23. JT

CHAPTER 23

JT

I’ve played on a lot of teams over the years. And I never understood the guys who skipped workouts or ignored the dietary regimen. Or the guys who skimped on PT. It never made any sense. If hockey is the thing we love, the thing we’re good at, the thing that’s waiting for us after graduation, why do anything to put that in jeopardy?

But I get it now.

For the first time ever, hockey isn’t the most important thing in my life.

It’s been a week since the fundraiser, and I can’t get Maggie off my mind.

Truthfully, that’s been an issue this whole semester, and it’s just getting worse. The more I have her, the more I want her.

When I found out she’s Coach’s niece, and when she told me in no uncertain terms that we couldn’t be more than fuck buddies minus the buddies, I went along with it for two reasons. Number one, I couldn’t resist her. And number two, I foolishly hoped that maybe we’d fuck each other out of our systems.

That hasn’t happened. If anything, the more I have her, the more I want her—not just in my bed, but in my arms and by my side.

It’s bad enough that I’m obsessed, but if that were my only issue, at least I’d be in decent company. Will’s head-over-ass for Mel, the barista at Drip, but he’s not my only teammate who’s madly in love. Deano, the other freshman, was walking around the house reciting a fucking sonnet the other day. He says it’s because his girlfriend is using the poem as her audition piece for an upcoming role she wants, and that’s probably true, but I’m also convinced he’s so gone for the girl that iambic pentameter just drips out of his mouth.

Will and Deano make it look easy. Or at least fun.

It’s not a totally foreign concept. Being with Maggie is the best part of my day, no matter if we’re just texting, or eating lunch at nearby tables, or tearing each other’s clothes off.

But it’s not all fun and games. I guess I’m not alone in that miserable boat, either. Van’s not just hung up on his ex-girlfriend, he’s also getting tutored by her four days a week. Poor guy looks wrecked half the time, and like he’s dying from blue balls the other half.

I have a feeling I look the same way.

What I want is to tell Coach the truth.

What I want is to call Maggie on her shit. I don’t know what happened in her past to fuck with her head, but I want to work through it together.

What I want is for her to give us a shot.

What I’m doing is sneaking into a storage closet in the basement of the cafeteria for a mid-day hookup.

Maggie’s in there already. She sent me a picture ten minutes ago that had me bolting out of my chair the minute my prof said he’d see us next week. I hauled ass across campus because the pic she sent of just her tits busting out of their lacy confines has me painfully hard already. Her face wasn’t in the pic; it was just the bra and the beautiful fair skin it couldn’t contain. But I’ve been seeing so much of Maggie’s bare skin lately—in person, in dreams, and every damn time I shower—that I’m pretty sure I’d recognize her perfect tits anywhere, even if it weren’t for the scripty gold M that dangles from a thin chain around her neck.

This place is deserted, so I knock lightly on the door before stepping inside. It looks exactly the way you’d expect it to: small and dimly lit, with racks of shelving piled high with cleaning supplies.

It’s an even further cry from romantic than the bathroom at Kappa, but the way Maggie’s eating me up with her eyes tells me she really couldn’t give a shit about romance right now.

Her bra is still on, and I decide that can stay. Her leggings lie in a heap on top of her sweatshirt, right next to her furry little boot slippers. November is almost here and there’s definitely a chill in the air, but all I feel is heat as I peel off my own hoodie and sweats.

“Took you long enough,” she sasses, reaching for me and wrapping her arms around my waist.

Kissing the top of her head, I smile. “I was in class, or I’d have gotten here sooner.”

Maggie looks up at me, confusion on her pretty face. “Didn’t I text you at?—”

“11:48 on the nose. Two minutes left in class but the second the prof dismissed us, I was on my way. I like it when you’re impatient. I like the pic you sent even better.”

She blushes. “I’m insatiable lately. And forgetful. I blame you. I think you’ve scrambled my brain and turned me into a sex-starved zombie.”

