36 Inches: A MFMM Romantic Comedy

by Alexis Angel

  Wow, I can’t believe I just thought that. I'm so distracted by my thoughts that I almost don’t see one of the guys from class catch up with me.

  “Emmaline, right?” As far as I can tell, he was one of the one’s laughing before, but I don’t recognize his voice from some of the catcalling, so I guess he thinks he still has a chance?

  As fucking if.

  “What?” I say. I really don’t want to talk to him, but I’ll hear what he has to say, shut him down, and head back to my room. I want to get started on that next English assignment. I'm thinking about English and not Ethan giving the assignment. I don’t have this class again for a few days, but I like to finish assignments, or at least get started on them, as soon as I get them. I like to keep on track of things.

  And honestly I should probably meet up with Delia. Study and tea — our commitment to avoid snacking so that we stay trim and focus on doing homework instead of things like drinking.

  “Basically, just wanted to apologize,” this guy says. “I’m Aiden, my bros, they weren’t trying to hurt your feelings or anything.”

  “Okay, sure,” I say, and I nod because I’m looking to keep running without company. “Thanks for apologizing.”

  “No worries, babe. You just gotta learn to take a compliment. You should appreciate the attention. I know you must not get a lot of it, so it was really a favor—”

  “Hold the fuck up,” I say, turning to face him. We both stop. “I'm so sick of entitled shits like you and your damn friends. There’s not a single bit of compliment to be had when you’re being pigs, talking about fucking me. I’m trying to run. Not deal with fuckboys,” I say, keeping my volume normal level but I’m screaming on the inside. I'm so sick of guys my age. This is why I never date them. I don't have time for this shit.

  I turn to leave, but Aiden grabs my arm.

  He pulls me against him, and he’s clearly much stronger than me. I get afraid, but when I get afraid, I don’t want to lock up. I have to resist the fear. I push against him, and even though he’s stronger, I know that his balls aren’t. I draw my knee up and slam into him as hard as I can. I get away from Aiden for a second, but then two more of his friends are there.

  Fuck.

  My eyes scan the area, and there is no one; these guys are the only people around. I can run off the trail. After the woods, there are streets, and I can get away from them. I start running hard as I can, desperate to get away from these assholes chasing me.

  I run hard, and right into Ethan.

  I can’t believe it for a second. I’m breathing heavy and I almost start crying out of sheer relief. He’s holding a dog leash in one hand, and the other catches me. Despite slamming into him as hard as I could, he keeps us both upright.

  “Here,” Ethan says, handing me his car keys. His hand is on my shoulder and he gives it a slight squeeze, the only relief I have right now because my fear is still rushing through me. “Wait in my car, now.” His stern voice demands I obey.

  I don’t question him. I go right for the car, my adrenaline rushing through me. I get in his car, breathing in the scent of the leather of the car and that scent that, having slammed into Ethan, I recognize as him. Despite all my fear, my relief, I’m turned on at the thought of him. I feel safe, finally. I’m not worried about Ethan, even with three guys, maybe more, and I don’t know why.

  It isn’t the dog.

  There’s just something about Ethan that makes me feel safe, and that makes me feel like he can handle whatever these bastards try. I doubt they’re going to decide to beat up a professor, even if they could take him.

  I sit in the passenger seat and try not to think about anything. I don’t want to think about Aiden and his buddies, and I don’t need to think about Ethan. But I am…

  I can’t believe that he’s trying to help me and my stupid brain is trying to make it about more.

  When Ethan shows up, I jump for a second, but the instant I see it's him, I relax.

  I unlock the car, and he gets into the driver’s seat without a word.

  I note that he’s unscathed except for bruised knuckles. He looks at me, then gets his dog into the backseat and returns to the driver’s seat.

  We say nothing during the drive, and he’s pulling up to my dorm.

  “How do you know where I live?” I ask, breaking the silence.

  I don’t know, and he doesn’t answer. I’m just so relieved for this to be over.

