Chapter 11: The Morning Light
Mia surfaced from sleep in slow, syrupy increments, like a swimmer drifting up through warm water. The first thing she registered was the heat. A wall of it, pressed against her back, radiating from the broad plane of Jake's chest. The second was the weight of his arm slung over her, heavy and possessive, his hand cupped around her breast like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She blinked, her lashes fluttering against the pale winter light that streamed through the snow-crusted window. The storm had finally broken. The wind that had howled for days had gone quiet, and the world outside had been transformed into a muffled, white wonderland. Snow piled high on the sill, crusted with frost, and the sun sparkled off the drifts in a way that made the whole room feel golden and soft.
For a long moment, she didn't move. She just lay there, her breath slow and even, cataloging every point of contact between them. His chest against her back, solid and warm. His arm over her side, his hand cradling her breast with a gentle, unconscious grip, his thumb resting against the curve of her nipple. His other arm was tucked beneath her, his palm flat against her stomach, fingers splayed wide like he was holding her to him. And between her thighs, nestled in the cleft of her ass, she could feel him. Soft now, heavy and warm, a familiar weight that had spent the night sheathed inside her.
She felt a flush creep up her neck at the memory.
The soreness between her legs was a pleasant ache, a deep, satisfying throb that pulsed with every small movement she made. She shifted experimentally, just a tiny roll of her hips, and felt the soft drag of his cock against her skin, felt the ghost of the fullness he'd left behind. The wetness between her thighs had dried into a sticky residue, a physical reminder of everything they'd done. The taste of him was still on her tongue, faint and musky. The scratch marks on her arms were a dull, pleasant sting.
She smiled, a slow, dreamy curve of her lips, and turned her head just enough to look at him.
He was still asleep. His face was relaxed, softened by dreams, his lips slightly parted. The morning light caught the golden stubble on his jaw, the sweep of his dark lashes against his cheeks. He looked younger like this, almost boyish, and her heart clenched with a tenderness so fierce it took her breath away.
Four years. Four years of movie nights and shared pizzas and his goofy laugh echoing down the dorm hallway. Four years of watching him date other girls, of pretending the flutter in her chest when he smiled at her was just friendship. And now here he was, his cock nestled against her ass, his hand on her breast, his breath warm on the back of her neck.
A laugh bubbled up in her throat, soft and disbelieving. She pressed her lips together to hold it in, not wanting to wake him.
Her phone was on the nightstand, within arm's reach. She stretched carefully, trying not to disturb him, and her fingers closed around the cool glass. The screen blazed to life, and she squinted against the brightness, her eyes still heavy with sleep.
Lucy had already texted her. Of course she had.
Lucy: So?
Just that. One word. A single, loaded syllable that spoke volumes. Mia bit her lip, a grin fighting its way across her face as she typed her response.
Mia: So...
She stared at the word, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. The cursor blinked at her, patient and expectant, and she felt a bubble of giddiness rise in her chest. The soreness between her thighs pulsed, a persistent, pleasant reminder that she hadn't dreamed any of it. Jake's arm tightened fractionally around her, his hand shifting on her breast, and she held her breath, waiting. But he just sighed, a soft, contented sound, and settled deeper into sleep.
She turned her attention back to the phone.
Mia: He's still asleep.
Mia: I'm lying here and one of his hands is on my boob and the other my tummy.
Mia: Like he's claiming me in his sleep.
Mia: It's disgustingly cute.
Lucy: disgustingly cute or disgustingly hot
Mia: Both?
Lucy: So you finally fucked him.
Mia: Lucy.
Lucy: Don't Lucy me. I've been waiting hours for this update. Details. Now.
Mia's cheeks burned, and she pressed her phone against her chest for a moment, biting back a grin. The warmth of Jake's body seeped into her back, his breath a slow, steady cadence against her hair. She could feel his heart beating through the solid mass of his chest, a steady thump against her shoulder blade. She tilted her head just enough to glance at him again, at the way his lips were parted, the fan of his lashes against his skin, the faint crease between his brows that suggested even his dreams were working something out.
She typed carefully, one-handed, trying not to jostle him.
Mia: It was incredible.
Mia: Like, I don't know how to describe it. He was so gentle and it was exactly what I needed.
Mia: He told me he loved me.
Lucy: WHAT
Lucy: MIA
Lucy: THAT'S NOT A DETAIL THAT'S THE WHOLE STORY
Mia laughed softly, a huff of air that made Jake's arm tighten around her. He mumbled something unintelligible into her hair, and she froze, holding her breath. But he just shifted, his hand sliding from her breast to her waist, pulling her closer. A moment later, his breathing evened out again.
She stared at the screen, her smile so wide her cheeks ached.
Mia: He said he'd loved me for years.
Lucy: I'm going to throw up. I'm so happy for you but also I'm going to throw up.
Lucy: Okay it's official. You're never allowed to complain about being single again.
Mia: I wasn't complaining.
Lucy: You literally cried into my shoulder during formal because he brought that blonde econ girl.
Mia: We agreed never to speak of that.
Lucy: I'm speaking of it. The world deserves to know.
Mia's eyes squeezed shut, her smile still stubbornly in place. The memory was a little embarrassing, a little sweet, and it felt impossibly distant now. Like it had happened to a different girl, a girl who hadn't spent the night being taken apart by the star quarterback of her college football team. A girl who hadn't woken up with his cock nestled against her ass and his arm wrapped around her like she belonged there.
She looked at the snow outside, the way the light caught the frost on the window, and she felt the soreness between her thighs throb again. Not a bad soreness. A good one. A reminder. His reminder.
Mia: I'm never going to be able to look at his bed the same way again.
Lucy: His bed? Babe you're going to be living in that bed.
Mia: Don't be gross.
Lucy: yeah, whatever.
Mia: I hate you.
Lucy: You love me.
