Taming Jake Wolfe

by Juliette Jones

  I pull the girls up, one by one so they’re on their knees facing me. I leave their hands tied. I don’t want them touching me with anything but their mouths. Their faces are streaked with tears and dirt. Their thighs are smeared with blood and my spit and their own juices. Already there are small bruises on their hips from the hard grip of my fingers. I pull the condom off and toss it on the ground. “Now suck me off,” I tell them.

  I look at Blondie. Her make-up has run and there are black smudges around her eyes. There’s a red mark on her neck where I choked her with my hand. “You first,” I say. She opens her mouth. Her lips are pink and wet.

  I hold her white-blond hair with my hand as I ease inside but I’m too big for her to take all of me.

  Red and other girl move closer. They start trying to kiss and lick my cock along with Blondie.

  “Suck me hard,” I tell Blondie, fucking her mouth. “Take me nice and deep.”

  “Let me suck him,” says Red. “I can take him deeper than that.” But this kicks up Blondie’s competitive spirit and she’s taking me deeper and gliding her tongue along the underside of my cock. All three of them are greedy and trying to outdo each other and I can’t hold on anymore. My orgasm explodes out of me and I come in surging bursts. Blondie can’t swallow it all and my cum is overflowing from her mouth, dripping down her chin.

  “Take it all,” I tell them. “Drink every drop and lick me clean.”

  They do and they’re fighting over it, licking my cock and each other’s mouths.

  Fuck.

  Once they’re done I take a step back.

  Already I feel myself closing off, needing distance.

  I shove my barely-sated cock into my jeans and zip up.

  That familiar sense of doom starts to creep back into my outlook. I’d leave right now but they’re still on my fucking jacket.

  “Stand up,” I tell them. And they do, slowly. They look used and dirty and sore. I untie Blondie’s wrists. “Untie them,” I tell her.

  As soon as they step off of my jacket, I grab it and fish in my pocket for a cigarette. I light it as I put my jacket back on.

  “I’ll see you around,” I say to them.

  “Jake,” the blond says. “Wait.” Her hands are untied now and she reaches out to touch my arm but I flinch back from her. She looks upset by this. “Don’t you want to –”

  “I’ll see you around,” I say again, cutting her off.

  I walk out.

  Call me. Baby, I NEED to see you. Tonight.

  God, not again. Professor Murphy just will not let this go. And now he’s calling me ‘baby’? Please. I told him before I left for the summer that we were over but then I ran into him in a quiet corner at the back of the library the other day. He started telling me how much he missed me and then he reached under my skirt and started rubbing me over the cotton of my panties. I let him get himself off like that, which was a little risky right there in the library but there was no one else around. He just seemed so desperate for it. And he’s been bombarding me with texts ever since.

  It all started two semesters ago when I went to his office to ask him a question about my level one Commerce class and he invited me for coffee. Then he offered to give me a ride home. Then, in the middle of our conversation, he randomly pulled the neckline of my top down and started touching my nipples. Of course I was shocked but then he told me he thought I could ace his class with a little extra help. After that he started giving me rides home every afternoon and he’d pull over and want to play with my breasts and suck on my nipples. I told him outright that I wasn’t going to sleep with him. I’m pretty driven to do well in my classes, though, so when he asked if he could just touch my panties, to feel if I was wet, I let him. He never asked me to touch him, and I never offered, but a couple of times he took his cock out and rubbed it until he came all over my bare breasts. Which is how I managed to get As in both level one and level two Commerce.

  I’m a sophomore at Princeton University not because I’m a high-achiever or a über-intelligent bookwhore. No. I go to Princeton because my father is a high-achiever and my mother is a über-intelligent bookwhore. Daddy’s a Professor Emeritus of English who’s won the Pulitzer Prize. My mother’s also a professor but she’s away on sabbatical in Spain for the semester. The only reason I got into an Ivy League university is because of my parents’ clout and their connections.

  So I’m making the most of the hand I’ve been dealt. I’m an average student with above-average ambition, which is why I occasionally employ the tactics necessary to get the results I need. Go ahead and judge me but I’m currently ranked number three in my class. Not bad considering the pack I’m running with are some of the most brilliant minds of my generation.

  See, Professor Murphy isn’t the only one who’s given me a little extra help. There have been a few others, too. Professor Gaines, my political science teacher – who’s actually pretty good-looking for a guy in his early forties – asked me to sit on his lap as he discussed my paper with me. He practically rewrote the whole essay for me. Even so, he was only going to give me a B+ until I started unbuttoning my dress and wriggling against his erection. He crossed out the B+ and wrote A just before he came right there in his khakis. I told him I’d never tell a soul. After that he gave me As on everything.

  I figure: sometimes a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. I plan on going to business school and starting my own hedge fund one day – that’s where the serious money is – so I need to do whatever it takes to get there.

  I’ve never had sex with any of them, though. I’ve never even let them take my panties off. I’m saving myself for my dream lover. It sounds cheesy, sure. I’m beginning to suspect there’s no such thing as a dream lover but I can’t help holding out until I at least find someone who really … turns me on. These professors get so worked up but that just doesn’t happen to me. Maybe I can’t. Maybe there’s something wrong with me and I’m immune to lust.

