Stuck With The Four Hotties

Tutoring with Creed is going well. He’s actually ridiculously smart, he just chooses not to apply himself. When he buckles down and focuses, it’s all easy for him. He could be top of the class, too, if he wanted.This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

Since we’re both busy with schoolwork and orchestra and social gatherings, the only times we’ve been able to agree on for our sessions are early afternoons on Saturdays, and late afternoons on Sundays. Today, I’m hurrying over after orchestra rehearsals, taking the elevator to the top floor and knocking until Miranda lets me in.

“Hey,” she says, stepping back. “Creed’s in the shower, but just make yourself at home.” I notice that she’s all dressed up in a blue and white striped dress, strappy heels, and a fancy updo. My brows go up, and she blushes. “I’m just … Andrew and I are going into town today to grab a bite to eat at that little cafe we went to. You know the one.” She gestures at me, and nervous laughter falls from her glossed lips.

“You know, if you’re dating Andrew, I don’t care. I don’t think Creed would-”

“I’m … it’s complicated,” Miranda says, getting flushed. She lifts her head up and smiles at me, but there’s a tightness to it. She’s not going to be revealing any secrets to me today. “I have to go, but we’ll hang out later tonight, watch a movie or something?” I nod, and Miranda takes off, letting the door slam behind her.

We’ve been watching a lot of movies lately in here with Creed, and he’s started sitting right next to me on the couch or pulling me into his lap. I end up not watching a single second of whatever film is on because I’m focusing so much of my energy on where his hands are, if he’s hard underneath me, on his soap and fresh cotton smell.

Settling down on the couch, I lean back to wait until I hear the shower turn off, and a door opening somewhere. The bathroom here has three doors, like a jack and jill, but with an additional entrance from the living room. Once I’m sure I’ve given Creed enough time to have safely exited to his room, I stand up, give a quick knock, and then try the door. I haven’t had a chance to pee since I left my dorm for orchestra this morning, and I really need to go.

When the door opens however, I’m left staring at Creed, wet and hot and steaming, a white towel around his slender hips. He’s combing his hair, and as he glances back at me, the towel slips and falls to the floor. My mouth gapes open at the sight of his firm ass, and that’s before he turns around and shows me exactly what he’s working with.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt, but I make no move to leave, and Creed’s mouth turns up in a sharp smile.

He takes a step closer to me, leaning over and putting his mouth next to my forehead before brushing it with a light kiss.

“Were you trying to join me, Charity?” he asks, his voice a whisper against my skin. I can feel his lips moving and heat shoots through me. Creed lifts his hands and puts his warm palms on my upper arms. I do my best not to look down, but … he strikes a beautiful nude, this boy. “Because I’d happily get back in the shower if you’d join me.”

He trails his fingers down my arms, and I close my eyes. I should tell him no, turn away, run as fast as I can. Instead I stand there until he sweeps an arm around my waist and pulls me against his naked body. One hand skims up my side and finds my breast, taking the full mound in a tight grip and squeezing it as he drops his mouth to mine. My nipples pebble, and even through the fabric, it’s almost unbearable when Creed sweeps his thumb across it.

His tongue dives into my mouth and I lean into him, putting my palms on his chest. Heat sweeps my body, burning my inhibitions to ash. There’s no inkling in my mind to stop, and I wonder how far I would’ve let it go if Miranda hadn’t popped back in the apartment and dropped her purse in shock.

“Oh … shit.”

I shove Creed back, turn, and push past Miranda into the hallway.

I don’t stop panting until I’m safely back in my room with the door locked.

Later, I text Creed and let him know that I’d like to have our tutoring sessions in the library.

He sends me a picture in response that I very promptly delete. And then spend hours looking up how to un-delete.

Ugh.

The rest of March is a blur, my time split between the guys, Miranda and Andrew, classwork and orchestra. Zack and I are texting almost everyday now, while Lizzie and I send messages almost every hour. She’s actually going to the same getaway for spring break that I am, a musical intensive sponsored by the academy. It’s open to all schools, but the competition is fierce. When I was in eighth grade, I used to dream about being accepted. Now, it’s an automatic. If you’re signed up for orchestra, you’re signed up for the retreat if you want the spot.

Zayd is also going.

“At my old school,” I start, realizing as I say it that I sound exactly like Phoebe Terese from The MagiF SFhool Bus. “We used to ride buses to school-related events. You know, those big, yellow things with the seat-belt free seats?”

He rolls his eyes at me, and then scoops me up in his arms, carrying me over to the back of the white Cadillac Escalade that’s waiting with our luggage in the back. I can’t remember how many Burberry Prep kids are going, but not a lot. Most people want to spend their spring break somewhere warm and tropical.