Mia: You're the one who's been texting me about my sex life since 6am.
Lucy: Because I love you. Now tell me again. Every detail. Slow. I want to live vicariously through you.
Mia snorted, the sound escaping before she could stop it. Jake stirred behind her, his arm tightening around her waist, and she froze, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. But he just nuzzled into the back of her neck, his breath warm and even, and settled again.
She typed carefully.
Mia: Okay, first of all, I didn't just grab him. That's not what happened.
Lucy: Oh, so you were a lady about it?
Mia: I was naked and I woke him up at like 3am to tell him I wanted him inside me. I don't think that qualifies as being a lady.
Lucy: SCREAMING
Lucy: Okay wait, so you just woke him up and said "hey, put it in"?
Mia's face burned, but she was grinning so hard her cheeks ached. She shifted slightly, just enough to glance back at Jake's sleeping face over her shoulder. His expression was peaceful, utterly relaxed, and she felt a fresh wave of affection wash over her.
Mia: Pretty much.
Lucy: PRETTY MUCH
Lucy: I can't believe you. You're actually insane. My best friend is an absolute degenerate and I've never been prouder.
Mia's grin softened, her thumbs moving more slowly now. The joke was easy, familiar, but it sat wrong on her tongue. Because it hadn't been degenerate. It hadn't been reckless or dirty. It had been something else entirely.
Mia: It wasn't like that, Luce. It was... sweet. Or kind, I guess. I know that sounds stupid.
Lucy: Stupid? Babe, that's the opposite of stupid. That's like, the whole thing. That's the dream.
Mia: I know. I just... I didn't expect it to feel like that. Like, everything clicked. Does that make sense?
Lucy: It makes perfect sense. I'm genuinely so happy for you. You deserve this. You deserve him.
Mia felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, unexpected and sharp. She blinked hard, pressing her phone against her chest again, letting the warmth of the screen seep into her skin. Jake's breath was a slow, steady tide against her hair, and she could feel the faint thrum of his heartbeat through the solid wall of his chest. The room was quiet except for that, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of the old radiator and the distant drip of melting snow.
She looked down at her phone again, her vision slightly blurry.
Mia: I think I'm going to cry.
Lucy: Do it. Cry. Feel your feelings. You've earned them.
Lucy: But also, tell me more about the sex. Was he big? I need to know. For science.
Mia's laugh escaped as a breathless huff, and she pressed her fist against her mouth to keep from waking him. The audacity of Lucy, the sheer unrelenting horniness of her best friend, was almost enough to make her forget the warm weight pressed against her back.
Mia: I am NOT answering that with him lying right here.
Lucy: He's ASLEEP. He can't see your screen. Tell me.
Mia: No.
Lucy: Mia.
Mia: NO.
Lucy: Fine. I'll just assume he was average and move on with my life.
Mia: You're a menace.
Lucy: A menace who's been up since 6am waiting for you to give me the details. The LEAST you can do is tell me if your quarterback boyfriend is packing.
Mia stared at the word boyfriend, her heart doing a strange, fluttery somersault in her chest. She glanced over her shoulder at him. His hand had slipped beneath the hem of her shirt at some point during the night, and his palm was now pressed flat against her stomach, warm and heavy and possessive.
Mia: He's not average.
Lucy: I KNEW IT
Lucy: Okay, describe him. Scale of one to ten. And be honest.
Mia: Lucy.
Mia: Lucy.
Lucy: I'm waiting.
Mia: You're impossible.
Lucy: And you're avoiding the question. Scale. One to ten.
Mia stared at the screen, her face burning. She could feel the heat of Jake's body against her back, the soft weight of his cock still nestled between her thighs. The memory of how he'd felt inside her, stretching her, filling her to the point of overflow, made her thighs clench involuntarily.
Mia: If I answer this, you have to promise to never bring it up in front of him.
Lucy: I make no such promises. Tell me.
Mia: Fine. Ten. Happy now? The fucking thing is massive, Lucy. Like, porn-star massive. It's not just that he's packing, it's how he fucking moves with it. He stretched me so fucking wide I thought I was going to split in two, and then he just kept going, deeper and deeper until I was seeing stars. The way he used that monster cock of his, hitting all the right spots... fuck, I'm getting wet just thinking about it. He didn't just fuck me, he ruined me for anyone else.
Lucy: TEN?!??!?
Mia: yes, a full ten. More than just a big dick—his mouth, his hands, the way he fucks... he's got this rhythm that makes my toes curl... fuck, Lucy, he's a fucking god.
Lucy: Mia. MIA. The football team has a group chat and they literally call him Big Jake.
Mia choked on a laugh, her hand flying to her mouth. Beside her, Jake stirred, mumbling something sleepy and incoherent, and she held perfectly still until his breathing evened out again. Then she looked at the screen, her eyes wide.
Mia: EXCUSE ME?
Lucy: You heard me. Big Jake. As in, the entire defensive line has apparently seen him in the locker room and they have a whole ranking system. He's been number one since freshman year.
Mia: I'm going to be sick. How did I not know this?
Lucy: Because you were too busy being his "best friend" and pretending you didn't want to climb him like a tree.
Mia: We agreed never to speak of that either.
Lucy: We agreed to no such thing.
Mia's cheeks were on fire. She pressed the cool back of her phone against her forehead for a moment, trying to compose herself. Jake's hand had drifted lower while she was distracted, his fingers now resting just above the curve of her pussy. His thumb traced a slow, absent circle against the bare skin of her hip, even in sleep. His warmth seeped into her naked body, making her skin tingle where they touched. She could feel the heat radiating from him, a stark contrast to the cool phone against her skin. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she wondered if he was truly asleep or just pretending, his fingers inching closer to the slick heat between her thighs.
Lucy: Okay, but seriously. What was it like? I need the play by play. Did he eat you out? Did you ride him? Did he make you squirt? I need to know.
