Bad Reputation

by Jessa James

  I’m instantly hard, forming a tent under the blankets. I reach down and give my cock a long, lazy stroke, imagining that Emma is sitting on my cock, kissing me. I’d hold onto her thighs to keep her in place, while she would be riding me hard, breathless at the feel of my big cock stretching out her delicate little pussy.

  It only takes a minute of imagining her perfect tits bouncing, imagining the sounds that she would make as I fucked her…

  I blow my load everywhere, ruining my sheets and comforter as I release with abandon. I stay like that for a minute, then I guiltily get up and gather the sheets and comforter.

  This is the third time this week that I’ve had to wash all my bedding. I blame Emma; it’s hard to look at her or think about her without getting crazy fucking blue balls.

  As I get dressed to head to the beach, Emma never really leaves my thoughts. Pulling on board shorts and a t-shirt, I think back to the conversation yesterday. She did ask me to text her…

  Fuck it. I grab my phone and send her a text, just to see if she’s around.

  You up?

  I’m not expecting anything, but to my surprise she answers almost instantly.

  I’m awake. You?

  I’m heading to the beach soon. I want to get there by sunrise. You interested?

  I wait for a minute, then go about getting my coffee ready. When I check again, there’s a response from her.

  Will you pick me up?

  A grin splits my face. I text her back that I’ll be at her place in fifteen minutes, and hurry to get my stuff together. After I find a towel and sunblock, I grab two boards. At the last minute, I fill a thermos with coffee and cream, then I head out to the car.

  All the way over to her house in the gray light of morning, I’m in a ridiculously good mood. It’s funny how my shitty mood melts away in the face of seeing Emma in a bikini. Part of me thinks that it’s sad that I’m so hung up on this girl, but the other part of me is super happy that she’s…

  Well, she hasn’t forgiven me, per se. And nothing has changed. But she’s agreed to hang out today, which is about as good as I’m going to get.

  I just take those bad feelings and misgivings and stuff them deep down. As I pull up outside Emma’s house, I see her front door open.

  Then there she is, gorgeous as she has ever fucking been. Her hair is thrown up in a ponytail, she’s wearing a jaw-droppingly small electric yellow crop top, and she wears a tantalizing pair of ridiculously tiny black shorts.

  She jogs up to my Jeep, wrenching the door open and piling herself inside. She has a backpack too, probably to hold her wetsuit. She looks at me, a small smile on her lips.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Hi yourself,” I say mildly, throwing the car into drive.

  “Can we drive through somewhere to get coffee?” she asks, yawning a little. I wait as she puts on her seatbelt, trying not to let my gaze linger for too long on those sun kissed bare legs. “It’s soooo early.”

  “I’ve already got some, if you don’t mind sharing,” I say, jerking my thumb toward the back seat. “It’s in the thermos.”

  “You think I’m going to turn down free coffee?” She fishes the thermos out of the backseat. When she unscrews the lid, the smell of dark roast permeates the air for a second. “Even if it does mean catching your cooties.”

  I give her a look, teasing her right back. “Hey, you don’t have to drink it.”

  She pours a little in the cap, then sips it. “Coffee is coffee.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” I pull up to the beachside parking area at the beach just as the sunrise really makes itself known. The beach looks amazing like this, the light reaching out warm fingers to touch a cold wave here, a dune of sand there.

  “Wow, there’s like… no one here,” Emma marvels, gawking at the empty beach. And she’s right, there are only a couple of cars parked here this early.

  I park the Jeep. “Getting up this early for anything is pretty foreign to a lot of people.”

  “I see that. I mean, I’m usually one of those people.” She smiles as she recaps the thermos and climbs out of the car.

  I avert my gaze again instead of staring at her ass, which I guarantee looks fantastic when she’s bent over in those shorts. I don’t need to be walking around with a big ass boner while we’re just carrying stuff from the Jeep onto the beach. I don’t want her to think I’m a total pervert.

  Although, I am. And she knows that I am.

