Resistance

by K Larsen

  She’s gone.

  Really gone.

  Married with a ring on her finger for six months now.

  I stupidly held out some small nugget of hope that we still had a chance but I handed that chance, literally, to Dominic when I gave her away that day. I’m not hung up on Clara, I’m really not.

  Fuck. My. Life.

  “Play a game with me,” prompts the black-haired beauty’s sultry voice as she turns to me. I don’t bother slapping a smile on my face; social graces can suck it. I turn to her slowly, being snapped out of my pity party, and let my gaze openly roam her body. She’s the kind of girl who has curves in all the right places, just enough chest and hips that you can hold onto. She looks young. I bet she tastes sweet. I wonder if she’ll be enough to make me forget Clara for a night.

  “Fine. I’ll bite,” I say with a grin, but it doesn’t reach my eyes, I can feel how fake it is. She doesn’t seem to notice, though. Maybe she’s subpar, intelligence-wise. Somehow I find that many of the really attractive women out there are a little lacking in the brains department. Maybe it’s because they never had to try. Their looks did all the work for them.

  “Truth or lie?” she asks. A small scar at the bridge of her nose crinkles. I want to know how she got it.

  Stumped.

  Did I mishear her?

  I’m not sure what that means.

  “I don’t know?” I ask quizzically. She throws her head backwards and laughs loudly. It’s a guttural laugh. Her eyes look like they hold the secret to life as she laughs. It’s incredibly sexy. She shifts her body so that her knees face my body.

  She’s invested now.

  I know body language.

  “I’ll give you a topic after you choose truth or lie. Then you have to tell a truth or a lie about the topic, as you picked.”

  “Ahh, okay. Lie,” I retort, slightly uneasily. I’m not sure this game is going to end well. I watch her with fascination as she thinks of a topic. It’s almost like you can see her thoughts moving around in her head. She’s really quite beautiful. Her skin is olive colored and blemish free. Her hair hangs in very long, thick sheets down her back and she looks fit. Pouting mouth, neck like a swan, just natural beauty. A little too old, I think, to be a VTech student, but maybe she's here for grad work.

  “Kids,” she states, leaning back slightly and looking smug.

  She’s waiting on me.

  “Kids? Okay. The lie,” I start. “You will feel nothing but joy and love. It will feel like the most gratifying thing you’ve ever done. You will be rewarded for any hardships you face while raising them with a grateful, loving, wonderful child by the end. It’s all sunshine and puppy dogs,” I finish.

  She snickers before taking a sip of her drink. Her lips wrap around the edge of the glass in the most seductive way. It’s like a train wreck—I can't tear my eyes away.

  Want.

  Lust. My dick twitches as I watch her. Yeah. She’ll do.

  “Did I do it right?” I croak, trying to drag my mind out of the gutter. She seems so indifferent to me, to this whole thing she suggested. She’s all business. It’s throwing my game off.

  “Oh yes, well, really, I don't know, I don't have children so maybe the lie is truth or the truth is a lie.”

  Her no-bullshit response is telling, but only to a point. I like talking to her and I’m going to take a chance and throw her game back at her.

  “Truth or lie?” I quip with a wink. Her nose wrinkles up with surprise. That tiny scar disappears with the movement.

  I like it.

  “Topic first,” she answers, fingering her glass with slender fingers.

  “That’s like cheating,” I say and chuckle. She shrugs and remains silent. “Fine. A one-night stand.” Her lips twitch for a moment and she studies my face intently. She’s not shy.

  Desire.

  It’s in her eyes.

  “Lie, then.” She cocks her head to the side and studies my face some more. It makes me squirm internally. Bringing a hand to her mouth, she traces her pouty bottom lip with her fingers and closes her eyes. Her finger drops to her collarbone. “It starts with us, here. You like what you see. We flirt intelligently over drinks for a bit before I excuse myself for the restroom. When I come out you’re waiting for me. Your hand grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to you. Our lips collide. Soft. Silky. Exploratory. Perfection.” She sucks in a deep breath and slowly lets it out. Her voice is low but clear.