Mia bit her lip. She could feel how wet she was getting just thinking about it, the slick heat gathering between her thighs. She typed with one hand, keeping her movements small.
Mia: I rode him.
Lucy: YOU RODE HIM. On top? You? The girl who's afraid of commitment?
Mia: I was very committed to that ride.
Lucy: SCREAMING. Okay, and? Was he good? Did he know what he was doing?
Mia: He was... patient. He let me set the pace. He kept scratching my arms and telling me I felt like heaven.
Lucy: SCRATCHING YOUR ARMS. Oh my god. He's one of those. The ones who know what they're doing.
Mia: Lucy. I came so hard I literally forgot my own name.
Lucy: I'M CALLING YOU FROM NOW ON. YOU'RE NOT MIA ANYMORE. YOU'RE BIG JAKE'S RIDE OR DIE.
Mia's laugh escaped as a snort, and she clamped her hand over her mouth. Jake shifted behind her, his arm tightening around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She felt him stir against her ass, a slow, lazy thickening that made her breath catch.
She felt him stir against her ass, a slow, lazy thickening that made her breath catch. The soft weight of him grew against her skin, firming inch by inch until she could feel the unmistakable ridge of his cock pressing into the cleft of her cheeks. Still asleep. Just his body responding to hers, to the warmth of her skin, to the scent of her in his sheets. The knowledge sent a thrill straight through her, a possessive, primal satisfaction that made her thighs clench.
Her phone buzzed again.
Lucy: Okay so when you rode him, did you face him or did you give him the view?
Mia: Faced him. I wanted to see his face.
Lucy: Filthy. I love it. Did he talk to you? Tell me he talked to you.
Mia: He told me I felt like heaven. He kept saying my name like it was the only word he knew.
Lucy: I'm literally touching myself right now. Don't judge me.
Mia's eyes went wide, her lips parting on a silent laugh. Of course Lucy was touching herself. Of course. Her best friend, the certified whore, the woman who'd been run through by the entire defensive line, was getting off to the play-by-play of Mia's first time with Jake.
Mia: I'm not judging. I'm just impressed you can multitask.
Lucy: Desperate times. Now tell me about the sounds he made. Did he moan? Groan? Growl?
Mia's cheeks burned, and she pressed her face into the pillow for a moment, the grin on her lips so wide it hurt. She could still feel him against her, the thick, lazy weight of him growing harder with every passing second, nestled in the warm cleft of her ass. The memory of how he'd moved inside her, slow and reverent, made her thighs clench.
Mia: no, we never stopped kissing. Every slow, deliberate thrust was synced to the rhythm of our hearts, ten beats for each deep, intimate push inside me.
Lucy: I'm going to need a minute. Or several.
Mia bit her lip, watching the three dots dance on the screen. Lucy's pause stretched on, and Mia could almost picture her best friend staring at her phone, jaw slack, hand frozen halfway to wherever it had been headed. The silence was louder than any words.
She felt Jake shift behind her, his arm tightening around her waist, pulling her deeper into the curve of his body. His breath stirred the fine hairs at the nape of her neck, and she felt the hard length of him press more firmly into the cleft of her ass. Still asleep. Still hard as a rock. The man could probably fuck his way through a brick wall in his sleep, and she'd just told her best friend that he'd made love to her with his mouth fused to hers, one deep, impossibly slow thrust for every ten heartbeats.
Her phone buzzed again.
Lucy: Okay. I'm back. I had to go outside and scream into the void for a second.
Lucy: That's the most romantic shit I've ever heard and I'm genuinely going to be single forever because of it.
Mia: Don't say that. You'll find your person.
Lucy: My person is going to have to compete with a man who kisses a girl through a slow fuck for an entire night. I don't have that kind of stamina.
Mia laughed silently, her shoulders shaking with the effort of containing it. She pressed her face into the pillow, letting the grin split her cheeks wide, and her whole body felt light and warm and stupid with happiness. The phone screen glowed against her palm, Lucy's words still dancing on the display.
She watched Jake's chest rise and fall in her peripheral vision, the steady cadence of his breathing, the way his lips curved ever so slightly like he was smiling in his dreams. The hard length of him pressed more insistently into the cleft of her ass, a thick, insistent weight that made her thighs clench around nothing.
Her thumbs moved, faster now.
Mia: Neither did I.
Mia: It wasn't all slow and tender.
Mia: There was a lot of... desperate. A lot of "oh god" and "please" and me clawing at his chest like a feral animal.
Lucy's reply came back almost instantly, a string of exclamation points so long it took up half the screen.
Lucy: FERAL. ANIMAL. I'm framing this text. I'm printing it out and putting it on my wall.
Mia: Please don't.
Lucy: Too late. It's already my screensaver.
Mia pressed her phone against her chest, laughing silently, her shoulders shaking so hard she had to bite her lip to keep quiet. Jake's arm tightened around her waist in his sleep, pulling her deeper into the cocoon of his body, and she felt the thick, heavy length of him press more firmly into the cleft of her ass. Not even hard, yet it was a solid, insistent weight that made her breath catch.
Her thighs clenched involuntarily. The soreness between them pulsed, a deep, pleasant ache that throbbed with every beat of her heart. She could feel the sticky residue of everything they'd done, dried now into a faint crust against her skin. The memory of how he'd filled her, stretched her, how he'd looked up at her with those dark, reverent eyes while she rode him, made her breath come shorter.
Her phone buzzed again.
Lucy: Okay, but seriously. Clawing at his chest? Like, nails out? Did you draw blood?
Mia: Not blood. But I left marks.
Lucy: MARKS. You marked him. Mia. Mia, that's so hot.
Mia: I didn't mean to. It just happened. He felt so good I couldn't help it.
Lucy: That's the best kind of sex. When you lose control like that.
