"Good. Very good."
His baritone echoed through me like a sex toy.
"Describe it to me," he said, "the moisture, the feel, all of it."
"I'm soaking. I feel my nerves shoot each time I scrape my inner walls."
"M-hmmm."
"It tickles a bit on the outside." I heaved a breath out. "I feel it in my stomach, butterflies — Oh god, Nathan, I want to put my whole finger inside me, or grab my dildo!"
"No! Baby, this is not only for you but also for me."
"Your hand is on your...um...thing?"
"No, my hand is not on my 'thing.' Not yet. But I'm fighting it. Now, dig your middle finger deep inside yourself. Sit up if you have to. But dig it only once, then hold it there."
I did it. I gasped.
"Oh, god," he said, "that sounded fucking heavenly. Now, ease it out."
I did. It squished. I sat up, my knees to my ears, my eyes shut tight from the insane barometric build-up inside me.
"Nathan, I need to come. Like now."
"Layla, no. Do as I say. Rub your clit. Slowly! Bring yourself to just about climax, then stop yourself."
I did, twirling my nub until my toes curled and tinges of electric bliss fired down my legs. But then I stopped.
"Fuck!" I cried, slamming my head into my pillow.
"Good. Very good," he said slowly. I was hyperventilating. "Now, Layla, you still with me?"
"M-hmmm."
"Do it again, just to the edge, then stop."
I did it. I shrieked at the almost-end. My fingers glistened with my come. My legs quivered. "Nathan, I can't do it again. It's going to snap."
"OK, then do it, rub yourself until you come. But keep the phone to your mouth. Don't pretend. Don't fake it. If you feel like screaming, scream. If you don't, then don't. I want to hear your orgasmic sounds, the real ones. You ready?"
"M-hmmm..."
"OK, do it."
I rubbed, hard and fast. It built up slowly, the phone fell once from my hand and I fumbled for it, still rubbing. As my breaths climbed in loudness, Nathan said, "Say my name, baby. Pretend I'm there. Pretend it's my cock inside you — "
"Oh, god, Nathan, fucking damn it!"
I was on the verge, teeter-tottering but not falling. I rubbed and twirled and pushed and... "Urgh, god, Nathan, I need you! I'm not managing alone!"
"You can do it, baby. C'mon!"
I sat up, held the phone and buried two fingers in me, rubbed my nub, slapped saliva on it. Twinges of fire spiked up my legs, almost, almost, almost...
Somehow it wasn't happening!
"Fuck! I can't!" I fell back, exhausted. "Nathan," I breathed, "You need to come over. Please."
"You live alone?"
"Yes, I have a studio apartment."
"Good to know. But I'm not kidding about you studying. Would it help if I came as well? On this side?"
Oh god yes absolutely. "Yes, if I hear you, it will."
"OK, let me get ready. One second."
He put the phone down and I heard some things moving, a buckle maybe, then a zipper, some other commotion. "OK, I'm ready."
"How close are you?" I asked.
"Baby, I almost came without even touching myself just hearing you say my name."
I said his name again, as husky and sexy as I could. "Nathan."
"You're teasing."
"Nathan."
"Oh, god."
"You're pumping yourself?"
"Yes, I am, slowly, waiting for you."
I eased my finger down, just touched my nub once, tickled it. "I need to hear you groan, Nathan."
His breathing increased. I broke into a reverie of him pounding me from behind against that countertop, hands cuffed behind my back. "Oh, god" escaped from me as I thought it.
"Oh, yeah, baby," he said, "I'm close. I'm so close. I'll wait for you."
"Oh, fuck, Nathan, I'm coming, baby! I'm come — "
I spasmed, growled, moaned, screamed! My back arched, my finger rubbed and pushed inside me hard and deep as I thought back to Nathan's hard cock filling all of me. "Oh, my god!" I cried!
Nathan growled his manly, rumbling growl. "Fuck me damn!" he roared.
I continued, turned on my side, put the phone to my ear and felt another spasm of ecstasy pulse through me. I fingered myself silly, meanwhile falling and rolling into Nathan's heavenly groans on the other side.
They were bliss. The sweetest sounds I'd ever heard.
