The Graham Effect (Campus Diaries Book 1)
The Graham Effect: Chapter 23

This part’s easy

“OH WOW, YOU WEREN’T KIDDING.”

I glance around Ryder’s room in bewilderment. I was feeling nervous when I first stepped foot in here. Because, really, what am I doing alone with this guy in his bedroom? But one look at my barren surroundings, and my natural curiosity takes over.

“Are you sure you’re not in the military?”

He thinks it over. “No, I’m not,” he finally says.

“Was that a joke? Oh my God. You made a joke.”

“Shut up.”

I grin. I like poking him. It’s fun. Plus there’s always a fifty-fifty chance I’ll be able to penetrate his grumpy jerk exterior and draw out a killer grin or two.

I continue to marvel over his bedroom. It’s neat as a pin, without a single piece of clutter anywhere. Not a knickknack, not a photograph. He has a queen-sized bed. A dresser. The only things on his desk are his phone, a laptop, some textbooks, and a small stack of books. The bed is perfectly made. The floor is vacuumed and shiny. I even peek under the bed and discover there isn’t a fleck of dust. He clearly cleans under there often. Now I understand why he insisted he would’ve seen that Carma chick’s necklace and silver crucifix.

“Are you done?” he asks politely.

“Can I look in your closet?” I beg. “Please?”

He rolls his eyes. “Knock yourself out.”

I open the door. Sure enough, it’s organized in militant fashion. Everything hung perfectly. Very exciting color palette of black, gray, and denim.

“You want to look in my boxer drawer too?” he drawls.

That makes me blush. “Sorry, I’m being nosy. I’m just amazed by how little stuff you have.”

“Stuff is overrated.”

“You’re so deep, Ryder. A regular old Plato.”

He stretches out on the bed and picks up the remote. “You want to watch something?”

I set my beer on the nightstand. He grabbed us a couple bottles of lager when I first got here. I thought we were going to hang out in the living room, but he suggested we go upstairs. So here we are.

I’m trying not to let my gaze linger on him. His denim-encased legs stretch out in front of him, feet bare. His blue T-shirt has a surf logo on it, and suddenly I’m picturing that long powerful body crouched on a surfboard, and a tiny thrill shoots through me.

I continue wandering around the bare space. I’m wired. If I go over to the bed, I don’t know what’s going to happen.

Well, I do know.

And my body is primed for it. Pleading for me to move closer to him.

But my head tells me not to rush anything tonight. Just because he made me come in the shower the other night doesn’t mean I shouldn’t proceed with caution.

“So. Your roommates went to a concert tonight?” I lean against the dresser.

“Yeah. Some new rapper with the worst stage name known to man. No joke—his name is Vizza Billity.”

“Wait, Vizza is in Boston?” I exclaim. “My roommate is obsessed with him. If I’d known, I would’ve stayed in the city and tried to get us tickets.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. You were there this weekend.”

“You did not forget. Go ahead. Just ask how it went with my parents.”

“Fine. How’d it go?”

He leans back against the headboard and props one knee up, resting his beer bottle on it.

“It was good,” I answer. “We binge-watched a horrible reality show. We’re all addicted.”

Ryder sounds dubious. “Garrett Graham watches reality shows.”

“He does when we force him to.” I laugh. “He got into it, though. The couple he’s rooting for is so toxic. And yes, I dropped your name a bunch of times.”

“What’d he say?”

I think about Dad’s reluctant admission. “He said you’re a great player.”

Ryder narrows his eyes.

“He did,” I insist. “Because you are. That’s not his issue with you.”

“So he has an issue with me.” His broad shoulders sag a little.

“He thinks you have an attitude problem. But you already knew that.”

Ryder’s gaze drops to his hands. It’s adorably bashful, which somehow makes him so much sexier to me. “He’s not the only one. A friend in the pros told me my draft team is watching me like a hawk. Dallas has a new GM, and he’s not entirely sure about me.”

