What can a man like Kenton Traverse teach a girl like me?
Honestly, I guess he can teach me everything. I don’t have much experience with men, but I have my fantasies, and God knows I have plenty of those involving Chief Sexy. I wonder what would he say if I called him that?
Of course, I’m not the only girl who thinks of him as Chief Sexy. He was the main topic, especially about DILFs during traditional teenage girl sleepover parties. And when we played Fuck, Marry, Kill, we all chose to fuck him. Well, everyone except me. I decided to marry him because then I would get to fuck him again and again for the rest of my life; I grin wickedly.
I am grinning at the memory now. Maybe one day I will get the chance. Something tells me, though, if I want that to happen, I'm going to have to take things into my own hands. I'm just gonna have to seduce him, I decide with a nonchalant shrug of a toned shoulder. Now that will be fun.
So, I ask myself if I were Chief Sexy, where would I be at 5 p.m. on a Friday? Continuing on my walk down the main street, I notice that his car isn't outside. That could mean he is home for the evening, but experience tells me that he won't be home without Charlie there. Charlie is away for the summer, enjoying the young single life. I miss her so much. Sighing to myself and picking up the pace, I force my thoughts away from my best friend.
So if he isn't at home, he's probably out fishing. That man loves the outdoors, and wouldn't it be fun to go out there and try to distract him in the privacy and quiet of the woods? Heat rises within me as my stomach tightens. The mere thought of him alone in the woods has me aroused. I imagine him waiting for me there, his lean muscled body above me as he takes me for the first time in the grass. God, is that an image. Maybe I can make it a reality, I think, hopeful, now.
Well, I certainly can’t go and seduce him dressed like this. Looking down at myself as I continue to walk across the hot pavement and seeing the worn jeans and the white T-shirt, I cringe a little. This is what he found me in?
Sure, I was cute, but I can do better than this. Now, older men, I think to myself, older men love virgins, right? That's what late-night television told me in high school. That and they mostly like the innocent look. Men want to teach a girl a thing or two, I muse.
I'm not wholly deceptive. I actually am an innocent virgin. Completely. I've never even had oral sex, although I did my share of making out last year while I was in Mexico with Abbie.
Despite that, I am dedicated to my mission, and I desire him more than anything else. It isn’t so wrong. After all, I'm legal. Shrugging to myself and walking across the final few steps of dirt, I unlock the door to my home.
It isn’t much, but it isn’t bad. It’s mine, and what more can a girl ask for? I know Abbie wants me to move into the mansion with her soon, but I'm going to try and enjoy my privacy for a little while longer.
Walking to my room, I open my closet and pull out my best sundress. Red, I decide, the color of passion and sex. Stripping off my skinny jeans and tee-shirt, I pause to look at myself in the mirror. I have to admit; I am quite attractive. My body is long and lean from years of track races and tanned from my habitual morning runs. I wouldn't say I'm willowy. I'm more toned, leaner, with slight curves of hip bones and subtle breasts.
Sliding my hand over my body, I wondered what Kenton will think of it. I vaguely remember Charlie's mom. She was a pretty, young woman, but she was curvier than me. What if that's more his type? After all, she's who he married.
You know what? I'm not going to worry about it. He finds me attractive. That is evident by his lingering gaze.
Pulling the thin dress over my head, I let it slide down, enjoying the way it clings to my trim figure. I really like the spaghetti straps, and I feel like the tiny white flowers printed on top of the scarlet red add an innocent girlish twist. He won’t stand a chance.
All that combined with the high hem tastefully skimming my thighs should drive him fucking crazy. God, do I want to drive him crazy. I think I'll wear my hair down. It's more dramatic, and I feel like men like pulling it. It feels more passionate, more like they're claiming the woman.
Deciding that the look is a winner, I grab my phone and house keys and make my way towards the front door.
Ring ring ring.
Stopping and looking down to see that my sister Abbie is calling me. I smile as I answer the phone.
"Hey, there, Abbie! How are you doing?" I ask, skipping down the front steps to the house.
"Oh, I'm doing so great. We're having an amazing time," she gushes. "I was just calling to check-in. What are you up to?"
