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The Score (Off-Campus #3)(68)

Author:Elle Kennedy

I tease her for a while, gliding the toy up and down her slit until she’s bumping her hips forward, visibly agitated. Aroused. Then I spread her apart with my fingers and ease the head of the pink toy toward her opening.

We both watch as I feed it inside her. I was trying to go slow, but she’s so wet that the toy’s entire length slips in without resistance. I draw it out, leaving only the tip there, then plunge it in again.

Allie moans.

I do too, because yet again I’ve been proven wrong. Watching the dildo tunnel in and out of her? That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

“How do you feel?” I murmur.

“Full,” she murmurs back.

With the toy still wedged inside her, I bend down and press my tongue to her clit. I lick it softly and start moving my hand, the lazy drag of my tongue matching the lazy thrust of the toy. Allie clutches my hair and squirms on the ledge. The movement of her legs splashes water in my face. I don’t care. I capture her clit between my lips and suckle it, while Winston continues to do his job down south.

The noises escaping her throat get breathier, faster. I suck harder and shift the toy so it’s hitting her at an angle, and that gets me a delighted, “Oh my God.”

I smile against her hot flesh as she convulses. I love making this girl come. She always reacts like she’s just received an unexpected gift, like she truly didn’t expect this big shiny present but hoo boy she’s more than happy to tear open the wrapping.

Her body sags on a blissful cry, and then her eyelids flutter open. “I love Winston.”

I gently pull out the toy. But I’m not gentle in the way I scowl at her. “You know he’s not real, right?”

“Trust me, let me put him inside you just one time and I bet you’ll be singing a different tune.”

We drip water all over the bath mat and tiles as we get out of the tub. When I bend over to drain it, Allie smacks my butt and says, “Stop tempting Winston.”

I snicker, then turn around to grab her a towel.

In my room, Allie sets the toy on my dresser and starts to dry off. “I really am sorry, by the way.” She sighs. “Logan is going to torture you about what he saw, huh?”

“Big-time.” When guilt floods her expression, I sigh too. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’ll tell him someone was hiding behind the door because she was embarrassed.”

Allie looks alarmed.

“I won’t say it was you.”

My reassurance has the opposite effect. Her eyes darken with displeasure. “So you’re going to tell him you had a random girl over?”

“Would you rather I said it was you?”

“No. But…” She bites her lip and says nothing.

I’ve been with a lot of women. I know women. And when they clam up like this? They’re not just working one thought over in their brains. Nope, they’re constructing a complicated web of scenarios and what ifs, each thread layering over another, thickening and twisting until suddenly they’re mad about something that never even occurred to you.

I stifle another sigh. “Spit it out, Allie-Cat.”

“Are you sleeping with anyone else?”

That catches me off guard. “No. Of course not.” Once again, the reassurance falls on deaf ears. She’s even warier now. “I’m not,” I say firmly.

She studies my face as if she’s playing Where’s Waldo, except she’s hunting for a lie instead of a weirdo in a hat. Then she lets out a breath. “We probably should’ve had this conversation before we had sex again. The whole are we or aren’t we exclusive.”

I suppose she’s right, though it’s not a discussion I have often. Everyone I hook up with already knows it’s not exclusive. On both sides, because it’s not like they’re staying true to me either. I fucked a cute sophomore a few months ago who openly admitted she’d just come from a date with someone else.

With Allie, I just assumed it was exclusive. I wouldn’t dream of playing games with Wellsy’s best friend.

“We’re exclusive,” I tell her.

“You seriously haven’t been with anyone else?” She doesn’t even try to hide her surprise, and I don’t know if I should be insulted.

“Not since the first time you and I were together.”

She nods. “And you’re cool with that?”

“Are you?”

Another nod. “I want it to be exclusive. I mean, I understand that this is a fling, but I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of you sleeping with anyone else. Same goes for me—I won’t do it either.”

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