Quick Study

by Gretchen Galway

  “I don’t want to wait,” she said.

  “I know,” he said, as though soothing a child. He reached over again and slid his hand back over her hot, needy sex, his palm flat and hard and sure. “Don’t be afraid of what you want.”

  “I want a lot,” she said.

  “I know.” He withdrew his hand, patted her between her legs, and moved his hand to cup the back of her neck. His thumb stroked along her nape, a tickle that sent shocks down her belly. She groaned and tilted her head to expose more of his neck to his touch.

  “Almost there,” he said. His large fingers found a delicate band of muscle under her ear, traced the nerve with a fingernail, then retreated back to the steering wheel.

  Bereft, Bonnie sighed and squeezed her eyes shut, imagining more. The car banked hard to the right and she looked out. Off the freeway now. They were driving away from the traffic, uphill into quiet, private roads and large homes shaded under twisted branches of giant live oaks and eucalyptus. He turned onto another road, narrow and steep, and they continued to climb.

  She realized how rich he must be. Flatlanders didn’t even know places like this existed, they were so carefully hidden above the freeways and strip malls and riffraff. Big houses perched on cliffs. Gated driveways. Priceless views of winter-green hills and the valleys populated with millions of the less fortunate.

  “One of the Haves, are you?” she said, not with bitterness, just surprise.

  He stopped the car right there in the middle of the road, leaned over, and nuzzled her ear. “I sure am now,” he said, which was just what she wanted to hear, but his touch, nice as it was, was slowing them down from getting where they were going.

  “Please keep driving,” she said, and he laughed.

  “Don’t worry, Bonnie. You’ll get what you need soon.” And he drove the rest of the way with his hand between her legs, over the denim, but rubbing and squeezing and stroking until her head fell back against the seat and she gave up all pretense of control.

  The car stopped.

  He unbuckled his seat belt. They were parked in the driveway next to the detached garage, the main house on the other side quietly attractive and understated and probably worth a fortune, even these days.

  These higher-brained thoughts were flimsy, distant things that she was only vaguely aware of, the bulk of her mind in a frenzy to guess what the man now walking around the car was about to do to her.

  He opened her door and leaned down to look in her face, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Did you ask your neighbor about me?”

  Surprised, Bonnie nodded.

  “My sister knows her, right?”

  She nodded again.

  “Then you know I come from a nice, respectable family. One that I love and respect in return.”

  “Why are you—”

  “So you have nothing to fear when I tell you to take off all your clothes right now, before we go inside.”

  She couldn’t breathe. “Here?”

  “Will you trust me? I think you’d enjoy it if I took over.”

  She looked into his nice strong face and felt a flood of something sweeter than lust. Something she’d have to think about later. Her neighbor had told her a lot about him, from his sister’s perspective, making him sound like a guy who couldn’t decide if he was a playboy or a professor. The idea of having both, in one man, made her hot.

  “Tell me what to do,” she said.

  He nodded, eyes growing darker as he squatted down and put a hand on either side of her hips. Grasping the waistband of her jeans, he tugged her sideways in the seat until she was facing him, her feet dangling out of the car and her bottom coming out of her jeans. With her exposed backside rubbing against the upholstery, she lifted her legs to let him pull her pants down to her ankles, then over her feet, taking her flip-flops with them. He threw the bundle into the backseat, but when she tried to pull her underwear off all the way, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist to stop her.

  “Leave them on.” He slid them back up over her knees and up her thighs.

  She would have to lift her bottom off the seat to help him pull the elastic back up to her waist, but she paused, suddenly shy about her nakedness, by the thatch of her dark pubic hair lit by afternoon shaft of sunlight so close to his face.

  He didn’t comment, just forced the undies the rest of the way up by himself, roughly, stopping only when they were much higher than they needed to be. The sharp pain from the tight fabric slicing her apart made her gasp, and when he stood up to draw her completely out of the car, he maintained his grip on the fabric and increased the pressure.

