Gingers Can Do Maths: A Friends to Enemies to Lovers Romance (Gingered by Bradley Boys Book 1) by Rosi Rust

Author:Rosi Rust [Rust, Rosi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rosi Rust
Published: 2024-02-14T00:00:00+00:00

Han

Sin won’t look at me, but she’s not concentrating on the equations either, though she’s pretending to be.

She’s shown up for our second lesson in another pastel academia-inspired fuck me outfit. This time the powder blue skirt is pleated so I’m barred from seeing her pussy as the fabric falls into the cradle of her thighs.

At least I finally know what her slit feels like. Plump, with puffy lips and a hard little nub nestled between them. She was so fucking wet, I could barely keep my grip on her cunt as she squirmed against me, as she pressed her pillowy lips into my neck and squeezed her eyes shut to ride out her orgasm.

She’d tasted heavenly, her natural musk mixed in with the coco butter she’d rubbed over her ass and thighs that morning. All I can think about is making her gush again, but this time I want to drink straight from the source.

Not from my fingers.

Not from her slicked thong I’d found in her laundry bag that night and strangled around my cock until I’d released my own climax onto a rag I’d settled between her spread thighs.

And not from the pillow she’d fucked four times while muttering my name before finally settling into a deep sleep.

I want to finally do more than just stare at her glistening pussy in the moonlight and beneath the covers. I don’t want to wait for her to roll over so her thighs can fall open and I can finally see her cunt spread, and admire the pretty pink hidden deep inside her slit.

I want to do it myself.

Now.

I should have the patience for a conversation that’s three years in the making first, but I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my own skin if I don’t touch her soon. Like the distance between us is making me slowly lose touch with reality, because she’s right there. Right across the table.

And I have to have her.

“You’re not concentrating,” I say, as another five minutes drift by and she still hasn’t moved on to the next problem. “You know the rules. You’ve abbreviated them.”

Just like three years ago, I’ve made her relearn the acronyms to formulas. Formulas we’d gone over for the first hour. Then, I’d made her scribble them at the top of her mock exam paper before she even looked at the first problem. Before her mind becomes scrambled.

“I know,” she mutters, her eyes downcast. She’s barely looked at me since our session started.

I know it’s because she’s still beating herself up for her body’s natural reaction to me. I’ll have to show her how much I crave it, and how much more I need from her.

Instead of paying me any attention, she fiddles with the full coffee cup beside her. There are two again. And two untouched chocolate-drizzled croissants.

Once again she swears it’s all for her, but Sin’s one of those people who romanticises breakfast. She likes the aesthetic, the aroma, even the taste, but she barely has an appetite in the mornings.

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