Handful by C.R. Grissom

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Kirsty

The mountain is unspeakably sexy. Not only a fine specimen of a man, but easygoing and funny. He doesn’t get weird. He just rolls with whatever I say, and I can tease him without worry.

I suspected Eric to be a sexual Olympian. He takes foreplay to new and dizzying levels. A delicious shiver runs through me. What happens when we go back to just being friends, and how long before he decides he’s had enough? Anger spikes at the thought.

Whoa. Calm down.

I hide my smile by dipping my head to concentrate on my scrambled eggs. We could watch a movie, hang out, have sex, and still be easy with each other. My stomach dips and an imaginary warning bell sounds off in my brain. This is how it starts. Then the next thing you know, the guy gets pissy about your goals.

I study Everest. He’s not the type to get bent.

“What?” he murmurs. “You’ve got a look in your eye. You’re not planning to stab me with your fork, are you?”

“Huh?” I glance down at my hand. Sure enough I’m gripping the fork like a weapon. I set it down next to my plate. “Nope. Don’t mind me. I was just thinking.”

“Whatever you were thinking. Stop. I like my skin whole and without fork tines sticking out of it.”

I force myself to relax and enjoy him while it lasts. “In your case, it’s an unnecessary accessory.”

“Truth.”

He grabs my dirty dishes and carries them to the sink. He rinses the plates and utensils and stacks them in the dishwasher. “When you have roommates, it’s not fair to leave crap for the next morning,” he says, scrubbing the skillet.

I join Everest at the sink. “I’ll dry.” I place the skillet back in the cabinet under the stove. “Hmm. I wonder what we should do now that we’ve eaten.”

“Play Monopoly?”

My core bunches like a fist. “Not the game I had I mind.”

His grin triggers my own.

“Follow me to the game room,” he suggests.

Back in his bedroom we climb onto his bed. He stretches out while I sit cross-legged.

Too distracted to notice on my way into his room, I glance around and find myself surprised at his tidy and organized room. Navy-blue comforter with four pillows, and none are the decorative sort. Practical. A poster of Gladiator Colosseum hangs over his dresser. Another one features Everest and his teammates. He’s gripping his helmet’s faceguard. No faces, but I recognize his body in the lineup. He’s unmistakable.

His bed is still made, though it’s rumpled from our earlier sexcapades. His computer setup is prime with two monitors taking up space on his desk against one wall. A tower unit sits under the desk and a laptop placed precisely in the middle.

When it comes to computers he doesn’t mess around.

He threads his fingers through my hair. “Your hair is gorgeous. Each strand has its own shade of blonde. I love watching it fly when the wind blows. It’s almost as though it has a life of its own.”

Warmth spreads from my chest down to my fingertips. No one has ever complimented me in such a specific way, an almost poetic way. “Thank you. That’s very sweet.”

“Come here.”

I stretch out next to him. My feet barely reach his knees. His knee brace sits below the hem of his shorts. The reminder of his injury pains me. “Does it still hurt?”

His eyebrows rise in surprise. He takes a beat to answer. “Yes. Residual. Manageable, but I’m aware of it in a way I wasn’t before.”

I lean down and kiss his forehead. “It scared me. Especially when they drove that flatbed thing onto the field to get you. I went cold at the thought of you being hurt.”

“I’m okay or I will be in time. Don’t worry.”

He kisses me. My blood whooshes through my veins. He has a way of making me feel like he’s only focused on me. It’s scary. Relax, I scold myself. Go with it. Echoing my earlier thoughts, I think, Enjoy him while it lasts. “Everest, will you promise me something?”

“Yeah. What is it?” He makes eye contact with me.

“Will you promise to have a conversation with me when you want to stop having sex? I don’t want to be forced to guess when you want to go back to being friends.”

Now that I’ve voiced my concern, I’m feeling ridiculous. Needy. Fuck.

He cradles the back of my head in his hand. “Absolutely. I’d expect the same.”

“Yes,” I say emphatically. It’s important. I don’t want to second-guess us. If he didn’t matter, I wouldn’t care. He’s a friend, so this is vital to me.

“Good.” He traces my arm with his index finger. “Where were we?”

I shiver at his touch. “Hold that thought. I should probably text Faith and let her know I’m with you.”

“She knows. I sent her a text earlier. I didn’t want her to worry about you.”

Huh.I take a breath. Hold it for a beat. Release. I’m trying to decide whether he overstepped or was thoughtful on my behalf.

He reaches for his phone, shows me the text which reads:

Kirsty’s hanging out with me. I’ll make sure she gets back to the dorm safely.

