Cross Stroke

by Elizabeth Hartey

  The physical fatigue from unpacking finally seeps into every one of my muscle cells. After finishing up my stir-fry, I decide to continue studying sprawled out on my bed. The necessary books are spread around me for reference. My laptop’s also next to me in case I find a significant reference for my thesis, The Implication of Climate Change and Acidification on Coastal Ecosystems, and need to make a note.

  I study for a while until my reading is interrupted. Muscled arms are reaching out, the hands are tearing off my clothes, and I don’t even mind the fingers touching me. My own hands move in a frenzy to unzip his jeans to free his pulsing cock. His mouth is all over my breasts, sucking and licking, while I keep stroking the massive, thick length I unleashed. I moan in pleasure as he moves down between my legs and continues to use his magical tongue, making circles over my clit before delving inside my pussy and hitting my g-spot.

  “Oh sweet Jesus!” I scream out as I detonate again and again.

  “Damn baby, you’re so tight. Do you think you can take all of me?” He moves up my body and places his cock at my throbbing entrance. And then the face on the sex god in front of me comes into focus and it’s…mmm, Dak Andersen. I mean, yuk, Dak Andersen. Whatever.

  “Yes. Yes. Please put your gigantic cock inside me,” I beg.

  “Get ready because I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget your name,” he says and pushes into me with a hard thrust. His cock is so huge it’s touching every point of pleasure inside me and I’m already coming again…and again. “What do you think the temperature is at this depth?” he asks as he keeps pounding into me.

  “Mmm. It’s so…wait, what?”

  The next thing I know I’m trying to wave the bright, irritating light away from my face. I move to get out of its path. The loud noise of my books crashing to the floor shakes me out of the sultry dream. I stretch, reveling in the sunlight streaming through the window and the afterglow of all the lovely, dirty things the guy in my dream was doing and saying to me. I’m drenched from the hundreds of explosive orgasms he brought me to. And then reality hits.

  I bolt straight up. Holy shit. I fell asleep! It’s morning. No! I can’t be late for my first class. It’s at nine a.m. I grab my phone from the nightstand to see what time it is. I usually set my alarm when I get in bed, but I didn’t plan on falling asleep at eight o’clock last night and having a wet dream about—blech—Dak freaking Andersen.

  It’s eight-thirty. No time to shower. I yank off my shorts and tank top and grab a clean pair of underwear and a bra. I slip into another tank, flannel shorts, and a pair of flip-flops. In the bathroom, I pull the elastic ties from my hair and run a brush through it. It’s wavy from the braid I didn’t mean to sleep in all night. Luckily, it works. The soft waves keep me from looking like a complete bedhead rag. I run a washcloth over my face. While the amount of time I take to brush my teeth and gargle would definitely not pass the ADA’s recommendations, the ADA isn’t about to make a late grand entrance into their first class at their new school, so screw correct hygiene.

  I planned on riding my bike since, not only does it save on gas money and provide some aerobic exercise, it’s one of the ways I try to help save the planet from global warming. It’s a small gesture. Still, every little bit helps. But this morning I’m giving up the cause because my class is on the other side of campus in Carson Hall.

  Grabbing my keys and backpack, I head out into the beautiful clear morning. One thing about this part of Maine, the scenery and environment are always spectacular, no matter what time of year it is. I take a deep breath to try to soak up some of the cleansing air to calm my already hectic day before throwing my backpack into the backseat of my shiny new fully loaded Hypergreen Rubicon. No shit.

  It was a graduation present from my parents. They said I deserved it for all the hard work I had done both in school and in figure skating. I’m sure it was one more thing to try to pull me out of my depression over Sean. They would have bought me a fleet of cars if they thought it would help.

  The outrageous color was my mom’s idea, of course. She said it represented my love for the environment and ecology. Also, “it looks hot with your auburn hair and brings out the color of your eyes.” Her exact words. I held back telling her if she had to coordinate the color of my car with important things in my life, an unobtrusive blue to represent my love of the ocean would be okay with me. But only a total spoiled brat would complain about the extravagant car given to her as a gift of love. And again, I didn’t want to disappoint my former-model slash current fashion designer mother with my lack of fashion sense.