"Oh, you know, I'm out here seducing the sexiest man alive," I say, casually.
"Wait. What?" Her voice is confused. I don't show much interest in the men around here, so she probably has no idea what I'm talking about. I can't help but laugh. I think she is the sweetest, most innately innocent, and kind of the two of us. I wanted to tell her about my crush a long time ago, but I knew she would disapprove.
"Oh, nothing. I'm just going out for a little run. That's my life lately. What are you up to?"
"Oh, Bryce and I are in the city. We're going out to dinner and catching a movie. I just realized I hadn't heard from you in a couple of days," she continues as I walk toward the woods where I know I will find Kenton fishing.
I continue to listen to my sister carry on about wedding plans and her brilliant fiancé Bryce. They really are the cutest couple. I can’t lie; I have a soft spot for Bryce too. Despite the minimal age gap, I know they will be happy together.
Honestly, they both have been through so much; they deserve this happiness.
Walking a little farther and coming to the edge of the forest, I feel my heart start to beat faster, "Hey, Abs, I'm gonna have to let you go, but I'll give you a call soon."
"Okay, yeah, sure thing, Lucy. Have a good night!
"You too. Love you. Bye."
I hang up my phone with a quick click and place it in one of my dress pockets. Pockets and dresses. They really should have more of those; I muse as I step through the trees, doing my best to remain quiet.
It's a lovely place. The trees are close together but not so close to that you can't walk through or see what's beyond. I know it's about a half mile walk to the lake where Kenton prefers to fish. He will probably be alone. Most people don't come out here for fishing. They tend to stick to the river for fly fishing.
Stepping carefully over fallen trees and a couple of beer cans, I can't help but smile as I see the top of his head glinting from behind a bush. He’s sitting down holding a fishing pole, his brow knit in concentration. I wonder if he has any idea how incredibly sexy he was.
I just love the way his high cheekbones contrast with his full mouth and clear blue eyes. I'll bet he was a real panty-dropper in his twenties. Who am I kidding? He graduated from panty-dropper to straight God of Sex.
Am I drooling? If there was ever a man worth drooling over, it’s this handsome man before me.
What is even more interesting about the erotic picture is that he’s taken his shirt off. Does he have a habit of fishing shirtless? Good God, with those rippling abs and that deep cut v framing his stomach, I should’ve made more of an effort to come out here sooner.
Stepping forward, my foot snaps a twig. That gets his attention. His head snaps around so fast it’s a wonder he didn't break his own neck. And when he looks at me, oh my God. We have all heard the phrase if looks could kill. Well, in this case, it would be, "If looks could fuck."
"What are you doing here, Lucy," he asks, his voice low and dangerous.
I must've surprised him more than I thought.
"Oh, I was just walking." Turning my head and looking around the beautiful lake. "Sorry, I didn't know that anyone was out here," I say, slipping a long dark lock of hair behind my ear, enjoying the way he watches as my hands slide over my shoulder, collarbone, and delicate cleavage. His blue eyes seemed darker, distant, as if he is lost in a fantasy.
"Oh, yes, I come out her fish
ing sometimes," he says, his voice still unsteady; his eyes now looking back to the lake far from me.
"Well, I see why you come here," I say casually; it really is beautiful,"
I step towards the water, letting my calves go under and raising my arms. It’s an automatic move. I know full well that it will lift my dress even higher over my thighs. Stretching and sighing heavily I lower my arms and look behind me. Bingo. His eyes are exactly where I want them: on my legs.
I have to admit they are some of my best features. I take great pride in the slender shapeliness of them. I'm a runner, after all, so I suppose nice legs are a given. Still, I enjoy the appreciative glances from men.
He notices me noticing him, and I can't help but grin. He swallows hard, not bothering to look away this time, his eyes fixed on mine.
"You know, Chief," I say quietly, enjoying the way his body tenses up at my voice. "You're quite handsome," I say, smiling and taking a step toward him, the water dripping down my calves.
"Thank you, Lucy," he whispers, his eyes looking away from me now, back toward the fishing pole in his hand.
