Tyed(42)

I groan and roll my hips up to maximize his touch, but hell, he knows exactly what he's doing, and he is going for a slow buildup of playful strokes.

I feel him smiling into my neck, and my heart swells. Damn, I'm crushing on this guy so hard. Going into this with eyes wide open, and yet, somehow I feel completely blind. He takes my hand and slowly presses it against his crotch. I try not to freeze. I stroke him, knowing this could be so much better if he didn't have his jeans on, and he must be a mind reader because he stops the kissing and tugging to come up for a gulp of air and a plea.

"I really want out of these jeans." His voice is thick and full of lust.

"Go for it." I nod eagerly.

I've seen his boxers before on YouTube. Every time he goes on the scale during weigh-ins, he wears nothing but boxers. But hell if it isn't more exciting to watch him first hand. I want to reach down and literally do just that—touch the only part of him I didn't kiss or lick yet, but he's moved south, his mouth exploring my nipples with urgency. Every time he licks or bites them, my eyes glaze over and I feel closer to climaxing.

"Don't stop," I pant. "I'm close."

He doesn't. If anything, he speeds up the pace, his fingers working incredibly hard to make me come. And I do, I come on his fingers, swallowing back the loud moan that's tickling my throat.

Holy hell.

Ty kneels down for a few seconds, reaching for his jeans on the floor and plucking out his wallet, from which he produces a condom. He rips the wrapper with his teeth.

And just like that, all the pressure I thought I released earlier builds up again in my lower belly.

He pushes in slowly, testing the water, making eye contact the whole time.

"Does it hurt?" His voice sounds gruff and slightly concerned, like he is genuinely worried.

"It's amazing," I murmur. Because it is amazing, even if it does hurt a little. He thrusts deeper and deeper, faster and faster, and I shiver with pleasure, ready for the second wave of orgasm to wash over my body any minute now. We come together and I cover my mouth so I don't scream my ass off. I'm losing it. I can't even determine whether it was the best sex that ever happened to me or if it simply was the best thing that ever happened to me.

He stays on top of me, his whole weight crushing me, and aside from the croaky groan coming out of his throat, he is completely motionless.

"Thank you," he says after a few seconds, leaving me puzzled and surprised. He doesn't budge, milking the last of his climax and the intimacy of just being close to me.

"Thank you?" I echo.

He nods into my collarbone. "Yeah, I kinda needed that. Thank you so fucking much."







My friendship with Shane may have taken a backseat, but I still feel guilty about his car. After class one day, while I send him to get us coffee, I slip an envelope with a few hundred dollars into his backpack. It’s stupid, since this is pretty much confessing that Ty’s to blame and because I, myself, don’t have a penny to my name. But I do it anyway, to scrub off at least some of the guilt. I haven't asked Ty because I know the answer. He totally did it.

I hope Shane doesn't notice the money in there for a while. Luckily, he is busy with his assignment. The assignment I pretty much worked my ass off on, because he’s transmitted all of his interview questions to Izzy through me. I guided her, pressed and pestered her until she came up with the good stuff. I also took it upon myself to gather all the phone numbers and e-mails for the PR agents, lingerie designers and other key players he wanted to interview.

In short, after giving him the money and doing his assignment for him, my conscience should be clear. And by clear, I mean spotless.

"Want some pot?" Shane enquires with a sinister grin as he hands me my coffee.

We sit on our red bench. It's a hectic day, full of classes, an exam, a study group and on top of things, a shift at Ned's.

I shake my head firmly. "No, dude, thanks. I'm done with that stuff. I started working out and I think the pot really messed with my body. I'm in bad shape."

Plus, Ty loathes the fact that I smoke, and as much as I'd hate to admit it, his opinion matters to me.

Shane almost chokes on his laughter, but he still tucks the blunt back into his special cigarette pack. Good, he's put off too.

"Sure, okay. Don't want to be a bad influence."

"I take it Gemma doesn't mind?" I bump my thigh into his.

Shane wrinkles his nose, like he is trying to remember who the hell Gemma is. "She knows the score." He lifts his gaze back to my face. "What's up with you, B? Seeing anyone?"

This subject is explosive, but I don't want to lie to Shane. Whether he still wants me or not, lying will only make matters worse.