On a Wednesday by Whitney G.

Courtney: Then

Senior Year

Pittsburgh

Istepped out of the theater hours later, armed with the first-place plaque and a purse stuffed with Primanti Brothers gift cards.

Turning my phone on, I stopped and stared at the most recent subject lines in my inbox.

Subject: Sorry I couldn’t make it! (Raincheck?)

Subject:Good luck today! (Make up over dinner?)

Subject:Wish I was There! (Something came up last minute. Sorry!)

I didn’t bother opening any of them. I scrolled down to Kyle’s name and hit call.

“Hey. You’ve reached Kyle Stanton.” His voicemail sounded. “Leave me a message and I’ll think about getting back to you.”

I ended the call and sent him a text instead.

Me: Hey. Where are you? (Thank you SO MUCH for coming to my presentation today. That meant a lot to me.)

I waited a few minutes for his typical sarcastic response, but it never came.

I managed to take a bus back to campus, grab lunch, finish a layout, and by the time evening came, he still hadn’t said a word.

Later that night, I stopped by his apartment.

“Hey there.” Grayson opened the door. “Your name is Courtney, right?”

“Depends on if the Skanks of Pitts blog is listening to us or not.”

“Ah.” He laughed. “It’s too early for them to start watching. Did you leave something in Kyle’s room?”

“No, I’m looking for him,” I said. “I need to um, ask him a few more questions for my thesis.”

“He hasn’t been at home today.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen, but I heard the start of Kyle’s voicemail. “I’ll tell him that you stopped by, though.”

“Thank you.” I tried not to look disappointed. “Congrats on winning your fourth title in a row, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he said as I was turning around. “Wait a minute, Courtney. He’s probably at The Pete working out. Try there.”

I thanked him again and headed to the closest shuttle stop.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, I swiped my student card at the gym. There were only a few students working out on the machines, and Kyle wasn’t one of them.

Confused, I walked over to the reception area.

One of his teammates was flirting with the brunette behind the desk.

“Have you seen Kyle Stanton up here tonight?” I tapped him on the shoulder.

“I have.” He raised his eyebrow. “Who are you and why are you asking?”

“Can you just tell me where he is? I need to talk to him.”

He stared at me for a while, and then he tilted his head to the side. “You’re that chick who’s writing your thesis about him, huh?”

I nodded, and he lowered his voice.

“I hope you made him look good in the piece,” he said. “He’s bragged about your writing to anyone who will listen, for weeks.”

He motioned for me to follow him, and I obliged.

He led me past all the cardio machines, then outside onto a private walkway.

Sensing my hesitation, he looked over his shoulder. “You need to talk to him, or not?”

I continued following him until we made it to a small red-brick building with a black glass door.

He typed a few digits into the keypad and stepped back. “There you go. This is as close as I’ve ever been to it.”

I stepped inside the room, only to be met with another set of doors with keypad entry.

What the hell?

I turned to look at his teammate, but he was long gone. Then I suddenly remembered what Kyle had confided in me about getting his own private gym.

Starting at the keypad, I realized that the pad read “K.S.” and called for a passcode.

I guessed a few phrases like “first round draft pick,” “Ride me,” and “I like sex,” but it didn’t open.

On a whim, I tried, “Courtney,” and the doors slowly opened—giving way to an all mirrored room with sleek black machines.

Looking sexy as usual, Kyle was sitting on a bench, his jaw clenched as he lifted weights. Shirtless and sweaty, his muscles flexed in rhythm with his arms.

His eyes met mine within seconds and he slowly set down the barbells. “Are you here to make good on that Primanti Brothers gift card thing? I’m looking forward to that sandwich.”

“The password to your private gym is my name, Kyle.”

“I’m well aware of that.” He smiled. “I changed it at the end of last semester. I thought first round draft pick or something else would be far too easy for someone to guess. Good attempt on your part.”

My heart swelled in my chest.

“I don’t see you producing those gift cards,” he said. “Isn’t that why you came up here?”

“Yes and no,” I said. “I wanted to say thank you for coming to my presentation, even though security kicked you out.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome. I was actually entertained the entire time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, your lips were fascinating to watch,” he said. “I’d tell you what I was thinking, but I don’t think you can handle it.”

I blushed. “Why didn’t you sit in the audience like a normal person?”

“I didn’t want you to think that I cared that much.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, Courtney.” He pressed his forehead against mine, wrapped his arm around my waist. “I do care about you.”

“I’m starting to think that you’re the only person on campus who does.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

I shook my head. “It’s the best thing that’s happened to me in college so far.”