  I groan as I pick up the boards and my backpack, heading straight down into the sand. Emma follows, shouldering her own little backpack. I pick a spot pretty close to where the surf comes running onto the beach, figuring with the waning tide that our stuff should be safe enough from the water there.

  “Here okay?” I say, looking at Emma.

  She drops her backpack, which I take as a sign that she’s satisfied with the spot.

  “Looks good to me,” she says, shading her eyes against the rising sun. “I’m really hoping that I can stand up this time.”

  “You can, for sure,” I say, dropping the boards. I unzip my backpack, pulling the sunblock and my wetsuit out. “You feel like sharing some of that coffee?”

  She gives me a lopsided grin. “Yep.”

  Emma pours a little bit of coffee into the thermos cap, and passes it over. I slurp the coffee down, trying not to stare as she takes off her tiny top and shorts. I set the thermos cap atop the boards as she wiggles her beautiful body inside her wetsuit.

  Looking down at the sand, I strip off my t-shirt and pull off my shoes, then work my way into my wetsuit. I only pull my wetsuit halfway on, leaving my torso bare.

  When I look up, I catch Emma watching me, her gaze heavy and heated. She blushes when she sees me notice her looking.

  There’s an awkward moment where I’m grinning and she’s trying not to smile.

  “We’re both still hot, in case you hadn’t noticed,” I say, trying to relieve the tension.

  She arches a brow. “Is that so?”

  “Yep. Just because we aren’t actively fucking doesn’t make it any different.”

  I try to keep my tone light and casual. Inside, I’m dying to know whether she still wants me as badly as I want to be with her. She just blushes and shakes her head at me.

  “That’s good to know.” Her smile is tight-lipped, suggesting that maybe I shouldn’t drag old feelings out into the sunlight.

  “Are you ready to go straight for it, or do you maybe want a refresher?”

  Emma seems indecisive. “Uhhh… maybe you should just remind me what the steps are? Like, verbally, I mean.”

  “Okay. Starting from the end of the board, yeah?” I point to the end of one of the surf boards. “You grab the sides, and then move onto your stomach. Then you lift yourself upward…”

  “Oh, right. Then I sort of turn my leg…”

  “Yep. And slide your other foot forward. Then the hard part, which is having enough balance to stand and surf.”

  “Right. Got it.” She scrunches her face up. “I mean, I think I do.”

  “Good. Let’s paddle out, then.”

  I pick up the thermos lid, putting it back on top of the thermos. Then I hand one of the surf boards to her. We pad out to the sea, the sand stiff and crunchy, breaking away under our feet. When I step into the ocean and feel it swirl around my feet, I suck in a deep lungful of salty air.

  Glancing at Emma to make sure she’s still with me, I put my surfboard down on the water.

  “Don’t forget to attach your leash to your ankle,” I say. Balancing awkwardly for a second, I put the leash on my ankle.

  I look at her as she does the same, biting her lip as she attaches the leash. I can’t help the way my eyes dip down to her lush mouth, or the way they slide down to her tits. Most of her body is covered in the wetsuit, but I notice that the zipper is only pulled up to her breasts, leaving plenty of room for the imagination to lurk in the sweet shadows found there.

  I realize th
at I am as bad as a horny fucking teenager, filling in what I can’t see. But I don’t bother to jerk my gaze away this time.

  She looks up and colors when she sees me looking at her. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “What?”

  I grin. “Nothing. Are you ready to try to surf?"

  She starts to move out away from the shore. “Yeah, I—” Then her face suddenly contorts. “OWWW!”

  She pulls away from where she just stepped and leans her weight on her left leg, her expression agonized.

  “Whoa, are you okay?” I ask, looking around. I look into the water around her, but it’s murky, lots of sand swirling around her body.

  Emma is actually in tears. “I think I got stung by a jellyfish. It really hurts!”

  “Okay, let’s go back to the shore. Can you walk?”

  She shakes her head, her face burning. When she speaks, her voice is choked with tears. “I don’t think so.”

