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

I moan loudly and start shouting his name as he slides the finger all the way inside. The last orgasm was just a warmup for what's happening to me now. Neal's thick cock already stretches me fuller than I ever thought I could handle, and now that he has his finger in my ass, too, I'm stuffed tight. The nerve endings in my lower body are firing, launching missiles that lift me right off the table. The waves of pleasure roll through me and when Neal thrusts deep one final time, he holds himself against my hips. "Agh, fuck! Yes, Dahlia. Fuck, fuck, I'm cumming." His body stills except for his massive cock, pulsing inside me and blasting into the condom.

"Don't pull out yet," I whisper as he holds me afterward. "It feels too sensitive." Neal nods against my chest until I'm able to tolerate him putting me down and uncoupling. He sighs, deeply contented, and gently lifts me from the table. He kisses me softly, so gently, and he eases me slowly onto my feet.

I slump into one of the chairs, watching as he throws out the condom and washes his hands. "I never did anything like that before," I say, starting to pick up the mess we've made. I can still barely see straight, so I just try to tidy up the papers.

"I know you didn't. I also knew you'd like it," he says, grinning at me.

He sinks into the couch and turns on the television. I crawl in beside him and rest my head on his lap. I'm feeling the kind of tired I imagine comes from a grueling run or a long hockey match. As I'm about to drift off to sleep, I remember that I wanted to ask him something.

"Hey, what do you guys do for Thanksgiving?"

"The team? Meh. Thanksgiving day is just another practice day for us." He twirls my hair around one of his fingers as he settles on a football game on TV. "The nutritionist will make us a meal and even bring us some pumpkin pie. Coach will work us mercilessly, then give us Friday off. We have a game Saturday."

"But you'll be around on Friday?" I sit up to meet his eye when I ask.

"Yeah. Why? Aren't you going home?"

I shake my head. "I never go home for Thanksgiving. It's too depressing, and I need to finish my grad school applications."

"You don't get depressed spending the day all alone? My mom would kill to see me for Thanksgiving."

That stings. I push off of him and move to stand up. "Yeah, well I don't have a mom and I don't fucking feel like waiting around for my dad to pass out and piss himself."

I can tell by his face that he regrets saying that. "Fuck, Dahlia, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." He moves to pull me back into his lap, but I resist, glaring at him. He rubs my wrist, continuing. "I just…I'd give anything to be home with my mom and so I was surprised to hear you say you're sticking around voluntarily. That's all."

He stands and rubs my arms, pulls me into him for a hug. I'm still stiff, wishing I'd never opened this line of discussion. "You want to spend the day together Friday? You got it." He speaks softly and strokes my hair. As he murmurs into my ear, I loosen up and sink into him, letting him hold me. He kisses my hands and says, "I'll take you somewhere special." He squeezes my butt and says, "And I'll steal you a piece of pie from the team dinner."

~~~

Neal tells me I should sleep over at his place Thanksgiving night so we can start our adventure right away on Friday. For the first time since my mom died, I have something to look forward to on this holiday. As Linda packs up to leave Wednesday night, she kisses my forehead and hands me a foil-wrapped package. "It's not turkey dinner," she says, "But it's my best meatloaf and I figure you can make your own mashed potatoes. It'll be good practice for you." Linda has taken me to Thanksgiving dinner at her parents' house for the past few years, but I really meant it when I told Neal I had to work on grad school applications.

Everything is due by the 30th, and after Jeremy and I sat through our exams last week, I realized I still had to round up teacher recommendations and gather up transcripts…I had a massive spreadsheet and stacks of papers to organize. Tomorrow I'd seal everything up and send it off before Neal shows me whatever surprise he has in store.

The day is actually one of the more pleasant holidays I've spent in awhile. Nothing is open, campus is dead, and there's a delicious sense of having the entire day to devote to one specific task. I put the parade on in the background, toss on Neal's sweatshirt and a pair of leggings, and before I know it, I'm licking the last envelope that could determine my fate for the next five years.

I don't bother making mashed potatoes, but eat Linda's meatloaf as I read a book--the first book I've read for fun since the semester began. Mailing those applications was such a weight lifted. I feel a small glimmer of hope that I might get accepted into one of the other programs that offer funding. I realize how it's been weighing on me that going to Penn would feel a bit…slimy. I don't want my funding attached to how well the stressed out players do on their math exams.

Then I get even more honest with myself, and realize I'm fantasizing about MIT because I hope Neal will be in New England to be closer to his mom. Neal. Thinking about him post-graduation feels scary, so I return to my