  The driveway was crushed gravel, cold and sharp under her bare feet. The sun, slanting low, was bright in her eyes, but too weak to warm the January hilltop, and she shivered.

  “Once you take off the rest of your clothes I’ll let you come inside,” he said. “If you’re good.”

  “I’m not very.”

  “Then I’ll have to teach you.”

  She nodded, smiling through the thrill that overtook her senses, and took off her t-shirt. But he didn’t smile back, just stared with hooded eyes at her breasts. Feeling the power, she tossed her t-shirt back into the car, then turned back, took a moment to caress her nipples through the smooth cups of her bra while he watched. She pinched them, then looked down, tilted her head and continued to caress and touch herself as though he weren’t there.

  “You aren’t trying to be good,” he said, voice strained. “We’re really going to have to work on that.” He grabbed her arm, pulled her towards him, and slammed the door behind her with his foot. “Take off your bra.”

  “You wanted the panties,” she said with a mocking pout. “They’re a matched set.”

  “I’ll show you a matched set.” He took her shoulders in his large hands and turned her to face the short, slanted hood. Holding her hips against his, he pressed a firm, flat hand on her upper back bent her forward over the cold steel. “Take off your bra.”

  “But now I can’t reach,” she said, goading him.

  “You’re not trying.”

  She flexed her arms behind her in a weak effort. “It’s too hard.”

  He ground his hips into her raised ass. “It is, isn’t it?”

  She laughed. It was ridiculous for her to be so turned on. “Maybe you could help me.”

  “Maybe you need to try harder.” She felt a broad fingernail, possibly his thumb, sink between her thighs and slide upwards along the thong. Then he jerked it tight, like he’d been doing before, but this time the pressure was all in the front. But not nearly hard or deep enough.

  “What will you do if I really work at it?” she asked.

  He caressed her ass in a lazy, soft circle. “I’ll let you have my big, hard cock where you want it.”

  In spite of the ghosts of academic feminists weeping around her, she moaned in delight, reached back to unhook and wriggle free of her bra, and threw herself mostly-naked over the hood of his dorky car.

  He ran his hand up her spine and tunneled his fingers into her hair. She heard him chuckle. “Not here. But I appreciate the enthusiasm. Come on, let’s go in.” He helped her upright and gently turned her to face him.

  She pressed up against him, a cold breeze making her feel more naked and vulnerable than before. Somehow, just wearing the thong was more terrifying than being completely naked.

  Glancing down at her erect nipples brushing his leather jacket, he visibly shuddered, closed his eyes for a moment. “Lift your arms.”

  “What?”

  He peered down at her, eyebrow raised. “You’re not trying again.”

  She pulled in her lips, trying not to smile, and lifted her hands above her head.

  He bent down and lifted her onto his shoulder, caveman style, her head hanging down his back and her ass in the air. Squealing and laughing, she kicked her feet and gasped for breath. “Oh my God!”

  His hand patted her exposed, protruding bottom. “Now you may come inside.”


  “Thank you so much.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, and spanked her. She gasped with delight and anticipation.

  Her pussy was wet and exposed for him, but he didn’t touch her there anymore, just bent his knees to readjust her weight on his shoulder and strode over to the house. Hanging upside down made the blood rush to her head and increased her sense of disorientation, and she was grateful he set her down the moment they got inside a small room at the side of his house. A laundry room. And not the coin-op kind she had at her place.

  He was staring at her, breathing heavily.

  “I’m not exactly petite,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “You’re perfect and you know it.” He reached forward to pull her arms down. “Don’t cover yourself up. I went to all that trouble to get you here looking just like that.” And he gazed at her, an awed lust in his face, then stepped close to her and brought his hand to her breast. While deft fingers kneaded her nipple into a hard point, he stuck his tongue in her ear, licked along the shell-like curve, and breathed. The combination of wet, hot, and cold along sensitive nerves made her shiver, and she wanted more of it, wanted to close her eyes and give herself up to it and melt into bliss—

  But he was still fully-clothed. And they were next to a washing machine and his recycling bins and she had some standards. She pushed him away, covered her nipples with her palms, and gave him a saucy look.