  When he parks, he walks out and opens my door. Takes my hand as I step out. Ethan looks at me and my blood runs hot, there’s something sparking in the air between us that I can’t ignore. I don’t want to.

  “Are you okay, Emmaline?” Ethan asks. His finger brushes through my hair and tucks it behind my ear. The electric current in the air connects at our touch. I’m hyperaware of my breathing.

  I see Ethan swallow. He feels it, too.

  “I’m fine,” I say quietly.

  “I’ll take care of this with campus police,” Ethan says, his hands gripping my upper arms, near my shoulder. He releases me almost instantly but his touch feels so good it makes me dizzy.

  “Thank you,” I say, walking toward the door.

  I look back, and he doesn’t go back to his car until I’m inside.

  I can’t breathe. I feel drunk, intoxicated by how safe I felt when he took me home. I found him attractive before, but his protectiveness threw my attraction into overdrive.

  Fuck. I can’t stop thinking about how Ethan looked at me. How he touched me.

  I’m working on that assignment. I won’t have that clear-headed focus I hoped for at all, though.

  If I’m being honest, I’m thinking about Ethan the whole time I’m writing it, and that just turns me on more. There’s something kind of … dirty sexy about that. The way that he made me feel safe was warm, gentle, but when I think about him as my professor, there’s a whole other dimension to this. I contemplate that for a second when I hold my pen between my lips, and imagine his voice reading the assignment prompt again.

  ‘In class today, why did you write something personal? If you didn’t write something you consider personal, explain why it is.’

  I can almost hear Ethan’s voice asking me, “Emmaline, why is it personal?” I can practically feel his eyes on me, like they were when he opened the car door for me.

  Ethan

  Touching her, and not kissing her … that’s the most willpower I think I’ve ever exerted in my life. I barely fucking know Emmaline, but I’m stalking her. There’s no other word for it. Today, I planned to run into her, knowing she was taking a jog because I saw her today between classes, getting tense. I knew she wanted to let off steam. I saw her planner when she was doing notes between classes, and her little routine included running. I figured I’d get to see her again…and I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea.

  Today, after I looked her up, I knew I was going to poke around campus.

  Planning to run into her, well, they say your willpower lessens later in the day.

  But then she ran into me. Emmaline Travers, the student, the daughter of the woman it took me years to get over. I got irrationally fucking angry about the boys who were going to hurt her…I don’t know Emmaline.

  But I really fucking want to.

  I’m pulling up to my gate, almost entering my own damn code wrong because I’m so distracted. The moving iron gates take a few seconds longer than I’d like, but I’ve got to get inside. I need a shower. I’m sweating, and I didn’t get my dog a run in today, but I know he’ll happily sleep when we go inside.

  Which is good, because I’m going to wash off all this sweat and stroke the throbbing erection tenting my pants right now.

  I’m like a fucking teenager, sweating over a 19-year-old and hurrying back home so that I can jerk off thinking about her.

  Well, when I step into the palatial home that’s just my dog and I, and Victor, well, I’m not so much the teenager.

  I’m just obsessed. Stalkin
g her the way I did today — looking her up online, making sure to take turns around campus between my classes that would lead me to her getting out of hers. This is exactly the kind of psycho killer shit that made me come on too damn strong to Joelle. This is different, already, though.

  I couldn’t keep my fucking hands off of Emmaline. Touching her hair, inhaling the scent of her so close to me. The way she leaned into me when I held her arms … Emmaline looks at me with an unmistakable return of my own attraction.

  This is nothing like what happened with Joelle. I was an overbearing ass as a friend, controlling, possessive, and that shit turned Joelle off. But Emmaline … she likes this about me. Well, she did ask how I knew where she lived. I didn’t answer. But the fact that she’s attracted to me makes my own growing obsession that much more dangerous. It would be just me that got hurt if she wasn’t interested and I had to do the smart thing and ignore it. But how do I ignore a sweet little girl that fucking wants me too?

  That rage that made me punch all those cocky little shits into hamburger, that rage is a product of my desire for Emmaline. But I’m already fucking in too deep.

