h i  b a b y
COVEY'S POV:

Tuesdays are my free days. And I'm constantly distracted regardless of wanting to be productive. Especially when my mind is always running and thinking thoughts of Conrad when I shouldn't be thinking them. So I admit it, I Googled him. And I found out he has a published book.

It surprised me at first, but then considering he's a Creative Writing teacher sort of took away the shock. On top of that, it wasn't a normal book, though no book is necessarily normal. It was a full on erotic-based novel. And the description, I can't even believe he wrote this book. I mean, it makes sense considering who he is—but still. My Coco Puff published erotica. 

However, even though he's not in the room sitting down on my bed next to me as I investigate this—it's like he's still here. Like I'm being caught. And it's sinful. Like I'm a bad girl.

So when he calls as soon as the clock hits two, I basically shut my computer and jump up from my spot in a hurry. Who knew even getting a phone call from the person you're the most comfortable with could nearly give you a heart attack?

I slide his contact to the right and answer the phone. "Is your lecture over now?"

"Meet me at the park," he says softly, and I hear faint noises of paper being shuffled in the background. "I'll be waiting for you."

"But—like right now?"

"I would really like to see you," he replies, sighing. "And then I would like to take you to my place to hangout." Hangout, huh?

"And what else would you like to do with me?" I ask, getting curious as my tummy starts building up with butterflies and anticipation. 

He chuckles and thinks for a moment. "How about you meet me first and we'll go from there?"

"I can't." I'm kinda in the middle of learning about your fantasies right now.

"And why the fuck not?" he asks, his voice getting that possessive growl to it. Someone made the Grinch mad.

"I was—you know—reading and stuff and super into it—"

He cuts me off. "You can read at my place. I'll pick you up, go to the gym, and when I'm done hopefully you will be too. And then we can spend quality time together." Quality time.

"But—"

"Don't 'but' me, kid," he says, challenge and tease in his voice.

"But... but..." Then I laugh. "Coco, you said butt."

"I said 'but.' You're the one who said butt," he grumbles. "So yes or no? Come meet me."

He doesn't even have to ask me twice. I was just kidding about not coming.

"Let me pack a bag," I tell him, trying to be smart about this.

He kind of growls. "Why do you need a bag? You can borrow my stuff like you always do."

"I feel bad though," I say, already stuffing my pajamas and toothbrush and whatever else I need—oh, and I grab Chubbs.

"If I had a problem with you wearing my clothes, I'd tell you," he argues, sort of ticked off. "Don't you remember? I told you I liked you in them." Then he says under his breath, "I just like taking them off of you a lot better." Of course he'd say that.

"I'm bringing a bag of my stuff," I say, no argument left to chase. "But I'll steal one of those really big and oversized hoodies of yours."

"Okay, whatever. Now hurry your pretty ass up." Okay, dad.

"Yes, Sir." And as I hang up I can almost see the smirk creeping up on his face.

When I leave my dorm, I have to get past the lounge room. And that's an issue. Because on my way out, my clumsy self smacks right into Venice and his friend group as I turn the corner. And by smack, I mean I ran straight into the wall of college guys.

"Oh hey, babe." Venice greets me with a friendly hug when I run a hand through my hair.

"Hi Venny," I say, patting his back awkwardly. Sort of awkwardly? Would Conrad get mad if I just hugged him?

"You coming to the game tonight?" he asks, looking down at the bag I have in my hands.

I shake my head. "What game?"

Basketball. Oh, that's right.

"The first game of the season," he says, raising an eyebrow at me. "But you've got plans, I'm assuming?"

I lift up my overnight bag and gulp. "Yeah, last minute. I would've gone to the game if I knew, though. When's the next one?"

"Thursday," he tells me, a smile on his face as his blue eyes shine. "See you there?"

"Maybe," I return. "I gotta go. It was good to see you, and good luck!"

He twists his face up for a minute, cocking an eyebrow up. "Catch you around."

I try to compose myself to the best of my abilities before walking straight-faced out of the building. And then I have to walk through the left side of the parking lot before I get to the trail leading to the park. It takes me five minutes walking to reaching the area, before seeing Conrad's black Mustang parked in the far-away corner.

I trot over to it and knock on the window that's on my side, opening the door and getting in. But before I can even get myself situated, Conrad's body is across the center console reaching for me to pull me into a kiss, one that takes the oxygen straight from your lungs like some sort of vacuum.

And then he's climbing over into my seat, pinning me against the door as he straddles my waist eagerly. Oh, he really wanted his quality time. His hands are reaching down to unbutton the denim shorts I'm wearing and I let him—even though this is very very naughty to do in a public area.

I turn my head away from him as he puts his face in my neck, his kisses leaving no room for any other need. I just want him. I just love him. I love him and the way he is and the things he does to me. We're Romeo and Juliet and Gatsby and Daisy, but we'll live a happily ever after like Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth.

I love him and there's nothing he can do to reverse it or take that feeling away from me. It's the end of discussion.

Conrad's hands beckon my legs wider and he reaches down to start rubbing his fingers along my clit. I grab the back of his neck and hold him to me as he works his fingers fast and hard and the way he always does—messaging and torturing my sensitive areas. And when I'm wet enough, he slips his fingers into me. Ah. Yes. This. I arch my back in pleasure.

I bite down my moans, but they come out strangled anyways. And I roll my hips into his hands as he kisses and sucks on the skin down my neck, his other hand pinning my thigh to the seat so I stay open for him. Oh my dinos. 

He continues thrusting his fingers into me, swirling them around inside in a circular motion as he carves my front walls, hitting my g-spot and thumbing my clitorious at the same time. And he never lets up. He goes in and out, and round and round, and front and back—and I claw at his shoulder blades when I know I'm going to reach my climax. 

His teeth nip at my skin and his fingers move more quickly, causing me to completely unravel and collapse into a core-shaking orgasm. And I moan and buck my hips and clutch onto him for dear life, but his fingers never stop and his breathing becomes heavy. I continue to quiver underneath him, my fingers bunching up the dress shirt he's in. Then it all finally stops, though I'm still hyper-sensitive, and he pulls his fingers out of me and licks them clean as he lifts himself from my seat.

"Hi, baby," he says, a triumphant smile stretched across his face noticing how flustered and discombobulated I am after that. "I missed you."

Hi God, it's me again.

******
AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Someone get me a man like him. I swear to friggin' God.

Love you all! Please PLEASE have a good weekend for my sake <3
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