by Dylan Heart
The same stack of papers from his office is spread out across the wooden table between us. His well put together combination of slacks and a button up top, sticks out like a sore thumb against the rest of the clientele whom are content in their jeans and tees.
And I look like a cheap whore, which was my intention when I left the house earlier this afternoon, but now I’m hit with regret. While I’m fond of living my life by my own rules, I prefer to blend into my surroundings like any competent predator.
Jensen strokes a condensated bottle of beer contemplatively. He seems to have a lot on his mind, but when doesn’t he. I reach forward and spin an empty rum glass. His eyes shift to my fingers and he watches the glass as it comes to a clinking stop against the table.
Silence.
A cue ball can be heard breaking through the defense line.
A woman behind Jensen throws her head back and runs long fingers through her blonde hair as she laughs obnoxiously.
A quarter is inserted into the jukebox behind me, and seconds later some unfamiliar coffee shop music starts playing.
This is hell.
“Does it always take you this long to get work done?” I ask, annoyed that we’ve been in this dump for over two hours, sitting in silence and not getting shit done.
“Sometimes,” he says somberly.
“Okay, I have to ask.” I shift back in my chair. “Is there something wrong with you?”
“Me?” He shakes his head and smiles. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Then pick up that damn pen and lets get some work done.”
He turns his head to the side and scratches against fresh stubble. “I’m not feeling it tonight.”
“That’s cute.” I watch him intently as he chuckles. I shake my head because he’s wasting my time, on multiple fronts. “I’m going home.” I jump to my feet and grab my purse off the crown of the chair.
“Stay,” he says from behind me and latches onto my arm.
I turn to him with accusing eyes. “Aren’t you afraid people are going to see you touching me?”
“That’s why I brought you all the way out here.”
What the fuck does that mean? I wet my lips and my eyes wander through the crowd before settling back on him. “There’s a hell of a lot of baggage in the words you just spoke.”
“Lets go outside.” He shuffles the papers into an unorganized stack and stuffs them into the messenger bag. He peeks behind him nervously before stuffing two unopened beers into the bag. “Coming?”
We sit on the hood of his black car—a BMW that glistens under the powerful full moon. His shirt is rolled to the sleeves and unbuttoned, exposing a plain white tee that clings to his chest.
The night air swims around us, feeling like a trap. It’s not hot, but it’s not cool. It’s thick, but weightless. The bar behind us is set to close within the hour and most of the patrons have gone home.
“What are we doing out here?” I’m confused about everything that has transpired today. I pray this time to get a straight answer. It’s hard to seduce a man when you have no idea what he’s thinking. He’s not like the others, or so it would seem.
“I come out here to clear my thoughts.”
“I come out here to get attacked by mosquitoes.” I slap a bug crawling up my knee, where my skirt meets my skin.
“You know what your problem is?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific. I have a lot of problems.”
He nods and steals a sip of beer. “You live life too fast. It’s okay to slow down every once in a while.”
“You know what happens when people slow down?” He turns to me with inquisitive eyes. “They die with regrets. I’m not going to be buried that way.”
“You are twenty-two years old. You shouldn’t be concerned about regrets.”
“I told you. I’m not. Thus the generally fast pace at which I choose to live my life, and right now… I’m bored.”
His palm edges along the side of his face, where the moonlight meets his hairline. “You came to that meeting for a reason. And it wasn’t because you needed my class to graduate.”
“Don’t get it twisted.” I scoot off the edge of the hood and land on a pad of gravel. “That’s the only reason I showed up.”
He shakes his head. “Do you have a habit of lying to everybody? Or is it just me?”
I just stare at him, opting to take in the beautiful sight as opposed to answering his question that I don’t have a response for. For being a man over thirty—barely—he burns with the brightness and promise of youth. He’s undiscovered territory to me, and I’m ready to explore.
“You’re so consumed trying to be smarter than everyone else and trying to outplay them, but you never stop and cover your tracks.” He raises the bottle of beer and ‘cheers’ me.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I’m not in the mood, at this point, to bump imaginary glasses.
“I know you don’t need my class to graduate.” He shrugs. “It’s why you blew it off in the first place.”
“Oh…”
“So, are you going to tell me why you came to that meeting?”
“Sometimes,” I say, followed by a pause where I throw my hands in the air, trying to invent some bullshit excuse, “Jesus talks to me.”
“Apple…” He’s not buying it, which is to be expected because he’s an intelligent—presumably—educator.
“Look, I can’t help it. I didn’t choose to be a prophet of the lord.” If nothing else, I commit to my stories.
“You have a problem with honesty, but it just so happens that I don’t.”
“Meaning?”
He hops off the hood of the car, slamming into the gravel like a superhero. “It means,” he says, catching his breath in an instant, “I think you’re a beautiful girl, and I have no problem saying that.”
“Are you hitting on me?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” He’s so sure of himself, void of any nervous tics that existed before. “I’m not stupid.”
I laugh uncomfortably. It’s too soon for him to figure me out. “Your ego is out of control.”