  I’m hot.

  It’s really so hot in here.

  “Taking me by the hand, you lead me out of the bar and take me home. We’re not even through the threshold when you tear your shirt off, followed by mine. You, of course, look photoshopped with your six pack of rippling abdominals and I have a Victoria’s Secret model body. You lean down, firmly holding me. Your tongue traces trails from my neck down and over my breasts. It’s divine, actually. Slowly tasting me. My nipples are hard little nubs. Savoring me. Making me burn from the inside out. I wrap my arms around you and jump up. I love the feel of your hands digging into my ass and your erection pressing into my crotch as you walk us to the bedroom, never breaking our kiss.” Her voice is calm, confident, and sultry.

  This girl will kill me.

  I know it.

  I can sense it.

  She’s a death wish.

  I want her.

  Here.

  Now.

  On the bar top, I don’t care who sees.

  Her chest heaves as she speaks, her breasts pushing up and out against her tight cotton t-shirt. Her full lips, moving as she speaks, are captivating. I can’t tear my eyes from her mouth. She breaks the tense silence, continuing, “You toss me on the bed and yank my pants off with a growl. I’m wet. So wet. For you. I tremble with need for you. I tell you to touch me. I tell you I need you to touch me, to taste me, and so you do. Your hands explore every last centimeter of my skin, setting me on fire. Your tongue follows suit. When your mouth reaches my pussy I squirm and wiggle and beg you for more. I’m a mess of pleasure by the time your rock hard co...”

  “I get it,” I interrupt, feeling like I’m about to explode. There is no way my face isn't fifty shades of crimson right now.

  She smirks and leans forward. “The truth is a cold shower.”

  “Oh? Now I want to know what the other answer would have been.” And I do. Her brashness, her brain, it’s like everything she says is calculated.

  Intense.

  I need more.

  Desperately.

  “I’ll tell you on one condition,” she says and smiles coyly.

  “Uh. All right, shoot.”

  “You take me home after.” Shock courses through me.

  That’s the only thing I feel. Don’t get me wrong, one-night stands are about all I’m good for these days, but usually I have to work for them a little more than this. It makes me wonder, actually. She’s gorgeous. She doesn’t need to be so upfront. Why no chase?

  Do I care?

  Nope. No, I do not.

  Hot, young piece of ass sitting in front of me will do just fine. I can already imagine her panties dropping to her knees for me.

  “Deal,” I say and shrug. I am the motherfucking king of the world right now.

  “One-night stand, the truth.” She clears her throat and pauses, thinking. “It’s terrible. We flirt, but it’s strained. We awkwardly make our way out of here. You don't know whether or not to hold my hand or kiss me. You want to, but you aren't sure that’s how the situation works. We fumble through undressing, unsure of our abilities in the sack now that it’s go time. I have scars and you probably have some weird mole or beer gut that’s well hidden under clothes. Bodies slapping, sweat beading, strange sounds produced by two bodies that don’t know each other. It’s dirty and not sexy at all really. The orgasms are mediocre at best because you don't know my body and I don't know yours. We don't have the history that lovers do, the time spent learning all the likes and dislikes. You’ll move over me and I’
ll make noises and pretend it’s the best ever, and quite frankly, you’ll do the same because you feel the same. Men aren’t so different from women in that regard. You’ll finish and we’ll pretend to really want to do it again or even talk to each other again and the best part of the night will end up being the relief you feel when I’m gone. The pretense will be over and you can finally just lay back and relax,” she finishes, sounding slightly bored.

  She's not mad.

  She's not being sarcastic.

  This bitch is being completely honest and it’s the most attractive speech I’ve heard in a long time. Her soft porn account got my dick twitching, I won't lie, but she just called it out and owned it.

  I fucking love that.

  “Let’s go have the worst night of sex ever then, yeah?” I chuckle and stand. I toss a fifty onto the counter to cover her drink as well as mine and stare at her expectantly. Her eyes narrow slightly in a way that makes me wonder if I’ve done something wrong.