“Well, I mean, your reputation precedes you.” I eye him pointedly. “Any chance you feel like sharing what happened at the World Juniors? Because a lot of people are curious. Including my dad.”

He just looks at me. Silent.

“Yeah, what I was thinking? That was a stupid question to ask Mr. Forthcoming over here.” I lift a brow. “You know, you have a really bad habit of never talking about anything important.”

“That’s not true. We talk about hockey all the time.”

“Hockey doesn’t count. And you know that’s not what I mean.” I reach for my lager and take a sip before setting it back on the dresser. “It wouldn’t kill you to share sometimes. Even minor things. Like, for example, what you have against stuff.”

“Stuff?” he echoes.

I use air quotes to repeat his earlier insight. “‘Stuff is overrated.’ Okay, cool—why’s that? You don’t like clutter? You’re a neat freak? I mean, fine, it’s obvious you’re a neat freak. But isn’t this a bit extreme? There’s hardly any personal possessions in this room. Feels like a hotel room.” I gesture all around us. “Come on, you gotta give me something here.”

He ponders it for a moment, visibly uncomfortable.

“I moved around constantly when I was a kid,” he finally answers. “Stuff got stolen a lot.”

“You moved around with your family?”

“Foster care.” The words are clipped, gravelly.

I soften. “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

He takes a drink of his beer. “Most of the homes were overcrowded. Kids would be fighting for toys, for attention. It became easier not to have anything to fight over or get stolen from me. If that makes sense.” He gives his trademark shrug. “The neatness is a habit from those days too. We used to get in trouble if we didn’t keep the room clean.”

“Look at that,” I tell him. “Do you see what’s happening?”

“What?”

“We’re having an actual conversation.”

“Fuck. You’re right. Come here.”

Ryder doesn’t say a lot, but when he does, it speaks volumes. Those two words—come here—are loaded with so much heat. His blue eyes tell me we’re done talking.

I walk over and stand at the foot of the bed.

He cocks a brow. “Are you going to sit?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

My heart is pounding. Since I didn’t bring a purse, I fish my phone and ID cards out of my back pocket and drop them on the nightstand. Then I join him on the mattress and sit cross-legged.

My gaze shifts to the black screen of the TV. “So are we watching something?”

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

He takes a long sip of his beer. I grin when I notice the bracelet on his wrist.

“You really don’t strike me as the friendship bracelet type,” I say frankly.

“I’m not.”

“Got it. So this is the fault of an overly sentimental BFF.”

“One hundred percent. I swear, this dude cries at any movie with a dog. I figured he’d have a nervous breakdown if I cut this thing off. I’m sort of used to it now, though.”

Ryder turns to place his bottle on the other night table.

“You still feeling stressed out?” His voice is gruff.

“Very much so.”

I move closer to him. I put my hand on his thigh.

He glances down at it, then up at me. Slightly amused.

“My hand is on your thigh,” I tell him.

“I noticed.”

He smiles, and my breath hitches at the sight.

Then he chuckles. “I love how you announce your move. ‘My hand is on your thigh,’” he mimics. “You know, most people would just make the move and then wait to see if it works.”

“What can I say? I’m a rebel.”

“Got it. So, what’s the next move, rebel?” he asks with uncharacteristic playfulness.

“Ask me if you can kiss me.”

His eyes grow heavy-lidded. “Can I kiss you?”

“No,” I reply. “I’m not interested.”

He barks out a laugh.

“Ha. See, I just did that to make you laugh.”

“What’s your obsession with making people laugh?”

“Not people. Only you. You’re scary otherwise.”

“Scary?” His voice thickens again. “Do I really scare you?”

“Sometimes. Not in that way, though,” I hurry to add. “I replace it unnerving when I don’t know what someone’s thinking.”

“You wanna know what I’m thinking?”

“I’m pretty sure I know what you’re thinking now.”

I move my hand over his thigh in a slow caress.

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“You’re thinking you want me to move my hand about, oh, two inches to the left.”

He nods in thought. “And then what?”

