The top she’s wearing is a T-shirt, like mine, but it’s all cut up. The collar’s gone, which makes the neckline stretch wide and low. The sides are sliced open and then retied into intricate knots that show little bits of flesh whenever she moves her arms. The only decent thing about the shirt is the back. Her entire back is covered and I can see the faint line of her bra strap. That tiny bit of elastic and metal is the only thing that’s holding me together. If she wasn’t wearing a bra, I might lay her out on the stadium bleachers and tear the damn shirt off with my teeth. Her pants aren’t much better. They’re tight, for one. Second, the sides are some kind of sheer mesh. She saucily told me her panties matched, too.
I had to take a break after that news was shared. I went to the bathroom and jerked off. It was the fastest and most unfulfilling masturbation experience in my life. Also, pretty humiliating since my girl was standing on the other side of the door. I just don’t have any damned self-control anymore. It’s like I was allotted only so much and I used it all up in those three years I waited for Olivia to turn eighteen.
Plus, I’ve had a taste of her—literally. Sometimes, when I’m working, I’ll rub my tongue against the roof of my mouth and it seems like the flavor is still there—spicy and sweet. Anyway, now that I’ve had her, I can’t keep my hands off of her and it shows.
Olivia is walking weird. Levi noticed it out the other day. We’re working her too hard.
“She’s new to this,” he said.
“So are we,” I argued.
“We just need to be more careful.”
And careful meant no more jamming our dicks inside her wet, hot heaven every five seconds. We needed to give our baby time to heal up. But she makes it so damn hard.
“Oh, he sees me!” She waves her hand wildly. The guys next to us start clapping and I know they’re not cheering the team. I swing around and pin them all with a death glare. The cheers stop and their gazes all fall away.
I need something… I scan the crowd until I spot it.
“You there.” I point to a girl two rows back. She’s holding a plaid blanket in her hands.
“Me?” she mouths.
I nod and reach into my back pocket. “Five hundred—”
A small hand reaches out and snatches my wallet from my grip.
“I cannot believe you just did that,” Olivia hisses, looking like an angry kitten. Her adorable face is scrunched up and her tiny claws are out.
For what, though, I have no clue. I cock my head. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“You’re looking and talking to another girl. That’s what you’re doing.” She turns to her roommate. “You saw it, didn’t you?”
The small girl nods emphatically, sending her ponytail swinging. “Yes. Definitely. He was talking to another girl.”
While jealousy looks cute as hell on Olivia, I don’t want to do anything to make her feel insecure about my love. Quickly, I explain. “I’m trying to buy you a blanket.”
Olivia’s face morphs from mad to confused in a blink. “Why? It’s like eighty degrees tonight. I’m not cold. Besides, if I was, you could warm me up.” She snuggles up against me, pushing her lush tits into my chest. “You don’t need to buy me a blanket.”
I blow out a frustrated sigh but wrap an arm around her because that’s just how my arms work when she’s near me. They automatically wrap themselves around her body and pull her tight against me.
“Baby, I don’t know why you’re wearing this T-shirt you found in the garbage, but it’s showing so much skin, I think you’re going to start a riot.” I stroke my hand over her back, counting the ridges of her spine.
“I’m what?” She peers around at our fellow students who all look studiously away. “No one’s even looking at me,” she complains as she returns her gaze to me.
“Now. No one’s looking at you now, but, like, five seconds ago, every guy who could see was tracking the trajectory of your chest movement like they’re all physics majors who are going to be tested on it later.”
She waves a hand. “Zeke, you’re overreacting. No one’s looking at me but you.”
“What the fuck are you wearing?” I hear bellowed from about twenty-five feet away.
Olivia turns, cups her hands around her mouth, and yells, “Not a dress!”
The crowd snickers. Even I feel an involuntary twitch of my lips. “You’re wrong, babe,” I inform my girl as Levi climbs over a bench, pushes aside a trainer, and stomps over to the stands.
“About what?” She can’t take her eyes off the menace.
“I wasn’t the only one looking at you.”