  Anyway, it’s about their pleasure, not mine. We both get something we want out of the deal and then we move on.

  Still, they always want more. They call and plead and buy me things. Which I politely return. I don’t want their gifts. I make it clear from day one that I’m absolutely not looking for a serious relationship.

  My phone trills again.

  Say yes, honey. I’m so fucking hard for you right now. Please. Let me take you out tonight.

  I shake my head. Way too explicit for a text, Murph. Some teaching assistant could stumble across that if you leave your iPhone lying around, which you probably will because you’re an over-excitable male version of a hot librarian who completely loses your cool every time you get a hard-on.

  I text him back and keep it non-committal.

  Crazy schedule at the moment. We’ll do coffee soon. I’ll txt you. xx

  I walk down the idyllic tree-lined street to my house. It’s huge, painted white. Four stories of rooms filled with first edition books and exotic knickknacks from my parents’ travels and sabbaticals overseas. Inside, my house smells like cozy, cluttered wealth. Outside, like freshly mowed grass and roses.

  There’s a stranger’s car in the driveway. A black, old-model Jeep. Students visit my father all the time. This Jeep strikes me as different to the usual, though. It doesn’t have any bumper stickers, like most of them do. It’s not an Ivy League advertisement, or a rich kid’s graduation gift. It looks more like a barely-maintained and very basic mode of transportation. I have no idea why, but I’m intrigued by this. I find myself looking forward to meeting whoever’s ride it is.

  I’m not disappointed.

  Sitting at the kitchen table with my father is one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen in my life. Seriously. He has black hair and dark eyes. His expression is staunch and sort of severe, like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. And what shoulders they are. Brawny and hard. He’s wearing a gray t-shirt that reveals tanned muscles that bulge and gleam like he might h
ave just finished working out.

  He notices me. His eyes scan the shape of my body in a brief, controlled glance. I’m totally used to this reaction from men and I can read volumes from the way his assessment plays out. They all do it: the animalistic appraisal. It happens before they’re even aware they’re doing it.

  I haven’t dressed provocatively at all. I try to tone it down most of the time, otherwise the harassment can become a problem. I’ve learned that I have the kind of curves that get the attention of men. I have golden skin, green eyes and long, dark hair: looks that hint at my mother’s Spanish ancestry.

  “Zara, you’re home,” my father says. “This is Alexander Wolfe, one of my former students. One of the most hard-working, high-achieving students I’ve ever had, in fact. Alexander, this is my daughter, Zara.”

  I vaguely recognize the name. Daddy must have mentioned him in passing once or twice before.

  Alexander Wolfe stands up. At his full height, he’s even more impressive. But his eyes have taken on a glittering restraint. He respects my father. He idolizes and owes my father. He has no intention of ever laying a hand on me.

  It’s cool. I have a feeling Alexander Wolfe is a handful. A complicated mess of ambition. So not what I need in my life right now. I smile at him, politely.

  “Zara.” His voice is deep, and sexy. God. Just the sound of his voice, saying my name like that, makes my pussy feel warm and soft against my cotton panties. Murph can’t even do that when he touches his fingers there and rubs the fabric.

  My father says to him, “So, what’s this favor you wanted to ask?”

  Alexander hesitates, like he wishes he didn’t have to ask whatever favor he’s about to lay on us. “It’s about my brother, Jake.”

  “The same brother that was living in your dorm room with you during sophomore year?” my father says.

  “Yes,” Alexander admits.

  For my benefit, my father explains, “Alexander raised his brother.”

  “Our parents died when he was very young,” Alexander says and I can tell the topic isn’t one he wants to delve deeply into. “Once the administrators found out about that little stunt I almost lost my scholarship. I would have if it wasn’t for you, Professor Ashe. After you talked to them, they even topped it up so I could move into an apartment and take him with me.”

  My father leans back in his chair. “I was happy to help.”

  “I’m going to make it all worth your while as soon as my business is up and running.”

  “There’s no need, Alexander.”

  “Until then, I’m sorry to even ask you this, after all you’ve already done for me. I know it’s a huge imposition, and I understand if you don’t think it’ll work for you. Jake is at the high school here in Princeton. He has one more semester to go. I’d prefer not to move him right now since he’s –” Another pause. His eyes are black and one of his fists is clenched. I almost feel sorry for the guy, he looks so turmoiled – or pissed off – about the entire topic.

  “Go on,” Daddy says in that calm, comforting professorial tone that can make you tell him practically anything. It works on Alexander just like it works on everybody else.

