Tackled Read online

  what happened. In fact, I want it to keep happening. "I mean, I don't think you're a hooker."

  "Thanks," she says sarcastically.

  "And now it’s your turn. You're sorry for..." I prompt her, my voice trailing off. Damn, this girl is stubborn.

  "I apologize for not showing up to the tutoring session last week, Mr. King," she says, suddenly businesslike. She holds her messenger bag in front of her like a shield.

  I guess she thinks I'm going to grab her and rip her clothes off like some kind of animal. That annoys me. I mean, just because I did it once before and just because I'm thinking about it now doesn't mean I'm actually going to do it right this minute.

  I don't know why I'm so attracted to a girl who gets on my fucking nerves so much.

  It also annoys me that she called me Mr. King.

  "Mr. King?" I ask. "It's Mr. King now?"

  She looks away. "I should have been more professional," she says. "I should have... It's just that..."

  I step close to her. I don't know whether I'm more irritated or more turned on right now.

  "I can work with Mr. King, if that's what you want to call me. You didn't strike me as the submissive type, but it's kind of hot –"

  "I came here to apologize for not showing up," she says. She still holds her messenger bag against her protectively, but when I reach for it, she lets go easily.

  "That's all you came here for?"

  She looks at me for too long before clearing her throat. "That's it."

  "So you don't want to talk about anything else?" I coax her, reaching out and dragging the back of my hand gently down the side of her neck. She does that thing again where she closes her eyes lightly and leans into my touch.

  "Nope," she says.

  "So you're still going to tutor me?" I put my fingers under her chin, tilt her head up to look at me, and her lips fall open slightly.

  "Colton, I don't actually think it's a good –"

  "Tutor me." I lean forward and whisper the words in her ear, and she squirms.

  The words might as well have been fuck me, the way my cock jumps at the idea.

  "I should leave," she whispers.

  "You should," I say. "Except you don't want to leave. You want to stay."

  She's silent for a long time, taking her lower lip between her teeth like she's struggling to make a decision. "Yes," she breathes.

  16

  Cassie

  Yes.

  Did I just say yes?

  The logical part of me tells me I should tell him no. Except I'm standing here like I've developed some sort of paralysis, unable to move. And I don't want to move. I stand here with my feet rooted in the ground, my body's way of protesting the logical part of me.

  Colton looks down at me, his eyes lust-filled. "Tutor me."

  He might as well have said fuck me, the way my body responds to his words. I'm immediately on edge, my body overeager for him.

  "You want to ... study history?" I ask. The non-logical part of me, the part that wants to throw caution to the wind, is disappointed. He wants to study.

  He gives me that crooked smile, the one that makes him look more like a small-town guy than a cocky player. "The last thing in the world I want to do is study."

  "What do you want to do?" I ask. Warning bells are going off in my head right now: Bad Idea Alert! Bad Idea Alert! Do not start something with Colton King!

  "It depends," he says. "Are you still worried?"

  I exhale heavily. "Of course I'm worried. That hasn't changed."

  "But you're still here," he points out.

  "I'm not —" I start. Shit. I didn't come here with a plan exactly. But I know I'm not losing it — the big V — right now.

  Colton puts his finger on my lips. "Do you think I'm trying to fuck you?"

  My face flushes warm. "I — I don't know what we're doing," I say, and that's the truth. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing right now, in Colton's bedroom.

  I'm playing with fire, if nothing else. That's for damned sure.

  "You're taking your clothes off for me," Colton informs me, turning and walking toward his desk. He strips off his t-shirt like he does this every day – Oh God, I think, he probably does, doesn't he? – then balls it up and tosses it in the corner of the room like he's throwing a football.

  When he turns, he's naked from the waist up, and I stand there staring at him like a total idiot. Am I drooling? I might be drooling. He's like a broad wall of muscles and abs and…holy shit, I'm standing in front of half-naked Colton in his bedroom.

  Mouth closed, Cassie. It's not like you haven't seen him naked before. In fact, seeing him naked is what got me into this predicament in the first place.

  Colton clears his throat as he unbuttons the button on his cargo shorts. “Take off your clothes for me, Cassie Rae.”