  Sloane has never disappointed our mom by wanting to be a nerdy scientist instead of a famous model or by falling in love with an asshole and then almost giving up everything when he dumps her. Nope. Sloane is gorgeous, levelheaded, and perfect. Besides being my sister, she’s my best friend in the whole world. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be here, or anywhere, right now.

  Thanks to her, here I am, climbing into the driver’s seat of my lizard green Jeep and heading off to my first graduate class in Marine Biogeochemistry.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tracey

  Racing up the steps of Carson Hall, I run smack into the rock-hard wall blocking the landing at the top of the steps. I bounce back and as I’m about to take a tumble back down the steps hands reach out and grab me around the waist, saving me from an early demise. Every muscle in my body tenses in response to the firm grasp.

  “Are you okay?” The wall sounds concerned for a moment. When he sees I’m fine, the concerned tone changes to the familiar voice I know and hate. “Bambi. Wow, you’ve got to stop falling at my feet like this.”

  Oh hell no. Why is he everywhere?

  “Thanks for your concern, jackass. You’ve got to stop being where you’re not supposed to be.” I’m trying to be aloof and cool, but his firm grip around my waist is burning right through my tank top. It’s astonishing I’m not experiencing the dreaded, harsh electric shock reaction every other guy’s touch elicits since hell-night with Sean. “What the hell are you doing blocking the staircase?”

  “Not very nice, since I just saved your life.” Dak pouts and pretends to be offended. Damn. There’s something beyond sexy about a big, strong guy pouting. And man oh man, when he pouts his full bottom lip, it’s all I can do to hold myself back from leaning in and sucking it between my teeth.

  “I wouldn’t have needed saving if you weren’t blocking the steps. Do you think you could let go of me and move out of the way? I’m late for class.”

  And standing this close to you, while feeling the afterburn of the hot-as-fuck dream I had about you, my legs are turning to liquid again.

  “Sure, Bambi. No problem.” He smiles and my heart misses a beat, the effect every Mr. Wrong has on me: stuttering heartbeat and butterfly intestines.

  He lets go of me and I’m surprised again to find I kind of miss the feel of his hands around me. I step around him and head toward the Marine Bio class. When I reach the door of the classroom, I realize Dak is right behind me.

  “Stop following me. Go away,” I snarl at him.

  “Hate to burst your bubble, Bambi, but I’m not following you. Well I am following you, but only because you’re going into my class.”

  “Your class? You must be mistaken. This is a graduate Marine Bio class. I thought you were a senior.”

  “I’m flattered you looked me up in the yearbook to find out I’m a senior, but I’m also taking an advanced graduate course in my final year.”

  “Yeah, right. That’s where I looked you up, in a yearbook. And perhaps you should hop in your DeLorean and hightail it back to the ’70’s. You might need to get your transistor radio.” Yearbook. Is he kidding?

  “Ah hah! But you did look me up. Thought so.” A satisfied grin spreads across his face and he wiggles a finger in front of my face.

  “Immature much?” He’s ridiculous.

  “Just don’t believe everything you see on s
ocial media. I’m not that bad, or good, depending on your perspective.” He wiggles a brow. “Now if you’ll excuse me, you seem to be in my way.” He gives me the familiar panty-dropping half-grin.

  In my frustrated, befuddled state, I step out of the way and watch his cute ass walk past me into my lab class. Mother freaking hell. This cannot be happening.

  Holy Mother of God and all the saints, I am heartily sorry for whatever it is I did to offend you. Could you puh-lease stop punishing me?

  Dak Andersen is an undergraduate student who’s in my graduate Marine Bio class. Never even heard of such a thing as fulltime undergraduate students taking graduate courses. This could only happen to me.

  Shaking myself out of my dazed thoughts, I make my way into the room. Everyone else is already seated because, of course, I’m late. The only empty seat is in the back of the room and, of course, it’s at the same lab table as Dak. I guess the answer to my prayer is a big, loud NO. When I sit down, he’s still grinning at me like the damn cat who swallowed every more than willing canary in sight.