For a moment, I have to contain a small laugh at the placement of the fishing rod between his legs. I consider asking if he wants me to give him a hand, but I’m not sure how crude I can push this.
Walking towards him now, I enjoy the way his eyes shift from me and back to the water as he sits in silence. His body is rigid and stiff.
"Do you have anything to say, Chief Traverse?" I ask, my voice a little taunting. I tilt my head, hoping I look confident and sexy.
"Don't you have boys your own age you can toy with?" he asks, his voice hard.
"None that interest me the way you do," I say quietly, my eyes on his.
He looks at me now, those blue eyes piercing me and holding me still. I wonder for a moment how they will darken as the body they are within drives into me.
"I don't think you know what you're asking of me." Only his voice is calm, cool, and uncharacteristically still. Contradicting the sparks igniting in his wild eyes.
He doesn’t look like himself at all now. He is holding his body too tight, too rigid, as if he’s afraid he will explode. God, I want to make him explode.
"I know exactly what I'm asking," I say, leaning towards him. "I'm not a little girl, Kenton," I say, using his name for the first time; his eyes widen as I move even closer to him.
"What did you call me?" he growls.
"Kenton, that's your name," I say slyly, teasing him with my eyes as I glance down to his parted lips. "We both know how you feel about me," I say, looking away at the water. "Why are you playing games?" I ask.
"I'm not playing games," he argues, frowning at me, his handsome face set in hard lines.
"Not playing games, my ass," I reply with irritation.
His mouth drops open in surprise.
"You want me, Kenton. You need me," I say, my eyes back on his, full of passion, and desire.
"What do you know of need? Of wanting?" He demands, his eyes glancing down to my lips then back up to my eyes again, causing my blood to spike as my heart beats harder in my chest.
"I know that I want you," I say, my voice calm. "I want you in a way that I have never wanted anyone." Leaning forward now, my face is close to his. "I want you in a way that I have never allowed another man to touch me," I whisper, my lips a mere breath away from his.
"I can see it in your eyes, Kenton; you want me too," I continue. " I see the way you watch me, the way you want me."
"Lucy," he sighs, his eyes sad now, "I'm twice your age."
"You're actually more than twice my age," I say, smiling, "but isn't that exciting? Isn't that appealing? Doesn't it just make you want me more?"
His eyes widen in shock at my daringness. "I'm not going to be shy, Kenton, I may be a virgin, but I'm not timid. I know what I want. I am bold, and I think you like that about me. No one tells me what to do. Not even you," I say with a cocky tilt of my head, "unless you're naked." I grin devilishly, now enjoying the way his eyes flash as hunger builds up inside him.
"You want me too. I can see it," he opens his mouth to argue, "don't lie to me," I snap. My eyes are fierce now.
Sighing heavily, I decide to change tactics.
Carefully I start sliding my hand over my collarbone, up my neck, my eyes on him as he watches my hand teasingly trail over my young body.
"I want you to touch me," I whisper, placing my hand on his. "I want you to taste me, and when we're mad with desire," I say, his eyes hard on mine, "I want you to take me." There is a long pause. Neither of us are moving; only the crickets sing as the day cools into the evening, and the heated scent of summer fills the air.
Chapter Four
Kenton
Take her? Jesus fucking Christ she’s only eighteen. The way she is speaking, the way she is demanding, any other man would think she’s a wild and experienced lady of the night. For some reason, this fills me with anger.
How dare she stroll up here to my place, where I sat brooding alone, trying to get this beautiful siren out of my mind. How dare she come here, follow me, just to bring me to damnation and to my doom. Like the sirens of old dragging sailors down to a watery grave, I know I want to drown in her.
It’s a strange feeling of anger and arousal. And somehow Lucy manages to bring them out of me constantly.
"Take you," I laugh to myself as if I can possibly do anything else. Looking into those dark bewitching eyes, I feel like I have no choice. There is just too much between us. It feels as if the air sizzles and electricity zaps between us.
I need her now.
