The Goal (Off-Campus Book 4)

I wait for Sabrina in the parking lot. Almost all the cars are gone, except for a half dozen that probably belong to the employees. The guys went back to Brody’s apartment a couple hours ago, where they’ll probably stay up all night drinking. I told them I was meeting a girl for a late bite, which got me a high-five from Hollis even as he griped about what a shitty person I was for not making sure she had a friend.

After they dropped me off at an all-night diner a few blocks from the club, the site of my supposed date, I killed an hour by grabbing a burger and chugging some coffee so that I wouldn’t fall asleep within five minutes of seeing Sabrina. Then I walked back to Boots & Chutes, and now I’m leaning against the driver’s side of Sabrina’s Honda, monitoring the front entrance in anticipation.

When she appears, my excitement kicks up a notch. She’s wearing a wool coat that goes down to her knees. Below that, her legs are bare.

My dick twitches as I wonder if she’s still wearing those booty shorts. Then I chastise myself, because I could tell how embarrassed she was earlier by the skimpy outfit.

“Hey,” she says as she reaches me.

“Hey.”

I want to kiss her, but she’s not sending any c’mere, big boy signals. I need to touch her, though, so I step closer and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

Hesitating, she bites her lip. “Where are we going?”

“Where do you want to go?” I’m leaving the decision entirely up to her.

“Are you hungry?”

“Nope. Just ate. You?”

“I had an energy bar during my last break.”

I wink at her. “You thought you’d need energy, huh? Why’s that?”

Her cheeks take on the cutest shade of pink. I see her fighting a smile, and when it breaks free, I do an internal fist pump. She’s so gorgeous when she smiles. I really wish she’d do it more often.

She glances around. “Your truck’s not here.”

“Yeah, it’s back in Hastings. We drove up in Fitzy’s car.”

She nods and nibbles on her lip again. “I…well…what should we do, then?”

“No pressure.” I move even closer, loosely resting one hand on her hip while the other traces the line of her jaw. My pulse speeds up when she doesn’t shy away from my touch. “We can walk around. Just chill in the car and talk. Whatever you want.”

Sabrina lets out a sigh that leaves a white puff in the cold night air. “I don’t feel like walking. It’s cold out and my feet hurt from being on them all night. And my car is way too small for you. You’d be uncomfortable in five seconds.”

“Do you want to go back to your place?”

She tenses up. “Not really.” Another breath slides out. “I don’t want you to…”

“To what?”

“I don’t want you to see where I live.” She sounds defensive. “It’s shitty, okay?”

My heart squeezes a little. I don’t respond, because I’m not sure what to say.

“Well, not my bedroom,” she relents. “That’s not shitty.”

Sabrina goes silent, as if she’s fighting some internal battle.

“I meant what I said before,” I tell her in a soft voice. “No pressure. But if you’re worried that I’m going to judge where you live, stop right now. I don’t care if you live in a mansion or a shack. I just want to spend time with you, wherever and whenever.”

When I rub her lips with my thumb, the tension seeps out of her shoulders. “Okay,” she finally whispers. “Let’s go to my house.”

I search her face. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’d rather be somewhere warm and cozy right now. Not that my house is warm and cozy, but it’s definitely warmer in there than it is out here.”

Having made her decision, she unlocks the driver’s door and slides behind the wheel. I get into the passenger side. And she’s not wrong—my legs are not digging this vehicle. Even when I push the chair back as far as it can go, there’s still no room to stretch out.

She starts the car and pulls out of the lot. “I don’t live too far from here.”

After that, she doesn’t say much for the rest of the drive. I don’t know if she’s nervous or if she regrets agreeing to hang with me, but I hope to hell it’s not the latter.

I don’t push her to talk, because I know how skittish she can be. Patience is the name of the game here, and patience with Sabrina James comes with a reward. She’s got so much passion that it’s simply a matter of helping her reach a level of comfort that allows her to let go.

When we turn onto her street, I pretend it’s the first time that I’ve ever been here. That I don’t recognize the narrow, ramshackle row houses. That I hadn’t slept in my car right over by that uneven curb the night I followed her home to make sure she got there safe.

Sabrina turns into a driveway at the side of the house, steering toward the small carport in the rear. She kills the engine and exits the car in silence.

“This way,” she murmurs when I round the vehicle.

She doesn’t take my hand, but she does check to make sure I’m following as she climbs the three low steps of the back stoop. Her keys jingle softly in the quiet night as she unlocks the door.