  It reminds me of another night that went a little differently than this one, but I think of it all the same. I head down my hallway, to my massive library, fingering stack after stack of leather-bound books, and pour myself a drink. I need to dull the ache within me now. The first sip burns good going down, but I can’t swallow back the memories.

  ***

  I see Joelle’s form fading behind the crackling bonfire. She’s wandered off with some guy that’s not her friend. He’ll probably be her boyfriend, and after the way that I looked at Joelle at lunch yesterday, I could tell she knew how I felt about her.

  I know that she doesn’t feel that way. I know that we’re friends, and I’m still being a fucking creep.

  But I follow her, not so close that she knows.

  When they start to kiss, I expect to feel jealousy. Instead, my cock starts to stiffen. Fuck, I’m disgusting. I keep watching though, because it does turn me on.

  They’re kissing, pawing each other over their clothes. I shouldn’t watch, but I keep looking. I won’t stop looking, either, when I notice that Joelle’s lips are not actually kissing this jackass’s back. He’s pawing her, but her hands are trying to push him away.

  I tense up. He better get his fucking hands off of her.

  “Hey,” Joelle says, finally breaking away from him. “That’s enough. I just wanna slow down a little,” she says. The nervous trill in her voice makes me furious for her.

  “Don’t be such a tease, bitch,” the asshole says.

  “Fuck you, Ronald, we're fucking through!” Joelle gives him the finger. She turns to walk away. Her path won’t cross mine, but I have to stay put because if this goddamn Ronald tries anything, I’ll fucking pulverize him.

  “Bitch, everyone knows you’re the slow down queen. You don’t give it to that asshole you hang out with, but I can tell everyone you gave it up for me,” Ronald threatens.

  Yeah, I'm about to be the asshole. I bust out from my hiding place and I punch Ronald’s dumb fucking face like I’m trying to erase his nose with my fist as the delete key.

  Joelle gasps. When she realizes what’s happening, she tries to pull me off of him.

  Ronald jabs out an arm and knocks Joelle over, and that moves my focus over to her. Ronald dusts himself off and touches his bloody nose with a yelp. “You fucking pyscho,” he says, spitting in my direction.

  I don’t care though. I’m trying to help Joelle up. She doesn’t want my help, and gets up on her own. “I don’t belong to you!” she shouts, storming off.

  ***

  Joelle never belonged to me.

  I sent Emmaline away because I didn’t want her to see what I would do. Do, for her.

  But the way Emmaline responded to my order … I swallow down my drink, pour another, swallow that down.

  It goes down sweet and warm, just like her soft little breathing as she listened. Obeyed me. Without question. Trusted me to protect her.

  When I got back in that car, blood on my hand and anger still coursing through my veins, I wanted to fuck Emmamline right there in the car.

  That’s fucked up. I mean, she’s too young for me. So what if she’s attracted to me. Students have always been interested. I never have been. I knew that wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. I didn’t want to be that guy, no matter how much attention I got. No matter how much young pussy I could have, that wasn’t going to be me.

  And even though I don’t know Emmaline, I think this is different with her. I know it is. Fuck. I put my glass down before I throw it, and grip the desk. I squeeze it harder, my fingers pressing into the unforgiving wood, thinking about how I’d love to spread her legs wide over the edge of this desk and lick her thighs, slowly, until I got to her pussy. I want to bury my face inside of her and feel the world disappear around us. Tangle us in sighs and screams, whimpers, and lust-filled screams. I want to taste the moan on her skin.

  I head back toward the hall, across the house to the kitchen. I have a wine fridge for things I want to keep in ready circulation, and the rest of my stock in the cellar. I grab a bottle of my favorite, leathery red. I pour a glass and think about pressing Emmaline up against the fridge and slamming my cock into her. I want to split that sweet little girl in half with my cock. I know she’s never had a cock like mine.