  “You’ll have to do better than that, rich boy,” she said. “If I’m going to be on my back, I’d like a real bed. Otherwise I’ll be all sore tomorrow.”

  He gave her an evil grin. “You’re worried about being sore?”

  Surprisingly thrilled by the eagerness in his face, she turned away from him and jogged into the house, conscious of how her round ass jiggled when she moved, especially if it was bare. “Different kind of sore!” she called out as she ran away from him over the tile floor, noticing vaguely how empty the house was. There was hardly any furniture, clutter, decorations. There was a rug in the hallway near the kitchen, though, and she slipped on it as looked back to taunt him and stumbled against the wall.

  Then he was there, holding her up, fingers wrapped around her naked ribcage. He pressed her against the wall with his long, hard body, his mouth bent down to hers. “I never thought of jogging as a spectator sport. Until now.” He took her mouth, shoving his tongue deep and firm past her teeth while his hands lifted her higher for better access. She wrapped her legs around his hips and squeezed, feeling the protruding denim of his jeans between her thighs.

  “Take off your pants, damn it,” she said, turning her head aside.

  “What will you do for me?” He pushed her against the wall, grinding his pelvis harder. “Or are you a very selfish girl?”

  The absurdity of that broke through the fog of her desire. “I donated the family fortune to the Red Cross,” she said, laughing softly into his neck. “They still haven’t forgiven me.”

  “You what?” He pulled his head back to look into her eyes. “You did?”

  “It wasn’t that much, but it made me feel good,” she said. “So I guess I am selfish, in my own way.”

  He shook his head, smiling, and slid the tip of his nose across her cheek. “You were just expecting to cash in someday on your good deed, I bet.” He moved back slightly so her feet slid down to the floor. “A down payment for good karma. Cynical, really.”

  “I am actually very, very greedy.” She ran her hands under his jacket and moved it off his shoulders. “For instance, I don’t like to share.”

  He tsked. “What if you have something everybody else wants?”

  “Everybody?” she asked, nibbling his collar bone.

  He nodded, a chuckle rumbling beneath her lips.

  She smiled. “Poor them.”

  “Good answer.” He let his jacket fall to the floor and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Take off your shoes, too,” she said. “And socks.” She stepped back and watched. He gave her a lazy grin and went slowly, taking the time to lean against the wall as he moved, never taking his eyes off hers.

  He was perfect. Real, broad, narrow, smooth, hard, male. She reached forward to trace the dark feathering of hair down his belly but he waved her hand away. So close to the delicious shadow above the fly of his jeans, she pouted and tried again.

  He grabbed her wrist and held her tightly. “Greedy and impatient. I’ll have to teach you to behave.”

  She shook her head and sighed, staring at the muscles flexing in his abdomen. “Good luck with that.”

  “Oh, it’s not luck.” He bent over and removed his shoes, then peeled off his socks, exposing the bunched muscles of his back. When he stood up, barefoot and stripped to the waist, he was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. It was difficult to swallow.

  “Show me,” she whispered.

  He nodded, not smiling, and took her elbow. “Don’t worry about the bed. You won’t be on your back.”

  Now what? Paul stroked the soft skin under Bonnie’s forearm and guided her past the kitchen towards his favorite room in the house, determined to live up to the expectations he had built. He wanted to make it unforgettable for her.

  But he was having trouble thinking clearly. Trouble thinking at all. She was too damn perfect and he wanted her too much, so he kept forgetting to go slow, plan a couple steps ahead, get creative, hold the wheel. He prided himself on his control, on his care and his timing; he could submerge his own weak needs and keep a woman teetering on the edge, just where he wanted her, until finally driving them both off a cliff.

  Bonnie threw himself into his arms. Soft, solid, female, unpredictable. “Kiss me again.”

  He smiled and bent down, intending just one little taste, but soon she had wrapped her fingers around the back of his head and was sucking his tongue into her sweet mouth.

