James: A College Girl Romance (13 page)

“This is slow?” I asked disbelievingly.

“For me? Glacially slow.”

“Then why bother?” I snapped.

He bent down and kissed me slowly, languorously as his hand trailed down my stomach, splaying out across the tender skin and making me shiver as goose bumps appeared. Then his hand slid lower, and when his middle finger brushed across my clit, I had to bite down on my lower lip to keep from moaning.

Heat rose in my cheeks as he began stroking me faster. I had no idea how he knew exactly the right way to touch me, but within a few seconds I was at the edge again, panting and desperate.

“You can’t even begin to imagine how badly I want to be inside you right now, Cass.”

My breath caught as his finger began circling my clit faster, and I practically mewled with need.

“That’s right. You’re going to come so hard. But first I want you to imagine the moment I take you for the first time.”

My breath rushed out and I closed my eyes as my pleasure reached the breaking point, forcing a breathy cry from my lips as I came. His fingers pushed inside me, pumping in and out as my muscles squeezed against him. I shuddered, my legs tightening as the orgasm rolled all the way through me with frightening force.

“Yes, Cass. Fuck. You are so goddamned beautiful when you come.”

Just as I thought I was coming down, he curled his fingers into me, causing my body to tighten around him until I was completely exhausted and humming with an unfamiliar state of full-body bliss I had never felt before. When I opened my eyes, James was staring down at me.

Without thinking, I reached up and brushed his jaw with my fingers. I jerked back as soon as I remembered the circumstances of the most incredible back-to-back orgasms I had ever had—not to mention the first time someone else’s touch had made me come. James grasped my hand and drew it to his mouth, brushing my knuckles with his lips.

I stared up at him and tried to sort out what I was feeling. He had made me come harder than I had thought possible. That was it. Nothing to get emotional over. At least that was what I was going to tell myself over and over until it sank in.

“This is strange,” I muttered.

I struggled to sit up.

“What is?”

“Multiple orgasms with a virtual stranger.”

“I imagine sex with a virtual stranger is a normal night out for a lot of people, minus the multiple orgasms,” James said.

Whenever Vicki talked about her boyfriend, I got the distinct feeling that he got off more than she did—if she got off at all. Not that she ever said anything directly, but I was willing to bet that James McDevitt was either a more skilled or more generous—or both—sexual partner than most guys I had run into.

It wasn’t that hard to determine that the guys who tried jamming their tongues into my mouth as they rammed my pelvic bone with their hard-ons in the middle of a club weren’t going to be the world’s best sexual partners.

When James rose lithely from the bed and walked over to pour more champagne, I realized he was still in his suit from dinner. Part of me was itching to get him undressed just to make sure the washboard abs I remembered were real. Really, though, I wanted to see him naked … even if I knew better.

While he was standing at the wet bar with his back turned, I jumped up and rushed—naked—down the hall to the second bedroom with all the shopping bags. I rummaged through them until I found a lace-trimmed slip. I yanked it over my head and then paused at the sound of music drifting from the other room.

Fade Into You
by Mazzy Star?
Fucking really
? I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to run into the other room and kick James McDevitt’s ass. The only problem? He was a foot taller than I was and outweighed me by a hundred pounds or so, but still.
Asshole!
Why did he have to be so damn charming?

I walked back down the hall and into the main bedroom. He was on the bed, sitting back against the headboard, wearing a pair of grey pajama pants, no shirt. I smirked. Well, I had gotten half my wish—and yep, he totally had washboard abs. Fucker. He patted the spot on the bed next to him and gestured to the flutes of champagne sitting on the nightstand. Then he pointed at his lap.

“Modest enough for you?”

I nodded primly. I was secretly happy that I could get another look at the multitude of Latin inscriptions on his torso—if only I could manage to take my eyes off the distractingly large bulge in his pants.

“Flimsy enough for you?” I asked, gesturing to my nightie.

“Absolutely not. I preferred naked.”

I walked over and took a flute of champagne before sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Mind if I ask you a personal question?” I asked.

James smiled charmingly.

“Whatever you’d like. I am at your service, lovely.”

I blushed and looked down at my glass.

“I—well, I kind of thought that if you paid women for their company, then you would—”

“Not care about the other person’s gratification?”

“Yeah, I mean, in my limited experience, guys don’t care so much about—”

He started laughing.

“Oh, lovely. For shame. Are you comparing me to drunken frat boys?”

I smirked again.

“You were one once, weren’t you?”

“A long time ago, and I’ve learned a hell of a lot since then.”

I blinked at the reminder of the chasm between us. There was no question I was an adult, but he was a fully functioning adult. Undergraduate degree, advanced degree, money, job. He had all these things, while I was struggling just to finish my undergrad degree.

