Stone Creek by Davis, Lainey (reading diary .TXT) 📕

I text the information to Neal and am able to spend the day in class with a clear head.

This afternoon, I make my way back and am shocked to find him sitting at the table with pencil and scratch paper. His eyes twinkle as I walk over, and I can't help but smile. "See," he says. "I take my studies very seriously." He makes a mock stern face.

"Sure you do, Neal," I joke back. "That's why you're a senior taking freshman math."

"Touché, teach," he says. I get started with the material, explaining everything that his professor plans to cover in the first week. I've made Neal some flashcards with the different terms, equations, and concepts. We go through each one and Neal is able to complete all the practice problems with ease.

"Neal," I say quizzically. "Why do they think you'll fail math? This seems easy for you."

He shrugs. "It makes more sense when you explain it." I'm not sure what to do with that compliment, so I just nod my head. He continues, "Also it just all feels really pointless to me. When the hell am I ever going to care about any of this shit?"

I can't help myself and I laugh at him. He furrows his brow. "Neal, are you serious? You play hockey." I'm stunned that he doesn't think he uses math. "What do you think you're doing when you bounce the puck off the boards or pass to a teammate in motion?"

He rolls his eyes, but I continue. "I'm serious. You're applying math concepts. You just don't realize it."

"So why the hell do I need to know the value of m if I can just apply it in real life without numbers? Hm, hot stuff?" His eyes are darker now and I realize this line of talking to him isn't productive.

"Look," I say, trying to steer this ship back on target. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten such an attitude. We're almost done here for today. I know math isn't everyone's thing."

I worry when he starts sliding his chair closer to mine at the table, and I think I feel his leg press a little more tightly against mine. Then I decide I'm imagining things, because Neal is all about business. We're on the last set of practice problems and I've finally decided yesterday was just a matter of getting started on the wrong foot, when Neal drops his hand onto my leg under the table.

"Neal," I say, pushing his hand back. I accidentally graze my hand along his mesh shorts as I do, which causes three things to happen at once. First, I feel the impossibly-firm muscle of Neal's thigh, rock-hard even under my glancing touch. Second, my pale skin bursts into a deep flush…again. And third, my nipples crimp up so tight I know Neal can see them poking through my shirt.

He shakes his head and slides his hand back to my leg, gripping my thigh a little more firmly now. His fingers slide along my inner thighs, and I close my eyes, swallowing hard, trying to remain calm as my body is erupting. I have no idea why I don't shove his hand away. I ball my hands into fists beside my legs when I feel wetness gushing between my legs and I draw in my breath as Neal touches my clit through my jeans, ever so lightly.

"I can't concentrate here, Dahlia," he says.

I swallow again as his finger continues to circle gently. He must feel by now how wet I am. God, it's got to be seeping through my jeans. I know it's futile to pretend I'm not aroused by him. By what he's doing. "It's not loud here," I manage to say. "I found the quietest place I could."

He chuckles, low and deep, leaning his head in until he's inches away from me. "It's not the noise that distracts me." He is rubbing harder now, with the pads of two fingers. He rolls his fingers along my slit and I feel my body bursting into flames, the shock waves pulsing with each movement of his hand. I look to either side, but nobody is walking by right now, thankfully. God, I want to die. I'm being fondled in public. In the library! And I'm basically encouraging Neal to continue by not shoving his hand away. I know I should, but it feels so fucking good.

I lick my lips slowly and say, "What, then?"

Neal leans in even further, whispering right into my ear. "Your tits, Dahlia. And the feel of your dripping wet pussy in my hand." Then Neal licks my ear, and he presses his fingers into my body. That's all it takes. Right there in the middle of the fourth floor stacks, I cum on Neal Sweeney's hand. I'm unable to stifle the moan that emerges, my eyes shut tight. My breath comes fast and shallow and neither of us moves as I try to calm down, but the orgasm I just felt has shaken me. I had no idea my clitoris could do that, could feel that good.

He startles me back to earth by talking, his mouth still on my ear. "Next time, you're going to cum on my tongue and you won't be able to keep quiet about it, Dahlia," he says. Then he abruptly stands up. I turn my head to stare at him, my brown eyes wide as he calmly slides his papers into his bag and walks out of the library.

He turns back once to look at me, winks, and pushes his way into the stairwell. I pull out my water bottle and thirstily guzzle half of it as I try to organize my thoughts. Ok, think. What the hell just happened?

I spend about five minutes trying to make sense of it all, and I give up. I need to find Linda.

~~~

"Wow, Dahlia. That's…that's