  Control, my ass. He drew back until his lips were half an inch above hers and barely managed to say, “Not yet, sweetheart. Hang in there.”

  “Not so bossy, now, are you?”

  That got him. He grabbed her wrists. “You like bossy, don’t you?”

  She sighed, smiling. “Afraid so. It’s boring to be the only one with any balls.”

  “Christ.” He shoved his hand down the front of her underwear and cupped the soft mound of curls. “Don’t talk like that.” He bent his middle finger and stroked it between the folds.

  “Balls balls balls,” she taunted softly, but her eyes were unfocused, distracted by what his hand was doing between her legs.

  “Now turn around,” he said, “and keep walking until I tell you to stop.”

  “Can’t,” she gasped. “You’re holding—”

  He drew his finger out of her pussy, ruthlessly ignoring her clit, and rotated her roughly in his arms so that her tantalizing ass was pressed up against his cock still encased in his jeans. He stroked his hands up along the sides of her waist, feeling her tremble, finally settling beneath her breasts. “Beg me.”

  “Don’t think so,” she said, but he felt her chest heaving beneath his touch, and knew how bad she wanted more.

  With the flick of a fingertip, he teased one nipple, then snaked both hands through her hair and whispered into her ear, “Beg me.”

  “No.”

  His cock, furious, strained to get out of his pants. Dismissing the distant bedroom with its new bed, Paul glanced around the house he’d just moved into, realized how overly fucking huge it was, and decided the room in front of them would just have to do. “I warned you.” He pushed her inside with his body still pressed up against her backside.

  She broke free and looked around his home gym, frowning. Her nipples were pink and erect, bouncing just out of reach. “You’re going to make me work out? I will beg you to save me from that.”

  “Such a brat.” Gazing at her, he unbuttoned his jeans. “Come here.”

  “Going to make me do sets?”

  He smiled. “And lots and lots of reps.” Thick
and eager, his cock broke free of his shorts. He shoved his jeans off and watched her face as she studied him. The desire on her face was almost too much. “Think of me as your personal trainer.”

  She sighed and let her hands slide down her curves. “I’m not very athletic,” she said, stroking her rounded hips. “Just don’t have the discipline.”

  “Some people need help with that.”

  “I don’t know. I’m very lazy.” And with that, she walked over to his bench, padded but narrow, and straddled it, facing him but leaning back on her hands. He could see her pussy straining past the band of her flimsy underwear, slicing her in half, exaggerating her sex like a ribbon around a present he’d kill to open.

  “Maybe you should lie down,” he said. Heart thudding in his chest, he strode over to her, conscious of how her eyes were raking over his body. “And rest.”

  She made an exaggerated sigh and collapsed onto her back, then pushed her feet up onto her toes, thrusting her pelvis up for him. He’d never be able to lift weights in here again without remembering her like this, sprawled on her back in that thong, open for him.

  He scowled down at her. He could barely contain himself as it was. “Stop wiggling around.”

  “You mean like this?” She held her hands under her breasts, lifting them up towards him, while the rest of her continued to squirm.

  He forced himself to look away and strode over to the shelving at the back of the room, finding what he wanted with a grunt of satisfaction. Four would be plenty.

  Here eyes went wide when she saw the colorful elastic bands he was holding. “What are those?”

  “Lift up your hands.”

  “That again?”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Very.” He leaned down to her, unable to resist her wide, mocking lips, and kissed her hard. She came to life under his touch, open-mouthed and sweet, and he forgot for a moment what he was about to do to enjoy the ridiculous, goofy joy he felt when they dropped the act and touched one another.

  “Paul?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “I’m on my back. You said I wouldn’t be.”

  He pulled away and looked at her. “You are such a whiner.” Conveniently, her hands were wrapped around his neck, easily ensnared by one of his hands. He pulled an elastic band off his neck, drew it slowly across her mouth, and gave her a serious look. “I need to teach you a lesson.”