Definitely a good thing because he didn’t assume I’d stay. He just sent a simple whereabouts text. “Thanks for thinking of it.”

“Kirsty, we’re all friends. We don’t let each other down. Communication is a huge part of friendship.”

“You’re right. I have to get used to it.”

“Yes, you will.”

I grin. “What were we doing again?”

He pretends to consider. “Something sexy, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Everest?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Yes?”

“Can I see you naked again?” I tease.

“I’m here to serve.”

We both scramble out of our clothes. I help him tug his shorts over the knee brace. He didn’t bother putting on his underwear earlier. God, he’s pretty and oh so masculine.

I peel off my underwear. We dive at each other. He drills his finger into my waist to tickle. “No, you can’t.” I laugh breathlessly. “No tickling or I’ll have to tie your hands.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in that damn sexy grin. I press a kiss to his neck. “Are you ticklish?” I ask, running my nails down the side of chest to scrape over that tantalizing oblique.

He grunts and bracelets my wrists in his hands. His sexy, long-fingered hands that captured my attention back when he was a stranger.

“Depends on the situation,” he murmurs, his voice rough.

My breath stutters in my chest when he draws my hands above my head, wrists held firmly in his grip. He leans down to press a kiss to my mouth.

“Look at you.” He sighs. “I could eat you up in three easy bites.”

“Prove it.” I go damp with the thought.

He barks out a laugh, then pulls my nipple into his mouth. Sucking, increasing the pressure until I groan and writhe against him.

He caresses me with his free hand. Traveling down my torso to ghost over my center. When he touches my clit, my hips thrust against his hand. He knows exactly how to touch me to turn me on. His finger circles the tender nub, creating friction.

I moan.

“I want to taste you again. I want to make you come in my mouth.”

The dirty talk makes me even hotter for him. He slides down my torso. Replacing his finger with his mouth. My nerve endings spark with electricity. His mouth is relentless. The feeling is inexplicable. It makes me burn. My breath stutters as my body crests.

The pressure mounts and I know I’m going to come. It’s never been this easy for me to come with a partner. I know how to get myself off, but it’s nowhere close to what he does to my body. The way he makes me feel. The way I lose control.

It’s all Everest.

I’m his sole focus. My climax is his ultimate goal. He works me with his mouth, licking and sliding his tongue over and into me. Everything inside me goes incandescent when he sucks me into his mouth and scrapes his teeth over my sensitive flesh.

“Oh, my.” My legs stiffen with my orgasm. My nerve endings explode with sensation. Placing my hands on either side of his head, I say, “No more.”

He moves up my body, planting kisses along my belly then up my torso. He presses a kiss to each nipple, making me groan.

“Get inside me. Now.”

He reaches over to grab a condom from his nightstand. He tears off the top and rolls it on smoothly.

“Please,” I beg.

He levers himself over me. Carrying the bulk of his weight on his arms, favoring his hurt knee. He’s strong enough to hold his body weight without hurting himself.

I spread my legs.

He teases my entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Inside. Now.”

He thrusts inside me and I nearly come again when he hits a spot so deep inside me my eyes roll back in my head. He moves, pumping inside me, making me pant with need.

I wrap my legs around his waist and he slides deeper inside me, which I didn’t think was even possible. He moves his right hand between us to touch my clit. And just like that I orgasm again.

He continues to thrust inside me, quickening his pace and drawing out my orgasm. My entire body hums with electricity. I swear I can feel sparks shooting out my fingertips.

His voice goes low. “You feel so good. I can’t hold on much longer.” He moves his hand to the mattress on the space beside my hip.

“Come for me. Come inside me,” I plead.

He groans.

I caress his ass, urge him on by cupping his butt cheeks. “Let go, Eric.”

His body stiffens. His hips slow to an even pace, no longer frantic with need. He’s riding out his climax stiff inside me.

*

It’s been twoweeks since we first had sex. I liken sex with Everest to what climbers must experience when they trek from base camp to the tippy top of the world’s tallest mountain. It’s an exercise in stamina and self-control, peak effort and reward, all wrapped up in naked shenanigans and immense satisfaction.

Speaking of immense… My grin pops and my pulse skitters thinking about him. Not now, I admonish.

I’ve got to finish two papers tonight or I’ll fall behind on my assignment schedule. I’m juggling so many balls in the air one slow move will make them drop.

I’ve turned do not disturb on my phone and computer. I’ve shut myself into my room and taped a note to my door warning everyone not to interrupt me even in the event of a zombie attack.

There have been far too many distractions lately. Everest and his injury. Everest and his amazing freaking body. I can’t afford to cave to my wanton—a word from my favorite historical romance books—desires and seek out another orgasm I don’t have to give myself.