He takes a measured step toward me. I flinch backward. “Everybody talks, and I hear them all. I know what I am to girls like you.”
“A pain in the ass?”
“A challenge.” He takes another step, but I can’t bring myself to pull away. “A one-and-done, I can say I did it challenge.”
“Why?” I scoff. “Because you’re so damn sexy?”
“Your words. Not mine.”
“And your ego makes another appearance.”
“I’ve looked at this a million different ways, trying to figure out what your angle is and it always comes back to this.”
“I…”
“You have a bad reputation, Apple.” He places his palm on my hip, against the warm fabric of my skirt. He’s crossing a line that I want him to cross, but it’s too soon. He’s supposed to fall in love with me, not fuck me and leave me. That’s what they—men—are good for.
“So everybody says...”
“Everybody talks about it, but there’s something they don’t know.” He leans over my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “So do I.”
It takes a hot fucking second to figure out whom he reminds me of—Brick fucking Valmont. From his ego to his devilish good looks, all the way to his fucking car. I should run. I know that, but I can’t lose this last game to Brick.
“Are you bad?” I whisper back and place my hand on his firmer than I would have believed chest. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“Something like that.” He inches closer, his body pressing up against mine.
“What did you do with my professor?”
“He’s like Batman. Once the sun goes down, he turns into something else.” He pulls his head back and raises my chin with his hand. His blue eyes are feral under the weight of the moon, and I know exactly what it is that he wants.
C
hapter 12
He doesn’t make love. He fucks. If I worked for the CIA, that’s the assumption I would write in my thesis. I push him backward toward the hood of the car, and take a quick glance at the bar behind us to ensure nobody is watching.
I have a bad reputation in the city. I don’t need one out here in the sticks.
His body leans against the car, and he wears a curious smile. He’s dying to know what comes next, and my purpose is to make him suffer with anticipation until I’m able to get what I want from him.
Jensen Moon is a man of wonder, a man who has always been shrouded in mystery. Jensen Moon isn’t going to be an easy man to crack. He’s not designed to fall in love, that’s what my training tells me.
His heart is protected, but my mother—in all her fucked up glory—once told me that the quickest way to a man’s heart was through his cock. I’m not sure that piece of wisdom has any bearing on reality, but he’s left me with no other option.
I grab both sides of his unbuttoned shirt and pull them down his broad shoulders, and then his muscular arms. His eyes never waver from my touch. He enjoys being undressed, and I enjoy doing the undressing.
I toss his shirt onto the hood of the car and finger at the bottom of his tee before pulling it over his head. “You like it like this, don’t you?”
“Slow and steady?” He shakes his head ever so slightly. “But that’s not what you’re referring to, is it?”
“Astute observation, Mr. Moon.” I begin to unbutton my blouse with careful precision. One button at a time, slow enough so that the anticipation forces him to swipe his tongue against his lips.
There’s something about the way the night air catches my bare skin. There’s a knowing and impending danger in the idea that we might get caught. The very thought drives me wild as I drop my blouse onto the gravel beneath us.
He reaches down and adjusts his erection through his slacks, and it’s as I watch this erotic show that I realize the true gravity of this situation. I stand a great chance at losing my bet with Brick. What’s stopping Jensen from fucking me against the hood of his car and then disappearing back into his life, never to see me again?
There must be caution written across my face because he raises my chin with his hand again. “It’s okay, Apple,” he reassures me, and that’s all it takes. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head.
I study his body, taking in every ridge and groove in his formidable abs. Nobody in public education should look like this, or be built like this. It’s dangerous. His slacks cut horizontally through the v’s that contour his sides against the blackness of the night.
“You like what you see.” It’s a statement, not a question. “I understand what you feel when you look at my skin, because I see the same thing when I look at yours.”
I give him the look.
“I want to see more, and I know you do too,” he continues.
I’m not one to get nervous, but I can feel my entire body shaking. This wouldn’t be the first time I would be bent over a car in a public space, but it’s certainly the first time with a man like Jensen. “I have a bad reputation, right?”
“So I’ve heard.”
“And you taunted me about it.” I drag my palm against his skin, and he exhales sharply. His entire body is sensitive and I can’t imagine what he experiences when he fucks. That’s a question I’ll never know the answer to, and it’s a question that has always driven me mad. “Do you have a bad reputation, Mr. Moon?”
“What do your friends say?”
“I don’t have friends.”
“Neither do I.” He grips my hand forcefully and drills into my eyes with just one look. He’s ready. “Enough of the small talk. Now, show me what you can do with that talkative mouth.”
“When you put it like that, I think I’ll just keep talking.”
“You are a challenge.” He leans forward and kisses my neck. “A beautiful…” He kisses me again, running his smooth lips along my collarbone. “Sexy…” He nibbles at the bottom of my earlobe while his fingers slip under the strap of my bra. “Challenge,” he mouths against my ear.
“And what does that make you?”
“Someone who isn’t afraid of a little challenge.” He lowers the straps of my bra down my arms, carefully and slowly. He carries the same anticipation of seeing me bare that I had reveled in watching earlier.
