Hooped #5 (The Hooped Interracial Romance Series #5) (6 page)

I pulled the silk necktie free of Devon’s collar and
started to work on the buttons of his dress shirt, my fingers fumbling as my
hands shook with the absolute need to get him naked. I wanted to feel his whole
body pressed against mine, his skin rubbing against me—I needed to feel him
inside of me like I needed to keep breathing. Devon lifted me up onto his bed
and finished unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it off of himself and throwing it
behind him without even looking to see where it landed, and I laughed,
breathless and full of desire. He wrapped his arms around me, his fingers
sliding up my spine until he came to the band of my bra. Devon kissed me
hungrily as he unhooked the clasp, gently guiding the straps down off of my
shoulders and the fabric of my bra away from my skin.

He cupped my breasts in his hands, giving them a
careful squeeze. My nipples hardened into firm little nubs and Devon began to
work them with his fingertips, twisting and rolling them until I cried out at
the jolts of pleasure that shot through my body, seemingly traveling directly
to my pussy, making me wetter and wetter, making my inner muscle tighten in
erratic spasms. I reached down and somehow managed to unbuckle his belt and
open his fly, reaching my hand down past the waistband of Devon’s boxers to
wrap my hand around his hot, hard cock. Devon groaned against my lips, against
my neck, as I stroked him slowly, loving the velvety-soft feeling of his skin
against my palm, the
sticky, slick
trickle of
precum
flowing from the tip.

Devon tugged my panties down over my hips, pushing me
onto my back, stepping back unsteadily to admire the sight of me naked. I
watched him, fascinated, as Devon finished the work of stripping himself that I
had started, pushing his pants and boxers down to his knees and then letting
the fabric fall to the ground, kicking off his shoes and stepping out of the
last of his clothes all in one movement. He covered my body with his own,
pinning me down
against
the bed, kissing
me until I was breathless.

Devon rocked his hips against mine, and I moaned out,
pushing my hips down to meet his, as I felt his hot, hard cock rubbing all
along my labia. We teased each other for what felt like an
hour,
bodies pressed together, hands wandering
everywhere, kissing each other anywhere our mouths could reach. I was soaking
wet—I could feel Devon’s cock becoming slicker every moment as the tip of his
erection brushed and rubbed against my clit, making me tingle, making me hotter
and wetter by the second. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him;
if I didn’t grip his body tightly against mine, I shook almost
uncontrollably—but I wasn’t willing to give up on the delicious torture even
though I felt like I might die if I didn’t get off soon.

I twisted and writhed, my hands exploring Devon’s
body, my heart pounding in my chest as I became more and more turned on.
“Fuck—shit, Dev,” I moaned between gasps as he rocked steadily against me,
rubbing so constantly that I thought I might come just from that. “I need—I
need you inside me. Please, babe. Please.” Devon chuckled lowly, kissing me on
the lips as he shifted against my body. I felt his fingers brushing against my
soaking wet folds as he guided his cock up against me, and then in a moment I
had my wish; he thrust into me slowly, pushing past the resistance of my body
inch by inch, filling me up. I felt my muscles flexing around him in little
spasms of pleasure as Devon rocked his hips, pushing deeper and deeper inside
of me.

His hips pressed flush against
mine,
Devon went absolutely still for a long moment. I gasped and
panted for breath, tingling in every nerve of my body, already on the edge of
orgasm; I had been waiting so long for this, it seemed like it had been
hours—it seemed like it had been my entire life. Devon finally began to move,
rocking his hips slowly and steadily, pulling out of me almost completely
before pushing deep and deeper inside of me. I kissed him hungrily, my hands
wandering all over his shoulders and back as we moved together, my hips falling
into his rhythm. Devon kissed me all over—my face, my neck, down onto my
breasts as we moved together, slowly building up speed.

Devon reached down between our bodies, his hand
gliding
over
my sweat-slick skin, and I
cried out as he began to stroke and
rub
my clit, finding it by touch, in counterpoint to his thrusts. The tip of his
cock brushed up against my g-spot, making me moan out his name again and again;
I wanted to hold back, but it was completely impossible—within moments, it
seemed like every last shred of self-control deserted me. Devon thrust into me
harder and faster, rubbing against my pleasure centers with his fingers and his
cock. I almost screamed as wave after wave of sensation washed through me,
making every muscle in my body tense and relax in spasms that were so intense
they might have been pain instead of pleasure. I barely heard Devon
moaning
, murmuring praise in my ear as he
continued to move inside of me,
making
my orgasm more
intense.

My own climax was just beginning to abate as I felt
Devon’s cock twitching inside of me. He thrust into me hard and fast, and even
as I struggled to catch my breath, I felt the first slick
gush
of his orgasm flooding into me. I came a
second time, twisting and shifting my hips against Devon’s as both moaned out,
clutching at each other as if
for
life
itself. Every nerve in my body tingled, and as Devon slowed against me,
thrusting until the very last spasm of pleasure tapered off, I was so full of
sensation, bubbling up with it, that I started giggling, in spite of how
breathless I was. Panting, Devon lifted himself up onto his elbows, looking
down at me with love in his eyes.

“Now
…don’t
you
think…that was worth
…a
night off?” He
asked me, kissing me lightly on the lips. I laughed even harder, gasping as my
heart fluttered in my chest.

“Y-y-yes,” I managed to say, grabbing at his
shoulders, struggling to get my giggling under control so that I could catch my
breath. “Yes, it was.”

