Page 68 of Campus Muscle

His hand disappeared beneath the hem of my dress, the sudden proximity of his heat making my lungs seize. His palm grazed the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, an exquisite ascent that made my pulse thrum against my eardrums. When he reached the dampness of my underwear, his head shot up, eyes locking onto mine.

“Feels like you’re already pretty impressed with me.” He pressed his thumb firmly against my folds, circling with a pressure that was also, somehow, agonizingly light. Not enough.

There was a dark, predatory shimmer of surprise in his eyes, quickly replaced by a smug, knowing intensity. He could feel exactly how much I’d been lying.

I let go of a soft whimper, willing myself to keep from rocking into that steady pressure.

“You’re gonna have to speak up,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration that traveled directly to my core. He kept teasing, testing, proving his point, until the friction had me biting back a sound I didn’t want him to hear.

“I... I’m not impressed yet,” I managed, though the words were thin, catching in a dry, shallow hitch in my throat.

“Are you sure?” He leaned in, his breath a feverish ghost against my ear while his hand finally hooked into the lace of my underwear. He reclaimed the space, sliding the fabric aside with a possessive tug.

The second his bare skin met my slick, heavy heat, Trace let out a low, guttural groan of pure, uncontained hunger that he couldn’t quite mask. It sent a violent ripple through me, my thighs trembling with a sudden, desperate instability.

“Trace—”

That was all the permission he needed. He hooked a boot behind my ankle and swept my leg outward, forcing me open until the rough bark of the tree was the only thing keeping me upright.

“Wider,” he commanded, his voice thick and strained as he leaned his weight into me. “If you’re gonna keep lying to my face, Dakota, I’ll make your body tell me the truth.”

I opened my mouth to snap back, to throw another taunt his way, but then he slid a finger deep inside me.

Whatever defiance I had left fractured into a thousand pieces, my head falling back against the wood as a broken, rhythmic sound escaped me. A confession.

My head rolled to the side, and my hips jerked. I was so ready to come, but he was set on torturing me. Once again, we couldn’t find common ground. We were pulling each other in opposite directions, but it felt so much better than I thought it could.

“I think you’re avoiding the topic at hand,” I breathed, grinding my clit against his palm as he thrust into me.

“Oh, so now you want to stick to the topic?”

“Shut up and make me come.”

His smile grew, but he did exactly as he was told. Trace added another finger and let his thrusts meet my body’s motions. The faster I rode his fingers the deeper he went, and in a matter of minutes I was teetering on the edge. My orgasm wanted to break free so badly, but I wasn’t ready to let go.

“If you want my cock, you’re going to have to pay the toll.”

“I don’t pay for what I want.”

“You will today.”

Trace changed the angle of his fingers and suddenly all my control was lost. He rubbed my g-spot in the most delicious way, and every thought I had of taking back my power evaporated into thin air.

My nails dug into his shoulders as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me, and my inner walls clenched so tightly he could barely move his fingers. I was about to cry out in pleasure when Trace slapped a hand over my mouth.

“Careful, Dakota. We wouldn’t want anyone crashing our private party.”

I bit down, hoping it would help to keep me quiet, but it didn’t work as well as it should’ve. When I finally released Trace, he spun me around and pressed my face up against the tree. He lifted my dress slightly and slipped his rock-hard cock over my shivering ass.

“I’m going to bury this inside you,” he vowed in a tone that made my pussy clench. “But not here. I want you somewhere I can hear you scream my name without holding back.”

A fresh wave of heat surged through me, but I didn’t have time to answer. He caught my hand, and we moved. The stadium was a riot of noise behind us—the Highlanders’ victory anthem blaring over the speakers and the roar of thousands of fans spilling into the night. We were just two more bodies in the chaos, slipping through the shadows of the parking lot while the crowd’s celebration provided a perfect cacophony for us to disappear.

When we reached his car, he shoved me against the passenger side, his body slamming into mine.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he growled, his mouth hovering just an inch from mine, his heavy gear pressing me into the cool metal of the door.

“I think I have some clue,” I said, my hands sliding down to the reinforced fabric of his game pants. “You’re not doing a great job of hiding it.”