Chapter 7

chapter seven

Zara

"Obsessed"— Zandros, Limi

Loverboy: I can't stop thinking about how sweet your pussy tasted.

Loverboy: I need to see you again before I lose my fucking mind. C'mon, Trouble, put me out of my misery.

Trouble: Sorry working on an essay right now. Realllllllllly busy. Maybe soon…????

Loverboy: You know what's better than writing a philosophy essay?

Trouble: Not writing a philosophy essay…?

Loverboy: Nah, writing it with me there… ??

PICTURE ATTACHMENT

O h. My. God.

It's been two days of messages just like this, and admittedly, my resolve to play hard to get is lessening by the second.

Not that there was very much to begin with.

Davis Guidry is impossible to resist.

Something I should've known the moment I decided to play this little game with him because now he's not the only one who's suffering.

Trust me, misery loves company.

The picture on my screen is enough to set my skin on fire and my clit throbbing in cadence with my pounding heart.

He's so ridiculously fucking hot that he's single-handedly bringing back mirror pictures.

In the photo, the mirror is slightly fogged from his shower, and he's standing there in nothing but a white towel that's knotted at the front, hanging low on his hips and giving just enough of a view to make me want to lick every drop of water cascading down those delicious, chiseled abs. The sight of the tattoo on his hip makes me shiver, unable to stop myself from thinking about the night we spent together.

"Is that your Loverboy again?" Harper asks from beside me, causing me to jump. "He's not even trying to hide how down bad he is for you. He's double texting. The definition of a man obsessed."

Laughing haughtily, I toss my phone onto the bed, dragging my attention back to my computer, where I'm supposed to be writing said essay for philosophy. "He's… fun ."

Lily hums from her spot at the foot of the bed, shooting me a look with a raised brow.

God, it's like they know me or something.

I mean… only better than anyone else on the planet, but still.

They know that fun is my thing, and that's exactly why I love this thing between Davis and me. It's fun with no pressure or expectations. We're both free to do whatever it is we please, and it just so happens that right now, we both want to do each other.

Harper swipes my phone off the bed and punches in my passcode to unlock it, gazing down at the screen. Her eyes widen when she reads the latest text, followed by the photo he sent. "Zara, my god. The man is nearly begging to eat you like his last meal. Those abs? You're insane. Let him come over. I'm texting him back. Right. Now ." Before I can even reach for my phone, her fingers fly across the screen, and then she glances up at me with a shit-eating smirk. "There."

She turns my phone to face me, and my eyes scan the message she replied with.

Trouble: Well since you asked so nicely like a good boy… How about right now?

"Harper!" I shriek, slamming my laptop shut and pushing it to the side. "You can't just invite him over right now. I have… homework, and I haven't even shaved my legs today."

I realize, even as I say it, how ridiculous those excuses sound because we all know the last thing I'm worried about right now is homework, and if a man is put off by a little hair on my legs, then clearly, he's not a man.

I'm just making excuses.

Mostly because as badly as I want Davis, I'm also the tiniest bit afraid of the way I feel when I'm with him. How much I like just being with him. How easy it feels.

Because the last thing I want or need is to get involved with any guy at OU besides a casual, fun hookup.

There, that's the cold, hard truth. Something I haven't even admitted out loud to my best friends.

"Oh shit, he's responding, he's responding!" Harper says, bouncing on the bed with my phone in hand once more. Even Lily looks interested, and that's something I wasn't expecting.

"This is an absolutely terrible idea. What happens if Oliver comes home and finds some random guy here? He's going to go ballistic," I say.

Harper rolls her eyes. "First of all, Oliver needs to chill the fuck out. He's not your father. Despite what he likes to think, you're a whole-ass adult. He can't treat you like you're a child your whole life, Zara. Plus, isn't he at his flavor of the week's for the night? Hypocrite."

"Yes, bu?—"

She lifts a hand, "Nope. No buts. Look, you made a promise to yourself that you'd have the best year of your life, and clearly, this man is the fun you need. Honestly… I'm surprised I'm even having to talk you into this right now. You're usually the one to jump at a new hookup."

I'm quiet for a moment, chewing my lip while I think about my options. Finally, I sigh. "I'm just… I don't want to get attached, and Davis is the kind of guy that would make it easy to."

Harper's face softens, and she nods, understanding shining in her eyes. "I get it, babe, I do. But I think that if you're interested in him and you want to have fun, then just have that conversation. Friends with benefits. Simple, no strings attached. Communication is everything."

Without a doubt, this is what I want. I just want to make sure that I keep my freshman year fun and drama-free.

Hooking up with the same guy on the regular sometimes makes that not very easy.

"You're right. What did he say?"

Her eyes light up before dropping back to the screen. " See you soon, Trouble ."

When he shows up an hour later, thankfully after I kicked Harper and Lily out the door, I'm… nervous. For the first time in a very long time.

Like I'm going on a first date or meeting someone for the first time and not like I haven't already had one of the best sexual experiences of my life with the guy.

It's a foreign feeling, one that I'm not accustomed to, that has my stomach flipping as I swing the front door open and see him standing on the other side wearing a cocky, dimpled grin.

It's only been two days since I've seen him, and somehow, it's like I've forgotten how hot he is until now that he's standing here in front of me.

It doesn't at all help the fluttering in my stomach or the wild thrash of my heart.

Unlike the night of the auction, tonight, he's dressed casually in black athletic shorts and a worn gray cutoff shirt that shows the tanned, sculpted muscles along his sides, along with an old baseball hat.

"Hi," he murmurs.

"Hi."

His smirk widens, and I step back, holding the door open, allowing him to step inside. When he passes, brushing against me, the scent of his bodywash, fresh and clean, invades my nostrils and makes my core clench.

