darlin’,” he says when my breathing slows.

“Night,” I manage. And then I fall asleep, deep and long and utterly satisfied.

14

Sabrina

“Naked painting?” Suspicion floats through me as I pull open the door to Wine and Brush. The sign cheekily displays a pair of art dolls arranged in a sordid embrace. Fitting for a college town wine bar, I guess. “You took that blurry picture on purpose,” I accuse my friend.

“Of course I did,” Carin says smugly. “I didn’t want you to have an excuse to say no.” She strolls in and then stops about two steps from the threshold, her gaze glued to the bar across the room. “Nice.” She whistles under her breath. “You did good, B.”

I grin. “I’ll happily take credit were none is due.”

We each snag a wine glass from a tray by the table before moving forward. Our dates are leaning against the bar talking to each other. Even slouching, they’re about a head taller than almost any other person in the room. I notice other girls eyeing their dates and then casting covetous glances toward Tucker and Fitzy.

It’s those glances that propel me across the room and onto my tiptoes to give Tucker a kiss on the lips.

The corners of his sexy mouth curve up as if he knows exactly what I’m doing. “Good to see you, darlin’. Sleep well last night?”

“I did. You?”

“Like a baby.”

Carin doesn’t miss a thing. “Did you sleep in Boston last night?” she teases.

He shakes his head. “Just heard a good story.”

I use the wine glass to smother a smile while Tucker introduces our friends. “Carin, this is Colin, but everyone calls him Fitzy.”

“I like that better,” she announces. “Carin and Colin sounds too cutesy together.”

The six-foot-plus guy smiles shyly and takes Carin’s hand in his, carefully shaking it as if he’s afraid he’s going to hurt her. He doesn’t have to worry, though. She’s small, but tough.

“Are you roommates?” Carin asks, and she’s not at all covert as she admires him from head to toe.

I can’t deny that I’m kinda doing the same thing. Fitzy is incredibly appealing. He’s got messy dark hair that you just want to run your fingers through. And those tats…yum. He’s wearing a T-shirt that reveals two full sleeves of intricate designs and a lot of fantasy-type imagery—I make out several dragons and at least one sword. And there’s ink peeking out of the collar of his shirt too. Carin’s not usually into tattooed guys, but her eyes are glued to this one.

“Nope. I live alone,” Fitzy tells her. “Tuck lives with the glory boys.”

“The glory boys?” I echo, but I suspect I know the answer.

Tucker’s expression grows amused. “Garrett and Logan are the stars. Both guys are going pro. And you know Dean.”

I wrinkle my nose at the mention of his name.

“Don’t get her started,” Carin warns.

Fitzy gives a lopsided grin. “A girl who doesn’t love Dean? I didn’t know they existed.”

“He got an A because he was sleeping with the TA!” I grouse.

Carin places her hand over my mouth. “I warned you. Come on, Fitzy.” She drops her hand and crooks her finger toward the big hockey player. “Let’s find a place to sit. I’ve heard this story before and it’s not a good one.” She hums a few bars from Frozen as she leads him away.