by Claire Adams
He grinned. “You’ve been telling me no for over two weeks. I’ll survive.”
I decided to make a bold move, bolder than I had ever been with him before. I stood up and got directly in front of him. Cautiously, I climbed onto his lap. I faced him, watching him become more aroused by the second. As I straddled his lap, his hands quickly found my legs, rubbing them up and down just below my skirt.
“I’m not so sure about that,” I said quietly. “You look like you’re barely holding on right now, and we haven’t even done anything yet.”
“Then what are you fucking waiting for, girl?” he asked me.
“I’m wondering how well we can control ourselves…”
We stared at each other. I saw my reflection in his beautiful brown eyes. I slowly moved my hands to his face… I felt his cheeks, feeling his stubble already beginning to grow, despite him only just shaving earlier that evening. As I adjusted myself on his lap, I realized that his facial hair wasn’t the only part of him that was growing.
“Only one way to find out,” he said with a sensual, smooth tone.
And so, finally, we kissed.
Our lips met and parted, fiercely and fast at first, but soon, it became soft and passionate. His hands wandered from my legs to my sides, then from my sides back to my legs, and eventually, they found my face and my chest. As he rubbed and cupped my breasts, I realized that I was beginning to become wet for him already…
During the short periods when my lips were not dancing with his and tasting them, I was moaning in his ear, gripping onto his muscular torso. He used these breaks to kiss me elsewhere. He kissed my cheeks and my neck, fiercely and fast at first, but soon, his kisses became soft. Moans were coming out of my lips faster and more often than I had anticipated, usually once his kisses were slower and softer. I loved when we would kiss vigorously and hungrily, but I enjoyed those kisses more when they came in short, unpredictable bursts.
After he finished kissing my neck, he moved his hands down my back onto my ass, firmly squeezing it. Then, he moved his lips from my neck and shoulders over to my ears.
Sawyer didn’t know it, but my ears were extremely sensitive. He could have excited me simply by whispering the right words in my ear. Instead, his method was to breathe long and deeply into my ears, just before he would lightly run the tip of his tongue along the insides of my ears and my earlobes. Whenever he would breathe his warm, smooth breath onto my skin, I would feel a strange combination of ticklish and aroused. I wondered if him gripping my body and him breathing into my ears and licking them would be enough to bring me to orgasm. I hadn’t received an orgasm from a man in nearly three months, so my body was ready to make up for lost time.
He smacked my ass and nibbled on my earlobe, tugging on it like an animal. I moved my hands to his chest, squeezing his pecs through his shirt. I hated not actually feeling his skin because I knew he had to feel even more impressive without his clothes obstructing him. I didn’t want to fully remove his shirt because I knew that if I did that, I wouldn’t fight him if he had then tried to remove my shirt.
I was more turned on than I had been in a long time, and I did want him to climb on top of me and put his erection deep inside of me, but there wasn’t just a hot guy on my couch. There was a bet on the table. I formulated a plan.
Instead of removing his shirt, I ran my hands up his shirt, feeling his hard abs, caressing every inch of his skin that I could. He unbuttoned his top two buttons, but I ensured that he couldn’t get a third one undone. I squeezed his pecs. This was the invite he took to move his hands from my ass back over to my breasts, only this time, his hands shot up my blouse with unbelievable speed, fervently rubbing and massaging my breasts. His fingers were desperately trying to find the undersides of my bra.
I got off of him. With a similar speed as he had exhibited with me seconds before, I dropped to my knees. He actually scooted back, the first time I had seen him show the slightest sign of reluctance.
“What are you afraid of?” I asked him rhetorically. Before he could stammer out an answer, I was already moving my hands up and down his legs, my fingers inching closer to the pulsating bulge in his pants…
I unbuckled his belt and tossed it to the side. He went to unbutton his pants, but before he could, I grabbed his hand, keeping it where it was on his lap.