Shutting the door, I turn to face him, watching as he looks around my living room. I've only lived here since the summer, but I've been trying to make it less like a bachelor pad a little at a time.

"I like your house."

I cross my arms over my chest and smirk, popping a brow. "Did you come over for small talk or…"

" Brat ." He chuckles.

I force my gaze from his and bite back a smile.

Surprisingly, my favorite part about Davis isn't how talented he is with his tongue but how much fun it is to talk shit to him and the fact that he never hesitates to talk shit right back.

It may be my favorite version of foreplay.

He walks over to me in long, measured strides and stops in front of me, reaching up to finger the end of my wet hair, rolling the strands between two fingers. "You know exactly why I'm here, Zara."

I swallow roughly, sucking in a breath as I try not to clench my thighs together at the low, raspy baritone that's full of promise.

"Mmm, do I?"

My words are breathless, betraying exactly how I'm feeling right now, and he smirks, dropping the strand of my hair that he was twirling around his finger. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, and something tells me you haven't been able to stop thinking about me either."

"I thought this was supposed to be one night."

"Yeah, well, one night wasn't enough. In fact, I barely got a taste. Wasn't nearly enough," he responds, licking his lips as his gaze drops to mine. "I love these painted red, but fuck, they're even prettier when they're not. Gimme another taste, Zara."

When he lifts his hand and sweeps his thumb across my lip, a shiver racks my spine, and my nipples tighten into hardened peaks that press against the fabric of my cotton tank. The friction is deliciously torturous.

I want him.

We have this insane… tangible chemistry that I couldn't deny even if I tried.

It's palpable, a magnetic field of tension that is terrifyingly powerful.

And right now, I want to climb on top of him and chase that feeling, but I also know that this can't keep happening unless we lay down some type of boundaries.

I don't want to be in my head about this, and clear expectations make things easy.

My specialty.

"If we do this again, it's just for fun. I told you at the bar that I'm not looking for anything complicated, and that still stands," I say.

His thick brow lifts. "I know. I remember your commitment phobia."

The teasing tone of his voice has me shaking my head as I place my hand on his shoulder and push it playfully. "I'm serious. That's the only way. If you want to hook up and have fun, then I'm down, but that's all it'll be."

There's a beat of silence between us as his amber eyes hold mine intently, and then he shrugs. "If that's what you want, then I'm good with it. But I should warn you, I'm extremely lovable. You might be the one to fall in love with me , Trouble."

My scoff echoes around the living room, and his smirk widens, offering me another dip of his shoulder. "Trust me, that's not going to be a problem," I tell him, stepping closer until my still-pebbled nipples brush against the front of his T-shirt. I rise on my tiptoes and weave my fingers into the hair at his nape.

His breath hitches slightly, and I can see pools of heat flaring in his eyes.

"Now that we know exactly what this is, how about we stop talking?" I slide my hand along his stomach, his muscles contracting beneath my fingers, trailing lower until I reach the waistband of his shorts. "There's something I need to do."

"Yeah?"

I nod, raking my teeth over my bottom lip as I peer up at him through my lashes. He slides his arm around my waist and tugs me against him. The path his fingers trace along my back has a flurry of goose bumps erupting along my flesh.

"Something I've been thinking about since the night of the auction."

His mouth falls open in surprise when I drop to my knees in front of him, tilting my head back to gaze back at him.

Our eyes lock.

Lifting my hand, I curve my palm over his already hardening cock through his shorts, pulling a low groan from him. My fingers wrap around his length, and I squeeze, never taking my eyes off his.

The intensity of our eye contact alone is enough to have my thighs rubbing together, chasing friction and a pent-up release.

"And I can't wait another second," I murmur, tugging the fabric of his shorts and briefs while he gazes down at me with heated eyes.

I've never felt sexier in my life than I do right now, on my knees for him, simply by the way he's looking at me.

Using both hands, I pull his shorts and briefs all the way down, freeing his cock. It bobs between us, impossibly thick and long. The head is dark red and angry, seeping a pearly bead of precum from the slit that I can't wait to catch on my tongue.

I bring my fist to his velvety erection and circle it, my eyes widening when my fingers don't meet.

God, he's huge. Completely proportionate with his body. Yet, I'm still shocked by the size.

"You're doing great things for my ego staring at my cock like that," he rasps, dragging a thumb across my bottom lip.

He has no idea just how badly I've wanted to do this since he got on his knees for me in the back room of that bar. This is just as much for me as it is for him.

Using both hands to fist the base of his cock, I guide him to my mouth and swipe my tongue at the precum that's coating the ridge of this thick head.

After licking him clean, I drag my tongue down the length of the vein before closing my lips around the head and taking him deeper into my mouth, inch by inch.

I keep my gaze trained on him because god, he looks so fucking hot right now.

I can't stop watching him.

His head drops back on his shoulders, his throat bobbing as a low, guttural groan vibrates from his chest. His fingers sink into my hair, completely lost in the feel of my mouth on him.

"Fuuuuuck, Zara."

Each syllable makes my core throb and my clit pulse wildly.

I take him deeper into my mouth, cupping his heavy balls, rolling them in my hands. His hips flex reflexively, pushing his cock to the back of my throat, and I take it eagerly.

"Goddamnit. Why are you so fucking perfect? A fucking goddess on your knees." I think I've developed a praise kink when it comes to him, or maybe it's been here all along and he's the one who's brought it to the surface because heat floods my belly, and I swear that I could come just by sucking his cock.

Suddenly, he's pulling me off him, his chest heaving with the motion as he tugs me to my feet. "Fuck this. I want you to soak my face while I fuck your throat." With that, he bends and throws me over his shoulder. "Where's your bedroom, Trouble?"