The Mistake (Off-Campus, #2)

by Elle Kennedy

I shove my hands in my pockets to stop from fidgeting. I’m nervous and I have no idea why. I’ve never had a problem talking to chicks before.

“You didn’t finish, did you?” The question flies out before I can stop it. “Finish what—” She halts, a flush rising in her cheeks as understanding dawns. “Oh. You mean…?” I grit my teeth and nod.

“Well…no,” she confesses. “I didn’t.” I struggle to keep my mouth in a neutral, non-frown position. “Why’d you tell me you did?”

“You’re doing that babbling thing again.” Her expression is sheepish. “Sorry.” “I don’t mind it. I’m glad you’re worried about my ego.” I grin at her. “You should be.”

She looks startled. “Why?” “Because I’ve been thinking nonstop about how I didn’t make you come last time.” I shrug. “And how badly I want to change that.”

Grace’s cheeks go from lily-white to pale-pink in a matter of seconds. She’s got the most expressive face I’ve ever seen, so quick to display everything she’s feeling. I appreciate how easy it is to read her, otherwise her prolonged silence to my last remark might’ve worried me. But the glimmer of intrigue in her eyes confirms I haven’t scared her off.

“Really?” She wrinkles her forehead. “Yeah.” My lips curve in a small smile as I take a step toward her. “So are you gonna let me or what?” Alarm flits across her face. “Let you do what?” “Make you come.”

“Um…” She lets out a strangled laugh. “This is the first time a guy has ever shown up at my door asking me that. You realize how frickin’ crazy that sounds, right?”

“You want to talk crazy? I’ve spent the whole fucking weekend fantasizing about doing this.” Frustration rises in my chest. “I’m not usually such an asshole, okay? I might fuck around, but I always make sure the women I’m with have a good time.”

She sighs. “I did have a good time.” “You would’ve had a better time if I didn’t blow my load and take off.” Now she ...

“You’re killing me here, gorgeous. I’m talking about how much I want to give you a screaming orgasm, and you’re laughing at me?” I grin. “Did we not just establish that m...

“It takes ten minutes to get to the library from here. Which means I have twenty minutes.” My smile becomes downright devilish. “If I can’t make you come in twenty minut...

I take another step. “So?” “Um…” Her breath shudders out in a rush. “Sure. If you want to.” A laugh pops out. “Fuck yeah I want to. But do you want it?” “Y-yes.” She clears her throat. “Yes.”

I move closer and her eyes flare again. She wants me. I want her too, but I order my rapidly hardening cock to behave. This ain’t about us, bro. Only her.

My dick twitches in response, but there’s no way it’s getting any action right now. If this were any other girl, I might suggest a quickie, but unless my V-dar is on the...

Not only do I not have that kind of time on my hands right now, but I’m also not particularly eager to take on the r...

But this…I reach for the sash of her robe and give it a slow tug…this I’m more than capable of doing. And I p...

Saliva floods my mouth as I lean in to flick my tongue over one nipple. I can’t help myself. I need to taste her. “Oh fuck,” I groan against the distended bud, before sucking it between my lips.

Grace whimpers, arching her back and pushing her breast deeper into my mouth. Jesus, I want to suck and play with her tits all day long. I’ve always been a boob man, and the thought of staying right here in this position for all of eternity sends a sizzle of heat to the tip of my cock.

But the reckless rocking of Grace’s hips reminds me that time is of the essence. And goddamn, I’m not ...

I release her nipple with a wet sound and place my hands on her thighs. They tremble beneath my fingers, making me chuckl...

Satisfied that she’s still on board, I spread her legs wider, slide lower to the floor, and bring my mouth to her pussy. Instant hard-...

The first time I did it I was fifteen, and it turned me on so frickin’ much I came in my pants. I’m not so quick on the trigger anymore, but I can’t deny that the feel of Grace’s slick, warm pussy beneat...

I lick her clit in a slow, teasing stroke that makes her moan. She fal...

My tongue travels down her slit to her opening. She’s soaking wet. Hell. Maybe I should be worried about repeating the old coming-in-my-pants fiasco, because my balls draw up so tight they damn near disappear.

I lick my way back to the swollen bud that’s begging for my attention, gently flicking my tongue against it, kissing and sucking and gauging her every response to find out what she likes. Slow and soft, I determine. Her moans are more desperate and her hips rock harder when I tease her.

