by J. A. Huss
Stars. He’s a fucking physicist. Or whatever. Astronomer. So that fits. They might even tell a story.
“I don’t hear your pencil moving,” Mateo says, never turning around from his tasks.
I go back to work and he continues cooking. What I’m doing is not hard. Chapter one of any math textbook is mostly stuff I already know, with a few specific additions. I’m smart enough to know the difference. I pick out the points that are important and write them down.
“Done?” Mateo asks when I set my pencil aside with a sigh.
I look over at him and get stuck on just how much there is to see. He’s got his arms folded across his chest, his head tilted a little. Those cannon biceps are bulging and he’s leaning back some, allowing me to see the definition of his abs through his tight t-shirt. He must’ve shaved this morning, because he has less stubble on his face than yesterday. Just a shadow really. I look down at his bare feet and realize he took his boots off at some point. God, I have no idea why that’s sexy, but it is. “Done,” I confirm.
“How many sections?” he asks.
“Um.” I look down at my paper. “Fifteen.”
“OK, that’s it for today. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”
“What?”
“You were hoping for more?”
I laugh. “Well, you did promise more.”
“You want it?”
Jesus Christ. He’s got an ego he needs stroked? “I’m sitting here naked. I’ve been wanting it since my underwear hit the floor.”
He just stares at me.
“And I thought you’d at least feed me.” Fucking lasagna smells good. I would even consider giving up the sex if he’d let me stay for dinner.
He glances over at the oven, which has a timer that says there’s forty-five minutes left. I sigh. Big and long. And then push my chair back and get up.
“Is it wet?”
“What?” He scowls at my question. Asshole. It’s not that I don’t hear him, it’s just he’s so fucking inappropriate, I have to constantly ask myself if those words really came out of his mouth. I look down at the chair and to my horror, it is. “Yes,” I say back.
He smiles. “If you want it, come get it.”
I huff out some air. But after a second of thought, I walk over to him. If I ask a question now, he’ll give me that frown again. And then he’ll probably go on and on and on about some bullshit lesson I need to learn or blah, blah, blah. All I really want is a connection. Just something to make me feel wanted today.
So I take the hem of his t-shirt in my fingertips and begin to lift it. He prickles with goosebumps and I pause to look up into his eyes and realize he’s excited. “Keep going,” he says in a low growl.
I press my palms against the flat planes of his stomach and drag the fabric upward. He’s a lot taller than me, so when I get to his chest, he reaches down and whips the shirt over his head.
He’s got tattoos on his chest. Every kind of star you can imagine, all arranged in patterns. I gently touch one, tracing the faint line that connects it to another, and his skin prickles again. “I like these,” I say, looking up into his green eyes.
“I like you,” he says.
I blush, and look down to hide my smile.
But his fingers lift my chin back up and he says it again. “I like you. Keep going.”
I take a deep breath and slip my fingertips inside the waistband of his jeans. I can feel his cock growing under the denim and my body floods with warmth. I slide them against his tanned skin until I get to the buckle. It jingles as I work it free, and then the brown leather falls to either side of his growing bulge.
His hand slips under my hair and he pulls it aside. I look up at him again, and he nods.
Keep going.
I unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down, and before I even give myself time to think, I reach in and pull him out. He’s fully hard now and I know what he wants. But I get the feeling he doesn’t want to have to ask for it. So I bend down and settle on my knees in front of him and look up.
He’s got a fistful of my hair now, but he doesn’t urge me on. He wants to me initiate everything today.
I open my mouth and kiss his tip, my tongue darting out to lick small swirling patterns around his thick head. His hand in my hair gives the slightest push and I have a feeling he can’t help that. He’s a disciplined guy, I’m realizing. And if he wants me to initiate, then that small urge is a weakness on his part.
I gain a little confidence and open wider so he can slip inside me an inch or so. I let my tongue explore his tight skin, my hand coming up automatically to wrap around his shaft.
“Fuck, yeah,” he moans.
I tighten the seal of my lips and suck him in. This gets me a sigh and a tighter grip on my hair. “Mmmmm,” I hum.
His hips respond to that by rocking forward an inch or two, and I have to open wider to accommodate the new girth. I ease forward and allow him to penetrate me another inch. My mouth is small, so there is no way I’m taking him all in, but I want to make him sigh and moan some more. So I start bobbing on his cock, taking him in as far as I can, then withdrawing and letting my tongue caress him as I pull away.
“I don’t usually like it so slow, Shannon.” I look up at him and find his eyes at half-mast like he’s enjoying this. “But you can do it any way you want. It doesn’t matter.”
I keep my eyes trained on his as I continue pushing forward and drawing back. I do go slow. I like it slow and I’m not in a hurry.
“Touch yourself,” he says. It’s not harsh and I like that too. Slow and soft Mateo is someone I don’t know yet, but I’d like to see more of that part of him.
I reach down between my legs and find the pool of wetness. I’m almost embarrassed by how wet I am for him, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
“I want you to come,” he says. “I want you to come with my cock in your mouth and your fingers in your pussy.”
