Page 37 of The Score We Never Settled

And then he slams his lips against mine, sliding his tongue between them while he feasts and puts me in a comatose state.

Of want, need, and absolutely love.

He thrusts his fingers faster in me, and I clench around him, ready for my release but wanting it differently.

“Give me two weeks,” he says against my mouth. “To win your uncle over, and then it’s game on.”

“And if not?”

“I have to have you as mine for everyone to see.”

No, you don’t, stupid.

I’m right here.

And I’m going to drive you crazy until you do.

“I bet I can get you to break that.”

Briggs lets out a husky chuckle, and I feel its callous danger and challenge behind it. “You flirt with Cruz just to break me, and I’m breakin’ his face.”

I don’t want him to do that, but I don’t entertain the idea or argument.

“There are other ways.”

“Play fair,” he warns. “Two weeks.”

I can’t wait two weeks, and I can’t wait two more seconds when his knuckle brushes my clit with his strokes.

“All the things I’m going to do to you, Short Stop,” he quips. “They’re gonna write a book about it.”

I squeeze his shoulders, needing some reprieve before I die from lack of orgasm. “Awfully presumptuous of you.”

“It’s a fact.”

“How so?” I bite down on my bottom lip. “You don’t read books.”

“I can write one.”

“Mhm hm.”

“I can,” he says against my cheek, running his lips by my ear. “Especially with the number of times I think about it, Layla Jean. Then, when it gets to be too much, I jack off thinkin’ about the way you’d be moanin’ and milkin’ my cock with that sweet cunt. All the times you’d be bouncin’ on it like the sweet girl you are. I’m hard just thinkin’ about how many times I can get you to scream my name while I’m so deep?—”

My orgasm triggers with the visuals and how detailed he just described fucking me.

That’s all I want.

It’s as bad as he wants it because, when I’m alone in my room, I do things, too.

Things that would stroke his ego but, possibly, make him break that two-week deal.

“Fuck, Short Stop,” he mutters deep in his chest before he pushes against me harder, his cock pressed into my hip. “You sure you don’t wanna run home and tell Uncle Ben right now?”

Not when I know I look a mess.

And not when the Spring Fling is comin’ up, and he might forbid me to go.

“You want me to be grounded for a year?” I pant when he kisses my jawline. “I’d like to see you before I graduate. He’ll homeschool me.”