I looked down at her nearly naked body. “Sexiest zombie ever,” I proclaim, scanning the room for a flat surface and coming up empty. Our options are limited, but then I spot a stepstool propped against a wall. Unfolded, it stands about four feet high, and it’s sturdy. I can’t ask for more than that. Taking a seat on the top step, I reach for Maggie, but she just looks up at me, eyes wide.

“You want to have sex on a ladder?”

“To be fair, I want to have sex with you everywhere. But this isn’t a ladder. It’s a stepstool.”

“A freaking huge one.”

“Why, thank you,” I joke, wagging my eyebrows. Despite all the secrecy stuff, being with Maggie is just so damn easy. I can make her laugh one minute and have her screaming in ecstasy the next. That’s today’s plan.

“This thing’s sturdy,” I promise, bouncing a little to show her it can support my weight and hers. “Now come here and let me get my mouth on you.”

Those must be magic words because she’s in front of me a second later, though she’s still eyeing the stepstool skeptically. “Do I just…”

I bite back a laugh. “Didn’t you tell me you were a cheerleader? That shit’s a sport, no arguments here. If you can let people lift you into the air, you can climb a stepstool, babe.”

Those pretty blue eyes of hers turn to angry slivers. “Did you just call me babe?”

“Nope,” I lie, making a mental note not to use that endearment ever again.

“Good. And yeah, I was a cheerleader, but I was in it for the short skirt and the bow. Plus, it was way more fun to just hang with Viv at cheer than it was to wait for her at my house until it was over. And I do a mean running back handspring, thank you very much.” She punctuates her words with her hand on her hips, then frowns and looks back at the stool. “I’m just not sure what to put where…”

Hopping up onto the top step again, I smile. “I know exactly what goes where, Maggie. Don’t worry, I’ll help you figure it out.”

She swats at me, but she’s laughing as she climbs up onto my lap. Finally, my lips cover hers and it occurs to me that I’ve been waiting to taste her for two damn days. If her whimpers are anything to go by, she’s just as hungry for me as I am for her. We’re rocking together and when my cock strains against my boxers, I know I need to get my hands on her and wring at least one orgasm for her body before I go over the edge.

I kiss her mouth soundly before telling her exactly what she needs to do next. “You need to take these pretty panties the fuck off.”

Instead of shimmying them down or even pushing them to the side, she leans back dramatically, testing the strength of this damn stool. It’s got an iron grip on the floor, thank god, so we don’t topple over.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, wondering what the hell happened in the last two seconds to make her coil back and wrinkle her nose up.

“I hate that word,” she says.

“What word? Fuck?” If so, I’m fucked. It’s kinda my favorite word, so I’m not sure why she’s waited this long to protest.

“No, the other word,” she says, shaking her head.

I quirk my brow. “Pant?—"

“Yes,” she says, the affirmation out of her mouth before I’m finished uttering the one she hates so much.

Okay…I can roll with this. “Point taken. Rewind. Take your fucking underwear— nope that does not work.” Now I’m the one shaking my head.

She shrugs, the movement lifting her generous tits half an inch closer to me. Goddamn. I’d swear they’re even fucking bigger than they were a few days ago, but that’s impossible. It’s gotta be her bra. I try to take a mental picture of it so I can buy her one in every color.

“There’s no good substitute,” she says, bringing me back to the crisis at hand. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it.”

It’s not that I don’t believe her, but I don’t back down from a challenge. My brain starts spewing every synonym it can think of. “ Skivvies, intimates, underpinnings … undergarments , foundational — yep, you’re right… Wait. Undies ?”

Her nose wrinkles again. “Yuck. That makes it sound like I’m a little kid.”

“Big nope on undies then,” I concede.

My phone is in the pocket of my sweats, so even the internet can’t help me know. All my braincells are working overtime. “Ooh, loincloth ?”

“Absolutely not.”

“How about unmentionables ?” I ask.

“In that case, let’s not mention them.”

“So…just to be clear, I can’t talk about your… underclothing ? I can never tell you hot fucking hot you look in it? How your pussy gets so wet for me that I can see it soaking through the fabric?”

Her lips part. “Okay, you should definitely say all those things. But just don’t use any nouns when you do. Pronouns only. These , those , that .”

