{18+ COLLEGE ROMANCE COMPLETED}
What sucks more than being rejected by the girl of your dreams? Finding out afterward that she's moving in with you.
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The night that Beau Martin spends with Collins Bryant is the best one of his life. He wants to...
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I WAS RIGHT. Collins looked amazing with my cum all over her.
She was currently on her back, her heavy breaths matching mine as she watched the last bit of my release drip onto her tits. When she finally wrenched her eyes away from my cock to look at my face, it was to stare me in the eyes while she flicked her tongue out to lick the little bit of cum that had accidentally landed near the corner of her mouth. Then she smiled.
I was going to be hard again in no time.
"You are..." I shook my head in disbelief. "Something else."
The understatement of the century. The enthusiasm in which this girl just let me fuck her throat...oh my motherfucking God.
Collins' gaze unashamedly roamed over me. "So are you."
A small part of me wondered if this was a dream. This couldn't be like a real-life thing that was happening, could it? Fuck it. I didn't care. If this was a dream, it was about to be a really fucking good one.
"Spread your legs, baby girl."
Collins obeyed without hesitation, eagerness and fire in her eyes as she watched me lower myself between her thighs.
"I promise I'll clean you up," I muttered, "but it's going to have to wait a few minutes. It's my turn to get messy."
—
I'd worked up this image in my head of what it would look like when I surprised Collins on Christmas. Okay, if I were being honest, I had worked up a few different images of what it might look like. It was a long drive here from Sacramento, after all.
The best ones, of course, were the ones where she dropped everything that she was doing when I walked in, ran to the door, threw herself at me, and then let me kiss her until we both forgot our names. Yeah, that was a pretty good image I had going on up in my head.
The more realistic ideas were still pretty good, though. Honestly, I was just hoping for some semblance of happiness. Maybe a friendly hug. A smile. A laugh and a roll of her eyes when I saw what I brought.
Never, not in one single scenario that I'd conjured up, had I imagined that I'd pull up outside to hear yelling. Never did I imagine that I'd walk inside to find some other guy cornering her in the living room as she stood there, wearing my clothes. Fuck, she looked good in my clothes. Possession whipped through all my muscles as they tightened painfully at the sight in front of me.
Who was this Emperor penguin-looking motherfucker in his little black and white tuxedo that was bursting at the seams, and what the hell was he doing in my apartment standing that close to my fucking roommate? I told him to leave. Why the hell wasn't he leaving?
"I'm Denver Bailey," the penguin said, "of Bailey Investment Corp."
Why did that name sound familiar? And why was he standing there like I actually gave a damn? The critical part of my last sentence was how he needed to get the fuck out. Not that I didn't know who the hell he was.