Mia's eyes drifted down to her own arms, where the light scratches he'd left on her forearms were still visible, thin red lines against her skin. She traced one with her fingertip, feeling the faint sting, the phantom echo of his nails dragging down her flesh. A shiver ran through her, starting at her tailbone and racing up her spine.
She wanted him again.
The thought arrived unbidden, sharp and undeniable. She could feel him against her, hard and heavy, and she wanted to wake him the way she had last night, wanted to tell him she needed him inside her again. But he looked so peaceful. His breath was slow and even, his face relaxed, the lines of tension that usually bracketed his mouth smoothed away by sleep.
She watched him for another long moment, the rise and fall of his chest, the flutter of his eyelids as he dreamed. The soft length of him pressed against her ass, thick and insistent even in sleep, and she felt a pulse of wanting deep in her belly. But she couldn't wake him. Not yet. He looked too peaceful, too perfect, and some part of her wanted to hoard this moment, this quiet morning after, all to herself.
So she turned back to her phone instead, her fingers moving across the screen with renewed purpose.
Mia: Okay, you want to know what it was like when I came?
Lucy: YES. PLEASE. I've been waiting for this part.
Mia: It wasn't like anything I've ever felt before.
Lucy: Elaborate. Now. I'm literally on the edge of my seat.
Mia: It broke over me in a slow, rolling crest. A wave that didn't crash but just kept rising and rising until I was completely submerged in it.
Mia: My body bowed against his, my mouth open in a soundless cry because I couldn't even make noise. I was too far gone. The pleasure just rippled outward from where we were joined.
Lucy: Oh god.
Mia: I felt my walls clench around him in this long, pulsing rhythm, like my body was trying to pull him deeper. And I could feel him twitch inside me in response, feel how close he was. And then I felt the hot rush of my own release coating his cock.
Lucy's reply took a moment to come through, the three dots dancing longer than usual. When it finally landed, there were no exclamation points. No caps lock. Just a single line that made Mia's throat go tight.
Lucy: Mia. That's beautiful. I'm genuinely crying a little bit.
Mia blinked at the screen, the smile on her face softening. She could be crass and impossible and perpetually horny, but Lucy had a wildly sentimental streak buried about six layers down, underneath all the talk of dick sizes and squad gossip. It surfaced rarely, but when it did, it hit like a freight train.
Mia: Don't cry. You'll make me cry again.
Lucy: Already crying. It's fine. This is a safe space.
Mia: I love you, you know that?
Lucy: I know.
Mia: I love you too, you disaster.
Lucy: Speaking of disasters. Did he come? Tell me everything. I need to know how it ended.
Mia's thumb hovered over the screen. The question sent a fresh wave of heat through her, memories flooding back in vivid, visceral detail. She could still feel the way he'd swelled inside her, the frantic pulse of him right before he'd pulled out. The look on his face, wrecked and reverent, as he'd spilled across his own chest.
She glanced down at Jake, still asleep, his arm heavy around her waist. The morning light caught the faint red marks she'd left on his chest, scratches that stood out against his skin like proof of what they'd done. A surge of possessive satisfaction swelled in her chest.
Mia: He did. But he pulled out at the last second.
Lucy: NO. Why would he do that? You're on the pill, right?
Mia: I am. But he didn't ask. He just did it. Like he didn't want to assume.
Lucy: That's either really considerate or really dumb. I'm choosing considerate.
Mia: It was considerate. It was also the hottest thing I've ever seen. He came on his chest and I licked it off him.
Lucy: YOU LICKED IT OFF HIM?
Mia: Yes. Every last drop. He looked at me like I'd hung the moon.
Lucy: I'm dead. I'm literally dead. You killed me. This is my ghost texting you.
Mia grinned, biting her lip to contain the laugh that threatened to escape. Beside her, Jake muttered something in his sleep, his arm tightening around her waist. She felt him shift behind her, the thick weight of his cock pressing more firmly into the cleft of her ass. Her breath hitched.
Mia: Also he's getting hard in his sleep right now. Like he can sense I'm talking about him.
Lucy: WHAT
Lucy: MIA
Lucy: Wake him up. WAKE HIM UP.
Mia: He looks so peaceful though.
Lucy: I don't care. He's literally dreaming about fucking you. That's not peaceful, that's a biological imperative. Let the man act on it.
Mia laughed silently, her shoulders shaking. She pressed her face into the pillow, feeling the grin stretch her cheeks wide. The phone screen glowed against her palm, Lucy's relentless insistence dancing across the display.
Mia: I can't just wake him up and demand sex. That's not how relationships work.
Lucy: IT'S LITERALLY EXACTLY HOW RELATIONSHIPS WORK. You did it last night and it worked out GREAT for you.
Mia: You're not wrong.
Lucy: I'm never wrong. Now wake him up and tell him Big Jake needs to live up to his name again.
Mia snorted, clamping her hand over her mouth. Jake stirred, a soft mumble escaping his lips, and she held perfectly still until his breathing evened out again.
Mia: I'm not calling him Big Jake to his face. That's the most humiliating thing I could possibly do.
Lucy: It's his LOCKER ROOM NAME. He'd love it.
Mia: I'm going to pretend I never heard that.
Lucy: Too late. It's in your brain now. You're going to be riding him tonight and accidentally moan "Big Jake" and he's going to know EXACTLY where you heard it.
Mia felt her face burn. She glanced down at him, at the soft, relaxed lines of his face, the way his lips curved ever so slightly in his sleep. The thick heat of him pressed against her, growing harder, more insistent. She could feel the pulse of it, the way his body responded to her even unconscious.
Mia blinked at the screen, the words arriving in a single bubble that made her stomach drop.
Lucy: If you don't wake him up, I'm coming over there. I'll dig my way through the snow with a fucking spoon. Don't test me.
