30. Josie

30

Josie

V an and I have gotten into a routine.

We leave the library together every night, holding hands and sharing kisses on our walk back to my dorm. We talk about our days. He tells me about the hockey team, and I keep him up-to-date on the latest elementary-school drama. I've been going to his games, and he's been hanging out with me at the coffee shop and the library, even when we're not scheduled for tutoring.

But when we step inside my room, the talking always seems to stop. Or, at least, our conversations veer in a different direction. Because when we're alone, we have better things to do—things we've been waiting all day for, things we can't ever seem to get enough of.

Case in point: less than a minute after crossing the threshold, Van is lying on my bed, leaning on his elbow, his head propped on his hand. He's tossed his hoodie onto the floor, so I do the same with my sweater.

"It's a no-bra day," he observes, his eyes roaming over my body.

"They're the best kind," I tell him, putting my hands on my hips. "You know I think bras are itchy and poky and pointless."

Van smiles at me. "I do."

"Well, they are. At least for me. But there's another reason I don't wear them."

He runs his hands through his hair. "I've figured that out, Jos. It's to torture me. And it's working. Could you feel my eyes on you tonight? I was trying like hell to concentrate on what you were reading, but it wasn't easy. Every time you moved—hell, every time you breathed—I could see the outline of these perfect tits. And all I fucking wanted to do was touch them. To taste you."

I'm breathless and he hasn't even put his hands on me yet. "It was torture?"

He nods, hooking his thumbs into the band of his joggers and tugging them down to reveal his cock—thick, heavy, and straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs. After tossing the pants on the floor, he palms himself and his eyes close briefly. "The sweetest fucking torture," he tells me, his voice low and ragged. He reaches for me with his other hand, and I join him on the bed, my body curling into his.

"It's torture for me, too," I reveal. "That's part of the reason I do it." I have no doubt I'm blushing furiously. I've never told anyone this before, but it's true. "I do hate bras. But I also…" my voice trails off as nervousness takes over. I can feel my neck and face turning red.

Van tips my chin up, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "You also what, Jos?" he asks, his voice soft and low as his finger traces the column of my neck, then down, down until he's circling the tight peak of my nipple.

I gasp. His touch is exactly what I crave and yet, it's too much. It's overwhelming in the very best way. My senses are overloaded. "I also love the way it feels. I love the friction of the rough fabric against my sensitive—oh! Oh, god."

He's licking the tips of his fingers before touching and squeezing me. His fingers dance over the sensitive flesh and I can't help but arch my back. His touch isn't harsh, but it's not gentle either. It's exactly the pressure I need.

"Is this what you want, Jos? You want my hands on you? My mouth? Do you tease yourself all day long? Do you get worked up just for me?" He's moving down my body now, every question punctuated with a kiss. "The scrape of fabric against your skin, it turns you on, huh? Makes you think of what I'm gonna do to you?"

"Yes," I cry out, wanting—no, needing —more.

"Jesus," he mutters, closing his mouth around one breast. His tongue swirls over the sensitive tip. His kisses are wet and hungry, loud and greedy. He moves to lavish attention on my left breast, licking and sucking until I can't take it anymore. Pushing on his shoulders, I release a frustrated breath.

"You need something, Jos?" he asks, pulling back. His eyes are heavy, his smile lazy. Van knows exactly how my body reacts to his; I can't hide it, and I don't even try anymore.

"I need you," I pant, rolling so I'm flat on my back. I'm ready for him, and I'm done being patient.

"Hold up," he tells me as he peels my fingers away from the button of my jeans.

I frown. "You don't want me naked?"

Van cradles my face in his palm and holds my gaze. "Of course I fucking do. I want you bare naked, Jos. I want you wearing nothing but the blush your skin gets when I talk dirty to you. I want the only thing on you to be the mess I've made between your thighs."

His words ignite the fire low in my belly. All the heat in my body, all the blood in my veins, rushes to my center. I was wet before, ready and restless.

But now? Now I'm desperate. Soaked and needy.

"I've been waiting for hours, Jos," he says, stroking his erection. "Years, really. I've never stopped wanting you. I don't think I ever will."

