Eroe

by Mj Fields

  “And now you’re going to take it out on me, is that it?”

  I have never been in a fight, but I’m not afraid. In fact, I welcome it. My father has ruined so many lives, this was bound to happen eventually.

  “Go on, here is your chance,” I spit at him, raising my hands. “Hit me!”

  He mirrors my actions, and stands his ground. I’m six foot and he is just as tall. He’s thinner than I am, lanky. I have a trained body. Much more bulk. I can take him.

  “You first!”

  I’ve also never had someone my age look me in the eye, without showing any kind of fear. Somehow, I can’t bring myself to hit him. And after a few more seconds, I no longer want to. I wait for him to relax, and then I do the same.

  For a few minutes, we just stand there, fists at our sides.

  “So,” I gesture between us. “Was this what you wanted to show me? That my father ruins lives? Because, trust me. I already know.”

  Thor doesn’t seem to know how to answer that. I wonder if this was his plan, to bring me out here and get his revenge on my father, through me. He shakes his head, slowly, then lets out a long, loud breath. In that moment, it’s clear that we both realize the truth: that none of what our fathers do—or did, in his case—should matter to us. At least, not as much as it does. To some small extent, he understands what it’s like.

  “So, I guess we’re not mortal enemies. Alright then, town it is.” He turns away, gesturing for me to follow. “Come on. I’m driving.”

  About an hour later, we’re sitting in a local dive bar, drinking their cheapest wine, when he taps my shoulder and nods toward the door. I look up to see a group of girls walking in, dressed in short skirts and heels.

  “Shit.” Thor runs his fingers through his hair, looking excited. “She never comes out.”

  I don’t ask who he means, because I don’t care. I’ve already seen something that is of much more interest to me.

  “Is she coming over here?”

  I continue to ignore him, eyes still locked on Luciana.

  “Luciana Prova.” He whispers the name, because she’s come up to stand next to our table. His tone holds reverence.

  “Hello, Thor.” Without waiting for an invite, Luciana sits down across from me, next to him. Her tone is icy, as she nods in my direction. “Sabato.”

  “Oh, so you guys know each other?” Thor looks stunned.

  “So, Sabato. Did you like my gift?” Also ignoring Thor, Luciana slowly removes her sweater and hangs it over the back of her chair. Her top is nearly see through, a blatant invitation to stare.

  I am mesmerized by her tits, straining against her nearly see through tank top. When I catch her staring back at me, I remember she was talking. I shake my head, no.

  “I told you everyone knows everyone around here, Efisto.” Thor leans over, obstructing my view. He’s trying to be subtle about it, but I catch him checking out Luciana’s tits from the corner of his eye.

  I have no idea why it pisses me off, but it does. Very much. But Luciana doesn’t seem to care if either of us ogle her.

  Thor clears his throat, oblivious to my building rage. “So, what about the dance on Friday night? Have you made up your mind yet?”

  Eyes still locked on mine, Luciana raises one eyebrow.

  “She’s going with me,” I say.

  “What?” Thor looks surprised, and a little annoyed. “When did that happen?”

  Smiling, Luciana doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, well, Sabato asked me a few days ago—before you did. But...I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go.” She reaches across the table, takes my glass of wine and sips from it, then licks her lips.

  Thor stares at us for a long moment, then something seems to dawn on him. “Wait...seriously?”

  My eyes still hold hers. “Very.”

  “Luciana, you really want this fucking guy in your life? You want someone—”

  “You better watch it superhero.” I warn.

  “Have a nice walk home Efisto,” he snaps at me as he stands. “You’re making a big mistake here, Luciana. You’re choosing the wrong guy. He’ll ruin you.”

  I’d be a hell of a lot more pissed at Thor’s words if Luciana wasn’t looking at me the way she is. She wants me. She wants me, and not the dead cop’s kid.

  Luciana shakes her head, then tilts back and downs the rest of my drink. I instantly forget what I was just talking about. The long, graceful line of her neck is like a slippery slope into madness.