A moment later, we step into a tiny kitchen. It has ugly yellow-and-pink-patterned wallpaper, and in the center sits a square wood table surrounded by four chairs. The appliances look old, but they’re clearly in working order because dirty pots and pans are strewn atop the stove burners.

Sabrina blanches at the mess. “My grandmother always forgets to clean up after herself,” she says without meeting my gaze.

I glance around the cramped space. “It’s just the two of you here?”

“No. My stepfather lives here too.” She doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask for details. “Don’t worry, though. Friday is poker night—he usually stays out and then stumbles home sometime around noon the next day. And Nana takes an Ambien every night before bed. She sleeps like the dead.”

I wasn’t worried, but I get the feeling she’s not trying to reassure me, but herself.

“My room’s this way.” She ducks into the corridor before I can say a word.

I trail after her, noting how narrow the hall is, how dirty the carpet is, how there aren’t any family photos hanging on the walls. My heart starts to ache, because the droop of Sabrina’s shoulders tells me that she’s ashamed of this place.

Fuck. I hate seeing her look so defeated. I want to tell her about the peeling paint in our place down in Texas, about how for the entirety of high school I slept in the tiniest room in the house so Mom could use the larger bedroom for her in-home hair salon that supplements the income from her hairdresser job in town.

I keep quiet, though. I’m following her lead here.

Her room is small, tidy, and clearly her source of refuge. The double bed is perfectly made with a pale blue comforter. Her desk is immaculate, overloaded with neatly stacked textbooks. It smells clean and fresh in here, like pine, lemon and something addictively feminine.

Sabrina unbuttons her coat, shrugs it off, and drapes it over the desk chair.

My mouth waters. She’d thrown a T-shirt over the skimpy bra that constitutes a work “uniform,” but she’s still in those little shorts. And the heels. Jesus fuck, those heels.

“So,” she starts.

I unzip my jacket. “So,” I echo.

Her dark eyes track the movement of my hands as I toss the jacket aside. Then she shakes her head abruptly, as if trying to snap herself out of…checking me out, I guess? I hide a grin.

“I meant it when I said I didn’t want to get involved,” she says.

“I know you did. That’s why I haven’t called.” I wander over to the desk, scanning the titles of her textbooks, all gazillion of them.

There’s a small cork bulletin board on the wall, with pictures tacked on it. I smile at a shot of Sabrina sandwiched between two other girls. The one on the left has bright red hair and she’s sticking out her tongue while squeezing Sabrina’s butt in an exaggerated fashion. The one on the right has long, thin braids, and she’s smacking a kiss on Sabrina’s cheek. They obviously adore her, and I feel a spark of approval knowing there are at least two people out there who have her back.

“My girls,” Sabrina explains, coming up beside me. She points to the right. “That’s Hope—” She points to the left. “And Carin. They’re my angels sent from heaven. Seriously.”

“They seem cool.” My gaze travels over the other pictures before landing on a white piece of paper with the Harvard emblem in the corner. “Holy shit,” I breathe. “Is that what I think it is?”

Her entire face lights up. “Yup. I got into Harvard Law.”

“Fuck yeah!” I swing around and yank her toward me for a hug. “Congrats, darlin’. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of me too.” Her voice is muffled against the side of my neck.

Oh boy. This hug was a bad idea. Now all I can concentrate on is the way her round, full tits are pressed up against my chest. I swear her nipples are hard too.

Sabrina’s breath hitches the moment she feels the change in my body.

“Sorry,” I say ruefully, easing my hips back. “My dick got confused.”

A laugh pops out of her mouth. She tilts her head to look up at me with humor. And heat. I’m definitely seeing a spark of heat there.

“Poor guy,” she murmurs. “Do I need to explain to him the difference between a hug and a fuck?”

Je-sus. This girl is not allowed to say the word fuck. It sounds too much like a promise when it’s leaving those pouty lips.

“I think that’s wise,” I answer solemnly. “Though he’s not the smartest fella—you might need to give him a hands-on tutorial.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “What happened to no pressure?”

“Ah, I’m just playing. No pressure at all, babe.” Except for the pressure behind my zipper, that is.

She goes quiet for a moment. We’re no longer hugging, but still standing only a few inches apart.

“Honestly?” she says. “I tend to function better under pressure. Sometimes I need…a little push.”

