It was a sign of how twisted she was that Kate couldn’t remember ever being so proud. She bent to lick him clean, but Rugby Boy pulled away. “That’s enough.”

He tugged up his briefs and collapsed back onto the bed, his unsteady panting the only sign he’d just violently orgasmed in her mouth. Kate licked her lips. Was it over now? Was Rugby Boy the kind of guy who lost interest the minute he was done? Her one and only ex-boyfriend had been like that, and it had frustrated the hell out of her. Bossy ‘you serve me’ selfishness turned her on, but there was nothing sexy about almost cracking your jaw open to please someone and getting nothing in return. Maybe he wasn’t her perfect sex man after all.

A hairy thigh nudged her shoulder. “Come up here.”

Kate clambered up the bed, tracing her tongue over her teeth, trying to clean her mouth as much as possible. Rugby Boy shuffled back so he was sitting against the headboard, then seized her hips and sat her on top of his thighs. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Kate still couldn’t see him properly, but being this close was making her shy. She cast her eyes downwards, feeling fragile. She’d called a man ‘daddy.’ She’d never done that in real life before. Rugby Boy stroked her arms, his palms rough as tan-bark. Weird that a student had such rough hands but Kate had never been touched by a rugby player before. Maybe they all had hands like that.

“That was good work,” Rugby Boy told her. “Best head I’ve had in a long while.”

She smiled, still unable to look at him. Without warning, he slid a hand between her legs and inspected the state of her underwear. “You’re soaking,” he remarked, sounding mildly surprised. As though he’d looked out the window on a cloudless day to see it was drizzling. “You want a little something, sweetheart?”

Kate nodded, then a rough finger forced her chin up. “Can’t hear you.”

“Yes, I want something,” she whispered, adoring him more than was strictly necessary.

“Good girl.”

Without warning Rugby Boy shoved her wet panties aside and slid a large fingertip through her folds, dipping himself inside her. Kate cried out at the sudden compression of such swollen skin. She gripped Rugby Boy’s thick shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s it, hold onto me.” A broad thumb placed itself against her clit. There was no preamble about it, no fuss. He began to stroke her sensitive nerves with the light, precise brushes of a master painter. “I’m gonna make you come like this, okay?”

No ‘try.’ No ‘do my bests.’ Just ‘gonna,’ like her orgasm was a foregone conclusion. It was presumptuous and cocky and Kate could only whimper her agreement and hope like hell he was right.