  She stands, holding her hand out to me, ignoring Thor completely as he huffs away. “Come on, let’s dance.”

  She doesn’t have to ask again. I stand up and take her hand. She leads me onto the empty dance floor. I haven’t really danced much, but somehow I am not nervous at all.

  “Do you have something to ask me?” Luciana stands close, facing me and reaches up to link her fingers behind my neck.

  I know what she means, but until now I was just playing along to mess with Thor. “If I take you to the dance, you’re going to expect too much of me”

  “Well....” She shrugs, and her breasts brush up against my chest. “If that’s how you feel, then maybe I’ll just go with Thor...or one of the countless other guys who have asked me.”

  With a sexy little sigh, she starts to pull away.

  I grip her hips tighter, keeping her close. “If I take you to the dance, you won’t even remember any of their names. Not after what I will do to you, after the dance.”

  Instead of looking shocked, like I wanted, she only laughs. “If I accept your offer, you’re going to fall in love with me. And you’ll never be done with me, because I’m addictive. You’ll see.”

  She’s playing me, I realize. Baiting me with vague promises and blatant challenges to my manhood. Well, she has no idea who she’s dealing with. I may still be a virgin, but I am far from naive.

  “Why are you smiling like that?” Her eyebrows quirk up, and I smile even wider. She has no idea what kind of game she started.

  Instead of answering her question, I lean down and kiss her. She moans lightly, pressing against me even harder. She thinks I’m following her rules, taking the steps she asked me to take.

  But this is my game, now.

  The Dance

  Surprisingly, she sticks to her guns about these steps of hers. I have to dress ‘nice.’ I wear a gray suit and tie. She even sends me a package that has a red tie in it, with a note saying ‘wear me.’ I actually fucking wear it.

  Then I pick her up at her dorm, and bring her flowers, like a gentleman.

  She is dressed in a red dress that makes her golden tanned body look even more stunning. The dress exposes her shoulders and has no straps. It does not expose her tits, but hugs them. The skirt of the dress is shaped like a bell at the bottom. It hits above her knees, and—dio mio, how I love her knees. She is beaming, as she smells the flowers. She is happy, because of me. She smiles, twirls her hair in her finger and I feel happiness—true happiness—building up inside me. It has been years since I’ve felt like this.

  As we walk out of the building, I hold her hand. I open the door to my car and shut it behind her. I do every damn thing I know a gentleman should do. She looks at me like I imagine the women in that painting from long ago looked at the Adonis before he died. Adoringly.

  I feel full and fed. I am happy and I have a hunger again—not only for life, but for more of her. All of her.

  We hold hands as I speed down the windy road.

  With one hand, I let go of the wheel and caress her knee. Her skin is soft, and I pull her leg towards me. She allows it. I rub my hand slowly up and down her inner thigh. Surprisingly, she allows that, too. With each upward sweep I gain skin and space to roam, until my fingers finally brush against silk. Her panties are soft and wet. I look at her, and her eyes are half-closed in rapture.

  I pull to the side of the road, the exact spot we pulled over at the first time she was in my car. I get out, walk around and open her door. She turns in her sea
t and starts to stand.

  I kneel on the ground in front of her, kissing her knees until she allows my lips to travel up her inner thigh. My hands lightly skim her legs, pushing her dress higher and higher.

  I bend down to lick across the silk and she cries out, steadying herself by grabbing my shoulders. I consider it an encore, and do it again.

  I love how she smells. I love the hot taste of moisture on her panties. Her hips thrust forward and I push my tongue underneath the silky wet material as I pull it aside with my fingers.

  I drag her panties down to her ankles, and she kicks them off.

  “Lean back.”

  She does as I ask. I grab her knees and pull them apart. I don’t hold back, don’t hesitate, even for a second—I’m afraid if I wait too long, she will tell me to stop. So I don’t give her the option. I devour her, one lick at a time, pushing my tongue deeper and deeper inside with each thrust. My face is covered in her scent, but it only makes me even hungrier. I suck at her and she cries out louder. So I do it again, and again, and again, until she is thrashing and holding onto my hair. I suck one last time and plunge my tongue into her. Her pussy clenches around it as her body shakes in orgasm.