  “How’d you get here?” she asks.

  “I walked,” I answer, realizing that I walked from the shop. But we can’t walk to my house, it’s too far. Maybe the back room at the shop wouldn't be so bad after all.

  “I live in the next town over, so I can drive us.” She waits, the cutest face of irritation shadowing her features. It’s as if she's put out, having to deal with this at all. It’s comical, really. Maybe I should just take her in the bathroom quickly and be done with it.

  “Better idea, princess,” I rumble. “There’s a hotel close to here. I'll pay. Let’s go there.”

  Her hand rakes through her long, black hair as she glares at me. Uh-oh.

  “Don't call me that. Ever. A hotel is fine,” she clips, shrugging on her hoodie. Note to self: Pet names are not appreciated.

  “Name, then? I should probably know what to scream out in our moment of awkward pleasure.” She smiles at me. It’s a real smile this time. Toothy and white and stunning. She has dimples that I want to kiss at either side of her mouth.

  “Ma...Pepper. You?” she asks.

  A fake name, perhaps?

  Do I really care?

  No. Maybe. Her coffee-colored eyes bore into mine. She blows a single strand of black hair from her face.

  No, definitely no. I do not care.

  “Sawyer,” I answer. She sidles up to me coyly and wraps an arm around my waist. Her body fits well with mine. She’s taller than Clara.

  Shit.

  No.

  No comparisons.

  Not tonight.

  Her head rests just in the crook of my arm. “I think you’re decent so I'll give you one tip: I like oral.” I’m shocked by her bluntness and boldness but I silently thank her for the tip because I find myself actually wanting to please her. I think I want to prove her wrong. I want her truth and her lie to be swapped, if only for a night. I lead her to the door and hook her elbow with mine as we head a block up and to the right towards the Hilton.

  We walk in silence. It doesn't feel awkward, though. She seems completely at home in her silence. It puts me at ease. I don’t want to ruin the moment by saying something dumb. I don’t know her at all but I want her all the more because of that.

  Then a thought slams into me.

  A simple kiss.

  It can make or break two people, really. Just before the hotel, I pipe up, “We should probably kiss first.” I tug her to a stop. She stares at me quizzically.

  Her bottom lip is sucked between her teeth as she stares up at me.

  Sexy.

  “What if I don’t want to kiss at all?” she retorts finally. She's all sass. It makes me hard. So hard. Who is this chick?

  “I’d say you’re lying.” I tangle my fingers in her hair.

  Soft.

  Like cashmere.

  Honeysuckle perfume wafts from her in small puffs. It’s a great smell on her. Her hands grip my arms with strength and she looks wide-eyed but still playful. She’s taunting me. Lowering my head, I lick her bottom lip before drawing it out.

  Heat.

  Shit.

  I didn't expect to feel a connection. I work my lips over hers, our tongues mingling. My dick is painfully hard.

  From a kiss.

  I’m a sucker.

  S.U.C.K.E.R.

  But her lips are divine. I’m not going to stop. I drop one hand from her hair down to the small of her back and pull her tightly to me. I need more. I want to feel more. Her fingers stroke the back of my neck at my hairline. She nips my bottom lip before smoothing it with her tongue. She plays with my lip ring, tugging on it playfully, and I groan.

  She’s fire.

  Her hips press into mine. I pull back.

  “Let’s check in,” I all but pant. Her face is flushed with color and her eyes look dazed and confused.

  Good.

  Mission accomplished.

  She nods her response and looks away. Her face drops ever so slightly. Distance, a gaping chasm of it, forms between us. She's withdrawing. I do it all the time. Put up the protective barrier. Fight feelings. Well, good for her. I can’t wait to make her come. I can't wait to hear my name screamed from her lips. Fuck sloppy and disappointing. I’m not rushing this tonight. We will both get what we want, how we want.

  Chapter 5

  Used

  The room is quiet as we enter. Just our breathing can be heard. Unsteady breaths. I’m nervous. She’s different somehow. I just can’t figure out why. I watch as she walks to the TV and clicks it on.