A final "oooh" came from him. I breathed out loudly.
"Baby," he said, "I could almost smell your scent here, our sexual aroma, together."
"I know what you mean."
"Study well, cupcake. I plan on giving you the real thing soon."
He clicked the phone off. My mind drifted off to him, to where he might be now. On his bed? The sofa? The bathroom? I thought of licking him clean, swallowing him.
The thought crossed my mind that maybe I might be falling for him as well...
I guess that's why they say sex complicates things. Because Nathan electrified me. But was that just physical, or emotional?
The two worlds had blended for me. I couldn't wait to see him again. The need was a physical one that hurt deep down into the pits of my stomach.
I was so far off the mainframe that any ideas I might've had of treating sex as some non-emotional 'experiment' were as close to me as NASA was to probing the furthest reaches of the universe...
I tried to study. Luckily I pay attention in class, because after Nathan's call, I couldn't study for shit!
-11-
I aced my exam. It's the curse that's made it take me so long to get laid — smartness.
Nathan eased off with his sexts during the week, purportedly to make sure I kept my mind on schoolwork.
I kept thinking of him, needing him, feeling turned on by thoughts of him, on his couch, his cock standing at attention for me. I wanted more of our games. I wanted to take charge just as much as he did. I wanted to control and be controlled. I wanted wild, steaming sex with him every day.
I found myself doodling his name in a notebook of mine, drifting off in class. I'd texted him a few times to try and arrange to see him and his answer had only been:
Nathan: No, college first. Sex second.
By Wednesday I was so frustrated the air seemed to spark around me. Mandi felt the brunt of my discomfort several times. Finally, sitting under 'our' oak tree at the University quad, she snapped back.
"Damn it, Layla, what the fuck!?" She sat up on the blanket we'd laid out and glared at me from behind her red horn-rims. I shook my head, exhaled. "Fuck it. I need to see him. I'm going there!"
I started to get up but her arm snapped to my wrist. "No! This guy is driving you wild. Now, I don't know why you haven't told me anything about him but now I'm putting my foot down!"
Mandi is short, a little pudgier than me but not 'fat' as such, not by a long shot. She has frizzy curled brown hair — super curly, like it's in a permanent perm. She oozes out geekdom, even more than I used to. I love her. And it had been hard to keep this from her. But what had brought us together had been our fascination with hacking an X-Box, wondering if we could crack the University's exams database (which we did, but chose not to look them!), and wondering if one day we'd be picked up by some senior bank executive for their security division.
We were hackers, crackers, computer geeks.
I was still all those things...but in different clothing. (Literally.)
But I was also something else now. I figured, logically, that I was learning about an emotional, visceral side to me that I'd failed to learn about while I was growing up. Maybe it had been the loss of my father, then all the turmoil with my mother's endless daisy-chain of bad boyfriends. I guess you could say I was 'denied a normal childhood.' Whatever. I believe I chose to deny myself that childhood. Because emotions had always been my enemy. I shied from them, ran from them, knowingly.
But I think being huma
n means having emotions. You can hide them for only so long until they catch up with you. I'd hid them from myself wonderfully until I'd started seeing Clayton... Then Nathan...
Mandi tugged at my wrist, snapping me from my mental debate. "Sweetheart?" she said. "Talk to me. I'm worried sick about you."
Her wide gray eyes filled with fear. I couldn't bear to have her worry anymore.
So I told her.
I told her everything.
I told her how I'd felt I was madly and deeply and passionately in love with Clayton Remington. I mean, real love. The kind of shit you hear about in Disney movies. I told her he and I had had the most incredible, amazing, unbelievably great lovemaking-sex possible between two people.
And I told her that I'd freaked out. Panicked. And stopped talking to him.
"Bugger," she said in her hilarious Cornwall accent, "so that's why there's been these electromagnetic solar storms in the space between both of you! I thought it was me who smelled or something..."
"Huh?"
"Love, the air between the two of you has been as hard to crack as Yogg-Saron in World of Warcraft!"
Er, she'd lost me there. Mandi's always been about seven times geekier than I've been. And she likes playing World of Warcraft, a lot! "Huh?" I asked again.
