Baumgartner Generations: Henry (14 page)

He jumped
when she grabbed the Fleshlight. “Easy!”

“Oh you were
a bad, bad boy, weren’t you?” Val pulled on the toy, easing his cock out of the
fleshy hole and watching Henry’s cum spill down.

“Sorry,”
Henry apologized, but Val was already working on him, her hand wrapped around
his shaft, the Fleshlight in the other.

“Mmmm!” She
tipped the toy up and he groaned, watching her lap at the silicone flesh,
catching the white gush of his cum with her tongue. “I want more of that.”

“I’ll see
what I can do,” he agreed, watching her hand moving on his dick, her tongue
still working its way into the toy, greedy for his cum. He thought he’d never
seen anything so sexy in his life.

“Oh my god,”
Val murmured happily. “You get so hard again so
fast!”

“Your
fault.”

“Amazing.”
She was incredulous, watching his cock jerk back to life. “Hey, I have an
idea.”

He watched,
bemused, as she climbed off the bed, taking his Fleshlight and wedging it
between the mattress and the boxspring, the pussy-end facing out. She rubbed
her fingers over the opening again, gathering more of Henry’s cum, and then
lifted them to her mouth, sucking greedily.

“Now we
switch.” She pulled him down to kneel on the floor while she climbed back up on
the bed, taking off her panties.

“What are
you…?” He regarded her, half-smiling, as she stretched out, her legs dangling
over on either side of him. She was something, stretched out like that. She had
three star tattoos on her belly around her navel that he hadn’t seen that
night—they’d been covered by the corset—and another one on her lower back, the
proverbial tramp stamp. They were sexy as hell.

“Still
hard?” she murmured, licking her fingers and circling her nipples with them.
His eyes darkened as he watched her.

“Even
harder,” he agreed, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive head of his cock. He’d
only come once. He could definitely come again. And he wanted to be inside her
when he did.

She cupped
her breasts, one in each hand, her fingernails painted alternately black and
red, her gaze on his face, gauging his reaction. She must have liked what she
saw because she half-smiled, her fingernails tickling over her own ribcage,
dipping into the softness of her belly, tracing circles around her navel. His
breath quickened again as he watched her hands flutter down to that runway of
dark pubic hair, leading the way to her pussy.

“Like what
you see?”

“You’re
beautiful.” He swallowed, her pussy opening for him under the soft press of her
fingers. It was a gorgeous pink, the lips shaved smooth, still wet from his
tongue.

“Want to see
how I do it?” She visibly shivered when her finger began circling her clit. Her
nipples hardened, too, the dark areolas shrinking as the skin around them began
to pucker.

“That’s
fucking hot.” His cock wept in his hand, nudging up against the Fleshlight
stuck between the boxspring and mattress. He glanced down at it, his brain only
registering one thing—
pussy.

“Do it.” She
saw him looking and smiled. “Fuck your toy.”

“But—”

“I want you
to,” she breathed, rubbing herself faster. “Please.”

He wanted to
fuck Val, but he relented as she touched herself in front of him, her breath
coming faster. He hadn’t used the Fleshlight this way before, and he maneuvered
his cock between the silicone lips, feeling the opening, that incredible
fucking
give,
as he thrust his hips forward.

Val’s eyes
lit up when he moaned softly. “Hold me,” she whispered, wiggling down, her
pussy near the edge of his bed. “Grab my hips.”

His hands
moved up over her breasts first, lost in the sensation, his cock pulsing inside
the wet sleeve, Val’s pussy hot against his lower belly. She arched when he
bent his head to take her nipple into his mouth, sucking, greedy, her hands
moving through his dark hair.

“Is it
tight?” she murmured, feeling his hips begin to rock. He groaned in agreement,
his hands finally moving down to her hips, as if it was her pussy he was
fucking instead of the silicone one shoved under his mattress. Still, it felt
so good…

She watched
his face, her fingernails grazing his belly, his chest. He hissed when she
pinched his nipples. Her eyes lit up, and then she did it again, twisting,
pulling at them.

“Oh fuck!”
He thrust deep into the Fleshlight, the sensation spreading all the way down to
his cock.

“Don’t
come,” she urged, squirming in his hands, her pussy just wet heat against his
belly. “I want you to fuck a real pussy.”

