by Penny Wylder
I'm wetter than I've ever been right now. It's crazy and I can't wrap my head around it. One glance from this man and my panties are soaked, and my body is ready to bend over and give him full access.
It's animalistic, pure intoxicating desire that just surges through my system. And I can't stop it. I can't turn it off. I can't avoid it. Not when he's so close.
“Oh yeah, says who? You?” He steps in hard and fast, pinning me against the back wall. “I don't believe you. I can see it in your eyes, in your body, in the way you're breathing. You enjoyed every second with me and you still think about it.” Lowering his face to mine, he hovers his lips over my cheek, moving from one side to the other. Never touching my skin but enticing me to beg him for a kiss. “What you say means nothing, when your body tells me the truth.”
“Words are all that matter. Does it bother you when a woman rejects you?”
Holding my head up high, I challenge him. He thinks I can't resist him, he thinks he sees something in my movements. But what about him? Maybe he just doesn't like the word no?
“Honey, if this was about rejection, we wouldn't have hooked up the other night. Obviously, you're attracted to me, and I'm attracted to you.”
Using the tips of his fingers, he pushes the hair back out of my eyes and kisses my forehead. My eyes jump to the camera in the corner and Phade laughs.
“Don't worry, it doesn't work.” He runs the tips of his fingers across the waist of my skirt, slipping them under until they find skin. They move back and forth, slow, methodically, caressing in soft strokes.
Sucking in a ragged breath of air, my belly shakes as he moves lower. His hand slides down the outside of my thigh, then back up underneath my skirt. I'm trembling now, shaking so intensely I have to bite my lip to keep it still.
“Phade—” I mutter quietly, without any real force or demand.
“Yes,” he says, not as a question looking for an answer, but as confirmation. His fingers trace up my slit, peeling my panties away. “You're so fucking wet right now.”
“Phade—” I say his name again, only to lose the air in my lungs as he plunges a finger deep inside my pussy.
Buckling at my knees, he quickly wraps his arm around my waist and holds me in place. In and out, in and out, he fucks me with his finger. Leaning forward, he presses his hard cock against my thigh.
“Fuck, you're soaked. I love that,” he says quietly, his hand picking up pace.
He's breathing hard in my ear as he rubs my clit, massaging it vigorously. I can see a delirious haze coating his dark eyes. He's peering down at me, watching me intently, drinking up the way my body is folding for him.
A second finger spreads me wider, and he curls them both up inside. I spread my legs giving him more room, pushing open, my palms against the wall of the elevator. Slurping sounds fill the small space between us as he gyrates his hips. He twists his fingers, rubbing at a rough patch in my cunt and working it.
Is that my g-spot?
A wave of tingles rushes through my body, followed by another and another. I'm so close, almost at the edge, ready to open my arms and take that jump.
Suddenly, he's gone. The surge of adrenaline, the tingles and shakes, and waves of pleasure just disappear. I'm standing breathless, confused, my mouth hanging open and my pussy clenching air, searching for him.
“Wh. . . why'd you stop?”
“We're out of time.” Phade moves his fingers to his lips and sucks my arousal off, moaning as he licks them clean. “You taste incredible though.” Taking a hat out of his pocket, he puts it on, and places a pair of sunglasses over his eyes.
The bell dings and the doors spread open. Phade pushes his way out, grabbing my hand and taking me along as other people climb into the elevator. I feel like a mess. My body is on fire, my heart is racing, my skin is sweating, and I can't think straight.
I move with him in a daze through the lobby, his fingers curled tightly around my wrist. The same fingers he just had inside my body, still warm and damp. All I can think about is fucking him. Nothing else.
But as the fresh air hits my face, that fog starts to lift, and my body seems to settle. Phade walks with confidence, he doesn't seem flustered at all. He keeps his head forward, maneuvering through the bustling lobby with ease.
No one even looks twice at him, as if the hat and glasses really do change his appearance. He's Superman in his hidden identity, blending in with the rest of the world as if he's normal.
And for that brief second, I'm normal with him. We're nobodies in a sea of nobodies.
Two regular people walking hand in hand.
It all feels right.
Too right.
8
Sylvia
I'm standing next to Phade on the street. He has his face slightly buried in his chest, his hands in his pockets, and he's leaning against the metal pole.
Even right now, doing something as normal and boring as standing, he still looks sexy, like he was positioned here for a clothing ad. I take an extra second to watch him, enjoying the view.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, not moving or turning to look at me. He keeps his face straight ahead, his eyes hidden behind the sunglasses.
“Honestly, I'm wondering why we're standing here like this?”
“Because we're waiting for the bus.”
“The what?” I ask, not sure I heard him right.
Phade Manson does not take the bus. Not the Phade I know. The Phade I know is conceded, he's too hopped up on his own version of royalty that he would never set foot on a bus.
“The bus,” he says clearly. “Or are you too privileged to even know what that is?”
“I know what a bus is, jerk, but why are we waiting for one?”
“I want to show you something, I told you that.”
Looking up and down the street, I see car after car parked at the curb. One of them has to be his and he's screwing with me. “You're not serious. You're messing with me right?”