  He leans toward me and whispers, “Looks like we’re classmates, Bambi.”

  He’s so close I can feel his warm breath on my face. I shut my eyes as my skin shivers in response. “Yeah, great.” I don’t look at him, afraid the longing in my traitorous eyes will give me away.

  “Man, you sure know how to hurt a guy’s feelings. You act like you don’t like me or something.”

  “I don’t. Therefore, please leave me alone and be quiet so I can listen to the instructor who has important things to say.” I keep my eyes fixed on Mr. Clancy, the instructor, who is saying something, which isn’t registering with my brain.

  “We’re going to be stuck with each other all semester,” he whispers. “We may as well make the best of it. Besides, I know you like me. I can always tell. I’m never wrong about these things,” he says in his usual cocky, confident, irritating way.

  Astounded by the balls of this guy, I give him a wide-eyed glare. He has a pleased smirk on his face, which I would love to smack off for real. “I hate to disappoint you, jackass, but I’m not one of your groupies. And despite being in the same class, I don’t intend on being stuck with you in any way. So again, cierre su boca,” I whisper through teeth I’m clenching so hard they’re beginning to hurt. Four years of high school Spanish comes in handy every once in a while.

  “Mmm. Nothing turns me on like a bilingual chick. How did you know, Bambi?” He stretches his arms up and leans his head back into his hands.

  Uh huh. Bi being the operative prefix here.

  With his arms stretched, his impressive biceps are on full display and my gaze lingers for a moment longer. The annoying lopsided smirk is still crossing his kissable lips. Doesn’t matter. I’m feeling confident I’ve made my feelings clear. I am not interested in him and he needs to back off.

  I’m more than familiar with this kind of situation. This is almost exactly how it started with Sean, captain of the football team, all interested in me and up in my space. Except he was sweet when we first met, not like this cocky jackass. I was more than interested and sweet right back because…well, he was almost as gorgeous as the jackass sitting next to me. I’d noticed him long before he began pursuing me and didn’t play hard to get. He had me at hello, to coin a phrase, and I fell hard.

  Sweet words of love and forever flew like pollen in the spring for almost a year. Until I walked in on him in bed with someone else. One of his fellow teammates to be exact. At first I thought I had walked into the wrong room, and then in the span of a few seconds I tried to convince myself I was dreaming or hallucinating, anything to keep myself from falling apart right there on the spot. It didn’t take me long to realize the crushing scene in front of me was real. Which wasn’t even the worst of it.

  “Awesome!” Dak’s loud outburst yanks me out of my mortifying memory. “I guess you’re stuck with me after all.”

  “If you’ve forgotten the name of the person you’re paired up with for the semester, the list will be hanging outside my office door for reference.” Mr. Clancy glances at Dak and shakes his head. “It’s the best way to help you get research done when you go out to the islands or use the research skiffs to collect specimens from the coves. This way you’ve always got a partner and aren’t alone. I picked partners based on the topic of your theses. Even if you’re not in the same major, thesis topics can require some of the same research. It works, more efficient and safe. It’s the way we’ve done it for several years. This is only the preliminary research for your thesis. You’ll get more in depth in later semesters. Any questions?”

  Yes. But I’m afraid to hear the answer. I get the answer anyway when Dak leans over again and whispers, “I’m all yours for the whole semester, Bambi. Lucky the topics for our theses are similar, huh?”

  Lucky? Is he kidding? This may be my worst nightmare. Teaches me to pray for favors.

  “What’s your major?”

  If he says Marine Ecology I may jump out the window. A second story window should be high enough to break a few bones in order to miss the semester.

  “Oceanography,” he announces with the proud tone of someone who thinks he’s going to be the next Cousteau. It eases my nerves a bit because it means we’ll only share a couple of classes together. “But my graduate emphasis is in Biological Oceanography,” he continues, the hellish statement ringing in my ears.

  Jesus H. Christ. It means we’ll be in several classes together since the two majors cross over in many aspects.

  “How about you, Bambi? What’s your major?” He tilts his head to one side like he’s interested.

  Is it too late to change majors?