  Full of satisfaction, I lean back to look at her face. Her hair is disheveled, and her cheeks are red and slightly shiny. As much as I like her dressed up, beaming and smiling, I decide I love her when she is tumbled and sated.

  We go to the dance next, and she doesn’t leave my side. The entire night, I hold her in my arms, imagining how she will look when I have fucked her thoroughly for the first time.

  ***

  The next night, I catch her throwing rocks at my window.

  “What are you doing?” I can’t tell what she’s wearing, but her feet are bare.

  “I want you to...do that thing again,” she whispers, and I can almost hear her blushing in the dark.

  I smile to myself, triumphant. “First, I need you to do something for me.”

  Staring up at me, she nods eagerly. I run out of my room to the back door and sneak her up the stairs, into my dorm.

  I lead her to the bed, then lay down next to her. Letting my eyes roam over her greedily, I run my hand up under her shirt.

  “No bra?”

  Luciana bites her lip and shakes her head, no. Encouraged, I pull her shirt up to her neck and kiss her beautiful rosy red nipples. Then I nibble them gently. Her hips are grinding against me now, and I am painfully erect inside my pants. Every time her body tenses, I know I can easily make her come, but I won’t. Not yet. Not until she craves her orgasm so much, she will do anything to make me give it to her.

  “Sabato, please.” She says it over and over. I love that I am making her beg for it. It helps me to ignore the pressure I feel to seek my own release.

  “Patience,” I whisper. I bite down on one of her nipples, pulling it with my teeth.

  She whimpers, and I let go, but only for a moment.

  “They’re beautiful, so red, so hard.”

  Her thighs clench together and she groans, like she’s in some kind of agony.

  “What’s the matter, Luciana?” I taunt her. “Would you like to come, like you did last night?” With each word, I grind against her harder. “Would you like to soak my face with your juices? Would you like me to lick you so hard that you feel the friction of my tongue for days afterward?”

  Breathlessly, frantically, she nods.

  But I only shake my head, no. I stop moving. “That is too bad. I won’t give you the satisfaction, because you give me no satisfaction. I want you to know what it feels like, every time I am with you. I burn with excitement but never explode into flame. I thirst for your taste, but you don’t even know what I taste like.”

  “Sabato....” Her voice is pleading, desperate. But she can’t tell me what I want to hear. She can’t say the words I need: “Yes. Do it. Fuck me, Sabato.”

  I reach underneath her and grip her ass, hard.

  “Who is missing the steps now, Luciana? Who is using who? Am I just a toy to you?”

  I can see some of the blind desire seep out of her eyes. She looks confused.

  The anger I’ve been holding inside, buried under my desire, begins to take over. Release isn’t the only thing she’s been withholding from me. Virtue I can forgive, but teasing is unacceptable. If she doesn’t want me...doesn’t love me...why is she trying so hard to make me love her?

  “Did you follow me to the cliffs that day, because you wanted to see my cock? Did you get into my car, without being asked, because you wanted to give me a present? The cross? I thought you were just following your hidden desires, but now I think I was wrong. Now, I think you wanted to fuck me in a different way. Tell me, Luciana. Is this just your way of feeling powerful, of living dangerously?”

  “You’re hurting me,” she says.

  I don’t realize how tightly I’m holding her. Angrier than ever, I let go of her and sit up, turning away.

  “Get out.”

  “Sabato.” She reaches out toward me.

  “No, I mean it. Get out. Everyone either fears me or hates me in their own way, and I have come to live with that. But I am not a toy. Just because my father is not some senator or diplomat—or whatever it is your precious daddy does—it doesn’t make me your slave. Take your pleasure from me, but give it back. One-way orgasm is not a service I offer.”

  “But...I’m in love with you.” I can hear the tears forming in her voice, but I don’t look at her. “I’ve watched you for a year, long before I knew who you were, and I had already fallen, even before I knew why we shouldn’t be together. I mean, our families...we’re both in a position to be watched and judged, all the time. My family has money too, Sabato. My father wants me to marry a businessman or banker. To him, reputation is everything. But that doesn’t mean...I’m not that kind of person. I would never....”