I take in a deep breath through my nose and start playing with my clit. Small, slow circles at first. I don’t think I can come the way he wants, but I’ll do anything he asks right now. I concentrate on his dick—licking it, sucking it, and waiting for that grip on my hair that says I’m doing it right.
“Make yourself come,” he reminds me.
I reach down farther and insert a finger inside me, probing deeper and deeper each time I take his cock inside me farther.
He moans.
I gush.
“Fuck,” he growls.
I swallow, feeling the tip of his cock in the back of my throat, and this time I get another hand gripping my hair.
“Mmmm,” I hum again, only now I’m doing it because I’m turned on and not because I’m satisfying him.
He moves my head now, forward and back, a little harder, a little more forcefully with each pass. I fuck myself with my fingers with more enthusiasm too, unable to stop the momentum we’re building.
My hands go to his hips to steady myself and then they are tugging his jeans down farther. I let them drop to his knees and stroke the muscles along the back of his thighs.
“I love that,” he says.
My hands slide upward, my mouth still fucking him in long strokes. Saliva pools in my cheeks and then drips out over my lips.
He moans again and thrusts his hips forward.
I almost gag, my hands tighten on the curves of his ass, but he pulls back at just the right moment and long strands of saliva dangle until they drop onto my bare legs.
“Come, Shannon,” he whispers.
My hand goes back to my thoroughly wet pussy and I begin to stroke. His cock begins to twitch inside my mouth, and then he pulls all the way out and kneels down in front of me. Kissing me on the mouth.
“I want to come down your throat, but I want you to come at the same time.” He kisses me again and my tongue can’t get enough of him. We tangle together like that for a few seconds, and then he stands back up, taking my silence and enthusiasm as permission.
I have never given a blow job like this before. It’s so much more than I ever knew was possible. His hands fist my hair so hard my scalp begins to burn, his cock reaching deeper and deeper inside me with each thrust. The saliva drips out of my mouth, my throat makes gurgling sounds and my fingers furiously stroke myself.
I feel the warmth of his come as he shoots it into my mouth and I slip two fingers inside myself just as my pussy contracts and my own come begins to drip down until it tickles my wrist.
“Swallow,” he says. “Swallow me, Shannon.”
I do. Holy fuck, I want every drop of him. I look up into his eyes and he bites his lip and then throws his head back, pumping one last time.
I fall to my ass and lean back until I’m resting on the floor, gasping, exhausted, and wanting desperately to lie down somewhere comfortable as Mateo kicks off his jeans and boxers and steps away from them.
“I’m gonna stay here on the floor and fall asleep,” I say.
He laughs. “We’re not done yet. I’m not even close to done yet.” He scoops me up into his arms and carries me towards the front door.
“What are you—”
“Shhh,” he chastises me. “Be quiet and trust me.”
He opens the door to the front porch. It’s screened in on all sides and it’s just about dusk.
“Mateo—”
“Shannon,” he growls. “Quiet. No one can see us.”
I find that hard to believe. I can see several people from where we stand. One is across the busy street—some lady doing gardening. The neighbor to the left is out, talking to the high-school kid who must live next door. And there’s an older woman a couple houses down with a dog on a leash.
“If you’re quiet, they’ll never know that I’m fucking you on the front porch, just a few feet away.”
“You’re crazy,” I say.
“Not really,” he says. “Just adventurous.” He sits down on a leather couch, placing me in his lap so we’re facing each other. “Did you have fun inside?”
I nod, still feeling the throbbing from my orgasm. I want more. I am dying for more.
“Put my cock inside you.”
I lift up my hips and find his wet tip. I rub it along my clit a few times, burying my head into his neck from the sensations. And then I place him at my entrance and ease down.
“Oh, fuck,” I say, as he stretches me wide.
“Fuck me,” Mateo says. “Fuck me the way you like it so I know how to do it next time.”
I forget about the people all around us. I forget about everything. How old he is, how much more experienced he is, how much trouble I will be in if people find out, what they’ll call me. I throw it all away because the only thing I have room for is the way he makes me feel.
I place my hands on his shoulders, gripping his hard muscles, and ease up and down so slowly it makes him grimace.
“Slow, then?” he asks.
I nod into his neck, my teeth nipping at his skin, my hands desperate to bring him closer to me. His finger finds my ass, probing the tight entrance just enough to drive me wild.
“Ohhhh,” I moan.
“Shhh,” he says. “We can be loud inside, but when we fuck out here, we will be quiet.” He whispers that so close to my ear, it vibrates through my whole body. The only part I care about is the promise of more.
I want more.
So I ease down, and up, and down and up. I get a rhythm going, my hips moving forward as I press his cock inside me so I can rub my clit against his shaft. Our breath becomes heavy and mine turns into uncontrollable panting.
“Come,” he whispers in my ear. “Come on my dick.”
I can’t help myself. Even if I wanted to wait, I can’t. I lean my head into his neck, my fingernails grip his shoulders so hard he growls, and I bite his ear—moaning, and moaning, and moaning so only he can hear me.