I hear the unspoken question, but although my cock gets harder, I force myself to show restraint. “I won’t push you. Not unless I’m a hundred percent sure it’s something you want.” I study her expression. “Is it what you want?”

She moistens her lips. “It…is.”

“Not good enough. Tell me exactly what you want.”

“You. I want you.”

“Be more specific.” Fuck, I’m a masochist, apparently. But this girl has turned me down twice since we slept together. I need to make sure we’re on the same page.

“I want you. I want this.” Her palm covers my package, and my erection nearly hammers its way out of my pants.

“Where do you want it?” My voice is pure gravel.

“In my mouth.”

Goodbye, restraint. Sabrina James literally took a wrecking ball to it with those three lust-drenched words.

I’m kissing her before either of us can blink. And it’s the kind of kiss that goes from zero to sixty in a hot second. My tongue slides through her parted lips in a greedy stroke. She gasps with delight and kisses me back, her tongue tangling with mine for a few mind-melting seconds before she kisses her way toward my neck. Her breasts rise as she inhales deeply, and the soft moan she gives zips right to my balls.

“You smell so good,” she whispers, and then her lips are all over me. Traveling along the tendons of my neck, rubbing over my collarbone, tickling my chin. Pretty much driving me crazy.

She slides one hand between us and rubs me over my pants. She doesn’t unzip them. Doesn’t reach inside. I don’t know if it’s because she’s teasing or waiting for the push she supposedly needs. Since I don’t have patience for the former, I seize onto the latter.

“Take my dick out,” I say roughly.

Her lips curve teasingly. “Why would I do that?”

“You said you wanted me in your mouth.” I clench my fists to my sides. “So put me in your mouth.”

She makes a sweet little sound, a cross between a whimper and a moan and a sigh. I feel her fingers trembling as she pops open the button of my jeans, but I know it’s not nerves because her expression is smoky with excitement.

“I wanted to do this that night in your truck,” she confesses. “But I was too impatient to feel you inside me.”

She delicately draws my stiff shaft out of my boxers and curls her fingers around it. I kick off my boots, then yank my jeans and underwear down. Kick those away too.

“Shirt,” she orders, sounding amused. “I want to see your chest.”

This girl is gonna kill me. I peel off my shirt and then I’m standing there naked in front of her. She remains fully clothed, if you could call booty shorts and a whisper-thin T-shirt clothes.

As her heated gaze eats me up, I send a quick thank-you to the hockey gods for inventing such a grueling sport. Hockey’s a tough, dangerous game that requires hours of training. It’s given me muscles in places I didn’t even know had muscles. And now, all that hard work is paying me back twofold by putting this hungry look on Sabrina’s face.

“Your body’s insane,” she informs me.

I chuckle. “Pot, kettle,” I reply before cupping her tits over her top.

She swats my hands away. “Don’t distract me! I have a job to do.”

I flash her a look of challenge. “I figured you’d be good at multi-tasking. Considering you’re always so busy.”

“Oh, I can multi-task like a pro. I just don’t want to right now. I want to savor this.” She voices the seductive promise while slowly sinking to her knees.

Her hair falls over one shoulder as she peers up at me. Christ, I’ve never seen a hotter sight. I reach down and rub her mouth with my thumb. I want to see those lips wrapped around me. I want to see her throat working to take me in.

“Suck me,” I rumble when she continues to kneel there without touching me.

She hears the tortured note in my voice and takes pity on me, leaning forward to kiss the tip of my cock. She offers the tiniest flick of tongue, but that alone is enough to send an electric current up my spine. Oh man, I’m not gonna last long at all.

I cup the back of her head and urge her closer. On command, she opens her mouth and half my length slides in. Wet heat surrounds me, making me groan. It’s fucking amazing, and that’s before she starts working me with her tongue.

“Ah, fuck,” I choke out when she licks the sensitive underside.

Sabrina laughs, and the sound ripples through my shaft and pulses in my balls. She torments me with slow, lazy pumps of her hand. Deep, wet pulls of her mouth. Sweet, gentle licks of her tongue. And the entire time, she’s making the hottest noises I’ve ever heard. Tiny whimpers of arousal and breathy moans that confirm she’s as close to losing it as I am.

I stroke her hair. It’s so damn soft, silky as it moves between my fingers. I rock my hips, slowly, because I want to make this last. But when her mouth suddenly slides forward until her lips are wrapped tightly around my base, there’s no stopping the orgasm.

Buried in her throat, I go off like a firecracker. It happens so fast I don’t even have time to warn her.

