Sophia Ryan

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SHE LIKES IT IRISH

“Darlin’, I told you we wouldna be deviating from the schedule. Besides, do you really think I’m the kind of guy who would try to make love to you on our first date?”

 

She stared into his sinfully hot eyes. “Yes, actually.”

 

He laughed and wrapped his arm around her neck, hugging her to his side and kissing the crown of her head. He dropped his arm around her shoulders, holding her tight, and she held onto his hand where it hung in front of her breast.

 

It made her smile that he hadn’t denied it. “So… You’re not interested in charming your way up to my room or into my panties, and you’re dropping me off early. Sounds like you have another date.”

 

“I do.”

 

Disappointment and jealousy raged through her body. She let her hand fall from his and stared straight ahead. “Oh.”

 

“Not so much a date as an appointment,” he said, his voice full of laughter as if he knew she was jealous as hell and it amused him. “I tutor to help pay my way here. My next appointment is in…” he glanced at his watch “…about twenty minutes.”

 

“Oh.” She breathed and took his hand in hers again.

 

“With a male history student,” he added.

 

She smiled and met his eyes. “You don’t have to explain. It’s not like you and I are…you know.”

 

He smiled down at her. “You looked like you wanted to knock my head off.”

 

She looked away, embarrassed that he had seen through her so easily.

 

He stopped and faced her. “It’s your eyes,” he said, even though she hadn’t asked, and brushed a finger down the side of her face, pulling her gaze back to his. “They say everything your mouth doesn’t want to.”

 

She stared into his eyes, willing him to see what was written there. To see her desire for him. “What are my eyes saying now?”

 

He paused as if reading, translating the symbols he saw in the depths. “They’re saying I’ll miss all my tutoring appointments if I don’t get you home fast. Oh, and just to clarify, I never said I wasn’t interested in getting into your panties.”

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

His hooded eyes held tight on mine. “This is the line, Angel,” he said, his throat moving hard to swallow whatever was making his voice rough. “Once we cross it, there’s no stopping. Be sure.”

 

I was so ready for him. Had been for two years, since the first time I saw him, strolling like a badass across campus. I met his blazing gaze unashamedly, not wanting to hide the desire pulsing through me.

 

“I'm standing in front of you in nothing but my panties with my hand on your dick. Does it look like I want to stop?”

 

He didn't grin or laugh like I thought he would.

 

His hand slid into my hair and cupped the back of my neck, his thumb gently brushing my cheek. “I need to hear you say it. Tell me what you want.”

 

“Can’t you tell?”

 

“Say it. I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us.”

 

I was embarrassed to tell him how much I wanted him, but I knew I had to or he wouldn’t give me what I needed. I had to show him, tell him, make him understand.

 

I slid my hands back up the hard muscles of his stomach, his chest, his wide shoulders, my mouth following my touches with kisses and licks. Through it all, he stood tall, tense, almost as if he were trying not to feel what I was doing to him, trying not to give in until I said the magic words.

 

I looked into his eyes, my hands on his head, my fingers curled in his thick hair. “I want you, Nick Spencer,” I said, not in a hesitant whisper, but in a low, bold tone that could not be mistaken. I leaned up on my toes and kissed his mouth, slow and deep, my tongue wakening his to the pleasure we would have.

 

I ended the kiss and eased back just enough to find his eyes again. “I want this,” I said in the same bold tone as I dropped a hand to his hard cock and caressed it through his boxers. “I want you to fuck me with it. Is that clear enough for you?"

6 DAYS OF YOU

I awoke snug and warm in bed, staring sleepy-eyed up at my ceiling and trying to locate the face I’d woken up to every morning of my life. The one that looked like a smiling guardian angel—just the face—watching over me. It wasn’t there.

 

Panic gripped me and jerked me fully awake. My eyes darted around the room. This wasn’t my room. It was…oh, yeah. Michael’s room.

 

I looked over at the guy sleeping in the bed next to me. One arm was flung up by his head. The other was under the covers, the movement at his crotch suggesting that he was greeting his morning wood.

 

I say morning wood like I know what I’m talking about. I’ve heard of it, of course, but had never actually seen it, didn’t know how it compared to all the other “wood” guys got. From what I’d read, it was something that just showed up, like a miracle.

 

Fascinated by this guy and his miracle, I rose up on my elbow, head resting in my hand, and watched. A tickling heat swept over my body like a feather as erotic fantasies swirled in my brain.

 

Fantasies of me going over to his bed, slipping under the covers next to him. Of me kissing him awake, then kissing over his chest, down his stomach, and lower, pausing where his hand lay stroking himself. Of me moving his hand away and my tongue taking over. Of my mouth tasting, my tongue licking, my lips sucking that rock hard pole, until he—

 

He groaned and stretched, and my vision burst. His mouth tilted up into a little smile. The last vestiges of his own erotic dream, or just the simple joy of pleasuring himself? His eyes fluttered opened.

 

“No luck?” I asked.

 

I hadn’t spoken loudly, but my voice seemed to jolt him fully awake. His body froze, his hand jerked away from his morning miracle, and his eyes flew to mine all in the same instant.

 

“What?” he murmured, his sleepy voice breaking.

 

Did he have any idea how hot he looked, lying there half asleep? His hazy, lazy eyes only part-way open. His full mouth soft, wide, and without the anger and annoyance that stiffened it yesterday. His thick, dark hair sticking up and out everywhere. His giant pole tenting his covers.

 

Why, oh why, did he have to be gay!