“Then you want me to unzip your pants. How am I doing? Am I reading your mind?”

“Completely wrong.”

My jaw drops in surprise. “Really? That’s not what you’re thinking?”

He inches closer and the familiar scent of him surrounds me. Woodsy and masculine.

“No, I’m thinking I want to slide my hand underneath your skirt and play with your pussy.”

“Oh,” I squeak.

“But first…” His face is close to mine. He’s so good-looking it makes my breath catch again. “Can I kiss you?”

I nod wordlessly and his mouth covers mine. His kisses are as addictive as I remember. Slow and teasing. Deep and drugging. His lips brush over mine, and every time I try to drive the kiss deeper, he eases away slightly. My breathing grows shallow. Next thing I know, he pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. My hands lock around his neck. His are around my waist, fingers stroking where the hem of my thin sweater meets the waistband of my denim skirt. He replaces bare skin and my body sizzles.

This time, when I deepen the kiss, he lets me. He unleashes a soft, growly sound from the back of his throat, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. As my tongue slicks over his, I become aware of my phone buzzing.

“Ugh,” I mumble. “I need to check that.”

“No,” he mumbles back, holding the side of my face to kiss me again.

“I have to. Mya took the train to Manhattan this weekend and she promised she’d text me when she got home. Want to make sure she made it back safe.”

As I bend toward the nightstand for my phone, Ryder tortures me by kissing my neck, his face buried in my skin. I shiver at how good it feels.

“Let me just tell her—” I halt when I notice the screen.

CASE:

Want to hang out tonight?

“Forget it,” I say a little too fast. “It’s not her.”

Ryder doesn’t miss the change in my tone. “Yeah? Who is it, then?”

“Someone else.”

As I’m trying to shove the phone away, he peeks at the screen. Seeing the notification, he lets out a low, mocking laugh.

“Hmmm. Should we tell him?”

“Don’t be an ass.” Sighing, I put the phone aside.

“No, maybe we should.” His voice is silky. A rasp of provocation. “Let’s tell him all about how you’re in my lap—” He tugs me back onto said lap, then captures my surprised squeak with another blistering kiss. He lifts his lips slightly, his breath tickling me. “Let’s tell him how much you like having my tongue in your mouth.”

“Who says I do?” I’m breathless, because his lips are exploring mine, his tongue teasing me into oblivion.

He breaks the kiss again. We’re both breathing hard now.

“You love it,” he taunts.

“You love it too,” I taunt back.

“Yes, I do,” he growls before our mouths collide.

It’s the hottest make-out session of my life. Hungry and desperate. And just when I think my heart can’t pound any faster, his hands snake their way underneath my shirt. I gasp when he lifts it up and over my head and throws it on the pristine hardwood floor. He gazes at my thin bikini bra, as if captivated by it. My nipples are poking right through the barely there material.

Ryder bites his lip. He reaches up and toys with the outline of one rigid bud. “I want you naked,” he mutters.

“Then get me naked.”

Without another word, he pulls my bra over my head. It joins my shirt on the floor. Next thing I know, I’m on my back and his hands are on the waistband of my skirt and panties. He drags them both down my legs. Throws those away too.

I lie there naked. Completely at his mercy. Squirming. Meanwhile, he remains fully dressed while his eyes admire my body.

“What are you doing?” I ask weakly. Impatient for him to do something.

“Looking my fill. You have no idea how incredible you are.”

I swallow. I start to feel vulnerable under his heated perusal. Finally, he has mercy on me. His big capable hand glides up my stomach, along my rib cage, to cup one breast. Pleasure skitters through me. My hips arch slightly, drawing his gaze between my legs.

“So fucking nice,” he murmurs. “Spread your legs. Wider. Let me see you.”

It’s so erotic to have him look at my most intimate place like this. He touched me in the shower, had his fingers inside me, but right now I’m a feast splayed out for him.

Visibly affected, he wrests his gaze off me. He tweaks one nipple before climbing off the bed.

