Unwanted Girl

by M. K. Schiller

  It didn’t take long until there wasn’t a stitch of clothing between them. He kissed her ankles and worked up to her thighs. When he reached her mound, he spread her legs. She propped herself on her elbows, watching as his head moved between her thighs, his tongue exploring her. He teased her at first, tracing the area and stopping just before she came undone. His stubble tickled her thighs as his tongue drove in again. His fingers gripped her hips, keeping her from squirming against his exquisite technique.

  “I love the way you taste,” he whispered.

  “I love the way you lick,” she murmured.

  He laughed, his warm breath washing over her skin. She moaned intensely as he deepened the connection. The sounds emanating from her were foreign …unruly, sexually-charged noises driven by her arousal and instigated by his talented tongue.

  She didn’t climb to her climax as much as soared. Every inch of her body shook with such ecstasy she didn’t even grasp when he moved inside of her, and then she couldn’t notice much else.

  She tried to vocalize what she needed. “Condom?”

  “I have it on.” He guided her hand toward his shaft so she could feel it.

  She nodded, grateful that he always remembered these things, and at the same time, she wondered how he could make her forget…about everything that troubled her. His lips sought out hers. His thrusts were fluent and demanding. His harsh grunts intermingled with her softer moans until they sounded like one.

  He paused, gazing at her before rolling them over.

  She was on top of him and unsure of the angle.

  He took her hands, placing them on his chest and nodded at her. “I want you to fuck me.”

  She moved self-consciously at first, but each time he groaned, she became braver. Shyla wasn’t sure what was more stimulating… the fact she was in control or that he relinquished it to her so willingly. His hands grasped her hips. She moved faster when aided by him. He let out a new sound. One she’d never heard from him.

  “You growled.”

  “Yes,” he said, making the simple word sound like it was the longest word in the dictionary.

  “Do it again.”

  He lifted himself up and wrapped his arms around her. “Make me,” he said in partial plea and command.

  Shyla pulsed faster, digging her fingers into his shoulders for leverage. She wanted to own this climax…to hold the power to her pleasure and direct his. Her breasts against his hard chest, she bit his neck.

  “You trying to mark me?” he asked, his voice raspy. Her answer was to do it again, tasting the sweet salt of his skin. He groaned in response. Their bodies became slicker with each thrust. Her nails raked his back. His hands wrenched her hair, causing her to shudder. His mouth was demanding as it sought hers. She tasted her own name as he spoke it. It was delicious.

  The tingles coursed through her as she clung to him. Wrapped up in each other, neither spoke for a while, the sound of their breaths and heartbeats creating a language of their own.

  She eased off him, then kissed his shoulder where she’d bitten into his flesh before he headed to the bathroom.

  When he came back a few minutes later, he slid next to her, pulled the covers around them, and then her body against his.

  “I like being on top,” she said, enjoying the relaxing way his fingers stroked through her hair.

  “Apparently.” He kissed the top of head. “I love fucking you. I know that’s not romantic, but it’s the damn truth.”

  The sentiment stirred a new passion in her, a sense of sexuality she’d never experienced before. “It’s perfect. I feel the same.”

  Their breathing slowed. She closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Nick was awake, too. In the cloak of night, her thoughts became as loose and naked as her body.

  “After my mother died, I used to hide in wardrobes, usually with a book and a flashlight. I secretly hoped the wardrobe would open into another world like Narnia. Do you think that’s crazy?”

  “No Goddess, I do not.”

  “I was fifteen.”

  “Okay, maybe it’s a little strange.”

  She popped her head up, laughing at his dry sense of humor. He cupped her face, his thumb running across her cheek. “I’m just kidding. It’s not weird, not to me.”

  “Really?”

  “You’re talking to a man who still has an imaginary friend.”

  “True. We’re not so different…you and I.”

  “No, we aren’t.”

  She laid her head back on his solid chest. She didn’t expect the question he whispered. “Were you seeking adventure or escape?”

  “Both,” she answered, shutting her eyes.

  “Because you lost your mother?”

  “I was lonely. I missed her.”

  He moved down on the bed so they were face to face. “Are you still lonely?”

  She shook her head.

  “Me neither.”

  “This is going to be a strange request.”

  “What do you want, Goddess? Just ask for it.”

  She pressed her forehead against his. “I know we just had sex, and it was amazing but…”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Ready so soon?”

  “Actually, I want you to kiss me for a while. Will you do that for me? Just kiss me?”

  “You want to make out after we just had sex?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassed by the stupidity of her own idea until she felt his lips on her neck.

  “I’ll kiss you as long as you let me.”

  “Then it will be a very long time.”

  Chapter 26

  Shyla glanced at the clock. She closed her eyes again, scooting closer to Nick. Even in his sleep, he tightened his hold on her, his lips brushing her shoulder. Chapped lips just like hers.

  She’d always slept on her stomach, her head buried into the pillow, but not with Nick. He’d spooned her that first night, and ever since, she couldn’t imagine sleeping any other way.

  She popped open her eyes a few minutes later, finally registering the time. She shot upright, breaking their connection. “Shucks.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice thick and drowsy.