“I'm very serious,” he says, lifting his sunglasses slightly to look up the street at a bus coming our way. “Here we go, this is us.”
The bus screeches to a stop, the doors open wide, and Phade starts to get on. Grabbing his wrist, I pull hard. “Wait, you're not really getting on this, are you?”
“I am, and so are you, let's go.” Taking my hand, he pulls back, climbing the steps. Reluctantly, I climb up behind him. Letting my hand go, he takes some money from his pocket and drops it into the box. “I like sitting in the middle, what about you?”
“I. . . I don't know, I've never taken a bus before.”
Phade stops and glances at me over his shoulder. “So, I'm popping your cherry am I? It won't hurt, I promise.”
“Shut up,” I say with a giggle, slapping the back of his shoulder. “Just pick a seat.”
He laughs softly and slips into a row of seats in the center of the bus. Taking the center seat, he waves his hand for me to sit by the window. “I'll let you have the window.”
Scooting by him, I can feel his eyes on my ass. “Like the view?” I ask as I drop into my seat.
“You know I do.” Smiling, he licks his lips, lifting his glasses and giving me a wink.
“Alright, calm down, I don't want you to get yourself too excited. How about you just tell me where we're going now?”
“Nope.” Pulling the hat down over his face, he rests his head back as he relaxes into the seat. “It's a surprise.”
Huffing under my breath, I repeat his words. “A surprise, of course.” Looking out the window, the bus pulls away from the stop, and I just watch the buildings as we drive.
Phade is snoring almost instantly, his head bobbling around on his shoulders as we hit bumps and dips in the road.
Sighing to myself, I rest my chin on my hand and just look out the window. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little excited. No one has ever wanted to surprise me with something. I'm a planner, a numbers girl, a woman who has to have everything all mapped out.
There are no surprises in my life. . . Until recently.
The buildings start to thin out, becoming further and further apart. The new bricks are being replaced by broke down, windowless buildings. Most are covered in graffiti, tagged with images and symbols.
Garbage fills the ditches on the side of the road, stray cats climb around dumpsters, and there are cars missing wheels or rusted out, decorating vacant parking lots and side streets.
The glimmer of excitement I'm feeling begins to disappear as the bus slows down outside an abandoned factory. Looking around, it starts to sink in that the few people left are immersed in their phones or chatting with the person at their side. No one is getting up, and no one else is getting on.
Phade yawns, fixing his hat and slipping his glasses into the collar of his shirt. Glancing out the window, he starts to stand, but I grab his shirt and pull on it.
We're not getting off here? Are we?
No. This can't be right.
“What are you doing?” I ask nervously.
“This is our stop.”
“Here? You're bringing me here?”
Nodding, he takes my hand in his and braids our fingers together. “It's fine, I promise.”
“I don't know, this—”
Cutting me off, he squeezes my hand hard. “Trust me, Sylvia. Can you do that?”
“Trust needs to be earned.”
Drawing his thumb back and forth over the top of my hand, he arches his brows. “Then give me that chance to earn it.”
Our eyes lock, and I can see the sincerity in his stare. He's not being fake, he's not trying to impress me, he really just wants me to let go, to give him what he's asking for.
Do it, trust him.
The little voice inside my head is strong and loud. I don't know what it is, but I believe him. I feel his truth.
Thinning my lips, I smile and nod. “Alright, I'll give you a chance.”
“Good, that's all I'm asking for. Now let's go before we're late.” Jumping off the bottom step, Phade turns and quickly grabs me around my waist, whisking me off my feet and lowering me to the ground. “It's just a short walk from here.”
Curling his hand around mine, we walk like that up the road a little way. My heart pitter patters in my chest as the pressure in his grip tightens and his thumb circles the nub on my wrist.
My hand feels right in his. I don't want it to, and I'm trying to pretend like it means nothing, but it's there, building a little nest inside my chest as if it were home.
“It's just over here.” Phade's voice gets higher as his eyes light up with excitement.
There's a broken fence to his left, and he slips through the chain links. Keeping my hand in his, he helps me through, never letting me go once.
The way he's touching me, it's softer, more delicate. This is different, a side of Phade I wasn't sure existed. He helps me with care, he holds my hand protectively, as if he wants to make sure I know he's there to keep me safe.
Voices start to echo around us. “What's happening? Who is that?”
“You'll see,” he says, the corner of his lip pulling back into a teasing grin.
Walking up a hill, I see a clearing on the other side as we reach the top. There's a field at the bottom full of people all laughing and chatting.
“Phade, my man, you made it!” A guy calls out as he makes his way toward us.
“Of course, I wouldn't miss this for the world.”
The two men grab hands and give each other a small hug. It's a hug that tells me they've known each other for years. The man looks older than Phade, his hair is gray and there are thick lines around his mouth and across his forehead. But they don't look alike, so I don't think they're related.
“Well, you're busy now, so I'd understand if you couldn't.” The man steps back and looks over at me. “Hi, I'm Dylan.”
“Oh, I'm sorry,” Phade says, wrapping his arm around my neck and pulling me in. “Dylan, this is Sylvia, my girlfriend.”