“Sabrina,” I croak, trying to pull out.

She just moans and tightens the suction, taking everything I have to give.

The pleasure is so intense it almost fells me. My knees knock together. My brain stopped producing coherent thoughts right around the time she put her mouth on me.

Eventually I register the soft caress of her hand over my thighs, the tickle of her fingers along my shaft as she gives one final stroke before rising to her feet.

“That was fun,” she tells me.

I sputter with laughter. Fun? Talk about an understatement.

“It was fucking incredible,” I correct, yanking her toward me.

I kiss her until she’s breathless. My legs are still shaking but my hands are rock steady as I methodically pull off her T-shirt and then tug on the string that’s keeping her bikini-style bra in place. Our mouths still locked, I nudge her toward the bed, advancing on her until she has no choice but to fall onto her elbows and stretch out on her back.

I pop her heels off, one by one, taking the time to kiss each of her shapely ankles. Then I get rid of her booty shorts, whip them across the room, and reach for the heels again.

Sabrina raises a brow. “You’re putting them back on me?”

“Hell yeah I am. You have no idea how hot you look in these heels.”

I ease one small foot back into a stiletto, then the other. When I’m done, I stare at her for a long, long moment and wonder how I ever got this lucky. She’s all long limbs and sweet curves and smooth olive-toned skin. Her dark hair is fanned out behind her head, her red lips are glossy and parted. And those fuck-me heels… Christ. She’s the ultimate wet dream.

I rise on my knees and shuffle closer. My dick is waking up again, but I ignore him. He can take five while I play a little.

“I can’t get over how beautiful you are,” I rasp, bringing my hand between her legs.

When I rub the pad of my thumb over her clit, her hips jerk off the bed in response.

I smile. One barely there touch and she’s already hot for me. Or maybe she got hot when she was giving me a blowjob that belongs in the history books.

I trail my finger down her slit toward her opening, groaning when I discover that she’s soaking wet. “Did I do this?” I mutter.

Mischief dances in her eyes. “Sorry, but no. I was pretending you were Tom Hardy the whole time I was blowing you.”

“Bull. Shit.” I push one finger inside her and she squeaks loudly. “You knew exactly whose dick was in your mouth.”

Sabrina squirms against my probing finger. I add another one, curl them both, and stroke her inner channel while my thumb teasingly circles her clit.

“Fine, I knew,” she gasps out. “Who needs to picture a movie star when you’re already a fantasy come to life?”

Damned if my ego doesn’t like hearing that. And my cock definitely likes the way her pussy is clenching around my fingers. I remember how tight she was the last time, how good it felt, and once again I forget that I’m trying to be patient.

Groaning, I spread her thighs with my free hand and lean down to bury my face where my dick wants to be. When my tongue touches her, she moans loud enough to wake the dead. Hopefully that sleeping pill her grandmother took is doing its job, otherwise we’re in for a mighty awkward interruption.

I kiss and lick and suck and play until my body can’t take it anymore. Until my mind shuts down again, empty save for one thought: need to be inside her.

Wrenching my mouth away results in Sabrina’s grumble of disappointment. My beard has left pink splotches all over her thighs, but she doesn’t seem to care. She’s squirming and scissoring her legs, a sexed-up look on her face.

“Tucker,” she begs.

“Hold on, darlin’.” I lean over the edge of the bed to grab my pants, then whip out the condom in my wallet.

She watches me suit up. Her gaze is no longer cloudy with frustration. It’s on fire, blazing with anticipation.

“Get inside me,” she orders.

“Yes, ma’am.”

With a grin, I crawl back to her, one fist grasping my dick to guide it inside her. We both groan when I drive in deep. But apparently it’s not deep enough. Her legs, long and silky and incredible, instantly wrap around my waist. She digs her heels into my ass and lifts her hips to deepen the contact, and it’s the best fucking feeling in the world.

I drop down until my elbows are resting on either side of her head. “Beautiful,” I mumble, staring down at her flushed face. I dip my head and kiss her again, while my cock pulses in the tight heat of her body.

I try to keep it slow. I try my fucking hardest. But Sabrina has other ideas.

She shoves her hand in my hair and pulls until our mouths break apart. “I need more.” She sounds as desperate as I feel.

“Tell me what you need.”

“This.” She grabs my hand and pushes it to where we’re joined. Her fingers cover my knuckles as she urges me to stroke her clit. “And this.” She bucks upward and starts fucking herself on me.