  It would kill all those panting students to know that I’m built like a monster, a huge, long, thick cock that’s been too much for plenty of women. Some of them have taken a lot of lube and a lot more cock. Some of them, I’ve understood and headed back to my place.

  I’ve never brought a girl back to my place, and now I’m thinking about every room, every expensive piece of furniture or fine marble countertops…and I’d like to fuck Emmaline on all of them.

  Even if she thought my cock was too big for her, I’d take all night to warm her up to it. I’d eat her pussy for hours, finger her and stretch her good. If I didn’t need to feel her on me more than anything, I might fuck her with dildos until I built her up to the size of my cock. But, no, I’d finger her, stretch her, and get her ready to feel me fill up her.

  I remember seeing those chocolate waves of her hair, those doe eyes. They reminded me so much of Joelle. Joelle’s soft lips make my cock hard, but then I remember Emmaline’s tongue licking over her lower lip when she looked at me. Fuck, that’s what’s got me hard right now.

  Joelle never looked at me that way.

  And all these years I wanted Joelle, and I’ve just met Emmaline, and I want her more than I’ve ever wanted her mother. I drink more of my wine, thinking about taking a sip of this, then kissing Emmaline. She’s too young to drink, so mostly I’d want the taste on her lips to shock her. The strength of it, as I dip my hands to the curve of her breasts, and trail my fingertips along the swell. Take a sip of the chilled drink, and then run my tongue slowly along her nipple. Feel Emmaline arch into my mouth. I want to know what her little whimper sounds like.

  I finish my wine, walking through several more rooms of my house. Thinking about bending her over on my couch. Holding her on top of me in my chaise.

  More than anything, having her in my bed. I want to fuck her so damn bad that my cock is harder than titanium, but those doe eyes, trusting me, make me want to hold her close against my cock in my bed and feel my cock slide through the seam of her ass. Just touching her before I fuck her is enough to make me wanna burst. I fist my cock over my pants. I slide out of my clothes and head for the shower.

  I was glad that I didn’t fuck her tonight. Maybe I could have. But that’s not the right thing, it really isn’t. So instead I’m going to choke my cock so hard, blow about a gallon of cum down my shower drain, and try not to ruin my sheets when I dream about her tonight anyway.

  Ethan

  Emmaline walks into my class late, and I chastise her. Then…I see her. I have to deal with that…did I mention that he
r eyes make my cock jump against my fucking thigh?

  I had to come to see her. I’m fucking glad I did, because those assholes were going to fucking touch her. But I had to follow her around, get to know more about her and basically fucking stalk her.

  I barely know her, and I can’t resist her.

  That will be the death of me — needing to save Emmaline from some asshole that thinks being a skeevy asshole toward her should lead to fucking. I save her from him and his idiot friends…and I have to cope with how she looks at me afterward. I know that her face was a reaction to mine.

  I’m normally so good at ignoring students.

  If I want to hide something, like my attraction, then I normally can. But when I looked at her, I wanted to let her see just how much I fucking wanted her.

  I squeeze my cock, my other palm pressed hard against the shower wall. The steam is rising around me, but the only touch I want is Emmaline’s. Her little Bambi eyes were big, full of adoration and arousal. I kept her safe, and she didn’t go on about how I don’t belong to her. That sting makes me stroke up and down the length of my cock, pumping faster. I remember Joelle’s face, and my cock jumps. I think about Emmaline’s, and I pump harder in furious strokes. I torment my cock with the twisted images of them. My past denies me. My present should stop me in my tracks.

  But those soft eyes, those pink lips. I want to kiss them. My hands should be on her body, feeling how soft and curvy she is. Her skintight workout leggings showed me the curve of her ass in a way that I’ll never forget. I could smell her sweat, her fear. I want to have her in this shower, washing them off and then erase her pain with kisses all over her body. I want to erase that anguish and bring her pure ecstasy.

  My balls load up at the way I’m torturing them, and little flashes in my mind of Emmaline now, in her shower, naked, wet, shimmering for me.

  Joelle knew she wasn’t what I wanted.