I stand in shock for a moment, not sure how to respond. He said girlfriend, his damn girlfriend.
What the hell is he doing?
“Ah, so this is the lucky lady.” Holding out his hand, he gives me a warm smile. “Phade told me a little about you, it's nice to meet you.”
Smiling, I shake his hand. “Hi, it's nice to meet you too.”
Really? Girlfriend? What the fuck is he doing?
Phade smirks at me, giving me a little nod with his head. I don't know what he's up to, but I'm surprised, I'll give him that.
Dylan takes a step back and points out into the field. “You guys can start back there, bags and rakes are all set. You need gloves?” Phade nods, and Dylan takes a few out of his pocket and hands them over. “Okay, I'll be over here if you need anything. It was nice to meet you, Sylvia, thank you so much for coming out to help today. It'll mean so much to these kids.”
Kids? Am I a volunteer for something now?
Dylan walks over to another small crowd of people and starts pointing and directing them around the field. Phade's hand comes down on my shoulder as he gives me a little shake.
“Well, let's get to work.” Moving through the field, he heads for the area Dylan directed us to.
Following behind him, I wade through the tall grass.
“So, this is why you asked about my shoes, it makes sense now. A little heads up would have been nice.”
Phade laughs and turns to face me as he walks backwards. “Yeah, I didn't think that part through, but it makes for an interesting story.”
“Right, real funny.”
“Here.” Passing me a pair of gloves, he points to my right. “We're going to start raking over there and work our way down.”
“What is this for exactly? I mean, I'm here, I think you can let me in on it now.”
“This is Bunker Field.” Holding out his arms, he spins in a circle and looks around. “It used to be an awesome baseball field when I was a kid.”
“You grew up around here?”
“Not everyone grew up in a high rise in the city.” Picking up a rake, he hands it to me. “This was my backyard.” Looking past my shoulder, he squints. “See that yellow building back there?” Nodding yes, he says, “Third window on the right was my bedroom.”
“You really lived here?”
“I did, with my mostly absent mother and her revolving door of boyfriends. This field was my escape, it was my sanity, it was my safety. I want to make it better for all the kids that still live here. They need a place to go that isn't an alley to buy drugs. So, every chance I get, I come back and help. A few months ago we repainted the library, and I got a few publishing companies to donate more books.” Peering back over his shoulder at Dylan, he smiles. “Dylan is the guy I can thank for getting me into fighting. He started this after school program to keep kids off the streets, and well, it worked for me.”
“Wow, I had no idea.”
“Most don't.” Pointing a finger at Dylan, I can see the gratefulness in his eyes. “He's the man I owe my life to, the only man I owe anything. I'll always do what I can for him, and for this part of the city, they need people like us.”
Phade grabs a rake for himself and starts to clean up the leaves around his feet. And for the first time ever, I see him in a different light. He's not the conceited asshole I pegged him for.
He cares.
The man I want to hate, the man I'm trying to find any reason in the world not to like—actually has a heart.
We spend the afternoon raking and bagging leaves, spreading fresh dirt for the mound and putting down new bases. A few other volunteers fix and paint the bleachers and the dugout on both sides. Phade even got a local company to donate new fencing.
“Feels good, doesn't it?” Phade asks as he comes to my side and looks out into the baseball field.
“It does, this really is amazing. You surprised me for sure, Phade. You know this would have been good for your image. I wish you would have told me. I could
have had a photographer out here for you.”
“That's why I didn't tell you. I don't do this stuff because I want people to pat me on the back. This isn't for them. The tabloids just ruin things that are great. They would find a way to take this and twist it into something it's not.”
“Not something like this.”
Shrugging his shoulder, he tugs the gloves off his hands and throws them into the trash. “Tell that to the woman who's having my baby after I helped her load groceries into her car. They followed her for weeks after that. Or you can try and tell—”
“Okay, I get it. I know everything can't be controlled, we can't hold their hands and type what we want. But this is something everyone should know about, and not just because you're involved, but because it's for a great cause. Because so many others might have come out to help too.”
“I'll keep that in mind for next time.” Wiping his hands on his pants, he lets out a deep breath. “All right, how about we go have some fun now?”
“Fun? You mean this wasn't it?”
Chuckling, he strokes his jaw. “This was work. I've got something else for you.”
Looking myself over, I have dirt on my skirt, my shirt, my arms and legs. I can feel the grit in my hair and on my face.
“I need to get cleaned up before we do anything. I'm filthy.”
“Are you?” Veering his stare, he takes a step closer. “How filthy are you?”
Slapping his chest, my heart skips a beat. “Stop, you know what I mean.”
“I don't think I do.” Tracing his fingers up and down my arm lightly, I feel his breath across the side of my face. “I'd really love it if you'd show me later.”
I feel myself falling, plunging deeper and deeper into this man.
I should hate who he is. I should hate what he stands for. I should hate where we're heading.
But suddenly, I want it all.
I want to know him. I want to take that jump with him. I want to close my eyes and just let go.
Lord, save me from jumping. . . I want to get off this cliff, but I don't know how.
