29. Oakley

Chapter 29

Oakley

T he cheer of the crowd is basically a wall of sound that vibrates through my bones. I barely hear Jeremiah's voice as he talks to Ramsey, his cousin. Their deep laughter cuts through the chaos, but barely. The scent of sweat and grass fills my nostrils. It's November, but the heat generated by all these people in the stands makes it warm. My heart races, not from the game, but Jeremiah being here with me. It's non-existent to watch a football game with my boyfriend. Wait, is he my boyfriend?

My pretty boy slides his hand up the back of my skirt, fingers grazing my skin with possessive ease. I feel every nerve ending light up, a rush of butterflies exploding in my stomach. His touch is thrilling and comforting, a reminder of who he is and what we mean to each other. Despite the noise around us, I lean into him, seeking safety in his dominance.

"Sorry, baby. Did you miss me, bunny?" His voice is low, almost a growl, and it sends shivers down my spine.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible over the roaring crowd. I grin up at him, unable to keep up the sassy facade. I tell him, "I didn't mind you were talking with Ramsey. I just like being able to be here with you."

"Good." His hand moves to my ribcage and then even higher, teasing, almost cupping my breast. It's a bold, claiming assertion, one that makes my pulse quicken and my breath hitch. He knows exactly what he's doing, and the power dynamic between us is intoxicating. He wants everyone around us to know that I belong to him, and that makes me want to melt into a puddle of goo right here at his feet.

The final whistle blows, signaling the Spartans' victory. The crowd erupts in a thunderous wave of cheers. Their movements are like a tidal force that sweeps everyone onto their feet. Jeremiah doesn't let go of me, his grip tightening as he turns to face me fully. He's focused on me and only me in this moment. His green eyes lock onto mine, blazing with triumph and something darker.

"Come here," he commands, pulling me closer. There's no room for hesitation or defiance; his need is palpable, that I couldn't fight off even if I wanted to. Before I can react, his lips crash against mine in a kiss that's anything but gentle.

It's raw, possessive, a very public declaration that I belong to him. If he wasn't so possessive I'd be concerned he'd try and eat me out right here. His mouth moves hungrily over mine, claiming me in front of everyone. I can taste the salt of his sweat, feel the roughness of his stubble against my skin. My hands clutch at his t-shirt, desperate for something to anchor me to this man who means everything to me.

"Jeremiah—" I try to speak between kisses, but he silences me with another fierce kiss. The world fades away, leaving only the two of us. I couldn't care less who is watching or what they think. Jeremiah is the only thing that matters to me now.

"You're mine, Oakley," he murmurs against my mouth, his words searing into my soul. "Don't ever forget that. I want the whole fucking world to know that you belong to me."

"Never," I breathe, my voice trembling with bittersweet happiness. "I could never forget."

His eyes flash with satisfaction, and he finally pulls back, just enough to look at me. The intensity in his gaze is overwhelming. The crowd may be cheering for the Spartans, but all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart.

The cheers begin to die down, the crowd's euphoria ebbing slightly as they talk amongst themselves and start to trickle out of the stadium. Jeremiah's eyes lock onto mine, and I can tell right away that he's telling me it's time to go. He needs to be alone with me. There's a fire in those green depths.

I whisper, breathless, "What are you thinking?"

He doesn't answer me with words. Just a gaze burning through me, speaking volumes. My curiosity piques. He's always been good at this—leaving me hanging, wanting more.

I think maybe he's going to grab my hand and pull me with him, but I'm so wrong. In one fluid motion, he scoops me up into his strong arms. It's like I'm weightless, cradled against the hard planes of his chest as he starts heading toward the parking lot.

"Put me down, you oaf. You literally just got injured on the field." He grumbles, but doesn't say anything else as we walk right out of the Spartan crowd.

"It's bruised, not broken. Besides, I need you," he murmurs when we reach his bike, his voice a husky growl. As soon as my feet hit the ground, Jeremiah's hands have their own agenda, roaming over my body with unabashed desire. One moment he's gripping my waist, the next he's sliding under my skirt, fingers exploring, teasing. "Fuck, baby. I knew you'd be this wet for me. I'm practically salivating to taste you."

Jeremiah's thick fingers push inside my tight pussy, and I gasp, trying to keep my composure. "What—" Making out at his football game in front of all his teammates is one thing, but we're in the middle of the parking lot and he's knuckle deep inside me.

"Shh," he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. "I love this outfit on you. Makes me want to bend you over my bike and fuck you raw. I want to watch my cum leak down your thighs right now, bunny."

Arousal floods through me, mingling with the remnants of adrenaline from the way he carried me out of the arena and the chance of us getting caught. The world fades to a blur of sensations—the roughness of his stubble against my cheek, the scent of his soap and sweat, the way his fingers curl inside me, hitting just the right spot.