Dropping my fishing rod, I grab her by her glorious main of hair, fisting it at the back of her neck and yank her to me. My mouth crushes hers in a passionate kiss, an agonizing frenzy. Every nip, an invitation, every tease of the tongue, an invite for more, every gasp of pleasure, a demand for more. I need more.
I took her by surprise, I can tell. The little virgin talks a good game but she’s only ever played with boys. She’s never played with a man before and shows. I guess I'll have to teach her a lesson. If you play with fire, you get burned, and I am more than a flame; I’m a wildfire.
My hands twitch in her hair now. Her body is pressed against mine as she crawls into my lap, wrapping her long slender legs around my waist, moaning as I slide my hands up her smooth, silky thighs. Nothing, and no one, has ever felt as good as she feels right now.
Suddenly, I slide my hand up from her legs and grab, squeezing lightly as I hold her face close to mine, then I jerk her head back by her hair to feed on her neck. She gasps in pleasure, her eyes closed, her breath coming out in quick bursts. Releasing her neck and grabbing her hips, I grind them against mine before lifting my hand and smacking her ass.
She lets out a cry of surprise. Clearly, she has never experienced such a glorious sensation before. This makes me grin darkly, my hands sliding greedily over her, needing to touch everything.
My hands slide up her dress, grasping the soft white cotton panties that she wore. Looking down at them, my body tightens, stiff with arousal. Is there any other sign of innocence, of delicateness than this?
Looking at her again, she is breathless, her hair wild, her lips parted in surprise, a shocking invitation to dive into the pleasure that awaits.
"Kenton," she whispers.
I’m not finished, though. Not even close. Standing, I lift her in my arms before turning around and lying her on her back on the bank. I open her slim legs, and slide between them, pressing myself hard against her center. Lucy's eyes roll back in pleasure, and she lets out a moan and a surprised gasp.
I’m supposed to be teaching her a lesson when in reality, I find myself going mad.
Crawling up over her slender body and grabbing her glossy hair, I feast on her delicate neck, enjoying the way the blood pulses against the thin skin under my lips. I find myself ravenous for her scent, for the taste that is her. I don’t care anymore. This has been a test, a game. And now, it
’s so much more than a lesson. It’s desperation.
Chapter Five
Lucy
Lucy
* * *
Jesus Christ, I can't think, I can't breathe, I can't do anything. All I know is that I need him. I’m arching under the pleasure, desperately wishing, frantically wanting more. No, needing more.
Watching his mouth on my skin, his body pressed against mine. I’ve fooled around with boys before, but never with someone like him, never with someone so strong and masculine. Boys are timid. But this man is hot, confident, and demanding.
He’s going to drive me mad from the pleasure now. His hands slide up around my thighs, grasping my hips and tearing off my white panties. I shudder in pleasure as he watches me with eyes burning with dark desires. His hand slides up towards my center, until he finds my hot core. He starts circling my clit gently before giving it a sharp pinch and soothing it again with another teasing swirl of his fingers. I immediately arch in delight, moaning with every caress and each sharp pinch.
He is so much better than the boys from high school; they were never so brave, so rough with me. Watching him now, his head leans down between my thighs, and I cry out in pleasure as he destroys me with his lips, his tongue, and his teeth. He rotates between long slow licks that start at the bottom of my hole and end at my clit, with quick swirls of his tongue.
When he plunges his tongue into my tight hole, I start to shake. Trembling, aching, and arching; I can’t think of anything but him. I can’t feel anything but his tongue against me. Until I feel him plunge two fingers into my tight hole and start pumping them in and out while he sucks on my clit. Nothing had ever been inside me before. Not like this. My voice seems distant as I scream his name. Lifting his head up from between my thighs, he smiles wickedly, enjoying the first wave of orgasm that rushes through me.
Rising, a look of satisfaction on his handsome face, he kneels over me. Contemplating for a moment, he slips the straps of my dress off my shoulders, sliding my dress down to my waist, exposing my bare breasts. For a moment, I wonder what I must look like lying in the dirt. Hot, aroused, flushed legs spread for him; the only clothing― my pitiful excuse of a dress covering only my abdomen, my arms resting by my head.
The Officer Page 2