“Would using my hand… count as sex?” I asked him. “For the purposes of the bet, and—”
“No, fuck no, absolutely not,” he blurted. “I swear. What’s a hand job between friends, right? I mean—”
I unbuttoned his pants. With no effort, I pulled them down his legs. I moved my hands along his legs, feeling how thick and strong they were. I looked at his boxers and at his more defined bulge. I was slightly apprehensive, but I wanted to stick to my plan.
I decided to keep his boxers on, but that didn’t make the experience less enjoyable for him. I placed my hand on his throbbing bulge, gently rubbing my hand along it, feeling him grow even larger… I could feel the blood coursing through it…
I pulled out his thick, eager cock, and immediately, I began to stroke it. I didn’t look at what I was doing, nor did I need to. I stared into his eyes, licking my lips and occasionally keeping my mouth open, slightly agape. He was moaning, gritting his teeth, and he was mine to do with as I pleased.
“Fuck yeah, baby…” he muttered. “Oh, you’re so good at that… Fuck…”
I giggled. I moved his cock just close enough to my face as to fill his mind with hope and his balls with cum. His tip was already letting out drips of pre-cum.
“Damn, Hannah, it isn’t going to take much,” he said through his clenched jaw.
“Good,” I whispered.
And then, only seconds later, Sawyer burst in my hand, letting out an orgasm more powerful and abundant than I was used to. I giggled again, pleased with myself and happy with how easily I was able to have him melting in my hands.
Once I had squeezed out the final drop of his cum, I did something that I had never done with any guy before him. I looked at my hands, coated with his ejaculate… and I licked it off my hands, consuming every drop until my hands were clean. Funnily enough, me doing that appeared to be making him grow again already.
I stood up. I looked at the couch and floor, where there were small, but visible, stains, the evidence of our daring night together.
I grinned. “Clean up after yourself, dirty boy. Good night…”
With a wave and a skip, I hurried back into my bedroom, leaving him breathless and unexpectedly spent.
I wasn’t sure how Sawyer was spending the remainder of his Friday night, but I spent the remainder of mine in bed, having difficulty being able to sleep. I decided to do what I did occasionally when I couldn’t sleep: I masturbated. I gave myself my own orgasm, all the while imagining what it would be like if Sawyer and I were to have sex.
As I drifted off to sleep, my fingers now wet with my own cum, I thought about Sawyer’s thick cock and thick cum, wondering if I even cared about the bet at all.
Chapter 16
Sawyer
Monday came slowly, after a torturous nightmare of a weekend. Instead of dwelling on my frustrations, I focused my energy on doing a stellar job repairing the engine of a Dodge Ram. I could fix anything, but I was more competent at repairing diesel engines than some of my fellow mechanics.
I tried not to focus on the fact that I only had thirteen days until the seduction deadline, less than two weeks. After what happened on Friday, I was less worried about being able to succeed in my endeavors and more worried about what would happen after.
Part of the deal included that if I won, she would let me stay her roommate permanently, but I didn’t want to count on her following through on that part of the deal. If I won, I would try to stay, but if she insisted that I leave, I knew I wasn’t going to fight her on it. Legally, she could have removed my ass from her apartment days ago if she’d wanted.
Even though I had been periodically loo
king at different apartments, trying to decide which of them would be a good fit for me, my search was still not at the forefront of my mind. I didn’t want to use Hannah or her kindness, but since she had continued being steadily gracious to me since we met, I felt secure in my decision to keep my roots planted at her apartment until told otherwise.
Dave came over to my work area just as I began the final stages of work on the truck’s engine.
“How’s it coming along?” he asked me, looking under the Ram’s hood.
“Fine,” I answered.
“How was your weekend?” he asked.
“It was all right,” I replied dismissively.
“You sure? You seem kind of short.”
“I’m focused on work, Dave; maybe you should do the same.”
Dave leaned against the Ram, tapping his tethered shoes on one of the tires.