  “I’m late,” she said, flopping over him to get to her clothes.

  He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “We forgot to set the alarm.”

  “No kidding,” she said, jumping into her jeans.

  “Baby, you can be late once. Hell, I was late to class all the time.”

  “Not today. I have an exam.”

  When he stood, she almost forgot what she was doing at the sight of his naked body, the sunshine pouring over him like a spotlight. Her gaze lingered on his taut muscles, pausing at his fully erect appendage. She blinked, mentally slapping herself out of the trance.

  “Really, Nick?”

  He followed her gaze, looking down at himself, a smile laced with carnal pride playing on his chapped lips. “Hey, this is your fault. It’s not like I can control what you do to me.”

  She threw his boxers at him. “Put those on,” she said, rushing to find a clean shirt.

  “Yes, ma’am. Wow, you’re bossy today.”

  “You’re indecent, Mr. Dorsey, and it’s rather distracting.”

  “I am but a weak man, incapable of decency in the presence of such exquisite beauty…even when she is kind of being bitchy.”

  Shyla laughed while running into the bathroom. She splashed some cold water on her face. She scoured the marble vanity, searching for a hair clip, a rubber band, a scarf, anything to tie back her wild hair. He came up behind her and kissed her neck.

  “Nick, stop it.”

  “I just came to bring you this,” he said, holding out the silver clip she’d worn yesterday. “You left it on the nightstand.”

  She sighed with relief, reaching a hand back to smooth his disheveled hair. “Thank you.” The consummate gentleman, he squeezed the toothpaste on her toothbrush first. They brushed their teeth together, the act
so simple, yet it felt exceptionally special.

  “Do you have any lip balm?” he asked.

  “No, I was hoping you had some.”

  “I’m a guy. I don’t have those things. Aren’t girls suppose to carry that stuff around with them?”

  “Not me. But we can use the coconut oil you got for the rice recipe.”

  “I’m not going to put coconut oil on my lips.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself, but it works.”

  She rushed through her preparations, but lingered on their kiss. “So you won’t put it on your own lips but kiss it off mine?”

  “Yeah, it’s much better this way. By the way, I made you coffee,” he said, tucking a stray strand behind her ear.

  “I don’t have time.”

  “It’s to go, sweetheart,” he said, handing her a stainless steel tumbler.

  “Thank you.”

  “And a granola bar. You can eat it in the cab. Good luck on your test. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

  She glanced at the clock again. “I can spare a few minutes.”

  He lifted her onto the countertop. She pushed him back. “We don’t have enough time for that, though.”

  “You’re right. What I have in mind will take much longer than a few minutes.”

  She glanced at the opposite counter with all the ingredients she’d set up the night before. “I was going to get up early and make you pancakes.”

  “Damn, why didn’t I set the alarm?”

  She snapped her fingers. “How about pancakes for dinner? I don’t work tonight, so I can come early. My last class ends at three.”

  “Shit, what’s today?” he asked with a frown.

  “The seventeenth.”

  “I can’t. I have a charity dinner tonight.”

  She tried to school her face so her disappointment wouldn’t show. Had she really become so attached to him a simple night apart had such a profound effect?

  He titled her chin, carefully kissing the corners of her mouth. “Come with me.”

  “What?”

  “I hate these things. Their black-tie, pretentious people faking their intellect, fancy food, and fine wine.”

  “Why do you want me to go if it’s so awful?”

  “Didn’t I mention the wine?”

  She pursed her lips. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Shyla. I promise we can leave early. Besides, you’ll be saving me from a boring evening, and it is for charity. That’s the only reason I go.”

  “Which charity?”

  “They provide after-school programs for disadvantaged youths. Now, as a future teacher, how can you not support such a worthy cause?” He gave her the boyish grin, which always weakened her resolve. “Will you do me the honor of accompanying me, Miss Metha?”

  “Okay,” she said, kissing him again.

  * * * *

  Shyla spent the whole day cursing the word “okay.” Why had she agreed to this? She wanted to go with him, but he had said words that frightened her—black tie. Shyla suffered from the damning statement women had uttered since the first cavewoman fashioned a dress from animal skin and bones. I have nothing to wear.

  Even worse, she had no time to go shopping. Not that she even knew what to purchase for such an occasion. She had some money saved, but how much would such an outfit cost? She had no idea.

  She walked home from class. The day was warm and breezy, but fear gripped her. She didn’t want to embarrass Nick by wearing the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing. She wanted him to be proud of her.

  Shyla had no formal dresses. Elaine would lend her something, but Elaine was much taller and built differently than her. Shyla sat on her bed in the dorms and looked at her phone, contemplating cancelling on him. A kicking knock sounded at the door. “Are you there Shyla? Open up.”

  “Did you forget your key again?” Shyla asked, opening the door.

  “My hands are full.” Elaine walked in with several boxes in her arms with flourishing script on them. “I’m carrying my net worth in garments over here.”

  Shyla took a few of the boxes from her and set them on Elaine’s bed. “You did a lot of shopping today.”

  Elaine giggled, shaking her head. “I wish. These were at the front desk addressed to you.”

