Climb on My Stepfather (Ashley and Alex)

Chapter 72

4: Stella.

I'm in the front row of my political science class, head bowed forward so I can create a little world of my own inside the safety of my hair. It shields me from the rest of the class and stops me from getting too overwhelmed by the sheer number of people surrounding me. If I think about it too much, my stomach will pitch and I won't be able to concentrate on a single word the professor is saying. Although this morning, it's difficult to concentrate no matter what, isn't it?

What happened last night?

Humiliation is a rotating ball of fire in my belly. I can't believe...so many things.

Where do I start?

One, after doing some Googling while waiting for class to start, I found out how weird it is to orgasm so quickly and without any stimulation between my legs. I'm a freak. A total freak. The star of the football team breathed on me and I basically acted like I was possessed.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I fell asleep.

He brought me home for sex, obviously. He's a virile athlete and he was erect -II felt it—and I was too exhausted from being touched, from the rush of exhilaration and pleasure, to even keep my eyes open. God, he must have been disappointed. He brought home a dud. A dud given to bouts of narcolepsy.

My face is crawling with fire ants. I sink lower into my seat. Tug down my skirt to cover my knees, because I can tell they're pink, as well. I'm flushed everywhere. Not only from the memory of him looking at my breasts. Licking them. No, the memory of him holding me as I slept is enough to make me achy and restless. I've never been held before. Not like that. Not so tightly, every inch of me fitted to hard male muscle. Not to mention that big, stiff part of him that was wedged between my butt cheeks when I woke up.

Did he really want to put it inside of me?

Like, all of it?

I'm ripped from my ongoing worries when everyone around me breaks into hoots and whistles and applause. What's going on?

I glance up and find my political science professor looking reluctantly amused, his gaze fastened to the entrance. Carefully, I push aside some of my hair so I can figure out what is causing the commotion.

My breath is swiped clean out of my lungs when I see Gage leaning against the wall, just inside the door of my lecture hall. Arms crossed, stance cocky.

He looks like the cover of those Sports Illustrated magazines I see sometimes at the drugstore. Everyone is going wild, pounding their desks and chanting his name, reciting some football cheer I've never heard. He salutes the admiring crowd and they go absolutely wild. Girls are screaming and fanning themselves. A group of guys are trying to start a wave. But Gage...

His attention is zeroed in on me.

I attempt to breathe, but I can't. My nipples bead inside my big, loose button- down shirt-a hand-me-down from one of the smaller priests at the monastery. Fists pound the desks behind me, matching the rapid beats of my heart.

Oh God.

to make fun of me? To all of these

who he carried

dead, instead of giving it to him. On top of that, I had the nerve to leave him a note. Hope I

calls the professor, signaling for the class to quiet down. "To what do we owe the honor of

eyes never leaving me once. "Just here to pick up my girl," he explains in that

up around me. In the matter of a split second, I'm the center of attention. People are speculating on my name, they're judging my attire and asking where I came from. I sink lower into my chair, my chin buried in my chest. This has to be a nightmare. This can't be real. He's definitely joking about me being his girl. He probably already wheeled the suitcase back to my dorm and washed his sheets clean of

pair of black Nike running

hall is

"Ready to go, honey?"

goes the whispering

Weston," ventures my professor. "We're in the middle of a

me. When I say that my body gravitates

and his intensity sinks into me, hot and deep, and my pulse

It's what my heart and body and mind, maybe even my soul, insisted on calling him last night. I'm right back there now, getting lost in the burn of his light brown eyes, the

"Stella," he says.

doing, my small hand locked inside his much larger one. He picks up my books in the opposite hand and guide me out of the classroom

the attention and I have the impulse to bury my face in his

hauls me into his side, using his

it's too late for that, isn't it? I've just walked out

the

whisper, once we're in the

a beat, that square jaw grinding. "You

is flattened against the wall, his hard body

he moans, dipping his hips and rocking

up so motherfucking hard for

I know...you probably...I didn't mean to disappoint

gaze pins me sharply. "Disappoint

you and that's kind of an, um...unspoken understanding that we're