  Suddenly I'm nervous, put on the spot by the hottest guy I've ever seen standing across the room and stripping naked, like this is a regular old Friday afternoon for him. No guy has seen me naked in…oh, about five years. Since freshman year in undergrad. Good God, that’s terrible.

  That's pathetic.

  Suddenly, Colton is completely naked. Completely and entirely naked and standing not more than a foot away from me.

  "Cassie," Colton instructs. "Undress for me. Now."

  His tone leaves no room for argument, and it sends a rush of arousal through me, the idea that this guy knows exactly what he's doing and he speaks what he wants with authority.

  While I peel off my tank top and let it drop to the floor, Colton sits down on the chair by his desk, facing me with his legs spread out.

  His hand wrapped around the base of his massive cock.

  Heat rises to my face as I watch him stroke his shaft, all the while looking at me.

  "Has no one ever jerked off in front of you, Cassie?" he asks. His hand doesn't stop moving.

  "No." I speak the word uncomfortably.

  "Take off your skirt," Colton says. "Unzip it and let it drop on the floor."

  With my eyes fixated on him, I do it, stepping out of the pooled fabric on the floor to kick it to the side. Then I unbutton my shirt and drop it to the floor. Now I'm standing here in front of him, in a bra and panties and my heels.

  I'm trying not to feel nervous as hell with his eyes on me.

  "Do you see what you do to me? Do you like that I'm hard for you, Cassie?" he asks. He's hard and the head of his cock glistens with pre-cum. I imagine him exploding inside me, his cum dripping between my legs.

  My pussy throbs at the thought.

  I swallow hard. "Yes," I murmur, my voice catching.

  "Take off your bra and let me see you."

  I unhook my bra and slide the straps over my arms, letting it fall to the floor.

  "Perfect tits, perfect mouth, perfect ass," he notes. "I'm going to come all over those perfect tits of yours. And that ass. And I'm definitely going to fill that perfect little mouth up with cum."

  I hear a whimper escape my lips and I'm suddenly aware that I'm standing here pressing my thighs closed because the throbbing between my legs is so insistent. Especially when he talks like that. No one has ever talked that way to me before.

  "You're still worried about breaking the rules,” he says, his hand moving leisurely up and down his shaft. "So I'm not going to lay a finger on you. No rules broken. Take off your panties."

  "I'm positive this counts as inappropriate," I say, but I slip the sides of my panties over my hips and drop them to the floor.

  "Pick them up and hand them to me," he commands. "If you're still worried about the rules, the door is right there."

  When I reach him, stopping just between his spread legs, I dangle the panties from my finger. His knuckles brush against my inner thigh as he brings his hand up his shaft. I look down at him, thinking about how easy it would be to climb onto his lap right now and slide onto his cock, thinking about how it would feel inside me.

  "I am still worried about the rules," I s
ay softly. "And about…other things."

  "Other things … like me fucking you? he asks. He holds my panties in one hand and brings them to his face, inhaling deeply. "That smell makes me want to come right now."

  I don't know whether to be flattered or embarrassed watching him sniff my panties. Or if I should be embarrassed that it turns me on. "Yes," I admit. "Other things like that."

  As well as that little pesky thing called my virginity that I still need to get rid of. And the fact that college football's biggest player wants to take it.

  "I wasn't joking when I said I wasn't going to fuck you, Cassie," he says. "Not until you beg me to."

  "You … think I'm going to beg you to fuck me?" I sputter in disbelief.

  "I know you will," he says, stroking his cock.

  "You're arrogant."

  "Your panties are wet, Cassie. Tell me what I'd find if I reached between your legs right now. Are you as wet as I think you are?"

  I flush warm under his gaze. "I …"

  "Do it," he says. "Reach between your legs and show me how wet you are. I want to see it."

  I slide my fingers between my legs. Oh God. Relief washes over me the minute I touch myself.

  "Let me see it on your fingers," he says.

  I pull my fingers, coated in my wetness, from between my legs and show him. He growls.

  He actually growls out loud when he sees how wet I am.

  "I've been thinking about how you taste, Cassie," he says. "I've jerked off over and over imagining what you taste like."