Chapter
Seven

If I had been worried about the effect that another night
off would have on Devon’s interest in studying enough to pass his ACT, when I
woke up Sunday morning—the day before the test—Devon was already hard at work,
skimming over passages that I had highlighted in one of the prep books.
“Morning, babe,” Devon said, grinning at me. “I got the coffee brewed, and one
of the other guys is going to make us breakfast—I can’t guarantee it’ll be as
good as mine, but we’ve got to hit the ground running, don’t we?” I laughed,
sitting up in bed.

“I guess we do,” I said, delighted to see that Devon
was already hard at work. I pulled on some pajamas so that I could actually go
down to the kitchen with him to eat, and right away—even as we devoured the
fried eggs and ham that Devon’s frat brother made—we started in on the last
preparation that he would need to be able to take the test the next day.

We spent the entire day reviewing the material, going
over everything over and over again, and I was continually amazed at Devon’s
ability to focus. He was even more determined than I was to get the best
possible score, and as I quizzed him, exhausting every last practice test in
all three books over the course of the entire day of studying together, I
started to think that Devon might actually end up with a better score than I
had gotten. The competitive part of my nature was a little shaken by that; but
I had to admit to myself that as long as Devon proved himself to the school,
and as long as he was able to clear his name, it didn’t matter to me in the end
which one of us had the better ACT score.
Besides,
if he does better than you, you can at least claim partial credit for his
success from tutoring him,
I reminded myself.

We took breaks, fooling around for ten or fifteen
minutes, eating lunch and dinner and watching a little TV just to break up the
various sections, but Devon was willing to dive back into reviewing material
the moment I was, taking his cues from me. We decided that we weren’t going to
go at it all night; even though Devon was prepared to keep going, I knew from
my own experiences that it was better for him to get a full night’s sleep than
it would be to spend the whole night grinding away at the material.

As we lie in bed together, touching each other
playfully, I told Devon, “Whatever happens tomorrow, I’m proud of all the work
you did. You might actually get a better score than me!” Devon laughed.

“I doubt it. But I should be able to at least justify
getting that scholarship, thanks to you.” He kissed me, wrapping his arms
around me tightly and holding me close in the darkness.

“How soon will you know?” It had taken weeks for me to
get the scores back on my ACT; it didn’t seem logical for the school to take
that long, when he had already missed one basketball game and a week of
classes.

“They’re going to grade it then and there,” Devon told
me. “Special circumstances. So I’ll know right away.” I cuddled close to him in
the bed.

“Are you going to even be able to sleep?” I asked him.
I could remember, all too well, the fact that in spite of going to bed early on
the nights before my tests, I seemed to stay up for hours, nervous and anxious
and ready to get it over with. Devon shifted against me in the darkness, and I
could feel his cock pressing against me, starting to get hard.

“Maybe I could use a little help,” he suggested,
murmuring lowly in my ear. I chuckled and wrapped my arms around him, kissing
him hungrily. I was only too happy to oblige.

The next morning, I woke up to find Devon already
awake, lying in the bed next to me and looking up at the ceiling. For a long
moment I debated whether or not to skip class; I knew there was no point to
it,
but the temptation wavered nonetheless. It
wasn’t as though I could go with him into the testing center—that would only
make it seem like Devon was cheating again. In any case, I needed to be in
class. I couldn’t just put my life on hold—I had to keep my grades up, and if
there was no reason for me to be out of class for the day, I should just go.

So after a quick session of fooling around, Devon and
I both got dressed, and I made myself gather up my things and give him a quick
kiss before I ran out of the frat house, headed to my class. I had wished him
luck, and Devon looked as calm as a person possibly could be, considering that
he was taking a test that would determine whether or not he would be able to
continue going to school. I knew I had made the right choice—after all, if I
skipped class, all I would be doing would be sitting around or pacing the
length of Devon’s room or the living room at the frat house. I couldn’t go with
him, I couldn’t do anything else to help him. He was either going to pass or he
wouldn’t.

As I sat in class, trying—and failing—to pay attention
to the lecture going on, to take notes that made some kind of sense, I thought
that even though I couldn’t actually do anything to help Devon, I was so
invested in his success that I might be more nervous than he was for him to
pass with a high score.
I’m going to have
to get the notes from someone
else,
I
thought ruefully, glancing at the clock on the wall, out through the window, as
if I would see some kind of sign or omen of what was going on with Devon. It
was pointless for me to be in class; I would get points for being physically
present, and the class was attendance-mandatory, so at least I wouldn’t have to
come up with an excuse, but I was absolutely useless. I couldn’t keep my mind
on what was going on around me, and I didn’t even participate in the
discussion.
You did everything you could.
If he doesn’t pass, he doesn’t pass. But he has to pass. Whatever happens, you
and Devon will find a way to deal with it.
I had to be content with the
knowledge that Devon and I had done everything we could together to make sure
that he would be able to clear his name and get the score he needed; if he
wasn’t able to get it, then neither of us could really be blamed. I checked my
phone again and again, wishing I could get some kind of news of what Devon was
doing, how he felt, what he thought his score would be.

Chapter
Eight

I tried to put my worried about Devon’s test behind me
as I went to my classes for the day, but it was impossible for me to not think
about it every few minutes. I didn’t even know where on campus he’d be taking
the test—or even if it was on campus. I didn’t know how long they were giving
him. I had no idea when I would even be able to find out. Throughout my classes
I was a distracted mess, and my only saving grace was the fact that the
professors seemed to have decided to take it easy on me; I didn’t contribute anything
to the conversations, yet I wasn’t the one they were calling on when the
in-class discussions languished.

At the end of the day, as I was headed back towards
the frat house, walking across campus, I finally spotted Devon; he was coming
towards me, a smile on his face. “Dev!” I hurried to close the distance between
us, throwing my arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“Hey, babe!” Devon kissed me, giving me a slight spin
as he lifted me up off of the ground. “I was looking for you.” I giggled.