Lucy: ;)
Mia's grip tightened on her phone. The joke was obvious, the winky face a neon sign of teasing intent. But it didn't matter. A flash of something hot and fierce shot through her chest, a territorial surge that startled her with its intensity. Her arms instinctively tightened around Jake, pulling him closer, pressing her back deeper into the solid warmth of his body. He mumbled something in his sleep, his hand sliding from her hip down to her pussy, gripping her like he was holding on to something precious.
Her thumb moved before her brain caught up, the words spilling out in a rush of heat that surprised her.
Mia: He's not a conquest, Lucy. He's mine.
She stared at the screen after she sent it, her heart hammering against her ribs. The words sat there, glowing in the dim morning light, bold and declarative. She'd never been the possessive type. She'd never needed to be. Boys came and went, easy and forgettable, and she'd never once felt that primal surge of ownership that made her want to stake a claim with teeth and claws.
But now she felt it. God, she felt it. A fierce, burning protectiveness that coiled in her chest like a live wire, humming with dangerous energy. The thought of anyone else touching Jake, looking at him the way she'd looked at him last night, made her want to bare her teeth.
She pulled him closer, her back pressing into the solid warmth of his chest. His arm tightened around her in his sleep, a lazy, possessive drape that mirrored her own instinct. His hand curved over her pussy, fingers pressing against the slick heat of her, and she felt her breath catch.
Her phone buzzed.
Lucy: Oooo... What happened to "we're just friends"?
Mia's jaw tightened. She could hear the teasing in Lucy's voice, the delighted poking of a bear with a stick. Lucy loved this. She loved watching Mia squirm, loved prodding at the edges of her carefully constructed walls. And normally Mia would laugh it off, would deflect with a joke or a change of subject.
But not this time.
Mia: That was before I rode him like a fucking champion and he told me he loved me.
Mia: He's mine, Lucy. I'm not sharing. Not with you, not with anyone.
The three dots appeared and disappeared, appeared and disappeared, and Mia watched them with her heart pounding a wild, tribal rhythm against her ribs. She could feel the heat of her own words still glowing on the screen, the declaration hanging in the air between them like a gauntlet thrown.
Then Lucy's reply landed.
Lucy: I bet I could do it, you know. I know what makes a man tick. I've had more quarterbacks than you've had orgasms, and believe me, that's saying something given what you just told me about Big Jake.
Mia's blood went hot.
It wasn't anger, exactly. It was something older, something primal, a chemical surge that flooded her veins and made her fingers tighten around the phone until the plastic casing creaked. Her body responded before her mind caught up, her back arching slightly, pressing her ass more firmly into the thick, heavy heat of Jake's cock. His hand curved over her pussy, fingers pressing against her slick folds even in sleep, and she felt herself clench around nothing, her body preparing itself to fight for something it had only just realized it wanted to keep.
The territorial rush was staggering. Her vision sharpened, her breath came shorter, and she could feel the pulse of her own heartbeat in her clit, in her throat, in the space behind her eyes. Every fiber of her being screamed one word: mine.
She typed with deliberate, vicious precision.
Mia: You could try.
Mia: But he'd never look at you the way he looks at me.
Mia: He told me I felt like heaven. He whispered my name against my lips while he was buried inside me to the hilt. He said he's loved me for YEARS, Lucy. Not lusted. LOVED.
Mia: You might know what makes a man tick. But I know what makes THIS man tick. And it's me.
She sent the last message and dropped her phone onto the mattress, her chest heaving. The screen glowed face-down, and she could practically feel Lucy's delight radiating from the other side of the campus, the wicked glee of a woman who'd just discovered a brand-new fun. Because Lucy didn't want Jake. Lucy wanted the reaction she was getting. She wanted to see Mia fight, wanted to watch the carefully constructed walls crumble.
Her phone buzzed again, face-down on the mattress.
She reached for it, her hand trembling.
The screen blazed to life in her palm, Lucy's reply already waiting.
Lucy: So the head cheerleader finally grew claws. Took you long enough. I was starting to think you'd let the whole squad walk all over you forever.
Mia's breath stuttered. The shift in tone was jarring, the teasing edge replaced by something that almost sounded like approval. She read the message twice, then a third time, waiting for the punchline that never came.
Mia: What are you talking about?
Lucy: I'm talking about the fact that you've spent four years letting people take pieces of you and pretending it didn't matter. The captain thing. The "cool girl" thing. The way you laughed off every guy who didn't text back like it was nothing.
Lucy: You never once said "mine." Not about anything.
Mia stared at the screen, her heart thudding. She wanted to deny it, but the words had landed somewhere deep, stirring up sediment she'd kept deliberately undisturbed. She'd always been the easy one, the fun one, the girl who took everything in stride. It was easier that way.
Lucy: And now you're saying it about a man. A man who told you he's loved you for years, who fucks you like you're sacred, who's getting hard in his sleep right now just because you're near him.
Lucy: That's not just hot, babe. That's a revelation.
Mia's throat tightened. She glanced down at Jake, at the long, relaxed lines of his body, the way his arm was wrapped around her like he was afraid she'd dissolve if he let go. His hand was still curved over her pussy, fingers pressing against her, and even in sleep he was touching her like she was something to be cherished.
She typed back, her fingers unsteady.
Mia: I don't know what to do with it. This feeling. It's like I want to crawl inside his skin and live there.
Lucy: That's called love, you idiot.
Mia: No, I know. It's just... it's bigger than I thought it would be. It scares me a little.
Lucy: Good. That means it's real.
Mia: When did you get so wise?
Lucy: I've always been wise. I just hide it behind a wall of dick jokes.
Mia laughed silently, her shoulders shaking. Beside her, Jake stirred, a low sound rumbling in his chest. His hand slid lower, fingers parting her slick folds, and she felt the thick press of him against her ass as his hips twitched in his sleep.
Her breath caught. The phone trembled in her grip.