  I shake my head and stand up. “Don’t.”

  “Sabato, listen. I know what it feels like to....” She stops. “I mean, I don’t know exactly what you must have gone through when...but I do understand loss.”

  I turn on her, hands balling into fists. “No one knows what I went through.”

  “Everyone knows!” She crawls to the edge of the bed. “It was all over the news.”

  She stands up and I think she is going to leave. “I am not teasing you Sabato. I just don’t know how to hold onto something—I mean, someone like you. You’re like a force of nature. People tell me you’re dangerous. But I can’t...I don’t want to stay away from you. And I don’t think you want to stay away from me.”

  “Wait.” I stop her before she opens the door. “You’re expecting too much from me, Luciana.”

  “No, I’m not. I see you. I see you, Sabato, even beneath the wall of tragedy you try to hide behind.”

  “I’m not hiding.”

  “Sabato, you are. I just want to be there when it comes down, when you expose yourself, and finally let others see you the way I do.”

  I am beyond frustrated with her. I hold my head in my hands, gripping my hair until it hurts, squeezing my brain.

  “There’s nothing more to say, Luciana. You won’t take what I am offering. And I keep telling you that I can’t give you more.” I let go and glare at her, probably looking like a crazy person. “And you of all people should understand that, since you refuse to give me any real part of yourself. You say I hide behind my ‘walls of tragedy?’ Well, at least I don’t hide behind the cross, and my fear of letting go.”

  I walk to the door and throw it open.

  “Wait!” Tears run down her face, as slowly, she reaches up and starts taking her shirt off. “Am I beautiful to you?”

  She’s crazy. She has to be. Shaking my head, I look over her soft smooth upper body and nod. I can’t lie. “Extremely. But I don’t just want to look at you, Luciana. I want—”

  “I know.” Her pants are next. “I want you to touch me, too. With every part of you. But you have to promise me that you won’t
touch anyone else. I couldn’t handle it.”

  Never in my life would I have thought I’d be so tempted, to swear my life away. But I am. Suddenly, I want to promise myself to her, more than anything.

  I lick my lips, eyes still glued to her naked form. “Will you...do you promise the same?”

  Luciana smiles. “Always.”

  She steps out of her pants and lets them drop to the floor. Her white lace underwear, brightly contrasted against her creamy, smooth tan make me ache everywhere. I ball my hands into fists to keep from ravaging her.

  She turns her back to me, looking playfully over her shoulder as she slowly pushes her underpants down. When she turns back to me, her face is a challenge.

  “Are you sure, Sabato? Will you still want me tomorrow?”

  “And the next day,” I say, hastily undressing myself.

  She lies down on my bed, watching me undress much less gracefully than she just did. Eager as I’ve ever been, I move to the foot of the bed, to stand looking down on the picture she paints.

  “Bella.” I pull my shirt off, finally naked too. “Open for me. Let me see you.”

  My order seems to bring back some of her shyness. “You already did, yesterday”

  “No,” I shake my head, mouth watering.” Not in the light. I want to see you.”

  Her knees fall open, gently. I can only hold back for a moment before climbing up on the bed to hover over her. I want to wait, but I can’t. It’s like gravity, pulling my body toward hers—and soon, into hers.

  I grab my cock in my hand and stroke it up and down along her hot, pink slit.

  “Please, be gentle,” she whimpers.

  I push inside her slowly, watching her eyes widen as I feed her pussy an inch at a time.

  “Is this good?”

  “Pressure,” she gasps, finally releasing a breath. “Kiss me, please.”

  I lean down and kiss her forehead, then her cheeks, then her lips. As I do, I reach between us to rub her clit. She moans. I pinch it between my fingers. She cries out in surprise, then smiles.

  “I love how you make me feel, Sabato.”

  I don’t tell her, because I’m afraid of what it means, but I’ve never felt anything as good as this.