We sit there like that until I can feel his come slipping out of me. “We didn’t use a condom,” I say.
“We don’t need one,” he says back. “I found your pills in your room last week.”
Chapter Sixteen
He doesn’t give me any time to question him about that statement, because he says, “Lie on me, Shannon,” as he rearranges us so we are lying back along the couch and I’m on top of his chest.
I give off a huge sigh.
“Tired?” he asks, dragging a long strand of my hair up and down my back.
“Relaxed,” I say.
And then we go quiet. Our breathing evens out and I listen to his heartbeat get slower and slower and if he wasn’t still tickling my back with my own hair, I’d be convinced he was asleep.
“Will you come back here on Friday?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Do you think you don’t?”
I do, I realize. I could’ve walked out at any point today. I could’ve stopped this before it got started if I wanted to. But I don’t want to. “I’ll come back.”
“We’re really not going to fuck again until you pass a test.”
“I hope you’re a good teacher then. Because I could get used to this side of you.”
“What side?”
“The quiet side. I don’t get enough quiet in my life.”
“Mmmm,” he says, but it’s more of a question. “Your teenage problems are typical? Or atypical?”
I think about this for a moment. I was going to immediately say atypical, but it’s a thoughtful question, so it deserves a thoughtful answer. “My mom died a year and a half ago and my sister Jill got custody of me because I was already seventeen. She wanted to move to California. See the world, take a risk, become new people.”
“Did you hate the people you were?” he asks.
“I didn’t. But I guess she did.”
“Then what happened?”
“We bounced around, Escondido first, then San Diego. We always lived with her boyfriends. But then she got pregnant by Jason, my-brother-in-law who I live with now. And we moved up here with him after the baby was born. But she OD’d the day after we moved in. Left me with him, and him with the baby. Olivia’s three months old now.”
“I think that counts as atypical.”
“Me too,” I say, but it comes out filled with sadness.
Mateo drops the strand of hair and just uses his fingers to caress my back. It feels so good, I can’t even find a word for it. We sit there in silence for a long time and I wonder if he’s thinking about me and my sad situation or something else.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Shannon.”
“Are you hurting me?”
“Am I?”
I shake my head into his chest. “I—” But I have so much I want to say and no good way to let it out. “You’re not hurting me.”
More silence. I’d like to ask about him back. Learn a little more, see a little deeper. Why is he so weird? Why does he like young girls? Why me, mostly. But when I open my eyes I see the stars.
“Why stars?” I ask instead.
“Astronomy, remember?”
“You love them?”
“How could anyone not love them? They’re filled with the mysteries of the universe. When I was a kid I read this book about a star who came to Earth reincarnated as a dog.”
I huff out a laugh. “I know that book. Dogsbody.”
“Yeah,” he says. I can feel the smile in his heartbeat. “And it made me wonder if the stars knew all the answers. Because it really bugged me that I’d grow old and never know those secrets. So even though I am nothing but a good test-taker myself, I taught myself math so I could teach myself science. And I’ve spent the last twenty fucking years trying to get close to them.”
“That’s why you put stars all over your body? To be close to them?”
He nods. “Turn around and loo
k up.”
I force my satiated body to turn so my back is against his chest. He eases us up a little so we’re semi-sitting.
I look up. “Oh, wow,” I say. “That’s cool.” There’s a skylight in the porch roof. It’s wide and long, almost the entire length.
“My dad made me that skylight when I was eleven. I used to have a hammock out here as a kid and I’d sit in that thing looking up for hours.”
“Oh, my God, what time is it? I have to get home and watch the baby for Jason. He got a night job to help with bills.”
I try to get up, but Mateo’s arms wrap tightly around me. “Wait,” he says. “You’re missing the best part.” He points up to the sky and I squint my eyes, trying to follow his guiding path. “There’s a meteor shower up there right now.”
“Where?” I strain to look for shooting stars, but I can’t see anything.
“Ah, you have to know where to look. And it’s not dark enough in the city. One day I’ll take you somewhere dark and I’ll show you everything.” He sits up, me still clinging to him, and stands.
“I’d like that,” I say as he walks us inside and deposits me in front of the bathroom.
“Clean up.”
I go into the bathroom and wash, thinking about how close I feel to Mateo right now. I met him three days ago. How is that possible?
“Hey,” he says, knocking at the door before opening it. “Here’s your clothes.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking them from his hands. He holds on to them for an extra second and my eyes meet his. Something passes between us at that moment. I’m not sure what it is, but it feels… intimate.
And then he lets go and closes the door.
I put my clothes back on and walk back to the kitchen. His lasagna smells awesome, but I have to go before Jason gets pissed. So I gather my book and papers as he watches and then stand there, unsure what to say.
He nods to the backpack over my shoulder. “Memorize everything you wrote down today. There will be a quiz tomorrow.” He comes over, wraps an arm around my waist, and pulls me in for a parting kiss. “And stay away from Danny Alexander, Shannon. I mean it.”