He groaned,
sliding his cock slowly out of the Fleshlight. “We better do it then.”

“Got a
condom?”

Henry
reached over and opened his night table drawer—he and Dean had grabbed handfuls
that night at the frat, stuffing them into their jean pockets. He climbed onto
the bed, tearing it open with his teeth, but Val took it from him, pushing him
back as she rolled it on, his dick jerking in anticipation.

He steadied
her as she straddled his hips, rubbing the head of his cock up and down her
slit.

“Ready for a
real pussy?” She teased him, making circles against her entrance. He didn’t say
anything. Instead he grabbed her hips, thrusting up, making her cry out in
surprise as he buried himself into her wetness.

“Oh,” he
breathed, eyes closing, his whole body sensation centered between his legs,
spreading outward in waves. “Easy…”

“You can’t
come again that fast,” she teased, rolling her hips.

“Don’t bet
on it.” He groaned. “You feel so good.”

“So if I did
this…” She began to rock back and forth. “You just might…”

“Fuck!” he
moaned, grabbing her hips, trying to keep her still. She was so hot, so fucking
hot inside, wet molten lava massaging his cock.

“How about
this?” She squeezed her muscles and his eyes flew open in surprise.

“Val,” he
warned, his breath coming faster, panting now.

“What?” she
taunted, biting her lip, grinding her hips into his. “What are you gonna do?”

He let out a
low growl, grabbing her ass and rolling her. She squealed and squirmed as he
fucked her, long and deep and hard, his cock pinning her like a spread
butterfly on the white sheet.

“Henry!” She
hung onto him and pushed him away at the same time, her nails raking over his
back, her teeth biting into the soft flesh of his shoulder. He barely noticed,
only grunting and thrusting deeper, panting his lust into her ear. “Henry.
Henry. Oh fuck, Henry, don’t…I can’t…breathe…oh…now…oh fuck, make me come now!”

He felt her,
again, oh yes, again, her pussy spasming, and it was more than enough to send
him over the edge. His balls were drawn tight, his dick cocked, aimed and
ready, and he exploded deep inside of her contracting cunt, a delicious, fiery
milking, emptying himself of whatever fluid might be left in him.

“Oh.” Val
breathed, blinking up at the ceiling as Henry threw himself next to her, still
gasping for breath. “Wow.”

“Sorry,” he
panted, eyes still closed. “You make me…crazy.”

“If that’s
crazy…” She laughed. “I like crazy.”

He welcomed
her as she snuggled up close, the impossibly soft flesh of her thigh sliding
over his. “Are you sure Marcus is going to be okay with this?” It was too late
to ask, of course, but the thought of a six-foot-five, two-hundred and fifty
pound defensive lineman coming after him was more than a little daunting.

Val snorted.
“Marcus is too busy running his little business to care what I do.”

“His
business?”

She
hesitated and then said, “He’s a bookie. They run the whole thing out of the
frat house.”

Henry
blinked. “Oh.”

“It’s no
wonder he’s always watching the games, right?” She lifted her head, concern in
her eyes. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

He shrugged.
“Who would I tell?”

They both
heard the sound of a key in the lock. Val grabbed the Hudson Bay blanket,
wrapping it around her, just as Dean shoved the door open.

“Hey!” Henry
protested.

Dean
blinked, taking in the scene, Val wrapped in a blanket, Henry completely nude,
the Fleshlight still wedged into bed. Dean held up Val’s bra. “The sock wasn’t
on the door.”

Val rolled
her eyes, standing and grabbing her clothes off the floor and the bra out of
Dean’s hand, brushing by him. She held the blanket closed around herself and
headed toward the bathroom.

“Sorry,
man,” Dean apologized, glancing toward the closed bathroom door.

Henry pulled
the sheet over himself as Dean flopped across from him on his own bed.

“Listen, can
I ask you a favor?” Dean asked, lowering his voice.

“Sure.”
Henry grabbed his boxers off the floor, pulling them on.

Val came out
of the bathroom, shrugging on her jacket and finding her purse, her eyes
meeting Henry’s. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Wait.”
Henry took a few strides toward the door, grabbing her arm. He lowered his
voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.”
She rolled her eyes at Dean. “Talk to you later?”