Beyond that, we were from different worlds. He clearly came from money, and I was officially flat broke. On second thought, if he followed through with his part of this deranged deal, then I wouldn’t be so broke after this summer. I would have enough money to finish school without taking out tens of thousands of dollars in high-interest loans. Done with school, no debt—my fantasy.

Inconspicuously studying the messages inked on his chest, I drank the rest of my champagne, set down the glass, and got up. Without a word, I walked out of the room and took my phone from the table by the sofa. When I opened the door onto the terrace, the breeze coming off the water was chilly. I didn’t mind, though. The cold helped snap me back to reality as I tapped words into the search bar.

Peccavi
—I have sinned.

Pede poena claudo
—Punishment comes limping.

I puzzled over that one. Punishment comes limping?
Whose punishment?
I wondered.

The door to the balcony opened behind me. I looked over my shoulder at James and sighed. He was such a strange mix of contradictions. Everything about him screamed that it was a very bad idea to get too close to him, but at the same time, I was drawn to him.
Like a moth to a flame
. I smiled at the cliché. I was definitely going to get burned—I knew that much.

His arm slipped around my waist as he stood behind me, and pleasure speared through me as his fingers drifted across the silk material of the slip.

“Brushing up on your Latin?” he asked humorously as he looked down at my phone.

“I thought I should, considering you’re covered in it. Souvenirs from your prep school days?”

“I suppose so. Reminders of lessons I don’t want to forget.”

“Important enough to ink up your chest with all of them?”

I twisted in his arms and turned to face him.

“Absolutely.”

He tipped my chin with his fingers and bent down to kiss me. Then his other hand fell to my hip, pulling me closer. His touch felt good. Too good. I pulled back and shook my head. It was easy to get sucked in and forget what had brought me here.

“Don’t do that,” I pleaded.

He took my face between his hands and smiled.

“Don’t do what?”

“
That
.”

He bent down again and took my lips with his, teasing me and making me crave things. Soon, all I could think of was the feeling of his fingers pushing into me, which led me to wonder about other things. A moan escaped my lips, and I broke away from him.

“Why didn’t you try to fuck me tonight?” I demanded.

“I
was
inside you,” he said as his thumb brushed my lower lip.

I frowned up at him.

“I mean—why didn’t you just get it over with?”

“Because you weren’t ready.”

His answer threw me.

“Who says? And what the fuck do you care?” I snapped.

“I told you—only willing partners.”

“Really? Because I’ll bet you could walk into the lobby and immediately find at least half a dozen willing partners.”

I bit down on my lip. Why was I baiting him? If James McDevitt suddenly decided I was too much trouble, then my ticket to finishing undergrad without some shady student loan and even more credit card debt would fly out the window.

T
he real mind fuck for me was that I didn’t have the slightest temptation to call off the entire thing, even when I knew my desire for this girl was clouding my judgment. Her cries of release had driven me past rational thought into dangerous territory, and I had pushed her to the edge of her boundaries.

The moment I took her for the first time, I wanted there to be no question that she wanted it as much as I did. However, given that it wasn’t remotely possible for anyone to want anything as much as I wanted her right now, I would settle for her begging.

Without doubt, Cassia Flynn was going to be my downfall. I could feel it. She was dangerous.

After jerking off in the shower,
I got dressed and called room service. There was the slightest pause when I asked for an entire bottle of whatever whisky they had on hand. Less than five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. The man from room service left the silver tray with the bottle and a cordial glass before discreetly collecting the champagne bucket. I gave him a few bills for his trouble.

As soon as he was gone, I poured a generous portion of whisky and walked onto the balcony to clear my head. Within a few minutes, as the alcohol warmed my throat, I came to an undeniable conclusion.

I wanted this girl, and having her was worth any cost. Fuck the consequences.

Just the thought of another man having her first caused my muscles coil with tension. Up until this moment in time I had never felt possessive of anyone or anything, but Cass Flynn was different, even if I couldn’t entirely identify why.

I wanted her in a way I had never felt before. The only thing that would quench this thirst would be to watch her coming in my arms as I finally took her for the first time.

My eyes snapped open at five in the morning. I sat up and rose from the bed. After dressing in workout clothes, I indulged my first instinct, which was to walk down the hall to make sure Cass was asleep in the main bedroom—seeing as I had chosen to sleep down the hall.

I stopped in front of the door and toed it open. In the low light, I saw her fiery hair spread out on the pillow, the sheets pulled down to her hips as she slept on her side. I walked silently into the room and stared down at her sleeping form. Goddamn. I wanted to see those bright green eyes staring up at me reproachfully. I wanted to hear her quick breaths as my tongue raked over her clit. I wanted to feel her tight, wet heat clench around me as she cried my name.