"It's a boss in the game. Tough sucker to crack. Anyway! The point is, it's been fucking electric between the two of you. I've felt so uncomfortable every time you've crossed paths!"
Oh, so she'd noticed that... "Yeah, I...well, I wanted to spare you the drama."
Mandi cleaned some dirt off our blanket, rested her back against the tree. She looked up at the leafy canopy covering us. "Layla," she said, "the solution is simple. Occam's Razor, you know? You love Clayton. From what you told me, he also loves you — or did love you before you pushed him away. But that stuff doesn't die. If he loved you before he'll love you again. You have to go with it. There are other factors that come into this equation — "
I put my hand up. "I know. Occam's Razor. Given two problems the simplest solution is probably the correct one. Only love is not simple..." I paused at having used the word 'love.' Such a heavy word. A weighty, burdensome word.
A dirty word.
"Maybe it's not," said Mandi, "but it's what's kept civilization together for millennia. You know, the family unit and all that shit. It's only since we started swinging and cheating and screwing each other's best friends that things got all bad."
I raised an eyebrow at her. "Since when did you get all righteous?"
"Righteous? Fuck that. I'm still a huge Big Bang supporter. But this is logic. Just look at it. I mean, families that stay together have happier kids. You think they'd stay together if the parents didn't love each other? I mean real love."
I thought about it. "Maybe. I get it. I mean, I see your point. I don't necessarily agree with you, but I understand it." Fuck it, a part of me did believe her, I just hated to admit it.
Dirty word.
She stared at me for a while, gave up. She turned back to her book (Trigonometry and Celestial Objects, by Professor W. R. Simons) and I went back to mine (Hopeless, by Colleen Hoover). I'd taken to reading love stories after the whole thing with Clayton. There was no connection to it, I swear it.
About thirty minutes later, like the first flower of spring, Clayton appeared up at the college steps about fifty yards from us. He always got out at this time. His loose tee billowed from the wind. His golden hair was tied back in a pony. He'd let it grow since he and I had, you know...
I tried to focus on my book, all the while watching him from the corner of my eye.
He stood there awhile, looking out, the sun gilding his beautiful skin. The sounds around me became sharp: A laugh, someone stepping on gravel, a guy catcalling for some girl... And my breaths, loud as hurricanes in my ears. My heartbeat, drums in a tribal dance.
He sauntered down the steps, his aquatic eyes glistening and glinting as he took stride after confident stride down the walkway. I knew he'd walk straight past us, not saying hello. I'd made sure of that with my rebuffs of the last many months. He was smiling. A small, noticeable smile as he tilted his head up and looked into the sun, then carefully avoided looking at me.
I decided I should speak to him about stuff sometime. Just not now. But soon. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. I'd tell him...
He breezed past, toward the exit leading to the main road, past a freshman girl making eyes at him, a fat kid biting his nail, down the next set of stairs...
A silver sports car at the road caught my eye. There was a woman leaning on it. I mean, a woman. Not an "I was just a teenager last week" kind of woman, but a hot, voluptuous, golden-skinned, sexy as a vixen, skin-tight dress, "my boobs are so massive that I turn guys' heads all over town" woman! She had on thick black shades to match the thick black hair which tumbled down in curls around her thick and round you-know-whats.
She was fucking gorgeous.
And she was...pushing her shades down, looking at Clayton from above them (the skank, just let him go on by, lady!) and then...
"Hah!"
"Sweetie?" said Mandi.
My hand lifted, a mind of its own, pointed down at the silver sports car upon which the curvaceous woman currently rested her bootiful ass — and at the long, engulfing, absolutely salacious open-mouthed kiss she was planting on Clayton.
"Damn, get a room!" cried Mandi, not realizing it was Clayton being swallowed whole.
The woman's left calf curled around his. Of course she had on red stilettos... Clayton wrapped his palms around her waist and pushed his crotch against her.
Oh, my god.
I could almost see their sex, see the slapping skin of him fucking her with legs wide open, screaming his name as he growled by her ear, just as he'd growled by mine only a few months ago —
I looked away.