It’s the little things that remind me I’m losing my grasp on being in control. It’s not often that a man undresses me. I’ve mastered the art of slow seduction on my own, and when his hand tugs my bra downward so that my breasts become exposed, I’m forced to regain control.
I push him backward toward the car and unhook my bra from behind. I step over it as it lands against the ground. “Do you like what you see?” He bites into his lip, which is the sexiest thing on this Goddamn side of a Magic Mike knockoff. I couldn’t put an end to this right now if I wanted to. And that’s the problem, I don’t want to.
He fumbles with his belt buckle, but it’s a quick process. He has experience dropping his trousers. I’m sure there’s a long line of co-eds who have found themselves on their knees worshiping in the temple that is him. With a quick hook of his fingers into his white boxer briefs, he drops his underwear and slacks in one motion. “Do you like what you see?’
“I think we’re both on equal ground,” I say, stating the obvious and resting my eyes on his throbbing cock. It’s long and thick, and I can’t look away. There’s a fucked up conception that men spend most of their time thinking about sex and women spend most of their time trying to avoid it. I’m not one of those women. I’m not sure those women truly exist. It’s a lie told by society to keep women in their place while excusing men who walk through life sticking their dicks wherever they fit.
I reach forward and grab his cock in my hand, causing him to throw an audible stutter from his throat. That first moment when flesh meets flesh is worthy of a memory. It’s a snapshot in time when innocence between two strangers hasn’t yet been lost, but has hit a point where, without fail, it soon will be.
I take another step toward him so our lips are a mere inch apart, and stroke the length of his hardness. His body leans against my touch, and pulls away from it—seemingly all at the same time.
The skin on his shaft is smooth, contrasted against the hardness of his cock. It’s a beautiful display of something that shouldn’t be. It’s not a paradox, but what the fuck, lets just call it that. It’s a beautiful paradox.
Penises, cocks, dicks, snakes, whatever the fuck you want to call them—they’re the most beautiful things on this earth. Unfortunately, men in general tend to be dicks and not the suckable kind.
Jensen places a hand on each of my cheeks, and I notice his own cheeks are flushed red. “Now, about that mouth…”
I bend to my knees, kneeling in front of the car and his legs. His cock points outward, ready to be swallowed, but I’m distracted by his feral eyes that burn into me from above. I let him watch me—I encourage it—as I take the head of his cock in my mouth, taking careful measures to keep eye contact. My fingers dig into his hips as I lap my tongue around the head. He forces his eyes shut and throws his head back, leaning with his elbows against the car for support.
I swallow the entirety of his cock until his balls are pressed against my mouth. His hands curl into my hair and he cries out, “Fuck!”
From behind us, I hear drunken laughing as a small entourage of drunks stumble out of the bar. I look up to Jensen, not sure if we should stop what we’re doing.
“In the car,” Jensen mumbles and leads the way. He holds the door open—aww, chivalry—as I climb into the backseat of the BMW. He starts to follow me in, but darts out of sight. Seconds later, he crawls into the back and onto me with a condom between his teeth.
His body is heavy on top of me, and under all of his nudity, I feel overdressed in my skirt and panties. “Do you think they saw us?” I ask, but quickly realize he’s not in the mood for
talking.
His palm skates under my skirt and up my leg. “Get this fucking thing off,” he growls with the condom still planted in his mouth, showing me another side of him I never in a million years would have guessed existed. He’s like an onion, with as many different layers as there are types of men.
I reach down to unzip the side of my skirt and begin to wiggle free, but Jensen is impatient and rips the skirt down the length of my legs. He runs his palm against my panties and finds my clit through the fabric. I spread my legs and throw one foot over the edge of the backseat.
“I want to fuck you so bad, Apple.” His voice is heavy and needy, and it’s the biggest turn on in the world. It’s a pussy-tingling sensation that reminds me I will always be in control, because I have what they want—what they need.
“What are you waiting for?”
“I’m terrified.” His fingers curl around my panties. “I’m terrified you’re going to want more, or that I won’t be able to stop.”
I have no idea what the hell that means, nor do I care. I place a finger against his lips. “Just shut up and fuck me.”
“Just remember that you asked for it.” In one quick motion, he tugs at my panties from the side and rips them. “Remember that you begged for it.”
His fingers shift to my opening and he slides right on in. I let out a stifled cry as his knuckle meets my flesh. He’s slow and steady. In and out, like a well-oiled machine. My hip sways against the leather of the passenger seat.
Another finger, and I feel as if I’m being stretched wide, a testament to his long, thick fingers. I throw my hand around his neck and stroke the edge of his hairline. He lowers himself and bites against my neck. My toes curl along the ridges of the seat. His teeth against my flesh is enough to drive me to the edge.
“Fuck me,” I moan.
“I want to.” His mouth is nuzzled against my neck, and the heat of his desire electrifies me. He’s a little too hesitant to do what has to be done. “I want to, so bad.”