  “For me?”

  “Judging from the names, whoever bought these has very good taste. There’s a card.” Shyla took the envelope from Elaine and opened it. Nick’s slanted handwriting greeted her.

  “You better read it out loud,” Elaine said.

  She cleared her throat.

  “Shyla, I would never be so pretentious as to tell a woman what to wear, but I wasn’t sure if you owned an evening dress. If you like this then the credit is all mine, but if you don’t, please feel free to blame the saleslady at Sax since she chose it. Actually, she based the decision on two things—my wild hand gestures trying to reconstruct your hourglass figure and some very simple instructions.

  “I told her not to find a dress that would look good on the girl—a paper sack could do that. I asked her to find a dress that was in desperate need of a beautiful girl to fill it. I hope this fits the bill. Pick you up at seven. Yours, Nick”

  “Wow! So flipping romantic,” Elaine said.

  Shyla nodded, her emotions unable to decide if she wanted to squeal with joy or cry with gratitude. “He is wonderful.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for, girl? Try it on.”

  The saleslady at Saks had clearly thought of everything. The pretty boxes contained all the items she needed —stockings and garter belt, a bra that would provide support and be discreet beneath the low cut dress, matching panties, and a pair of high heels, which caused Elaine to salivate.

  The dress commanded all of Shyla’s attention, though. Its simple lines and complicated design were breathtaking. The ankle-length gown had a deep slit up the side and a low back. The front sloped into a plunging V-neck that revealed her cleavage. The black chiffon material shimmered under the light as Shyla twirled.

  “It’s perfect,” Elaine said, bouncing around Shyla.

  “Almost. It’s loose in the bust,” Shyla said, pointing to where the material drooped.

  “Yeah, a bit. Guess the salesgirl got that part wrong.”

  “Nope, this is definitely Nick. He thinks my breasts are much bigger than they really are. Maybe he has depth-perception problems and needs glasses.”

  Elaine burst out laughing as if Shyla had made joke. Shyla realized she had. It felt good to laugh with her. They were roommates and fit somewhere on the friend scale, but their conversations were usually stiff.

  Elaine assessed the gown, tapping a finger against her lip. “I can fix this.”

  “How?”

  “Good ol’ needle and thread.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the gown looked as if it was tailored just for her.

  “How did you learn how to do this?”

  “My mother taught me.”

  “Thank you.” She embraced the other girl.

  “Hey, you’re going to crush the gown. Now, anything else you need help with?”

  Shyla stared at the shoes Elaine had so carefully rested on her desk. “I’m afraid of the shoes. I’ve never worn high heels, and those are like the Himalayas of high heels.”

  “Let’s practice.”

  Shyla felt silly as she walked the stretch of their small room in high heels, a pair of linen shorts, and NYU T-shirt, but Elaine said she might rip the dress if she wore it. The third time she fell on her knees, Elaine stood up, her purple ponytail bouncing as she shook her head.

  “It’s no use, Elaine, I’m going to break the shoes.”

  “Oh sweetie, these are Jimmy Choos. They’re built to last.” She held her hand out to help Shyla up. “It’s your knees and ankles I’m more worried about.” She gasped suddenly. “I have an idea.”

  If Shyla felt silly before, she was now entering ridiculous mode. Elaine had added what she referred to as a necessary safety
accessory to Shyla’s ensemble—knee pads. Elaine turned on her iPod and attached it to the speakers.

  “You’re kidding,” Shyla said when Justin Timberlake’s “SexyBack” came on.

  “This is inspirational. This song exudes sexiness. I mean, Justin brought it back just for us.”

  “Where did it go?”

  “Don’t know, but the way he moves, I’m sure it’s here to stay. Now, c’mon girl, work it.”

  Shyla walked again, and Elaine joined her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I can’t let you have all the fun. Not when Justin’s singing.”

  The girls met in the middle of the room, their hands clasping as they danced with provocative bravado.

  “You should hop in the shower now.”

  Shyla nodded, carefully taking off each shoe.

  When she came out, Elaine had an assortment of makeup on the desk and held up her hair straightener. “I borrowed some of this from Marni. She’s similar in skin tone to you. Dry your hair quick so I can straighten it.”

  Shyla looked at the device, a bit hesitant.

  Elaine sighed. “Relax, this is the second most important electronic device a woman can own. Trust me.”

  “What’s the first?”

  Surprisingly, Elaine blushed. “One I will never let you borrow.”

  Shyla blinked in confusion until clarity came, and then she burst into laughter.

  Elaine worked on her hair until each strand glistened with shine and felt like silk. Elaine applied the foundation and blush like a professional, instructing Shyla how to play up her features. When it came to the eyes though, Shyla shook her head, taking the pencil from Elaine. “I can do this on my own.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I know how to use kohl.”

  “I would go darker on them.”

  “Elaine, Indian women invented the smoky eye. I’ve got this.”

  A few minutes later, Elaine let out a low whistle, obviously impressed by Shyla’s handiwork. “Yeah, you definitely know what you’re doing when it comes to eyes. Maybe you can help me when I need to get dolled up.”