  “Come here,” I say, crouching and scooping her up in my arms. She weighs nothing, her small body wracked with sobs. Her hands settle around my shoulders, clinging to me as she tries to control her crying. I head to the shore, murmuring soothing things to her. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  I’m slowed down by the fact that I’m dragging two surf boards, but I eventually make it out of the water with Emma in my arms. As soon as we’re clear of the water, I slip my leash off and unfasten hers too.

  Leaving the boards behind us, I carry her to the spot where we left our stuff. I go down onto my knees instead of dropping her, placing her gently on the sand.

  She immediately starts trying to look at her right foot, while I dig in my bag for the first aid kit I keep in there. I pull out the little bottle of vinegar that I keep on hand for just such an occasion.

  “Let me see.” I move us both so that her foot is in my lap, examining it with a tender touch. I see the jellyfish sting, a perfectly clear line of welts that practically glow bright red. “I think you were actually pretty lucky, it doesn’t look like there are any tentacles to remove or anything.”

  “Oww!” she yelps when I move her foot a little too suddenly.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, uncapping the vinegar. “This is probably going to sting a little bit at first.”

  Emma nods her head, biting her lip. Tears roll down her face as I pour the vinegar on her sting. She winces, but doesn’t react otherwise.

  After about half a minute, she lets out a big breath. “It’s not as bad anymore. Omigod, it was so bad.”

  I rub her leg for a second. “I bet.”

  She looks up, wiping away the remnants of her tears. Our gazes connect, and for the longest moment, I’m a little lost in the green mystery of her eyes.

  After a minute, she glances down. “I don’t think I’m surfing today, Jameson.”

  “Nope. We’ll try again, though.” I smile encouragingly at her.

  Her lips lift in the ghost of a smile. “Okay. Sounds good.”

  I lift her foot off of my lap and start to get our stuff together.

  12

  Jameson

  I stretch, checking my phone. It’s almost five and I’m sitting on a couch in a coffee shop, waiting for Emma to turn up. She’s only about ten minutes late, which is par for the course with her. I glance around at the shop, which is mostly empty.

  “Sir?” a young woman asks, catching me by surprise. She’s the same woman that made my latte when I first got here, over an hour ago. “We’re actually going to close a little early, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure, yeah.” I get up, grabbing my backpack and my empty latte cup.

  “I’ll take that,” she says, whisking the cup out of my hands. “Have a nice day!”

  I nod, heading out of the shop. I have to give it to the barista, I’ve never been told to fuck off in such a nice way before.

  As I step outside into the breezy summer afternoon, Emma comes rushing up to me. She is wearing a slinky little white sundress, baring a good amount of cleavage and leg, which to me makes up for her lateness.

  “Sorry I’m late!!” she apologizes. “I swear, I left my house at a reasonable time…”

  “It doesn’t really matter. The coffee shop is closing early, so we’re free agents now.”

  “Really?” Emma peers in the coffee shop’s window, as if I might be wrong.

  I shade my eyes. “Yeah. Listen, I’m starving. Are you hungry enough to eat?”

  “Uhhh…” She seems indecisive. “Aren’t we going to study?”

  “Totally. I just thought since we are right here, we might as well go to Casa Carne, because it’s just across the street. They have the best fucking tacos, I swear.”

  She flips back her long dark hair. “Yeah, I guess that’s okay.”

  “Come on. I feel like you probably haven’t even had any real food today.” I look both ways before I start to cross the street. “Right?”

  She goes pink, rushing to follow me. “Maybe.”

  Once we’re across the street, I slow down, out of respect for the fact that she is so much shorter than me. I look for the festive red green and white flag, which is the only thing that denotes that the taco truck even exists.

  “Is this it?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

  “Don’t make that face,” I tell her, sidling up to the cart’s open window.

  “The menu is all in Spanish!” she protests.

  “Trust me, okay? I’ll order for you. You don’t eat chicken, beef, or pork, right?”

  She gives me a long look, then slowly nods. “Yeah…”

  “Hola,” I say, greeting the middle aged guy who runs the cart. “Que pasa?”