Sorry, Kevin.I remember my banana-yellow director of self-pleasure. Safely tucked away in my bedside drawer for now, while I’m being pleasured by the Gladiator Emperor himself.

After four weeks off the field, Everest will suit up this week for the first home game since his injury.

The Gladiator game schedule is heavy on away games for the first part of the season with home games filling out the latter half. He’s been on the field all week long practicing and preparing for the game. He insists he’s back to one hundred percent. Here’s hoping.

I finish the first of my assignments and post it to the class cloud folder. Once I verify it’s visible, I click into my other assignment. Two hours and a lot of perspiration later, I’m adding the finishing touches on the criteria to establish causal relationships on the public health model we’re currently studying. I’ve nearly given myself a brain injury—can I get an amen?—I’m done.

I publish my assignment in the portal for this class and breathe a huge sigh of relief. I push away from my desk and stretch to roll out the kinks in my neck and body. Pins and needles explode in my left calf as it wakes from sleep.

I’m a little hungry and a whole lot thirsty. I grab my empty vacuum bottle with the idea of filling it with more water at the station down the hall from our suite and tear the do not disturb on pain of death sign I tacked up earlier from my door.

I hear Faith on the phone with Caleb on the other side of her closed bedroom door. I heard her say ‘Sinjin’—her pet name for him—in the throaty purr she uses when talking to him late at night.

Her quick laugh sounds as I open the door leading to the hallway, tugging a grin from me. Despite the stress of overloaded schedules, I guess we’re all happy. Isn’t that simple fact amazing?

At the opposite end of our hallway, a guy and two girls play a type of indoor hockey with what seems to be a hacky sack, plastic golf clubs, and a makeshift net fashioned from a laundry mesh bag taped to the wall under the window. The sound of their muffled laughter carries.

I fill my bottle and go back to our suite chugging water as I walk. Once inside, I check our snack supply. There’s a half-full bag of popcorn sealed with a clothespin. A withered apple, two granola bars, and a family-size bag of Reece’s Pieces. I choose a granola bar, grab a handful of candy, and head back into my room.

I plug the charger into my laptop. I’ll need a full charge for tomorrow’s classes. Ditto on my cell, when I flip my phone over there are a crap-ton of texts from my project group received while the do not disturb function was turned on. I hold my cell in front of my face and swipe to unlock.

I open the most recent from Tim, one of my lab partners in the group. It reads:

Since you refused to answer and haven’t done the work, we petitioned Professor Chao to remove you from the group.

What the hell? I open the other texts. More texts from our group posting about how I’ve let them down. All the air in my lungs seizes and I can hardly draw a breath. I scroll to the first text sent three hours ago from Moira:

Where are you? We’ve been waiting for you for thirty minutes. Your section of the disease in human populations lab study is overdue and you missed the group meet for section two. Tim is freaking out. Call me!

No. No. No. This can’t be happening. I check my calendar. Sure enough there’s a meet scheduled. When I turned off notifications, I missed the reminder. Oh, fuck.

I choose audio call to reach out to Moira. She doesn’t say hello, she says, “Where were you?”

“Oh my God. I had two assignments due tonight. I used do not disturb to study without interruption. I did the assignment. I posted the doc to our group folder last night. Didn’t you get it?”

“Kirsty, you didn’t post our assignment to the group folder. You posted a doc containing an essay for cross-cultural communication.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I did the work, I promise. I’ll post it now.”

“Kirsty, Tim already contacted Professor Chao,” she says, apology thick in her voice.

Something big and heavy lands in my stomach like I managed to swallow a stone. “I understand,” I say quietly. I made a mistake—a big one—and now Tim’s complained about me. “I’ll post it anyway and talk to Professor Chao tomorrow. Thanks, Moira. And I’m sorry for keeping you all waiting.”

“Tim is a prick,” Moira complains. “He’s such a control freak and rolls over anyone with a dissenting opinion. I’m sorry, Kirsty.”

“Yeah. Me, too. Good night.”

I scrub my hands down my face to stop the flow of tears before they start. No use. The tears come. I’m so angry with myself. I put off doing the assignment choosing to watch Everest practice instead, worrying about him hurting himself again. I can’t believe I’ve screwed myself so thoroughly.

There’s a knock on my door. Faith asks, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” I manage to croak while I swipe at my face with the sleeves of my tee.

She takes one look at my face. “What happened?”

I tell her. She wraps her arms around me. “We’ll fix this.”

“Thanks.” My voice hitches. “I’m pretty sure I’m screwed.”