I pulled the sheets up around her shoulder. Then I quietly walked from the room. One thing I had learned in my brief time in her presence was that exercise was a poor substitute for fucking her senseless. No matter how many times I jerked off, it did nothing to dull the need.

Prior to Cass Flynn, my dick had never been this specific. I had never wanted a particular woman as much as I wanted her.

Of course, I knew what I
should
have done by now. I should have hired a car to take her back to that Podunk little college town, and then I should have gotten on a plane headed anywhere. Tahiti? Tahiti to Sydney to Tokyo didn’t sound like a bad idea. Hanover would never turn down the opportunity to party on the way to a meeting.

But I knew I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t leave. Because I wanted to take Cass Flynn to breakfast and learn more about her life while walking around Golden Gate Park, before bringing her back to the hotel and making her come for me over and over until I was out of my mind.

The fact that I wanted to know anything about her was worrisome. It meant I was deviating from a course that maximized pleasure while minimizing complication. Fuck ’em and leave ’em—it had worked well for me.

My workout in the gym was perfunctory at best, but skipping it wasn’t an option. It was never a good idea to be weak or soft, physically, emotionally, or in business. I smirked as I thought of my business partner. Chris Hanover had been a geek when I met him. Crazy smart, but clueless. Now he was as bad as I was, and for that reason alone, I didn’t want him anywhere near Cass—the same way Bennett had most likely shuddered at the thought of me being anywhere near his little college girl. Ryan Bennett would definitely laugh his ass off at me now.

My business partner, though? Hanover would try to fuck Cass the first chance he got. He wasn’t a total dick, but I did think he’d push the boundaries of the code to see if the student could become the master.

I dropped to the floor after the last pushup. Hell, I had pushed the boundaries of my friendship with Bennett. For the most part, though, I had tormented his little freshman because I had thought my buddy was being a fool chasing after a freshman. I had seen my intervention as a public service.

I had to admit, though, that I was lucky. Cass was inexperienced, but she would have been a college graduate by now if her nearest and dearest hadn’t fucked her over. A virgin, but still far from a naïve little freshman.

I got up and grabbed a towel before jogging to the elevator and riding up to the suite. When I got there, it was still dark. No movement from the master bedroom. I continued to the bathroom and got in the shower.

I tried to think of nothing but the water beating down on me, but her face haunted me—her cheeks pink, her lips parted. Finally, I turned off the water and toweled off. In the bedroom, I grabbed a worn pair of jeans and a cotton T-shirt. Only seconds after I dropped the towel, a lamp clicked on behind me. I heard a soft gasp, then absolute silence. My dick came alive instantly.

“I-I’m sorry,” she sputtered. “I didn’t know …”

I turned around slowly and watched Cass bite her lip as she pulled the sheet around her chest. I felt a degree of smug satisfaction when her eyes dropped down and remained glued to my dick.

“See anything you like?” I asked wryly.

On multiple occasions, I had been accused of being all dick, no heart. When she looked up, her cheeks were bright pink.

“Oh my god.”

She closed her eyes, and I proceeded to get dressed. Within thirty seconds, she seemed to think the better of limiting her vision in my presence and opened her eyes. Without taking the time to unravel herself from the sheets, she stumbled out of the bed—forcing me to catch her by the elbow. She automatically looked down and sighed.

“Disappointed?” I asked dryly.

Her eyes flew to mine.

“How is it possible that you’re in your thirties and you still act like an adolescent?”

“You’re only as old as you feel—and don’t say
thirties
like it’s an abyss.”

“So you’re Peter Pan, then?”

I looked down.

“Green stockings? I don’t think all of me would fit.”

She sighed and started to pull away, but her foot got caught on the sheets again, forcing her to steady herself on my chest. I inhaled. Her hair smelled like cinnamon and berries, and I couldn’t help but enjoy the view of her ass. She was right—she had transported me back to the enduring misery of adolescence.

In my early teens, I had been a skinny little prick, and the only person I had ever cared about—and the only one I imagined had ever cared about me—had just taken a massive dose of sleeping pills and checked out on life. It had been my mother’s grand exit from a horror-show of a marriage that had turned into a nightmare of a divorce.

People had this tendency to talk about women taking men to the cleaners in a divorce. But no one took a man like James McDevitt III to the cleaners. After a protracted court battle, followed by harassment and threats, whoever was trying to escape Papa McDevitt ultimately would end up ruined, dead by his own hand, or mysteriously missing under suspicious circumstances.