  “De nada,” the guy says, his voice surprisingly deep. “What will you have?”

  “Let me get the chilaquiles, two barbacoa tacos, and two tinga tacos. A tofu taco for her… and two of the vegetarian pupusas. Oh, and let me also get two Cokes.” I glance behind me, and see a little patio setup that is currently empty. “For here, please.”

  “You got it. That’s gonna be… twenty two dollars.”

  We exchange currency, with me leaving a fat tip in the tip bucket. He hands me the Cokes, after he uncaps the bottles. He starts cooking, and I point to the two little tables.

  “Your choice,” I tell her.

  She chooses one of the tables, and I sit down in a plastic chair across from her. I pass her Coke over, and she takes a long sip. She settles down, considering me.

  “You come here often?”

  I slide my backpack to the floor. “Not often enough. I love the food though. It’s the food that I almost spent my life making.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Yeah. I had two job opportunities at the same time. One was bar-backing at a dive bar. The other was working at a place just like this. I often wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t chosen the job I did.”

  Emma considers that for a minute. “I feel like you would’ve been successful no matter what industry you chose. You just bring a certain passion to any job, and customers can tell. That’s what makes you succeed.”

  I frown. “I don’t know about all of that.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Take it from me, okay? I’m telling you. You’re smart, and you’re a go-getter.”

  I clear my throat a little. “I mean, I’m only doing well because your brother thought he should invest in the business.”

  “My brother was the lucky one, Jameson. If he didn’t invest in you, someone else would have, for sure. The reason that Asher has good business sense is because he is smart enough to see as opportunity when it’s right in front of his dumb face.”

  She takes another long pull on the Coke, her throat working delicately. As she crosses her long legs, I tamp down any reaction I feel, either about her looking so good or about her compliments.

  Instead, I change the subject.

  “Do you ever think, if I hadn’t gone to law school, what would I do?” I ask.

  At that moment, the food cart guy
comes over, his arms loaded down with plates. “Hot food, okay?”

  “Thanks,” I say, my mouth watering when I get a whiff of the barbacoa beef and chicken tinga.

  “Omigod, look at all of this!” Emma exclaims. “It looks amazing.”

  I set us each up a plate, dividing the tacos and the pupusas. The chilaquiles I put between us, letting the mixture of eggs, peppers and onions, and tortilla strips cool down to earthly temperatures.

  She takes a bite of the tinga taco, and then moans loudly. “This is so good!!”

  I take a bite of my pupusa, savoring the corn tortilla and the cheesy filling. She’s right, it’s just as phenomenal as I thought it would be.

  We eat for a minute, our mouths too full to bother with words.

  “You didn’t answer my question from before,” I point out, sipping my Coke. “What would you be if you weren’t a lawyer in training?”

  “Mmm! I don’t know.” She wrinkles her nose. “I feel like I was set on this path from a young age. I had the option of being a lawyer, or a housewife. And fuck being a housewife, you know?”

  She takes a forkful of the chilaquiles, mmming her appreciation.

  “Alright, but if you could be anything at all. You could design rockets or make clothes or… anything. What would you be?”

  She takes a huge bite of her tofu taco, and takes a minute to chew. “Hmmm. I think I’d be a veterinarian, maybe? I really love animals a lot.”

  That surprises me. “Yeah? I’ve never seen you own a pet, I don’t think.”

  She wags a finger at me. “That’s because I don’t mess with small animals. No, I’d be a large animal vet. Horses, cows… maybe bison and deer.”

  “Really? Man, I can’t see you doing that.”

  She chuckles. “Yeah, well. I love riding horses. I did dressage all through school. Even into college, as a matter of fact.”

  “What the fuck is dressage?” I ask, imagining something that involves dresses.

  “It’s horseback riding. You know, English saddles, women wearing knee-length leather boots. Horses with their manes braided. All that jazz.”

  I just grunt, looking at her. I can see it though. A girl with her background riding horses makes a lot of sense to me.