“Where are you going?”

He doesn’t go far, though. He gets on his knees on the floor, eyes gleaming as he slowly pulls my body toward the foot of the bed. When my ass reaches the end, he uses both hands to part my thighs. My pulse speeds up.

He curses. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to do this the other night. If we hadn’t been interrupted…”

“Then what?”

“My tongue would have been inside you.”

That deliciously filthy mouth lowers and he plants a long, lingering kiss between my legs. With a rough moan, he licks a hot stripe along my clit.

My hips jerk off the bed.

That makes him chuckle. His tongue toys with my clit for a moment, while one finger teases a path down my slit to my opening, which is pooling with desire.

He slips the finger inside, then peers up to smile at me. Almost feral. “Why are you so wet?”

“You know why,” I gasp.

“Say it.”

“Because I’m turned on. You turn me on.”

There’s something insanely erotic about this encounter. The sun is only now beginning to set, its leftover light streaming in through the sheer curtains. Those same shards of light play on his gorgeous face and make his blue eyes shine, the gleam of arousal more pronounced. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sexier sight than when he licks his lips before dipping his head again. He rumbles in appreciation when he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks gently. As if he has all the time in the world, he teases my body, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

I get restless, writhing on the mattress.

He lifts his head. “Are you going to come if I keep doing this? Or would you rather come while I’m fucking you?”

“Both.”

His lips curve in approval. “Greedy girl.”

A flush rises on my breasts. My whole chest is warm with the heat of desire. And excitement. Adrenaline. Ryder adds another finger and then thrusts both while his tongue laves my clit. He maintains that pace until I’m moaning, one hand tangling in his hair.

“Keep doing exactly that,” I plead.

When the orgasm comes, it rolls through me in a hot rush. Pure bliss dances across my nerve endings and has my hips bucking, pushing me closer into his hungry mouth, my thighs locking his head in place.

He growls in approval and takes it like a champ. He’s chuckling by the time I release him. “That was so hot.”

I’m still gasping for air, naked and quivering, when he stands and begins to undress. He pulls his shirt off. Lets it fall. He’s enormous. His height. His muscular chest. When his fingers snap open the button of his jeans, I sit up and crawl toward him on all fours.

“Holy shit, you have no idea how good you look right now.” He groans and reaches for his zipper.

“Let me.” And then I’m on my knees, reaching for him. I wanted to touch him so badly in the shower the other day, and he wouldn’t let me. Now he’s at my mercy.

I unzip his pants, slide my fingers under the waistband, and then push the jeans and boxers down his hips. A second later, his impressive dick springs up and soars toward his navel. I saw the outline of it in the shower, but now it’s real, thick and heavy in my hands.

“I can’t believe you just walk around with this thing in your pants,” I say, feeling a bit dizzy. In a good way. He’s much bigger than I’m used to, but I can’t wait to feel him inside me.

He grins at me. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

“Aw, you used the word sweet in a sentence.”

I start stroking him, bringing a flash of heat to his eyes.

“I think maybe you need to put that smart mouth to better use,” he suggests.

“Really. Because I like using it to make fun of you.”

“You might like sucking me off better.”

My pulse quickens. “You know, this might be the most talkative you’ve ever been.”

“Yeah. This part’s easy,” he says with a shrug.

“What part?”

“Telling you how good I want to make you feel. Telling you how good you make me feel. That’s the kind of talking I’m decent at.”

“Then I guess we have to do this a lot more often,” I say softly. “If I want to keep you talking.”

I slide off the bed and onto the floor. I take him in my mouth, infusing my senses with my first real taste of him. I love it. And I love the noises he makes. Every single sound is music to my ears. Sometimes he curses. Hisses. Groans. At one point he calls me a good girl. And it’s a kink I never even knew I had.

I gaze up at him as I suck him deep.

He gazes back and says, “I want to fuck you. Are you gonna let me fuck you, Gigi?”