His mouth claimed mine within seconds, and I couldn’t help wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Wait.” I pulled my head back mid-kiss, my heart racing a mile a minute. “I can’t do this without asking you some things.”

“I think the questions can wait.”

“It’s not those.” I looked into his eyes. “Are you sleeping with anyone else?”

“We’ve discussed this, Court.” He bit down hard on my bottom lip and I moaned.

“What about a few days before we kissed in that parking lot?”

He slid his hand under my dress and yanked off my panties. “My answer won’t change.”

“Past two and a half to three months?” I sucked in a breath as he pressed his thumb against my clit. “What about then?”

He blinked, looking at me as if I’d lost my mind. Then that familiar cocky grin spread across his face as he slid two fingers deep inside of me. “I haven’t thought about anyone else since the day I met you at The Talking Vaginas.”

“The Vagina Monologues,” I corrected him.

“It’s a terrible play no matter how you say the title.” He used his other hand to tilt my chin up with his fingertips. “I haven’t been with anyone this semester, and I wasn’t with anyone last semester. I have completely turned into a pussy when it comes to you.”

He pressed his lips against mine, whispering. “Are there any more unnecessary questions, or can I finally fuck you now?”

“Yes…”

“To which question?” he asked.

“The latter.”

“Good.” His mouth met mine again, greedily kissing me as if this was the last time.

Our lips molded perfectly together as if this moment was what they'd always been made for.

Moaning, I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting him dominate my mouth while his fingers still slid in and out of my pussy.

My back hit the mirror, and he briefly tore away from me. Then, grabbing my wrists with his right hand, he pinned them above my head and against the glass.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Court.” He kissed my neck. “So fucking perfect.”

I nodded, unable to say anything else.

“Put your leg on that bench for me,” he whispered, and I obliged.

He took his time kissing my neck, leaving a wet trail of passion against my collarbone.

Pushing my shirt up, he unclasped the front of my bra with his teeth. Kissing his way across my chest, he tortured my nipples with sensuous sucking that made me even wetter.

"Here." He slowly released my hands from his grip. Then he pulled a condom from his shorts and pulled down his pants.

Pressing the foil packet into my hand, he silently demanded that I put it on him.

Looking down, I sucked in a breath at the sight of it. Rock hard, it stood between us, the veins begging for a release.

I rubbed my hands up and down his length--feeling the thickness of him, and Kyle let out a slow breath.

He watched me in the mirror as I took my time rolling on the condom. His fingers threaded my hair until I was finished.

Pushing me against the glass again, he lifted my left leg and wrapped it around his waist, slowly sliding into me, inch by inch.

Once he filled me, he stalled—giving me a few moments to adjust to his thick size.

“Kyle…” I whispered his name.

“Yes?”

He kissed me, said “yes” again, but I didn’t give him an answer.

Holding me like I was weightless, he began thrusting in and out of me—keeping his eyes locked on mine.

Our mouths met with his every stroke, and the muscles in his chest flexed with his every move.

I briefly caught sight of my reflection in the wall of mirrors behind him—taking total pleasure in watching him hitting places that no other man ever had.

“Tell me you love the way that I feel inside of you,” he whispered.

“Yes…"

He buried himself deep and stilled. “Tell me, Court…”

“Yes.” I moaned as he pressed a kiss against my neck. “I love the way that you feel inside of me.”

“Will you let me feel you again?” he asked.

“Yes.” I couldn’t focus with him picking up the tempo. I was suddenly lost in him, and I never wanted our sex to end.

He continued talking to me, turning me on with the bass of his voice against his deep strokes, and I struggled to hold on for much longer.

I clawed at his neck as tremors traveled up and down my spine, as my pussy throbbed against his cock.

“Kyle. Kyle, I…” I came as he bit my lip, collapsing into his arms.

The orgasm was so intense that tears fell past my cheeks.

Holding me steady, he thrust into me a few more times, and then he stiffened and groaned, finding his own release.

“Fuck ...” He rasped, kissing my neck.

He waited a few seconds and slowly pulled out of me, then he lifted me and placed me on a bench.

“Hey.” Kyle wiped my face with his fingertips. “Courtney, did I hurt you?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

Unconvinced, he cupped my face in his hands and stared into my eyes. “Court, I would never want to—”

“It’s the best orgasm I’ve ever had.” I didn’t want him even to consider that something was wrong. “I’ve never come during sex before.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He kissed me. “I’ll be sure that always happens from here on out …”