  “He just got out of a three months of juvenile detention, for shoplifting,” Alexander continues. “It’s not his first offense. He’s a good kid but he’s made a couple of bad choices, that’s all. If he comes and lives with me in the city, he’ll have to go to the public high school in my zone. The place is a zoo. It’d be like throwing him to the sharks. I’ve started a publishing company, which takes all my time. I can’t be around for him and keep track of him. Not right now. If he could just finish up here, he could come live with me as soon as he graduates in December and I’ll set him up with a job.” He looks at my father. “What I’m asking is if Jake could board with you. If you would consider it. Just until then. I would never ask you if I thought he was untrustworthy, or anything but a decent kid. He is a good kid. He wouldn’t give you any trouble. I promise you that. You have my word. I’ll make sure of it.”

  My father’s gone silent, but it’s not a shut-it-down silence. He’s incredibly open-minded, my Daddy. He’ll consider every angle before giving a definite answer. Meanwhile, I’m thinking: wtf?!?! You want your delinquent thief of a kid brother to come live with us?

  “Jake’s eighteen,” Alexander continues. “He stayed back a year when he was in middle school. He’s made up some of the time in summer school but he’s graduating late. I’ve told him about you, and about … how he’d be impeccably behaved if you did decide it was something you’d consider. He’d be totally focused on school.”

  So he’s not only a delinquent, but he’s a dumb delinquent. One that gets kept back at school and caught when he shoplifts. I’m sure my father will politely refuse, wish Mr. Hottie over here well and usher him briskly out the door.

  He doesn’t.

  “It’s a five-bedroom house, so there’s plenty of room,” my father says. “Our older daughter’s in California now. At Stanford. We’ve had boarders before. Quite a few, in fact. Jake could have the attic. It’s nice, and very private. It’s even got its own entrance, down the back staircase. But it’s really up to Zara. I leave for a lecture tour in Europe this weekend. I’ll be gone for at least a month.” To me: “What do you think, sweetie?”

  What I think is that there’s no way I want a punky dim-witted misfit with pimples and an attitude problem living in my house. I’d already planned to have my bestie Vivi move in with me for part of the time while my parents are traveling. “Well, --”

  But my father has already made up his mind.

  “If he’s anything like you, Alexander,” my father says, “I’m sure he’ll be completely respectful. He’ll probably spend most of his time studying. The attic is nice and quiet. And it might be nice for Zara to have some company while we’re away. Isn’t that right, honey?”

  Alexander’s watching me. What I’m thinking is: why couldn’t it be him moving in with me?

  And then I start wondering if Alexander’s brother looks anything like he does.

  My father is already shaking Alexander’s hand like the deal’s done. “When do we get to meet him? And when does he want to move in?”

  Alexander’s sort of staring at my father, like he can’t believe he’s agreed to it. I can’t believe he’s agreed to it, either.

  “I’ll bring him by on Friday night,” Alexander says.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” my brother yells as soon as I walk in the door. I notice a few boxes in the hallway of our shitty one-bedroom apartment, half-packed. The couch – my bed – is still strewn with the blankets I didn’t bother folding this morning. We don’t have a lot of stuff but everything looks more organized than usual. And emptier.

  “Out. Obviously.”

  “You skipped school again? The school just texted me and said this is your last goddamn warning. How many times do we have to go through all this, Jake?”

  I’m not feeling great about the whole thing, now, after the fact. I actually did my Economics homework for once and now I’ll be handing it in late again. Even after the teacher was nice enough to give me an extra day. Not only that but now I’m wishing I didn’t fuck all those girls like that. I don’t just feel like I used them but like they used me. Seeking me out like that and tempting me with their coy little smiles and their wet pussies. Hanging their virginity trophies on my out-of-control cock and no doubt talking about it around town. Now even more of them will be following me around.

  “I only skipped the last class of the day,” I say. “Something came up.”

  Alexander is glaring at me and his fists are balled, like he’s about to jump me and beat me to a pulp. It wouldn’t be the first time. I’m as big as he is now though so I can sometimes beat him to a pulp if I get my jabs in just right. He looks like he’s considering this and he releases his fists, clearly making an attempt to calm down. “Jake. If you fail another class, then you’ll have to take another class.
In order to graduate. Which means it’ll be another three months before you can come live in the city with me.”

  So that’s it. He’s decided he is moving into the city. Without me. It’s been something he’s been thinking about doing for over a year. But, as usual, his ball and chain – me – has held him back.

  “I don’t need a diploma to do what I’m planning on doing.”

  “Which is what?” he seethes. “Fuck your way across the continental United States?”

  I stare at him. He didn’t need to say that and I can tell he’s already kind of regretting it. “I might go to Hawaii too,” I say. It’s a joke but my brother doesn’t have much of a sense of humor. Especially when it comes to me.

  “What do you plan on doing for money?”

  I had thought about stealing some but I don’t tell him this.

  He speaks slowly, as if I’m a dipshit who’s having trouble understanding. “As we’ve talked about, as soon as you graduate, I’ll give you a job in my company. I can’t do that if you don’t have a diploma. It reeks of nepotism.”

  “What if I don’t want to work for you? Did you ever consider that possibility?”

  “I can’t see a lot of other employers banging down your fucking door, Jake. And, like it or not, you need a job to earn money which is how us regular mortals pay for places to live and food to eat and all those gallons of gas your bike likes to drink up.”