I whimper in response. My pussy is throbbing again. Swollen and needy. “Please.”

He hauls me off my feet and leads me back onto the bed. His body is warm, powerful, as he carefully lowers it on top of me. His lips replace me in a kiss, and I feel him reaching for the top drawer on the nightstand. Then he halts.

“Oh shit. I don’t know if I have condoms.” He peers at me, pensive. “Can I use one from your box of five hundred?”

“Fuck off.” I start to laugh.

He grins.

“Do you really not have a condom?”

“No, I do. Just wanted to bring attention to your bulk condom purchases.”

“I told you, it wasn’t—”

He silences me with a kiss. Then grabs a condom. From a normal-sized pack. He puts it on and guides himself between my legs, and I gasp when his tip prods my opening.

“You okay?” he asks roughly.

“Yeah, just haven’t done this in a while.”

“I’ll be gentle,” he says in a tone that’s anything but. His voice is pure gravel. And his body is pure power, but he stays true to his word. He eases inside me so gently that I start sweating from the anticipation.

“Jesus,” he chokes out. “Yes. You feel amazing.”

Very slowly, he pushes himself deeper. Inch by inch, until he’s buried inside me. His size is daunting. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so full. I sense his control, the care with which he seats himself fully, trying not to hurt me. I can feel his shoulders quivering.

I stroke my nails over his sinewy flesh. “I’m pretty sure I was promised the best fuck of my life,” I remind him, and he chokes out a laugh.

Then his mouth is at my ear as he whispers, “Anything you want, Gisele.”

He starts off slow. A drawn-out tempo that’s utter torture. Sliding in and creeping out, while my inner muscles spasm trying to trap him inside.

“Greedy,” he whispers again.

“So greedy,” I murmur, then moan when he thrusts back in.

It’s the kind of sex that makes your breath catch in tormented anticipation because the tempo is agonizing.

“Can you come just from this?” His hips are moving. His mouth is busy. Lips exploring my neck. Teeth digging into my shoulder while he cups my breast, kneading, playing with the tightened nipple.

“Probably no,” I admit. “I need to touch my clit.”

“Yeah, do it. Let me watch.”

He shifts positions, rising on his knees. And while I miss the warmth of his chest on mine, there’s nothing hotter than the sight of him lodged inside me while he peers down at me.

“Do it,” he urges. “Show me.”

I bring my hand between my legs. Slowly, I rub the pads of my fingers over the swollen bundle of nerves that’s damn near ready to detonate.

His hands curl around the fronts of my thighs as his hips flex and retreat. He’s watching himself fuck me. Watching me touch myself.

“Is that how you make yourself come when you’re alone?”

I nod.

“Just the clit? No fingers?”

“Not usually.”

“What if I came over and helped you sometime? Fucked you with my fingers while you rubbed your clit.”

“What about…?” It’s getting difficult to breathe. “Why not your dick?”

“That too. I’ll give you any part of me you want. If it gets you off, it’s yours.”

“I like this Ryder,” I say, moaning when he slides forward. “The Ryder who talks like this. I like these words.”

Smiling faintly, he pulls his hips back, then thrusts into me again. Each time he does that, he hits a sweet spot deep inside, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

The position provides both of us with a perfect view of his dick sliding in and out of me.

“You take me so good,” he says in approval.

The urgency building in my core becomes unbearable. I lift my hips, grinding against him.

“Gonna make me come if you keep doing that,” he warns.

I smile up at him. “Is that a threat?”

At that, he coils forward, his body fully covering mine again as his hips move faster. The change of angle is exactly what I need to replace my bliss. With his pelvis deliciously scraping my clit and his cock plunging deep, the orgasm starts in my core and ignites my entire body.

“Oh my God, Ryder, don’t stop,” I beg, digging my fingernails into his back as I shudder from release.

He’s not far behind, groaning hoarsely into my neck. His thrusts become more and more erratic until he finally presses himself in deep and trembles as he comes.

I’m pretty sure I just had the best sex of my entire life.