Before I can really process his words, he releases the buttons on my jeans and pulls them down, taking his time. He tugs the soft, worn denim over my knees, my calves, and finally past my ankles. My clothes are now in a heap next to his. I spread my legs wide as Van moves in between them.

"Fuck, Josie. Fuck ," he curses, then presses his lips to my center. The soft cotton of my underwear is probably transparent now. He runs his tongue across the dampened fabric and I cry out, unable to stop myself.

"You're so wet. A beautiful goddamn mess and I'm just getting started," he tells me, gliding my panties down my legs. They don't join the rest of our clothes, though. Instead of throwing them on the floor, he holds them in his fist. "Look at me, Jos," he commands, his voice rough as he lifts the flimsy fabric to his lips, kissing it, breathing it in, and causing another wave of heat to rush over my body.

"I'm gonna devour you, Josie. Eat you up like you're dessert and I'm starving. That okay with you?"

"YesNowPlease." The words tumble out of my mouth as Van's lips and tongue and fingers start exploring.

My legs fall open, leaving me totally exposed. I'm not shy, though. Van doesn't hold back when he's with me, so I don't either.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I look down the length of my body to see him dip his head between my thighs. I reach down and thread my fingers through his hair. The strands are silky and there's something erotic about our position. I hold his head steady, letting him know just how good it feels when he kisses me right—"Oh—there. Don't stop. There."

Instead of doing what he's told, Van stops and looks up at me. His lips glisten with my arousal and even though I desperately need him to get back to work, even I can't deny that's hot.

"You like that, Jos?" he asks. "Right… there ?" His thick fingers fill me and he crooks them right…there , at that magical place that only he has ever found. My hand grasps his hair tighter and when he taps my clit with his thumb, I cry out. My words make no sense, but for once I don't care. I'm lost to the bliss of the orgasm building inside me.

"Fuck, Josie. You get so loud for me. You keep it up and they're gonna hear you."

I still for a second and that's when I hear the voices. It's no real surprise that there are people in my hallway–I do live on a floor with two dozen other rooms.

We should stop. Or quiet down. Or turn on some music.

But I don't want to do any of that. Applying the lightest pressure to the crown of his head, I let Van know I want to get right back to where we were.

He presses wet, hungry kisses to my core, then tips his head up to look at me. "You like that idea, don't you, Jos? That they can hear us?"

"I mean…the door is locked, so…" my words trail off as Van's thumb rubs my clit while his fingers thrust steadily inside.

"Is it?" he questions, and though I'm sure it is, the idea is arousing.

"Are you sure no one's coming in? You sure we're not gonna get caught?" His voice is low and whispered, but it's like he's tapping into some forbidden fantasy I never knew I had. I swear the voices get louder, like they're hovering just outside my door, and Holy God, that turns me on.

"Fuck, baby, you're getting wetter. Is that what you want, Jos? You want me to make you come so hard they hear you in the hall? Upstairs? In the next damn building?"

His words spur me on and before I realize it, my hands are at my breasts. My fingers graze over my nipples and I shudder. The voices are still just outside and maybe it's the heightened sensation, but I swear they've gotten louder.

"Do you hear them, Josie"?

"Yeah…" I breathe.

"Do you know what they're saying?"

"No…I…Oh, god…" It's too much, all of it—Van here with me. His lips and tongue. His fingers and his words. The thought that someone might hear us. Or catch us.

"I bet they're saying, ‘Is all that noise coming from Josie's room? Is she by herself, fucking her hand? Or is her boyfriend there? Is he kissing her pretty pussy? Is he making her wet? Is he gonna fuck her with his tongue?'"

Van looks up at me, thenreaches to adjust us so he's cradling my ass in his hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my hips, my body tilted toward him at just the right angle.

"Because I am. I'm gonna fuck you with my mouth, my tongue. I'm gonna kiss and suck until you come on my face, Jos. Until you scream so loud it shakes the damn walls. Until everybody in that hallway, everybody in this dorm, hell—everybody on this whole damn campus knows it's me who's making you feel so good."

He makes good on his promise. He dives into my body with his tongue as his fingers keep their rhythm. My legs are shaking and I'm being loud and it feels so damn good I don't care.

I call his name as my first orgasm hits. He holds me as waves of pleasure crash through me. I close my eyes for a moment, letting my body feel the force of my release.