God, this woman. She does it for me in every way possible. “You are high-maintenance as hell, Maggie. But fucking worth it.”

When she rolls her eyes at me, something clicks in my brain. “I bet you were one of those people who could. not. fucking. deal with the word mois?—"

“Oh My God. Don’t say it,” she practically hisses.

Playing dumb, I tilt my head. “Say what? Moi?—"

When she lifts herself off my lap and begins to back down the stepstool, I’m afraid I’ve taken teasing her a step too far. But then she stops on the last step and leans forward bracing one hand on my thigh while the other tugs at my boxers until my cock juts out. The only warning I get is when she licks her lips. Half a second later, her mouth is on my dick and I’m testing the strength of this damn stool once again. Holyfuckinghell , I was expecting her to get dressed and leave me here, not take me deep. Her hand grips the base of my cock as she swallows as much of me as she can take. She’s licking and sucking, and her lips are fucking glistening right now. My hips thrust up before I can stop them, but she just grips me tighter, going as deep as she can. It’s goddamn intoxicating. I‘m drunk on the sounds she’s making and the way the wet heat of her mouth envelops me. Those perfect tits of hers are rubbing up against my thighs and I’m pretty sure I could come from just that visual alone. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to conjure up something awful just to keep my orgasm at bay. My mind comes in clutch with a vision of Coach bursting through the door, campus security flanking him. Even that’s not enough. Dammit. Just when I think I can’t hold on any longer, Maggie’s full lips pop off my dick and she takes half a step away from me.

“Hear me now, JT Norris. Say that word and I’ll walk the hell out of here.” Her hand is back on her hip, and there’s no doubt she means business.

Right now, I’ll happily comply with any edict she issues. “Yes, ma?—"

“Not that word, either!” she practically shrieks. “I’m twenty-one. Do not ma’am me.”

I must be completely fucked in the head because I love this side of her, this bossy, sassy woman who wants things just the way she fucking wants them. And no, I’m not going to think for even a second how that might be a family trait. Tipping her chin toward me, I offer a suggestion. “How about this, Maggie? I’m gonna fuck you here on this sturdy-ass stepstool in this romantic-as-hell storage closet. You may forget your name for a few minutes, but don’t worry, that’s totally normal. When you come back down to earth and can walk straight, you’re going to march that fine ass of yours out of here and make me a list of all the words I’m allowed to say. Does that work for you? ”

She gives me a dubious look. “The ones you're allowed to say?”

I nod. “I figure it’s shorter than the ‘Hell Fucking No’ list.”

She considers this. “True.”

“I mean, some of them, I can guess,” I say, hooking my thumb into the band of the garment in question and pulling the satiny material off down her legs so she can step right out of it. I don’t let go, though. I don’t add it to her little mountain of clothing. Instead, I raise it to my lips and kiss the still-damp spot that’s my favorite. “For instance, I really shouldn’t say how much I fucking love it when your…” I say, gesturing to the scrap of material in my hand, “get…well, you know.”

She takes the underwear from my hand and bends down toward our discarded clothes, offering me a tantalizing view of her backside. Instead of dropping the panties on her pile, she folds them neatly and tucks them into the pocket of my sweats, before turning back to me. “That’s right,” she says, crawling back on my lap. I’m still hard as fuck. Tracing the seam of her entrance, it’s clear our little exchange turned her on, too. It blows me away how compatible we are. I’m so wrapped up in her and the way she’s moving against me that I’m about to grip my cock and drive into her when I realize I have no condoms up here.

Fuck . That was close.

Maggie’s in the same lust-haze I was in because when I pull back, she leans in.

“Condom,” I sputter, and the word stops her mid-motion. Luckily, my hand rests at the base of her spine and holds her in place.

Damn. Stepstool sex is more complicated than I thought. There should be a little basket up here or something.

I’m trying to figure out the chances that my house is empty right now because I’d love nothing more than to make love to Maggie on my bed. Hell, on any bed.

Before I can calculate what time it is and where my roommates are, Maggie dashes down the steps and holds up my pants.

