The Score (Off-Campus, #3)

by Elle Kennedy

There’s a strange clench in my chest as he addresses each boy, one at a time, to tell them one thing they did right at practice today. Face after face lights up at his compliments, and by the time Ellis is done I think I might be in love with him.

Robbie’s mother managed to get him enrolled here because he’s an asset to our hockey program, but apparently the school district doesn’t think it’s important to provide safe transportation home to the kids who live out of the district.”

That's crappy

“So Robbie hangs around the arena until his mom shows up?” Ellis nods. “I arranged it with Julia at the start of the season. I stick around after practice, watch him and his sister until she gets here.” Did I mention how much I love this man?

“I’ll stick around too,” I offer. “I was teaching Robbie the art of wrist shots before the drill ended. Wouldn’t mind finishing up the lesson.” His expression is a combination of surpris...

“Kid, I’d be surprised if you’re not still in diapers.” “I do not wear diapers!” Her cheeks redden. “I’m ten,” she says haughtily. I gasp. “Holy sh—sugar. You’re practically an old lady, then.”

That makes her giggle. “I am not. How old are you?” “Twenty-two.” Her jaw falls open. “That’s old.”

Pleasure lights up her face. “You’re going to help me with my homework?” “Sure, why not? We’ve got twenty more minutes to kill until your mom gets here. What else are we gonna do?”

I’m in the passenger seat of Megan’s car when Dean texts me. I’m not surprised to see his name on my phone. I’ve been expecting another “I want to fuck you” from him all day, so it was only a matter of time before it happened. But tonight he throws me a curveball.

Him: A bunch of us are at Malone’s tonight for Fitzy’s bday. Join us if you feel like it.

“I thought you didn’t want to deal with the whole bar scene tonight.” She pushes her red bangs out of her eyes. “Changed my mind. I think I’m in the mood to be surrounded by cute boys.”

“Really?” I say in surprise. “What about the new boyfriend? Is there trouble in paradise already?” Megan has been so cagey about this new guy she’s dating, but I assumed they were doing okay.

TUCKER?!

I’ve always believed in the age is nothin’ but a number philosophy. Or at least I want to be that open-minded. I mean, I think it’s hella creepy when a sixty-year-old man dates an eighteen-year-old girl. But thirty-seven isn’t exactly geezer status. It’s only fifteen years older than me and Meg.

“Eek,” I say out loud. “I know, right? So now I’m second-guessing the whole relationship. Meeting his kid is a huge deal. What if she hates me? Or worse, what if she loves me, and then me and her dad break up and this poor kid ends up traumatized?”

Walking into a bar to willingly spend time with the guy I had a one-night stand with… Shit, what am I doing coming to the bar? Nothing good can be gained from seeing Dean tonight.

Worse case, he’ll accidentally let something slip, and everyone will know that we hooked up. Best case, he’ll flirt shamelessly with me and just be plain annoying.

Some rock song I don’t recognize is blasting from the speakers. If Garrett Graham were here, he could probably tell me the name of the song, who’s singing it, and what year it was released. Hannah’s boyfriend has a hard-on for classic rock.

I love classic rock

We’re about to head for the bar when a familiar voice rises above the music. “Allie-Cat! Over here!” I shift my head to see Dean waving at me from a large booth to my right. I don’t know how he spotted me in the throng of people.

I hadn’t even texted him to say I was coming, so he’s either got exceptional Spidey senses or he’s been monitoring the door like a creeper.

“Look, Fitzy, girls!” Dean announces when Megan and I reach the booth. He rapidly addresses the other guys. “Quick, make room for them before they disappear.”

Dean, who is across from me on the other side of Hollis, winks when our eyes lock. “You made it. Didn’t think you would.” “We were in the neighborhood,” I say lightly.

“Glad you were, because this was becoming a total sausage fest. Seriously, the birthday boy didn’t invite a single chick tonight.” “Fitzy is allergic to women,” Hollis says helpfully.