Somehow I knew who she was. It had to be her. The married woman who'd 'taught him everything' he'd known about sex. (Boy, had he known a lot...) Maybe she'd left her husband after all.
Tears stung my eyes.
And then Mandi realized it too. She put her hand on my shoulder. I sobbed, working my damnedest to keep each one as quiet as I could. I heard two car doors slamming, an engine roar, tires screeching as they drove away.
I needed Nathan now more than ever. It ached and I wanted to be with him so badly. Sex, physical love, that's all I cared for. All this other shit just hurt too fucking bad.
I texted him, using dirty speak because I knew that made him hot. But I wasn't hot, not hot at all. I was hurting, and I was angry.
Layla: Fuck me today — NOW — or don't fuck me again.
It was a dangerous threat, one I wouldn't be willing to go through with myself if he acted on my bluff. When my phone buzzed with his answer, I almost didn't look, for fear of what it might say.
Nathan: Pick you up in five. Hope you like wildlife.
-12-
Nathan picked me up in a Porsche, black and sleek.
Inside it the windows thumped with heavy metal music I didn't recognize. He said nothing. I'd clearly upset him. At least he didn't comment on the redness in my eyes. I shifted in my seat, looked out the window.
He spoke first: "I'm sorry, I'm a little out of sorts today. I'm happy to see you. And I'm happy you texted."
I looked at him in shock. When he looked back, he gave an innocent smile that made me even more nervous about being around him. It was seeming more and more to me that Nathan indeed needed me more than I needed him.
I put my hand on his thigh.
"No, higher up, baby."
I eased my hand up.
"Higher."
I smiled, moved my hand to his crotch over his designer jeans, and I started rubbing...
His chest let out a low and soothing rumble. "M-hmm, that's right. But you know what I actually want you to do, don't you?"
Perspiration cooled my forehead, my lungs opened up with hot desire. I bent down o
ver him. He eased his seat back and I heard the engine roar.
"Hard and fast," he said.
I undid his buckle, my mouth salivating, my own center pulsing and thrumming.
I slid my hand down his boxers and flipped out his throbbing hard-on, the tip of it shimmering with pre-come. I licked it with the tip of my tongue, tickled him. He groaned. "Ooh, yes, baby." The engine revved. "Hard and fast."
I opened my mouth and buried him inside me, pumping him up and down with my fist as my tongue twirled around his ginormous shaft and my head bobbed, hard and fast, just as he'd asked. He groaned and moaned and made sounds that told me he was almost there. I felt the car speed up. My head pushed up against his abs as he said, "We're on the highway now, baby."
I sucked him, deep, intense, tightening my lips around his girth and pulling up, up, up —
"Oh, god! Lay — Layla, there's a towel in the glove — Oh, god! Lay — towel, there's a — Urgh!!"
I kept pumping him, not giving a shit about some damn towel. He'd tasted my fluids so I could taste his.
His hips spasmed, he revved the motor like mad and growled a manly, thundering growl, and he came. His juice speared into my mouth, once, twice... I pumped him mercilessly with my hand, kept my mouth open, ready for him, and the third jet surged into me. His ass writhed left and right. "Pump me more, baby" he said, "more, more, oh please baby more!"
I did it, slamming my fist up and down his cock. I put my mouth back on his shaft and licked and sucked his creamy fluid, rubbed him all around my inner cheeks, then wet him with my saliva.
"Oh, god, yes," he said, breathless. He exhaled powerfully...
"There's a hand towel in the glove compartment, sweetie. You know I never expected you to have this land in your mouth, don't you? There should be some water in there as well." He exhaled loudly again.
I looked up at him, smiled, licked my lips, and made a show of swallowing audibly. "If I hadn't wanted to swallow you, I wouldn't have." I said. Then I licked his cock clean, all of him, everywhere I could find any part of his come left.
"My god, you really like taking charge, don't you?" he said. "I'm in so deep with you it's driving me fucking insane."
I smiled to myself, not answering, being glad someone needed me this badly. "Is the coast clear?" I asked.
Girl-Nerds Like it Faster (Erotic Romance) Book 2 (Girl-Nerd Series) Page 5