I shake my head. “Outside pocket of my backpack,” I say, amazed she really hasn’t walked out on my dumb ass yet. I was a second away from taking her bare. Jesus. I need to get my head on straight. But that will have to wait, because right now, Maggie’s hands are rolling a condom down my length.

She straddles me, like before, and I tilt my head back and moan as she sinks down onto me. She’s wet and tight, the folds of her body opening just to swallow me up. I pump my hips in little bursts until I’m seated fully inside her. My head fucking spins, I swear. It’s like heaven, and when she grinds her pelvis against mine, my vision blurs. My hands grip her waist as we find our rhythm. She’s gripping my biceps and I’m watching my dick as it moves in and out of her with every thrust. Her ass cheeks slap against the hard muscles of my thighs. Her body shakes with need, and I know exactly what to do.

Easing one hand between us, I let my thumb find her clit. It’s swollen and needy and I rub quick circles against it to drive her over the edge.

“JT, ohmygod , don’t stop, I—” Her words turn into gibberish as she rides me harder, her inner walls clenching and sending me right off the cliff after her. We’re a tangled, sweaty mess, but we hold onto each other as we ride out our orgasms together.

It takes a minute for us to catch our breaths, but eventually, we climb off the stepstool and get dressed. “You go first,” I tell her, nodding toward the door as I set the stepstool back against the wall. “I’ll meet you in the caf in five.”

Maggie shakes her head as she stifles a yawn. “You wore me out,” she teases. “My next class was canceled and I’m exhausted, so I’m going to head back to Uncle Hudson’s and take a nap.”

“Are you feeling okay?” I ask, taking in the paleness of her features and the greyish circles under her eyes. Again, I’m a dumbass. All I saw when I got her was her perfect tits and the curve of her waist, and those silky little…yeah, things. I didn’t notice she looks like she could sleep for a week. Her actuarial exams are coming up and she’s been studying non-stop. Well, except for the breaks she takes to meet up with me.

“I’m fine,” she shrugs, reaching for her backpack, but I close the short distance between us.

“I’m serious, Maggie. I get that we’re just…whatever the fuck we are,” I say, the words like glass in my mouth, “but I’m worried about you. Come have lunch with me and then you can nap, ok?”

Again, she brushes off my concern. “I’m fine, I just…these exams are no joke. And this is just the beginning. I have to keep taking them to ensure my certification. All this studying is zapping my energy.”

“If you need energy, then you need food,” I say decisively. “Come on, how does greasy pizza sound?” We just ate it two days ago, so I know she likes it.

Her face goes from grey to green in an instant.

“Ugh. That does not sound good.”

“Okay, what does sound good?” I’m about to start naming foods, but I don’t want to gross her out more. She must not have eaten much today. Maggie seems to get queasy on an empty stomach.

A smile lights her face. “You know what sounds really, really good? A bagel.”

“A bagel?” They’re fine, but she’s acting like she’s just chosen her last meal and can’t wait to dive in.

“Mmmhmmm,” she answers. “Toasted. Chocolate chip with plain cream cheese. But not a lot of it. Actually, just a little side cup of it. It can’t touch the toasty warm bread-y goodness.”

I lean in for kiss. “And where am I getting this most delicious, nutritious lunch? ”

“Drip has the best bagels. But it’s fine. You don’t have to get me anything. We’re not?—"

I shake my head. “Humor me, ok? I’ll meet you on the third floor of the library on one of the comfy couches by the windows. Give me ten. Fifteen if Theo wants to shoot the shit about Saturday’s game.”

“JT, seriously, you don’t have to get me lunch.”

I know I don’t have to. That’s not the kind of relationship we have. But I want to. And that’s a problem I’ll worry about later. I tap her backside lightly. “Go,” I say, gesturing toward the door. “Or I’ll tell Theo not to toast your bagel.”

“You wouldn’t,” she says, mock horror in her tone.

“You wanna test that theory?” I ask.

Maggie leans up to kiss my cheek. “See you in ten at the comfy couches. Wait— I don’t think we can take food?—”

I give her a look as she puts her hand on the doorknob. “Don’t you know by now, Maggie, that rules were made to be broken.”