“My dorm is closer,” he pointed out, winning the discussion.
He threw a hoodie on over his bare torso and caught up his bag in one hand, pulling me along beside him with the other. His dorm room was a ten-minute walk through the campus normally, but we made it in nearly five. Jason had his arm wrapped low around my waist, propelling me forward. I pressed my face into his shoulder to hide my grinning giggle. He was in a hurry, and so was I.
My arm mirrored his, slipping low around his waist, and I felt his muscles shifting under my hand as I walked. I had an image of him as he’d be as soon as we closed the door to his dorm room: shirtless, his heavy, swollen muscles tantalizing me, spiked blond hair messy and wet with sweat, gym shorts riding low around his hips to show his V-cut.
I pushed him through his door as he opened it, then put my back to the door as soon as it latched. I twisted the lock and stood with my feet together, hands pressed against the door behind me, head tilted back slightly. I was waiting.
Jason made a game of it then, once we were locked in his room. He set his bag gently down on the floor beside his bed, then dug his keys, phone, and wallet out of the side pocket and set them on his desk. He hadn’t looked at me, hadn’t so much as turned around. He was moving as slowly as he could, just to see how long I would let it play out until I jumped him.
Over the last two years, we’d discovered that I was often the aggressor in our sexual relationship. He liked it that way, and so did I.
He flipped open the top of his laptop, logged in, and checked his email, typing a quick response to a classmate. Then, with agonizing slowness, he peeled his shirt off, and I was treated to a view of his ridiculously muscled back, the huge deltoids, lats, and traps rippling deliciously as he wadded up the shirt and tossed it into the hamper in the corner. Then, just to tease me, he stretched and tensed his arms; he knew all too well how I felt about his back. Then he turned slowly around, and I could tell he was flexing his abs because he knew how I felt about them.
Yeah, I was a lucky girl.
He lifted an eyebrow at me, and I just lifted mine back. I unbuttoned my pea coat, slipped it off my shoulders, and let it fall to the ground. Then, in a private joke, I bit the corner of my lip and shook my hair like a model in a shampoo commercial. Jason tried not to laugh at me, and marginally succeeded, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a constrained smile.
We each kicked off our socks and shoes, then stood a foot apart, staring at each other, daring the other to move first. I broke; my fingers grasped the edge of my T-shirt and peeled it off slowly. Jason’s gaze locked immediately onto my br**sts, pushed up by a basic red front-clasp bra. I teased him again, brushing one strap off my shoulder, then the other. I hesitated at the clasp, pinching the edges together so only my hands held it closed. I held the edges with one hand, slipped my arm out of the strap, then switched; in one quick motion I dropped the bra and covered my br**sts with my hands, and Jason groaned out loud.
“You’re killing me, Smalls.” He stepped closer to me, staring hungrily at the swell of skin spilling out from behind my hands.
I stood in place, tilting my head up as he drew closer. “I’ll drop my hands when you drop your pants.”
“But then I’ll be naked, and you’ll still be in your pants.”
I lifted a shoulder in an insouciant shrug. “I’m sure you could help me out with that.”
He stepped out of his shorts to stand in front me in a pair of tight boxer-briefs, blue and green plaid cotton darkened by sweat. I compromised with him and moved my hands so all that covered my ni**les were my two middle fingers. He drew in a deep breath, then closed the last few inches between us, slid slowly to his knees in front of me, his hands on the flesh of my hips above my skinny jeans. He kept his eyes on mine as he released the button and slid the zipper down, then pushed them down around my thighs, where they stuck.
He frowned at the pants, then up at me. “Damn, baby, these are tight. How the hell did you get into them?”
“Generous use of Crisco and a long running start,” I said.
He laughed hard, his face resting against my belly. “God, that was funny. Seriously, though. How do you get them off?”
“Pull them by the cuff.”
He lifted my foot and tugged the jeans off one leg, then the other, and I was naked in front of him except a V-string thong.
“Holy shit, when’d you get those underwear?” He took me by the hips and turned me in place so I faced the door. “Damn, Beck. That’s like dental floss and a Band-aid.” His hands slid over the sides of my bu**ocks, then curved inward to cup the swell, kneading the flesh and muscle greedily.
I laughed breathlessly. “I bought them yesterday. Victoria’s Secret was having a sale, so I actually got a few pairs.” I arched my back, pushing my chest forward and my backside out, drawing one leg forward and stretching the other, a pose that felt silly to me but clearly drove Jason wild, judging by the growl in his chest and the way his hands palmed my thighs and ass. “They don’t cover much, do they?”
“Cover much? They don’t cover anything. Your entire ass is completely bare.”
“Good thing only you will ever see them, then, huh? Well, except my roommate.”
“She’s not a lesbian, is she?”
I quirked an eyebrow at him in question. “Would it bother you if she was?”
“Not in general, no. But as it concerns you, yes. You’re mine. Man, woman, it doesn’t matter. No one else can have you.”
I sighed at him. “No, she’s not. She’s kind of a skank, actually. She brings guys back to our room almost every night, and they have sex whether I’m in the room or not. Like, they don’t always even bother to pull the blanket over themselves. It’s gross.” I tilted my head as a thought struck me. “I thought guys were supposed to be turned on by the idea of two girls going at it?”
Jason hooked his index fingers into the string of my thong and drew it slowly down, pulled it off, then held it to his nose and sniffed, much to my mortification. “It’s more of a visual thing, I think,” he said, sliding up my body so his erection nestled between the cheeks of my ass, his hands slipping around my waist to cup my hipbones. “I’m pretty sure for most guys it’s not really the idea of two women having sex that turns them on, in a homosexual sense. It’s more the visual of two naked women together, all those curves, you know? And no, watching you with another woman would not turn me on. I’d be just as possessive and jealous over that as you with another guy.”