  “I have rules,” she states simply. I don’t answer. I don’t think she really wants an answer. I wait. “No chitchat. No snuggling after. Don’t bother trying to pretend to make love to me. This is fucking. Got it?” She turns, hands on hips, and waits with her head cocked to the side.

  “Yes,” I huff.

  She’s bossy. I like it.

  She flicks through the TV channels until settling on one of the music stations.

  Electronic. Interesting. Turning to me, her hands skim the hem of her shirt and with a quick motion it’s tugged off. Her bra goes next, followed by her pants. Her eyes never leave mine. It’s as if she’s sizing me up, taking stock of my reaction.

  Control, I realize. She needs it.

  It’s very apparent in her movements, her demeanor. Just panties. Plain white cotton panties. Somehow I’ve never seen anything more attractive. Her body is toned and muscled. A faint scar mars the skin at her waist on her right. A longer, jagged one near her belly button. I want to touch them. Kiss them. She faces me in nothing but those damn cotton panties.

  Hot.

  Her lips move almost imperceptibly. I squint to focus on them better. It looks like she’s counting. I advance on her slowly. I’m worried that if I move too quickly she might just vanish into a cloud of smoke. Her body language screams dominance, confident control, rage, even. But her eyes, her eyes scream with sorrow and defiance. The two emotions clash, making it hard to read her. I can see what she thinks she needs and I know what I’m going to give her instead.

  “Kneel,” I state gruffly, my decision made. Her eyes widen before narrowing. I run a fingertip from her shoulder to her hip along her ribs. “Kneel,” I repeat firmly. She flashes me a fairly bitchy smile but complies. I grab a pillow from the bed and place it between her legs. Fully dressed still, I lay my head on the pillow between her legs as she kneels over me. Her expression is of wonder. I move my hand up her inner thigh to the heat between her legs. Pushing her panties aside, my fingers slip inside of her. I watch her face as a soft groan leaves her lips. I pump my fingers deeper then withdraw them slowly. She watches curiously.

  I like that.

  She’s already so wet. Hooking my thumbs on either side of the plain cotton panties, I pull, ripping them from the elastic waistband. I push the ruined material up her waist further, out of the way. I wrap my hands up and over her thighs and pull her down onto my mouth. Breath hisses from her as I lick the length of her slowly but firmly. Her hands rest atop mine, support
ing her while kneeling. She tastes sweeter than I thought. I lap at her leisurely, focusing on every crevice and fold.

  She’s strong.

  Her thighs contract, pushing upward but I keep her pressed firmly to my mouth until she starts to wriggle and buck.

  Nip. Suck. Lick. Repeat. God, I love the clit.

  She’s grinding my face so hard that I think I might suffocate. But hell, what a way to go. I release one thigh and spread her wide with two fingers. Sucking her clit hard, I swirl my tongue around the bundle of nerves. She gasps and grinds down on my mouth, scraping herself along my teeth lightly. With a drawn-out shudder she finishes in my mouth. I lap at her center slowly while she comes down from her high, her muscles slack and useless.

  “Fuck...” she hisses between pants.

  “On your back,” I command. She thinks that was my A-game, but she's about to get a lot more. She narrows her eyes at me.

  “I prefer to be on top.” Her voice is firm and assertive.

  “Get your pert little ass on your back. Now,” I growl as she stands. Pushing down the ripped panties from her waist, she steps out of them as I sit up. She drops to her knees and pushes my chest hard.

  “My turn.” Her hands run down my torso, stopping at my belt buckle. Her fingers work swiftly and before I have time to form a thought she’s tugging my pants down around my ankles. Not that I don't want that perfect pout wrapped around my dick, but now’s not the time. I sit up, snake an arm around her waist, and roll, securing her under me. Her tattoo sweeps up colorfully just over the top of her shoulder. I want to lick it. I want to trace it in its entirety with my tongue. I want to see the rest of it. All I know is that there are gorgeous blossoms so far.