“Did you even stop to consider the implications?” Dean shoots back. “What about the time-honored birthday blowjob? Did ya think of that? Or do you expect one of us to do it?”

“Water?” Dean mocks after the waitress dashes off. “You sure you don’t want anything else, baby doll? Maybe…hmm…how about tequila? I always pegged you for a tequila girl.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Fortunately, nobody else puts much stock in the comment. Why would they? It’s not like any of them know that tequila is the reason I wound up in bed with Dean. The only person who knows is Dean, who promised to keep his mouth shut about it.

But…the teeny smirk on his face is making me antsy. Why do I get the feeling he’s ...

I’m still glaring at Dean when my phone vibrates in my purse. I absently fish it out and my breath catches when I see the message.

Him: Remember when I took that tequila shot off your tits? I look up to find Dean blinking innocently at me. But I can see his arm moving under the table.

Sure enough, a follow-up message appears. When I poured it all over your nipples and licked up every drop? Mmm. Getting hard just thinking about it.

Argh. I can’t believe he’s sexting me in the bar. During his friend’s birthday hang.

I grit my teeth and text him back. Me: Cherish the memory, sweetie. Cuz it’s never happening again.

Him: You saying you didn’t like it when I was sucking on those sexy nipples? The nipples in question tighten into hard peaks.

I know the padding of my bra hides the traitorous response, but the way Dean’s smug gaze drops to my breasts tells me he knows. I draw a breath and answer, Meh. It was all right.

Him: Hmm. I see. What about when I licked your pussy? Just all right too? I ignore the sharp clench between my legs and scowl at him.

“This ass is so full of himself I’m surprised he doesn’t poop out little brown replicas of his smug face.”

Shit, his arm is moving again.

I discreetly peek at the latest message, and my breath hitches. Him: My dick is so hard right now. I’m dying to be inside you.

I don’t indulge him this time. If I don’t respond, he’ll eventually stop, right? Wrong. The messages keep popping up, each one filthier than the last.

Gonna take it slow next time. Savor every single second. So fucking slow, baby. Just slide in and out of your tight pussy… Until you’re begging for more.

I grab my glass and choke down some water. I’m aware of Dean’s soft chuckle, audible even with the music blasting in the bar.

I won’t give you what you want, tho. I’ll keep feeding you my cock, inch by inch. And then I’ll take it away again.

Every time you beg me to pound into you, I’ll go even slower. Gonna torment that sweet pussy all night, baby. All. Fucking. Night.

I shoot to my feet like someone lit a fire under my ass. “I need to use the ladies’ room,” I blurt out. Ignoring the broad grin stretching Dean’s infuriatingly sexy mouth, I dart away from the booth as fast as my high-heeled boots can carry me.

Fuckity fuck. I’m so turned on my thighs are actually sticking together, and I’m worried there might be a wet spot on the back of my jeans.

I hope to God that Dean quits sexting me when I get back. If he doesn’t, there’s a good chance I might orgasm at the table.

He keeps sexting. I keep ignoring him. Our battle of wills lasts for more than an hour, and I can’t say I’m not impressed by his persistence. Not to mention the sheer amount of dirty words he has in his vocabulary.

Honestly, rude that the author didn't include these

When I notice Dean visibly squirming on his side of the booth, I flash him a cheeky grin and finally text him back.

Me: You’re just torturing yourself, honey pie. Better stop before the blue balls set in. I punctuate that with two emojis that seem fitting for the situation—a pair of blue circles.

Dean sighs and rises to his feet, but not before he does some strategic rearranging down below. I think I’m the only one who sees him do it, and my smile grows impossibly wider.

As he walks off, my eyes betray me by homing in on his backside. His black pants hug his taut buttocks like a glove, which makes me wonder, are cargo pants usually that tight? I didn’t think they were.

Maybe Dean has a tailor on retainer who makes him special cargo pants that show off his ass? That seems like something he would do, vain bastard that he is.