"Someone might see," I manage to stammer, though my protest sounds weak even to my own ears.

"Let them," he replies, a wicked grin curling his lips. "I want everyone to know how wet you are for me."

His words send a shockwave through me, and I can feel the heat pooling between my thighs, undeniable and overwhelming. He doesn't mean them, but I know he said them because he knew it would push me toward the edge. He bends me over the bike, the cold metal pressing against my stomach, contrasting with the feeling of his warm hands on my skin .

"God, baby," he murmurs, his voice dripping with desire. "You're so perfect like this."

My breath hitches as his fingers find their way under the lace of my panties again, exploring with a slowness that drives me wild. Every touch sets me up, every stroke pushing me closer.

I moan, unable to hold back. "Please."

"Patience," he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. "I want to savor this."

His fingers delve deeper, and I grip the pegs of the bike, knuckles white. It feels like I might combust. He pulls back just as I'm about to come, it's like he knows my body better than I even do.

"Come for me."

My body arches into his touch, trying to get closer to him, but also wanting to run away from his assault to my senses.

Right now, nothing else exists. Just Jeremiah and me, locked in a bubble with one another that no one else could penetrate.

"That's my good girl," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction. "So good for me, baby."

My breath comes out in shallow gasps as his fingers explore.

"Does that feel good, bunny?" he murmurs without hesitation. His green eyes lock onto mine, unwavering, filled with a determination that sends shivers down my spine. "I'm selfish when it comes to you. I want to hear you say it."

"Oh my G-god," is all I can get out. My legs feel like they're going to buckle under me, but Jeremiah holds me, keeping me steady.

"That's right," he replies, and I just know by his tone that he's got that mischievous smirk on his face. He quickens his pace with his fingers pistoning in and out of my body.

"I'm going to come," I whisper, pleasure flooding through me. But before I can tumble off the cliff, he pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and depriving me of the orgasm I was soaring toward. His gaze never leaves mine as he sensually licks them clean, every movement deliberate, calculated. He lets out a low hum of approval, letting me know that he very much enjoys the way I taste.

"I'm insatiable for you," he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. The way he looks at me, as if I'm his most prized possession. "I'm not ready to let you come yet. I think I want to play a little longer."

I open my mouth, ready to whine that he's denying me what I so desperately want from him, but he holds a finger up to cut me off.

"Get on the bike," he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. I don't know what's gotten into Jeremiah, but I can't say I dislike it. He's demanding, like a man obsessed. I comply, straddling the seat while still trying to process the whirlwind of sensations he's stirred up.

"Where are we going?" I ask, my voice trembling slightly, though whether from excitement or apprehension, I can't tell.

"Wherever the fuck I want," he says, a small smile playing on his lips as he puts my helmet on for me before tugging on his own.

"I'd follow you anywhere," I manage to say, the words feeling inadequate to describe how I'm feeling right now. My body is humming, and it's only partly because of the pleasure that was coursing through me. He mounts the bike, reaching for my hands and guiding me to hold on to him. I could tease him right now by not slipping them into his shirt, but I feel like I've pushed the limits enough with him lately and I really don't want everyone to see me having sex in the parking lot.

We leave campus and if I was with anyone else, I would be worried about where we were going. I don't have that same compunction when it comes to him. He's not dragging me to any freaking alley ways.

It's only when we round the bend that leads to the founding families cemetery of Whispering Ridge that I pause.

"Are we…?" I start to ask, but Jeremiah's hand grabs mine, pulling it up to rest over his heart.

"Yes," he whispers in my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

My pulse quickens at the thought. The bike roars beneath us, but all I can think about is what happens next.

"I hope you know how much you mean to me, bunny. Because I'm about to fuck you so hard you might forget," Jeremiah says, his voice a promise of what's to come.

We pull into the cemetery, the bike's headlights casting shadows on the tombstones. Jeremiah kills the engine, and the sudden silence is deafening. He dismounts first, then turns to me, eyes blazing in a way that steals my breath away.

"Come here," he commands, his voice coiling around me. I slide off the bike, my legs trembling as I stand before him. He cups my face, his touch both tender and possessive.

"You're all I think about. All I dream about," he says, his voice husky.

I want to say something, but my voice falters, overwhelmed by the sheer force of the way it feels like he's looking into my soul. His eyes lock onto mine, and the world narrows down to just us, standing by the archway of the cemetery.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he asks, his hands roaming down my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "How much I crave you? I feel like I'm going insane when I'm away from you for even the shortest periods of time."

"Show me," I challenge, my own voice trembling with need. "Show me how much you want me."

His hands are everywhere, exploring, claiming. He lifts me effortlessly, pressing me against the cool steel bars on one side.

"C'mon, baby. Time to go do something scandalous," he demands, his voice rough with urgency as he unlocks my seat and grabs his gun before tucking it into his pants and dragging me through the gates.