Lucy: Jake just moved, didn't he.
Mia: How do you know.
Lucy: Because you stopped typing for seven seconds. That's your "oh god" pause.
Mia: I hate you.
Lucy: You love me.
Mia: You love me.
Lucy: I do. Now stop deflecting and tell me what you're about to do to that man. I can practically feel the tension through the phone.
Mia's breath caught. She glanced down at Jake, still deeply asleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. His hand was curved over her pussy, fingers pressed against her slick folds, and she could feel the slow, steady throb of his cock against her ass. Not hard. Not yet. But there.
A wicked grin spread across her face.
Mia: You want to know what I'm about to do to him?
Lucy: DESPERATELY. Tell me everything. I'm living vicariously through you right now.
Mia: Okay. First, I'm going to wake him up with a kiss. A long, slow, deep kiss. The kind that starts soft and gets hungry. The kind that tells him exactly what I need before I even say a word.
She felt a pulse against her ass. Barely there. A twitch of interest from the sleeping man behind her. She smiled.
Mia: Then I'm going to climb on top of him. Straddle his hips. Pin his hands above his head so he can't touch me. Not yet.
Another twitch. Thicker now. She could feel the first stirrings of real hardness pressing into the cleft of her ass.
Lucy: Oh, I like this. I like this a lot.
Mia: I'm going to kiss down his chest. Slow. Teasing. Let him feel my lips on every inch of his skin while he's still half asleep and confused about what's happening.
The hardness grew. She felt the length of him thickening against her, an insistent weight that made her thighs clench.
Mia: I'm going to take my time. I'm going to lick a stripe down his stomach and watch his abs clench. I'm going to feel his cock twitch against my cheek and pretend I don't notice.
Lucy: I'm so proud of you.
Mia: And then I'm going to take him in my mouth.
The twitch was unmistakable now. He was half hard, pressing firmly against her, his hips shifting slightly in his sleep. She could feel the pulse of blood filling him, the way his body responded to her words even unconscious.
Mia: All the way down. Throat him like I did last night. Feel him hit the back of my throat and moan around him until he's completely hard and leaking on my tongue.
Lucy: FUCK. Okay. Continue.
Mia: But I won't let him come. I'll pull off right when he's close. I'll crawl up his body and look him in the eyes and tell him I need him inside me.
Harder now. Three quarters of the way there. She could feel the thick ridge of his head pressing into the cleft of her ass, the heavy weight of his balls against her skin. His hand on her pussy tightened, fingers pressing more firmly.
Mia: And then I'm going to lower myself onto him. Slow. Inch by inch. Until he's buried to the hilt and I can feel him in my throat.
Lucy: I'm literally sweating right now.
Mia: And then I'm going to ride him. But not the way I did last night. This time I'm going to go slow. Torturously slow. Grinding my clit against his pelvis with every thrust. Making him watch my face as I come undone on his cock.
His hips moved. A slow, unconscious roll against her ass. The hardness was nearly complete now, thick and unyielding, every inch of him pressed against her.
Mia: I'm going to make him beg for it. I'm going to make him tell me he needs me. And then I'm going to give it to him.
Lucy: Mia. Mia, I need to know what happens after. When he comes. What are you going to do?
Mia: I'm going to kiss him. Deep and messy. And I'm not going to let him pull out this time. I'm going to hold him inside me and feel every drop of him filling me up.
The throb was unmistakable. He was fully hard now, a thick, heavy weight pressed against her ass, his cock twitching with each beat of his heart. She could feel the heat of him, the insistent pulse of him, and her own body responded in kind, slick and aching and ready.
Lucy: You're going to make me orgasm through text. This is going to be the story of how I never needed a man again.
Mia smiled, her heart hammering. She could feel Jake's cock throbbing against her, a steady, rhythmic pulse that seemed to echo the beating of her heart. He was so hard. Completely, achingly hard, and still sound asleep.
She could feel every throb. Every pulse. Every twitch of his hips as his unconscious body sought her.
Mia: He's fully hard now. God, Lucy. He's so hard just from me texting about what I want to do to him. Like his body knows.
Lucy: His body KNOWS. That's the hottest thing I've ever read. He's dreaming about you and his cock is going to lead him straight into you.
Another throb. Harder. She could feel the head of him pressing insistently, a thick, demanding weight that made her breath catch.
Mia: He's throbbing. I can feel every pulse. It's like he's trying to tell me something.
Lucy: He's telling you to stop texting me and start riding him. DO IT. NOW. GO.
Mia: I'm going.
Lucy: WAIT. One more thing. Describe it to me. I need to know exactly what I'm working with one more time.
Mia: He's perfect. That's all you need to know. He's perfect and he's mine and I'm about to wake him up with my mouth on his cock.
Lucy: You're going to text me after, right? Details. I need details.
Mia: I'm going to be a little busy.
Lucy: I'll be here. Waiting. Probably crying. Definitely masturbating.
Mia laughed silently, her shoulders shaking. She could feel the throb of him against her ass, steady and insistent, and she knew she couldn't wait any longer. She had to have him. Now.
She set her phone face-down on the mattress and turned in his arms.
He was still asleep. His face was relaxed, his lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths. The morning light caught the faint red marks she'd left on his chest, the scratches from the night before, and a surge of possessive satisfaction swelled in her chest.
He was so beautiful. So completely, achingly hers.
She leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
It started soft. A gentle brush of her mouth against his, barely there, a question asked in the language of skin. She felt him stir beneath her, his breath catching, his lips responding on instinct even as his eyes stayed closed.
She deepened the kiss. Slow and hungry, the way she'd promised Lucy. She slid her tongue along the seam of his lips, tasting the faint remnants of whiskey and sleep, and felt him exhale against her mouth. His hand on her pussy twitched, fingers pressing more firmly, and she heard a low sound rumble in his chest.