Except teasing her is teasing me, and now my dick is pressed up painfully against my fly. Damn thing will probably bear the impression of my zipper by the time we’re through.

I ease the tip of my index finger inside her, and I’m immediately rewarded by a throaty cry. “Good?” I murmur, gazing up at her....

Satisfaction streaks through me, egging me on, making me even more determined to send her toppling over the edge. I resume my task. Sweet, languid strokes to her clit while my finger inches deeper and deeper, until it’s finally lodged i...

And if she doesn’t come soon, my pants are about to get wet too, because I’m so close to exploding that⁠— “I’m coming,” she moans. And hell yes, she is.

I hate when a girl says "I'm coming"

Her clit pulses against my tongue as her pussy squeezes my finger like a steel glove. She’s not a screamer. Not much of a moaner either, but the breathy sounds that leave her mouth are hotter than any porn star noises I’ve ever heard.

I ride out the orgasm with her, stroking her inner channel and sucking on her clit as she shudders quietly on the bed. Several seconds later, she starts to laugh, squirming as she tries to move out of my grasp. “Too sensi...

“Oh my God, you are not allowed to say that right now. Not after…” She sucks in a breath. “That was…amazing.” She’s slow to sit up, her eyes hazy with pleasure. “I have no idea what else to say. Thank ...

Her hesitation sparks a pang of anxiety. One of the rare times I ask for a girl’s number and she’s uncertain about doling it out? After I rocked her world? Jesus. Is my game slipping?

Then I dip down and do the stupidest thing ever. Which says a lot, because I’ve dabbled in my share of stupidity over the years. I kiss her forehead. Not her lips. Not her cheek.

I’m still flummoxed that he showed up at my door and pretty much demanded I let him give me an orgasm. I guess his ego is as sensitive as that Cosmo article said it would be, but you know what? I found it kind of charming. And oddly satisfying that someone as confident as John Logan was actually doubting his sexual prowess.

I don’t know why I bother telling Ramona private things anymore. Asking her to keep a secret is like throwing a ball and asking a dog not to chase it.

Dump Ramona as a friend, because she sucks

The one time I invited a few girls from my English Lit class to come over, Ramona laughed and chatted with them all night, told them what a fabulous time she had, and then, after they left, informed me they were boring and that I wasn’t allowed to bring them over when she was around.

Yikes

Jesus. I’ve never heard a more depressing assessment in my life. I can’t argue, though. The accident really was the game-changer—it had pushed my dad right off the wagon and pretty much erased all those years of sobriety. Good years, damn it. Three whole years of having a father again.

But again, the universe had another fuck you for the Logans. Dad was in so much agony that he turned to drinking to numb the pain. He also didn’t finish his PT, which means his legs didn’t heal the way they were supposed to.

So now he has a bad limp, constant pain, and two sons who have resigned themselves to the fact that they’ll be taking care of him until the day he dies.

Frustration twists my gut, tangling with the pretzel of guilt already lodged there. Why is it our job to sacrifice everything for him?

It isn't

When he was sober, he was a really good dad, and that just makes this whole situation so much fucking worse. Because I can’t hate him. I don’t hate him.

“Hurry up and get dressed. We’re going to a movie and I don’t want to miss the previews.” I stare at him. “Are you asking me out on a date?” That gets me a middle finger. “You wish.” “No, you wish, apparently.”

I grab a pair of boxers from the top drawer and shoot him a pointed look. “Do you mind?” “Seriously? I’ve seen your cock hundreds of times in the locker room. Get dressed already.” He folds his arms over his chest and taps his foot.

Now I’m gaping at him, because is he for real? “Hey, asshole, you’re filthy rich. If anyone should be paying full price for movie tickets, it’s you.” “I was being nice, asshole. Waiting for the cheap day so you’d be able to afford it.”

Or, you know, you could pay for your friend, too

Then he flashes his trademark grin, the one that makes chicks drop their panties and dive onto his dick. “Don’t give me your sex grin. It’s creeping me out.”

“I’ll stop smiling like this if you agree to be my date tonight.” “You’re the most annoying pers⁠—” The grin widens, and he even throws a little wink in th...

Dean’s a huge Statham fan. If someone told me he stands in front of his mirror speaking in a British accent and pretends to transport things around his bedroom? I’d buy it.

Hannah usually comes by after work on Wednesdays, so hopefully she and Garrett will already be asleep by the time Dean and I get home. And yes, I know her work schedule, sad pathetic loser that I am.