“You know I ain’t gonna leave until you tell me what the bug up your ass is,” he said.
“Nothing is up my ass, Dave.”
“I can do this all day, Sawyer; this is my garage—”
“Can’t you tell I’d rather not talk about it?” I exclaimed, tossing my wrench on the ground. “Why the hell do you care so much?”
“I don’t,” he replied. “But, you look like you’ve got a lot on your mind, and we both know you’d feel better if you just let it out. We’ve been through this before.”
I leaned against the Dodge with him. I thought about the last few days and the various things that happened: Hannah’s hand job, my altercation with Jared, and the shitty weekend that followed all of that, which left me confused.
“Well, Dave,” I began, attempting to choose my words carefully and not open up too much. “I was making good progress with Hannah—”
“The girl you’re rooming up with?” he asked.
“That’s the one. We went out to Josef’s on Friday, had dinner, had good conversation… then, I drove us over to that field I took Kylie to that one time, and we laid back and looked at the stars together. It was nice.”
“That’s great, man,” Dave said happily. “That’s good!”
“We bumped into her ex on the way home. He was a fucking tool, not sure if I should consider him a threat yet. He’s a lot smaller than me, so I don’t think he’ll try and start shit. But he clearly doesn’t like that I’m hanging out with Hannah.
“Anyway, we got home and messed around with each other a bit—it was amazing. Her ex is a fucking idiot, as far as I’m concerned. We made out and fondled each other on the couch, not to mention what happened right before she went to bed. But then she spent the entire weekend avoiding me. She’s done this to me already before, but this time I really hated it.”
“How do you know she was avoiding you?” Dave asked me.
“I guess I’m not 100% sure that she was avoiding me,” I said, trying to keep some degree of my pride. “But she got up early and was out the door before eight o’clock Saturday morning. And she didn’t get back until late, like eleven. I was dumb to stay up that late waiting. Then, she did the same thing yesterday! She was out all day and didn’t come back until close to midnight. And she had to be at work today, too; she’s probably exhausted. I asked her where she was, and she just said she was taking care of errands, shopping, seeing movies. Movies, as in she saw more than one. I don’t know, have you ever gone to the movies two times in two days?”
Dave shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Lord knows.”
“You know what else I wish I knew?” I asked rhetorically. “How to understand women. Every time I finally think I know exactly what’s going on, how they think, what they want…” I wasn’t sure how to finish my statement, so I turned my attention back to the Ram.
“Sawyer, women aren’t like cars, trucks, or bikes,” said Dave. “Women aren’t all wired the same. Every one of them is different. Just like men, as a matter of fact.”
“I disagree,” I retorted. “I haven’t had to work this hard for a woman’s attention in my whole goddamn life. It’s so fucking frustrating, man. She’s a puzzle.”
“Sounds like you might’ve found yourself a woman who knows how to respect herself,” said Dave.
“Shut up, Dave,” I snapped. “Every woman I’ve ever taken to bed respects herself plenty. It’s called having a healthy sex life and being comfortable in your own skin. I don’t bang depressed girls, and I need a girl who can be honest about what she really wants. I knew Hannah wanted me, but instead, she wasted two weeks just to end up on the couch like I knew we would. That’s more idiotic than some of the things my sex partners have said to me over the years, and I’ve heard some pretty stupid shit.”
“So, this ‘incident’ on the couch happened right after you guys bumped into her ex-boyfriend?” Dave asked curiously.
“Yeah, a little bit after,” I replied. “Why?”
He smirked at me. “Do you really not know what I’m about to say?”
“Apparently I don’t, so just spare me and say what you want to say.”
“I think she messed around with you to get back at her ex,” he stated.
I laughed. “No, he’s a fucking freak. She doesn’t care what he thinks. And, how would he even know what was happening? He wasn’t there. How would she have been getting back at him? No.”
“You might want to listen to me,” he said. “I had ex-girlfriends before I got married, and I know about the dynamics and politics that go along with them.”