My adolescence had followed a typical trajectory. As a scrawny, shorter than average little shit lacking an adult role model, or at least an adult role model who didn’t eat small puppies and babies for breakfast, I had gotten my ass beat. A lot. Then I had shot up ten inches in a year, at which point I turned into the kicker of asses. Spending my youth hard up and horny gave me the wherewithal to appreciate that my stint of abstinence in the presence of Cass Flynn would be well worth it.

After all, what was the climax without the build-up?

As I sat at a table outside my favorite brunch place in the city, it took me several minutes to admit to myself that I was disturbingly obsessed with watching Cassia Flynn eat. I couldn’t take my eyes off her lips as she ate the Challah French toast. Unfortunately, it made it extremely difficult to focus on my poached eggs Albert, because every time she moaned, the sound traveled straight to my dick. Memories of the night before forced me to think about Hanover trying to explain his boring-as-fuck tech shit.

“Enjoying your breakfast?” I asked dryly.

She took another bite, chewed, swallowed, and then closed her eyes and moaned again. I leaned forward, grasped her chin between my thumb and index finger, and then pressed my mouth to her ear.

“Ms. Flynn, could you kindly stop doing that? Because all I can think about when you do that is how badly I need to fuck you over this table right now.”

I kissed the side of her face and then casually leaned back to pick up my Bloody Mary. Such an apt beverage, given my current company. Cass sat back, her cheeks flamingly pink as she reached for her Mimosa.

Several moments later, she picked up her knife and fork and cut another piece of French toast, which she ate very demurely, as though she was truly in fear of me bending her over the two-top, pulling up her dress, and fucking her in full view of passersby on Cole Street. I had to admit—the thought
was
more than tempting.

After paying for brunch, I led her toward the park. I thought about taking her to the Conservatory or the California Academy of Sciences, but I didn’t want to be indoors on such a beautiful day in the city. Cass, who was peering around like a tourist, stopped every so often to stare into a storefront.

“Have you ever been to SF?” I asked.

I figured she had—her university wasn’t more than an hour from the city.

“Sort of. Always at night, though. I went to some sketchy club with my roommate from freshman year. Then, after I turned twenty-one, I came out with a couple of friends, but it didn’t turn out to be as fun as I thought it would. Where do you live—I mean regularly? You can’t possibly live full-time in that house by school.”

I smiled.

“No?”

She shook her head.

“It’s not
you
. You just don’t strike me as a suburbanite.” She paused. “But I can totally see you hitting on college girls.”

“Fair enough.
You’re
a college girl.”

She made a sound between frustration and annoyance.

“Not really. I’m basically a dropout. I should have graduated by now. Of course, it would have helped if Mom and Michael had given me some kind of notice before cutting me off. And if Michael wasn’t claiming me as a dependent on his tax returns …”

She trailed off.

“Michael is your stepfather?” I asked innocently.

“Yeah. My mom remarried while I was in high school. He’s her knight in shining armor, and she thinks he walks on water. Funny, since he’s Jewish—but he’s not a carpenter.” She laughed and then glanced at me. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess you’re not some crazy religious fanatic, but I could be totally wrong. Did you hear about that guy who got—never mind. I’m babbling.”

“I don’t mind your babbling.”

She glanced up at me again, but she said nothing. Within ten minutes, we were at the edge of the park. Cass laughed again.

“The Bay Area is nice. I think this is the first time this summer that I haven’t been drenched in sweat by ten o’clock in the morning.”

I gave her a questioning look, and she shrugged.

“My apartment is like the tenth level of hell in the summer. Air conditioning barely works. If it’s a hundred and five degrees outside, it’s ninety in the apartment.”

I felt my knuckles cracking. Her place wasn’t an apartment; it was a tenement.

“Why Northern California for school?” I asked.

“Why else? I didn’t want to live with my mom and Michael for another four years. Pretty sure Michael didn’t want that, either.”

“You don’t have a good relationship with your stepfather?” I asked.

When she shrugged again, I could feel the tension in the gesture. My tone remained casual, despite the fact that I was beginning to loathe Cass’s stepfather without ever having met him. I was definitely going to dig deeper into the man’s finances.

“He’s just kind of not interested in other people. Even when they first started dating, I could tell I was just kind of … extraneous. I just wish I had been able to get through school before he decided … Whatever. Waaa. Poor me. It is what it is, right? Plenty of people take out loans and end up paying them until they’re old, right?”

“You won’t have to,” I pointed out.

Cass cringed and shook her head as we walked deeper into the park, away from the crowds.

“Maybe I
should
be taking out loans. I feel like I’m in some kind of hokey hit-you-over-the-head parable about making the wrong choice that leads to a life of misery and debauchery.” She looked over at me. “In this little tale, you’d be temptation personified.”