  I hear myself whimper, and I bite down on my lip to keep from doing it again. Every part of my body is on edge, my nipples hard in the air-conditioned room.

  I slide my fingers between my legs, touching my clit without waiting for him to tell me, driven by the overwhelming need that floods me.

  "I've jerked off thinking about you on your knees, taking my cock in your mouth," he goes on. His voice is ragged, and he strokes himself harder.

  Now, I hear myself moan. "Oh God," I whisper.

  "You've thought about me too, Cassie." His expression is pained now, and my fingers move more quickly, pressing harder against my clit, matching the repetitiveness of his strokes. "Tell me what you think about when you come."

  Oh, God. Do I tell him?

  "Tell me," he says. "I want to hear your fantasies."

  I take a deep breath. I think my desire is overtaking my sanity, because I actually open my mouth and tell him. "After one of our tutoring sessions, I went straight to my bedroom and I –“ I hesitate for a second.

  "Keep going," Colton urges me.

  I stroke my clit in circles with my fingers. "I bent over the bed and used my vibrator and pretended it was you."

  He makes a sound low in his throat. "I swore I wouldn't touch you today, Cassie," he says.

  My breath comes shorter now, my fingers flicking over my clit faster. "But…"

  "Put your hand on my shoulder," he says. "Lean forward and put your hand on me."

  Put your hand on me.

  I desperately want to touch his cock. He strokes it faster as I bend over him, one hand on his shoulder and the other between my legs, my back arched and my ass pushed up, in my high heels and nothing else.

  My face is close to his, but he doesn't try to kiss me. When his hand grazes my hand as he strokes his cock, the contact makes me even hotter. I'm so close to his cock that all I would have to do is move a little higher, straddle him, and sink down onto it. The thought nearly sends me over the edge.

  "Slide your fingers into your pussy," he says, his voice strained. "Fuck yourself with your fingers and imagine it’s my cock inside you."

  I comply, bracing my hand against him while I reach further, my fingers sliding easily inside until my palm presses hard against my clit.

  "Oh God," I breathe.

  "You bent over your bed and imagined that I was fucking you from behind," Colton growls. He pumps his cock harder, and I push my fingers into my pussy as deeply as I can, wishing it were Colton's cock instead.

  "Yes," I whimper.

  "You thought about how my cock would feel inside that tight little virgin pussy," Colton says.

  "Yes," I cry out. "Oh, God, yes."

  "Did you think about me coming inside you?" Colton asks. "Did you imagine how it would feel to have my cum fill you up, drip out of you as you stood there bent over?"

  "Yes,” I say, the word strangled. The thought of Colton coming inside me sends me hurtling over the edge, my orgasm overtaking me with unexpected intensity. It’s white-hot, stronger than I've ever felt. I bite down on my lip to stifle the sound so hard, I taste blood.

  "Move your hand," Colton warns. Then, with a painful groan, he jerks himself off to a climax, and comes.

  All over my pussy.

  I'm standing there, leaning over Colton King, with cum dripping over my mound and down the sides of my thighs.

  I've never felt more dirty.

  Or more turned on.

  "You came on me," I whisper. My head is spinning, my pussy still throbbing. And covered in Colton King's cum.

  He looks up at me. "I marked it as mine," he says. Scratch that. He doesn't say it, he practically snarls it, his voice at once possessive and threatening.

  I stand up, not sure I heard what I thought I heard. "You did what?"

  "I marked it as mine," he says, rising. He turns, smacking me lightly on the ass as he walks by me on the way to the bathroom, totally nonchalant like he does this all the time.

  He marked his territory.

  I stand with my arms crossed over my chest, suddenly very self-conscious. Not only did I just tell a guy that I fantasized about him, but I just straddled him and fingered myself while he talked dirty to me and came on me.

  So I guess I'm jumping right into the deep end.

  Even though he barely touched me, I feel more vulnerable than if his hands had roamed my entire body.

  Colton returns with a warm washcloth in his hand, pressing it against my pussy as he looks at me and grins.

  "That was your way of marking me? What are you? A dog?"

  He doesn’t answer me for a minute, but his eyes never leave