And that’s the game, ladies and gentleman.

My slow, measured pace explodes to dust. In its place, pure animal fucking. I drill into her with everything I’ve got. The heel of my hand stays glued to her swollen clit, rubbing in time to each frantic thrust. Within seconds we’re both sweaty, breathless messes. The mattress springs creak from the force of our fucking. The headboard slams against the wall in a rhythmic thump-thump-thump that matches the wild pounding of my heart.

She comes before I do, clutching my shoulders as she shudders beneath me. The blowjob had taken the edge off, so I last longer. Hell, longer than I want to, because I’m dying to come. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, screaming for release that’s still out of reach.

“Let go,” Sabrina murmurs.

And then her fingers dig into my ass cheeks, one drifts along the crease, and—

That’s the game.

I shoot with a hoarse cry. I forget my name. I probably black out for a minute. I feel loopy and wonderful and my balls are still tingling, but I think I might be crushing her, so I force my weak body off hers and collapse onto my back.

“Holy fuck,” I mumble, staring up at the ceiling. “That was—”

A knock on the door cuts me off.

“Having fun in there?” a slurred male voice drawls. “Because it sure sounds like it.”

Sabrina freezes like a deer in the middle of a country road. The sex glow she’d been sporting fades instantly. Her face turns ashen, her fingers curling into the bedspread.

“Go away,” she snaps at the door.

“What? You’re not gonna introduce me to your friend? Don’t be so rude, Rina.”

“Go away, Ray.”

But the son of a bitch isn’t going anywhere. He starts rapping on the door again, drunken laughter echoing in the hall. “Lemme meet your friend! C’mon, I’ll be nice.”

Sabrina jumps off the bed and starts snatching up pieces of clothing. I quickly do the same, because it’s obvious that lying around naked isn’t in the cards.

She throws on a tank top and a pair of cotton shorts, then stalks to the door and flings it open. “Get the fuck away from my door, Ray. I mean it.”

The man in the doorway pushes past her, craning his neck to get a good look at me. When our gazes lock, he laughs again.

“Aw, you’ve got yourself a little jock buddy! Check out the muscles on this one!” His greasy hair flops onto his forehead as he swings his head toward Sabrina. “You like the muscles, huh? Yeah, you definitely like ’em. Heard you squealing like a bitch in heat all the way from the living room.”

“Get out,” Sabrina growls.

“You sound hot when you come—”

Fuck this. Anger boils in my gut as I charge forward. I don’t give a shit that this man is Sabrina’s stepfather. The sick fuck is not allowed to speak to her like that.

“That’s enough,” I say in a low voice. “She asked you to leave.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Who the fuck are you to give me orders? This is my house, boy.”

“And this is her room,” I retort.

“Tucker,” she starts, but Ray interrupts her.

“Rina, tell your jock to shut his trap. Otherwise I’ll shut it for him.”

Yeah right. I could knock this fucker out with one punch. He’s so drunk he’s swaying on his feet.

“Ray.” Sabrina’s voice is deceptively quiet. “I’d like you to leave, please.”

Silence hangs between the three of us. Finally, Ray rolls his eyes in a dramatic fashion and edges back to the door. “Jeez, you really are a stuck-up bitch, aren’t ya? I was just playing around.”

“Play somewhere else,” I say coldly.

“Shut up, jock boy.” But he doesn’t stick around.

We hear his unsteady footsteps in the hallway. A moment later, a door shuts.

Slowly, I turn back to Sabrina. My stomach twists with concern. And there’s a pang of fear too, because I hate the idea that the asshole sleeps only two doors down from her.

Before I can speak, she tucks her hair behind both ears and says, “I’m really tired. You should probably go now.”

My gaze darts to the hallway.

“He won’t bother me,” she whispers, as if reading my mind. “I lock my door at night.”

I’m not sure a locked door will keep that fuckhead out. Ray isn’t as tall or bulky as I am, but he’s not puny, either. Doughy, yes, but not puny…

“I’ll be fine,” she insists, and the look on her face tells me she’s as eager for me to go as I am to stay.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” I finally ask.

She nods.

“Okay. I…guess I’ll go then.” I slide my phone out of my pocket and pull up my Uber app. Then I take a needlessly long time with it, hoping that she’ll change her mind.

She doesn’t. She waits silently while I track down a car, then walks me to the kitchen, holds the door open for me, and murmurs a soft, “Good night.”

She doesn’t kiss me goodbye.