  Fashion design might not be so bad after all. It would certainly make my mom happy and it would keep me far, far away from Dak Pain-In-The-Ass Andersen.

  “Marine Ecology,” I sigh out. Because who am I kidding? It’s the only thing I’ve wanted to do since the first time I explored the beach as an adolescent.

  As much as I hate to admit it, the jackass is right. We’re going to be stuck together like glue for the whole semester while we do our thesis research. I’m in trouble.

  ***

  Dak

  I cannot explain what is it about this chick that makes me want to push her buttons. Maybe it’s because she crashed into me, broke my stick, and wasn’t courteous enough to apologize or take responsibility for it. I have to admit though, I kind of like the way she pushes my buttons right back. Most of the time I don’t know if I want to pummel her or fuck her. With the weird chemistry between us, she’s probably feeling the same way.

  She’s trying hard to make me think she’s not attracted to me, but I see the way she looks at me. It’s not hatred in those twinkling green eyes. Well, possibly a little hatred mixed with a whole lot of attraction.

  Clancy pairing us together is awesome. Working with a smart chick like Tracey will be a big help for me and take some of the pressure off of my already overloaded schedule. Also, I’ll be able to spend more time with her, get to know her better and figure out why the fuck I can’t get her out of my head.

  Christ. What am I thinking? I need to be careful not to get too close.

  After Abbey, I said ‘never again’ to close relationships. I never want to hurt anyone again, physically or emotionally. It’s why I’m careful about the kind of girls I hook up with. They can’t be looking for anything more from me than some toe curling pleasure.

  The physical stimulation has been off the charts, no complaints there, but not a lot in the way of intellectual stimulation. Not that intellectual stimulation is what I need in a hook up. I’m only interested in mind numbing, forget everything fucking.

  With Trace, there’s all kinds of stimulation going on. True, it’s mostly contentious, but I kinda like our contentious interactions. I even find myself looking forward to them, even if it’s only to spend more time with her for studying purposes.

  Yeah sure. I’m looking forward to quarrelling a
nd studying Marine Bio with her. Nothing else.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tracey

  “Did you sign up for the Winter Fest Show? You should do it as soon as possible. There’s only a few slots for solo performances. Almost everyone performs in pairs,” Alex explains to me as we sit on the benches tightening our skates.

  I’m looking forward to practice with the team today. Spending so much time unpacking and organizing my research notes, I hadn’t even thought about my new routines and skating performances.

  “No, not yet,” I reply. “Where do I sign up?”

  “Oh, yeah…about that.” Alex scans the rink through narrowed eyes. “You need to talk to Bri. Sabrina. She should be here any minute.” He lowers his voice and gives me an intense look like he’s about to tell me a state secret. “She’s a senior and captain of the collegiate and club team.”

  “Oookaay. And?”

  “Bri is…she’s…well, remember those skaters we said had to be bitchy to be good?” Alex whispers through clenched teeth. I nod, not liking where this is going. “Um… Bri is very, very good. Sooo…” Alex shrugs. “She’s probably the best skater on the team and she’s helped us become Collegiate National Champions several times. But you don’t want to get on her bad side. If she likes you, she’s all sweetness and light, if not…” He does the same shoulder thing Nikki did the other day at the bar when she was talking about mean skater girls.

  Christ on a cracker. I thought I had gotten away from this shit when I left UDel.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Alex perks up. “I’m sure she’ll like you. Bri respects good skating. When she sees your skills, she’s going to love you.”

  As we glide onto the ice, Alex introduces me to some of the other skaters already warming up. Everyone is semi-friendly. Figure skating is a sport pretending to be a team sport. Oh sure, every skater can accrue points for the team depending on where he or she places, and everyone wants their team to win gold. In reality, however, everyone is pretty much skating for themselves. A gold, silver, or bronze medal is what everyone strives for. As the new kid on the ice, the rest of the team isn’t quite sure what level of new competitor they’re facing. I can feel the eyes following me around as I warm up. I feel comfortable on the ice today; more like my old self, no out of control nerves taking over. My maneuvers are flawless and my jumps soar and land on clean edges.