She kissed him until she couldn't breathe. Until the world had narrowed to the heat of his mouth and the thick, throbbing weight of his cock against her thigh. And then she pulled back, just enough to whisper against his lips.
"Jake."
His eyes fluttered. Still half asleep, his pupils blown wide and dark, trying to focus on her face.
"Mia?" His voice was rough, sleep-thick, confused. But his hand was already moving, his fingers sliding through her slick folds, finding her clit with an instinct that made her gasp. "What are you—"
She silenced him with another kiss. Deep and messy and full of intent. She felt him harden against her thigh, as if he wasn't already aching and thick and ready, and she moaned into his mouth.
"I'm going to ride you," she breathed against his lips. "Slowly. And I'm not going to let you pull out."
His eyes went wide. The last vestiges of sleep burned away, replaced by something hot and dark and hungry. His hands found her hips, gripping her, pulling her closer.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Mia. Yes."
She smiled, slow and wicked, and reached down to guide him inside her.
Her phone buzzed on the mattress, forgotten. Lucy's name flashed across the screen, followed by a string of messages that would wait. That could always wait. Right now there was only this: the thick, throbbing heat of him in her hand, the desperate hunger in his eyes, and the knowledge that she was about to claim him, completely and utterly and forever.
Her phone buzzed again, a sharp, insistent vibration against the mattress, Lucy's name flashing across the screen like a fire alarm. Mia didn't even glance at it. She reached over blindly, flipped it face-down, and let the buzz die against the sheets. Whatever Lucy needed could wait. All of it could wait. The world outside this bed, the snow, the campus, the endless mess of everything that wasn't him. It could all dissolve for all she cared.
Jake's hands were already on her, sliding up her thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips. His cock was a thick, heavy brand against her palm, hot and throbbing, and she could feel the desperate pulse of him, the way his body was straining toward her even before she did anything.
"Come here," he rasped, his voice still rough with sleep. "Mia, come here. I need—"
She pushed.
It was a gentle push, barely any force behind it, but he fell back onto the mattress like she'd knocked the breath out of him. His head hit the pillow, his hazel eyes going wide and dark, and she watched his throat work as he swallowed. The scratches she'd left on his chest caught the pale morning light, red and raw and beautiful, and a surge of possessive satisfaction rolled through her.
"Shh," she murmured, straddling his hips. She planted her hands on his chest, feeling the hammer of his heart under her palms. "You're not in charge right now."
He opened his mouth to protest, and she leaned down and kissed it shut.
The kiss was slow, deliberate, a wet slide of tongue against tongue that left him breathless. She felt his hands come up, reaching for her hips, reaching for her ass, reaching for anything, and she caught his wrists in her hands and pinned them above his head against the pillow.
"No," she breathed against his lips. "Keep them there."
He made a sound low in his throat, a helpless, hungry noise that went straight between her thighs. His fingers curled into the pillowcase, gripping, straining, and she could feel the tension in his arms, the coiled strength he was holding back. He could break her grip in a second. They both knew it. But he didn't. He lay there, wrists pinned, eyes fixed on her face like she was the only thing in the universe.
She kissed down his jaw, his throat, feeling the bob of his Adam's apple against her lips. His skin was warm and salt-sweet, and she tasted the faint remnants of last night, the whiskey and sweat and sex that clung to him like a perfume. She dragged her tongue along the hollow of his throat, and he shuddered beneath her, his hips twitching against her.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Mia. What are you doing to me?"
She smiled against his collarbone and didn't answer.
She kissed down his chest, slow and teasing, the way she'd promised Lucy. She traced the edges of the scratches she'd left with her tongue, lapping at the red marks like she was salving a wound. His chest rose and fell beneath her, fast and shallow, and she felt his abs clench as she worked lower. She left a trail of wet kisses down his sternum, over the hard plane of his stomach, and when she reached his cock, she paused.
He was fully exposed, a thick, angry cock that made her mouth water. She could see every detail of him, the heavy ridge of his shaft, the flushed head already glistening with pre-cum. She looked up at him through her lashes, and his eyes were blown wide and dark, his chest heaving.
"Please," he rasped. "Mia, please."
There was a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip, and she reached out and caught it on her thumb, bringing it to her lips.
The taste of him exploded on her tongue, salt and musk and pure, unmistakable Jake. She moaned, low and hungry, and watched his hips buck off the mattress.
"Don't," he warned, his voice ragged. "If you're going to do what I think you're going to do, don't tease me. I can't take it."
She laughed, a soft, wicked sound, and lowered her head.
She pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock, a gentle, almost chaste brush of her lips that made him twitch. Then another, lower, along the thick ridge of his shaft. Then another, and another, a slow, meandering trail of kisses that worked her way down his length. She felt him tremble beneath her, his hands still pinned above his head, his fingers gripping the pillowcase hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
She reached the base and dragged her tongue back up, a long, flat stripe that made him groan. She circled the head, teasing, tasting, feeling the slick slide of his pre-cum against her tongue. And then she took him in her mouth.
She sank down slowly, inch by inch, letting him feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of her tongue against his shaft. His head fell back against the pillow, his mouth falling open on a soundless cry. His hips bucked, trying to thrust deeper, and she pressed her hands against his stomach, holding him down.
"Stay still," she murmured around him, the vibration making him shudder. "I'm in charge."
He nodded, desperate, his eyes squeezed shut. She could feel the effort it took him to hold still, the trembling restraint in his thighs, his abs, his arms. She took him deeper, letting the thick head of him nudge the back of her throat, and swallowed. He groaned, a broken sound, his hips twitching despite his best efforts.
She worked him slowly, deliberately, taking him deep and then pulling back until only the head remained. She dragged her tongue along the sensitive ridge, circled the tip, lapped at the slit where his pre-cum was leaking. She could taste him on every inch of her tongue, could feel him pulsing against her lips, and she knew she could make him come like this if she wanted. She knew exactly how to work him, how to hold him at the edge until he was begging, broken, undone.