"One more?" he asks, and god, it's filthy hot to see the shine from my body reflected in the short stubble on his chin and jaw.

"Yes," I say, my breaths heavy. "But only if you fill me up."

His eyes close. "Hell yes. My mouth again? My fingers?"

"Your cock," I say, reaching for him. He obliges, peeling his boxer briefs down. I start to scoot down the bed, but he stops me. "I want to kiss you."

"Next time? Because I'm on the goddamn edge here, Jos." I nod and he presses a sweet kiss to my forehead. "Watch me," he says against my temple.

My eyes are trained on his fingers as they brush over the sensitive skin of my mound. He dips his hand inside and a second, short wave flutters through me. His hand is wet with my arousal as he grips himself. He's stroking idly, smiling at me. "Fuck, you feel good on me."

"You feel good in me," I say, my smile matching his. We both got tested last week, and I'm on the pill, so there's no need for any barriers between us. "So don't make me wait."

Before my sentence is finished, he's pushing inside me, filling me up. Skin on skin—nothing has ever felt this good, and I know I'm not alone. Van mutters a curse and bites his lip. "This is everything, Jos. You are every-fucking-thing ."

He's braced above me, and I can't lie: the view is pretty spectacular. His muscled arms hold him steady above me, and his hair is a curtain of golden waves. His body is lean and powerful. He's in complete control, each muscle doing just what he wants it to, just what it needs to do to make me feel good. He dips down, grinding into me just as he presses a sweet kiss to my forehead. The dichotomy of this man is irresistible. He's sweet and unbearably sexy. He's brilliant and struggling. He's relaxed and singularly focused.

And right now, that focus is on me.

"What are you thinking about, Jos?" he asks, pulling out slowly before pumping into me once again.

"You," I answer, unable to mask what I'm feeling. I'm laid so bare—literally and figuratively, that there's nothing left to hide. My legs fall to the side as I give myself over to Van completely. "How nothing feels this good."

"Nothing," he agrees, his thrusts shallow, his breathing a little ragged. "Nothing and no one." The words fall from his lips, both a question and a statement. It shouldn't, but the jealous edge to his words sends a thrill through me. It's proof that my absence left him hollow, that I wasn't alone in my loneliness.

Sure, there were bodies who warmed his bed, and mine wasn't always cold, either, but this fire between us is something I've never felt before. I couldn't replicate it, no matter what I tried.

And it seems like Van couldn't, either.

His hand reaches between us, his thumb grazing my sensitive bud again. My cry of pleasure wins me a smile.

He lifts his thumb to his lips and sucks before returning it to my heat. His touch is incendiary. "That's it, Jos," he praises. "Let them know how good it is, how much you need it."

The reminder that someone might be able to hear us should make me nervous, or at the very least, quiet. But it has the opposite effect. I'm insatiable as I arch my back and roll my hips, meeting him halfway.

I kiss his neck, his jaw, his lips. Our bodies are slick with sweat and the bed is probably banging into the cinder block walls of my dorm, but none of that matters. Nothing matters now but us.

"I'm gonna come, Jos. You want that? You want me to come inside you?"

My response is immediate. "Yes!" I cry out just as he releases into me. His hips pump and his breathing stutters. My nipples are sensitive as his chest moves against mine. It's just enough friction to ignite another orgasm, this one shorter than the last, but no less powerful. Van feels it, too.

"Oh, fuck , Josie. Fuck, that's good." We ride out the waves together, our bodies lost in a rhythm we started years ago—one that I'll never tire of. His lips brush my temple as I cling to him, needing our connection as long as I can hang on to it.

Van senses it, too, because he rolls us so that I'm on top of him in a sweaty sticky heap. Our positions have changed, but our bond hasn't broken.

I look down at him. The words are on the edge of my lips. I want to say them so badly, but this isn't the time, is it? And what if he doesn't?—

Van's voice cuts through the silence, soft and sure. "I love you, Jos."

The air around us stills. His eyes find mine and there's a question in them, so I answer it. "I love you. I've loved you all this time."

His mouth covers mine and I absently wonder if the people in the hallway have moved on. If they haven't, they're about to hear another show.