“Absolutely.”

She opened
the door, starting out, and then turned back to kiss him on the cheek. “Bye.”

Dean waited
until Henry closed the door before asking, “Do you have any money I can
borrow?”

Henry
frowned, sitting down on his bed. “Not a lot…”

“Dude.” Dean
sighed, elbows on knees, putting his head in his hands. “I’m in trouble.”

“What kind
of trouble?”

“I just…” Dean
looked up at him, eyes bleary. “Can I borrow three hundred?”

“Three
hundred?” Henry’s jaw dropped. How was he going to explain that to his parents?
“Can’t you ask your dad?”

“No way.” His
roommate threw himself back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m tapped
out.”

Dean always
had cash—always. There seemed to be an endless supply attached to his debit
card. Henry couldn’t believe it. But he’d never seen his friend so desolate
before.

“I have to
go to the ATM,” Henry said “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Dean
perked up, eyes bright. “Tomorrow? You promise?”

“Sure. What
are friends for?” Henry slapped him on the shoulder as he got up. “I’m gonna go
take a shower.”

Henry turned
the water on, stripping off his boxers, and when he turned to gaze in the
mirror, he saw the Hudson Bay blanket folded neatly and left on the sink, and a
big heart drawn in lipstick on the mirror with a phone number written in the
center. Val’s number.

It’s a
bad idea, Henry,
he warned himself, moving to smear the number, but in the
end, he just couldn’t do it.

Chapter
Six

Thanks to an
unseasonably warm week in December, the ice in the rink was far too slushy for
Henry’s liking, but he wouldn’t have cared if he’d had to skate on water—under
Professor Franklin’s tutelage, he was now passing English, off academic
probation, and most importantly, the coach had put him on the ice for an actual
game!

He thought
things couldn’t get any better when he scored his first official college hockey
goal—a gorgeous shot that slipped into the five-hole like it had been meant to
be—until he saw Libby in the stands. He wouldn’t have seen her if the camera
hadn’t panned in on her reaction to the goal and showed it on the screen high
above—she was standing and actually dancing in the aisles, her red hair like a beacon
the cameraman obviously couldn’t resist.

Henry
couldn’t either.

He actually
stumbled getting back onto the bench, taking the congratulations from his
teammates with a distracted smile, scanning the rink for Libby, finally finding
her, still standing in the aisle and waving. At him. He raised his hand,
grinning like a fool. It was the first time he’d seen her since that night in
the hot tub. He’d called her several times and she hadn’t returned any of them.
Had she been coming to games all along? He continued to give her the tickets he’d
promised, slipping them under her dorm room door in an envelope, hoping to run
into her in the hallway, but he never had.

He usually
gave her both tickets, but today he’d given another one to Professor Franklin.
His parents hadn’t made it up for a game—he kept putting them off, embarrassed
to tell them he’d been benched. But he’d given a ticket to her just that day as
they sat in the late afternoon sunshine, working on Henry’s worst
nemesis—phonemes.

He’d tried
subtlety. “Do you like hockey?”

“Henry, you’re
distracting yourself.”

He’d sighed.
“I just wondered if you wanted to see me play. My parents can’t make it.”

“Funny, I
was going to ask if you wanted to see a movie tonight.” She had smiled when he
blinked at her in surprise. They saw a lot of each other lately, but they’d
never seen each other outside of a school-type setting. The idea intrigued him.
“It’s foreign. Subtitled. I thought it would be a good experience for you.”

“Oh.”
Another learning experience. Go figure. “What time?”

“Show starts
at nine.”

“We can go
after,” he’d suggested slyly. “The game starts at five.”

“It’s a deal
then.” She’d agreed, putting a white sheet of paper in front of him with one
word on it. “Now, what is that word?”

“Volcano.”

“Look
again.” Toni—she’d insisted he start calling her Toni if they were going to
work together four times a week—had put a clear blue-tinted sheet over the
page. For some reason, the change in color helped him shift his focus.

“Tornado,”
he’d corrected himself, shaking his head. “Why do I do that? I’m so stupid.”

“No you’re
not. You’re just dyslexic.”

“Which means
stupid,” he’d countered.