“Dude, she was horny as hell,” I shot back. “Trust me, she wasn’t thinking about anyone else on that couch but me and her.”
“That might be true,” he admitted. “At the moment, she probably was thinking about you. I mean, I wouldn’t know, I’m not into guys.”
“No,” I said sarcastically.
“But,” he continued, “don’t you think it’s a little odd that she holds back from you this entire time, with everything you say you’ve been throwing at her, and the factor that’s different here is that you ran into her ex?”
“I’ve seen him around the building a lot!” I said defensively. “If I’ve seen him, I know Hannah has. This guy seems kind of like a stalker. The date was great; it was romantic, it was everything she said she wanted. The factor that’s different was the date! She wanted me.”
“Okay,” Dave said, unconvinced. He chuckled and started walking away.
“Hey!” I yelled out to him. “What’s with that tone?”
“Oh, nothing,” he replied. “It just seems… Do you really not know what I’m about to—”
“Damn it, Dave, just say it.”
“I think you have real feelings for this girl, Sawyer,” he said. He was beaming when he said it, and it annoyed the hell out of me. “You are clearly jealous—”
“Jealous of what?”
“Of the ex down the hall—”
“Wrong,” I interjected. “Try again.”
“Okay, you’re jealous of how she spends her time,” said Dave. “What’s wrong with her running a couple of errands or going to the movies? Do you need to be there holding her hand?”
“No,” I groaned.
“You want to, don’t you?” he asked me, teasingly. “You’re in love with her. She’s your puzzle… waiting to be solved—”
“The reason I was perturbed at what she did this weekend had nothing to do with her spending time away from me,” I said. “She can do whatever the hell she wants; I’d prefer it that way. The problem is that she lied.”
“Did she tell you she lied to you?” he asked.
“Dave, people can lie and not tell you about it. It doesn’t mean it didn’t happen! I know women. She didn’t go out because that’s how she wanted to spend her weekend. She went out because she’s fucking hot for me, but she’s too convinced that if she gives in to what she wants, I’ll look at her differently or she’ll feel like a slut.”
“Wow, you have quite a gift there,” said Dave. “You know all of that with no proof or consideration that her life do
esn’t revolve around you.”
“I don’t want her entire life to revolve around me,” I mumbled. “Just her sex life.”
Dave smirked, thinking up retorts while I continued with the Ram.
“So how are you going to tell her you love her?” he jested. “Over a candlelit dinner? During a walk in the snow? Maybe you could write her a message in the snow.”
“You’re more than welcome to do any of those things,” I said. “Sounds like you’re in love with Hannah.”
“Hey man,” he said as he finally walked away. “I’m not going after her. I can’t compete with you.”
Before I could respond with a witty retort, he was gone. I sighed and finished up with the Dodge.
I sped home from work on the Kawasaki, narrowly avoiding various obstructions, not caring about any of the judgmental looks I received from onlookers and other drivers.
I pulled up to a stoplight, revving my engine impatiently. I looked over at the median in the road and saw a man walking down the street, holding several bouquets of flowers. I had seen this particular guy before, and he always managed to sell a bouquet whenever I took notice of him.
I tried to avoid making eye contact with him, but ignoring him seemed to be the honey that drew in the insect. He approached the front of the line of vehicles where I was. He was waving his flowers around, making indistinct chatter about how we should ‘do something nice for her’ and to ‘surprise her in the best way.’ I should have known that he was merely exercising sales tactics, but instead, I looked at it as taunting.
“How much for the assortment?” I called out to the flower man. I eyed a particular bouquet that had a variety of flowers. Since I wasn’t sure what her favorite flower was, I thought the best move was to try a little of everything.
“Ten dollars!” he replied.
“Fuck it, give them to me,” I said as I reached for my wallet. I gave the man my ten dollars, took my flowers, and drove off once the light turned green.
I barely drove half a mile before I slowed to a stop. I stared at the flowers.