But that wasn't what she wanted.
She pulled off with a wet, obscene sound and crawled up his body, a slow, deliberate sway of her hips that made his eyes track every inch of her. She straddled his chest, feeling the thick heat of him against her thighs, and leaned down to kiss him. He tasted himself on her lips, and he moaned into her mouth, a desperate, hungry sound.
"Are you ready?" she breathed against his lips.
He nodded, his hands flexing against the pillow where she'd pinned them. "Please. Mia. Please."
She reached down and guided him to her entrance.
The head of him pressed against her slick, swollen folds, and she held there for a heartbeat, savoring the anticipation. His eyes were wide and dark, fixed on her face, his breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps. She could feel him pulsing against her, thick and hot and ready, and she could feel her own body opening for him, wet and aching and greedy.
She sank down.
The first inch was slow. Deliberate. She felt the blunt head of him stretch her open, felt her walls part around him like they'd been waiting for exactly this shape, exactly this weight. He groaned beneath her, his hands trembling against the pillow, and she saw his jaw clench with the effort of holding still.
She sank lower.
Another inch, impossibly thick, stretching her to the point of breathlessness. She paused, adjusting, feeling him pulse inside her. His fingers dug into the pillowcase, and she could see the tendons in his forearms standing out, the strain of his body fighting every instinct to thrust up into her.
"God," he breathed. "Mia. You feel so good. So fucking good."
She sank lower still, until he was buried to the hilt, until she could feel him in her throat, in her lungs, in the very center of her gravity. She sat there for a long moment, panting, her eyes closed, feeling the sheer overwhelming fullness of him. He filled her completely, perfectly, and she couldn't imagine ever being empty again.
She looked down at him, at the way his eyes were fixed on her face, at the way his hands were still pinned above his head, straining. She leaned forward, planting her hands on either side of his head, and began to move.
Slow.
Torturously slow.
She lifted her hips, dragging his cock through her clinging walls, and let him slide out until only the thick head remained. Then she sank back down, grinding her clit against his pelvis, feeling the deep, devastating pressure as he bottomed out. She did it again. And again. Each thrust a slow, deliberate act of worship, each withdrawal a lesson in longing.
"Look at me," she whispered.
He forced his eyes open, hazy and blown wide with pleasure, and found her staring down at him with a ferocity that made his breath catch. She was riding him slowly, deliberately, her hips rolling in tight, devastating circles, and she didn't look away. She didn't blink. She held his gaze and she took him apart.
"You're mine," she breathed. "Say it."
He swallowed, his throat working. "I'm yours."
"Say it like you mean it."
"I'm yours," he repeated, louder, rougher, his voice cracking on the words. "Fuck, Mia. I'm yours. All of it. Every inch. Every heartbeat. Yours."
She smiled, slow and satisfied, and ground her hips against him. The friction on her clit made stars burst behind her eyes, and she rode him harder, faster, her nails raking down his chest as she chased the pleasure building inside her like a wave.
"That's it," she breathed. "I'm going to come around your cock, Jake. And then I'm not going to let you pull out. I'm going to feel every last drop of you inside me."
He groaned, a broken, desperate sound, his hips bucking beneath her. She could feel him swelling inside her, thickening, throbbing with each pulse of her walls. He was close. She was close. They were both teetering on the edge of something immense.
"Come with me," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him. "Come inside me, Jake. Fill me up."
She felt him shatter.
His hands tore free of her grip, flying to her hips, gripping her hard enough to bruise as he drove up into her. She rode him through it, grinding her clit against his pelvis, feeling his cock pulse and flood inside her, hot and thick and endless. His groan was swallowed by her mouth, his body arching beneath her, and she felt her own release crest and break, a wave that rolled through her like a storm.
She came around him, her walls clenching and milking him, and she felt him twitch and spill inside her, wave after wave. She broke the kiss, gasping, and watched his face as he came. He looked wrecked. Completely, utterly undone. And she'd done that. She'd taken him apart with nothing but her body and her words and her love.
She collapsed against his chest, still trembling, feeling him pulse inside her. His arms came around her, holding her close, pressing kisses to her hair.
"I love you," he breathed. "I love you so much, Mia."
She smiled against his skin. "I know. I love you too."
They lay there, tangled and sticky and perfect, as the snow finally broke outside and the sun streamed through the window. She could feel his heartbeat slowing beneath her, feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and she knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
She lay there for a long moment, counting the beats of his heart beneath her ear. His cock softened inside her, a warm, heavy weight that she wasn't ready to give up yet. She could feel the slow trickle of him leaking out of her, sticky and hot against her thighs, and the sensation made her smile against his skin.
"That was..." he started, his voice rough and wrecked.
"Perfect," she finished, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat. "It was perfect."
His arms tightened around her, and she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. "Yeah. It was."
She lay there for another moment, savoring the weight of him, the warmth, the impossible rightness of being exactly here. But then she felt the sticky mess between her thighs, the sweat cooling on her skin, and the lingering ache of a night spent tangled together. She needed a shower. They both did.
She pushed herself up, feeling him slide out of her with a wet, obscene sound that made her thighs clench. The sudden emptiness was a shock, a loss that made her want to sink back down onto him. But she didn't. She swung her leg off him and stood, wobbling slightly, her legs shaky from me moments of use.
"Shower," she said, looking down at him. "You coming?"
He grinned, lazy and sated, and pushed himself up. "I thought I just did."
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Very funny. Come on, I need help washing my hair."
He stood, and she let her gaze drift down his body. He was a mess. Covered in scratches and dried sweat and the evidence of their night together, and she'd never seen anything so beautiful. He caught her looking and raised an eyebrow.
"See something you like?"
Chapter excerpt truncated at the edge.