The Learning Hours(58)

Laurel eyes me on that couch, tilting her head as she studies me, a blush creeping up her neck. Her cheeks get red.

“What?” I blurt out.

“I like looking at you in our living room. It’s sexy to say that.” She pauses. “We can do whatever we want, when we want.”

My dick twitches when she lifts the hem of her sweatshirt and pulls it off.

She’s not wearing a bra. “When do you have practice?”

I’m already working the button of my jeans. “Five o’clock.”

It’s three thirty.

Laurel’s panties come off, a pink puddle on the hardwood floor, at the same time I shove my pants down. Kick them off and yank off my shirt just as she climbs on top, straddling me with her tits in my face.

Right where I fucking love them.

I suck in when she eases herself onto me, her head already tipped back, gripping the back of the couch as she lifts herself up and down on my shaft.

I slap her ass, palming it. Squeezing.

Slap it again to prompt her into action, get her to move faster.

“Like that?” She licks my ear. “You like that, baby?”

“Yes I fucking like that,” I growl. Wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her down, impaling her.

“God I fuckin’ love you.” I’m pushing and pulling her along my cock now, wanting to draw the whole thing out but also wanting to dump my load inside her.

“I think I’m going to love having couch sex.” She pants, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Do you think we need more pretty pillows?”

“Fuck pillows.” My core muscles work overtime, glutes clenching to thrust up. One more thrust and I rise, still inside her. Set her in the center of the sofa, drag her ass to the edge of the cushion. Hook my arms under her calves, hauling her up. Pound into her.

But.

Jesus, I can’t stand not having my tongue in her mouth.

Pull her to the floor, leaning in, latching my lips on hers, kisses sloppy. Hump the shit out of her right there on the rug, just like I think about doing every second of every goddamn day.

“Oh God, I love you,” she whines. “Yes, just like that, just like that, don’t stop,” she chants. Chants like she always does, every time we fuck. Have sex.

Make love.

“Shit baby, you’re so beautiful,” I croon, the telltale tightening of my balls sending a shockwave up my spine.

“I love you.” She never gets tired of saying it, and I never get tired of hearing it. Her fantastic boobs bounce as I thrust into her hard, and I can’t believe this is my new reality.

This pretty, intelligent woman loves me.

Wants to live with me.

Is my fucking girlfriend.

I’m going to pinch myself every day thanking my maker for those stupid fucking posters in the quad, because if not for that sign and those douchebags, I wouldn’t be screwing Laurel on the floor of our shitty off-campus rental.

Our bodies.

Our breathing.

Notre maison. Our house.

I don’t know what will happen after we both graduate next spring, if I’ll move back to Louisiana or…someplace else, but we both know we want to be together.

And knowing that is enough.

THE END