Has anyone ever told me they wanted me in such explicit detail, without any words at all? Certainly not, because I can’t imagine ever forgetting about a moment like this.
We break apart slowly, an inch or two, before coming back together with another kiss, like when you’re holding two magnets close to each other and trying to see how close you can get them before they succumb to the pull.
She steps back a little so she can look up at me, and for a second I wonder what she’s about to say. Will she play the kiss off like it was no big deal? Will she leave to rejoin her friends? Or will she ask me to take her somewhere? Will she want to come home with me?
And then, a whistle from the other side of the patio interrupts us, followed by some cheers and slow claps.
Fuck.
I chance a look over and see some of the guys I came with tonight hanging out nearby, smoking and generally being drunken idiots. Needless to say, we did not notice them joining us on the patio.
“Is that Professor Fairbanks?,” asks one of Dev’s grad student friends, whose name I don’t remember and who I certainly don’t care to know now.
“Professor, surely that can’t be you. With a... is that a girl?”
I ignore him and turn back to—fuck.
“We haven’t exchanged names yet. I’m Ben, by the way.”
She looks surprised but I can tell she’s less dazed than she was a moment ago. She has her wits about her now, but I don’t want that. I want all her wits to take a hike and get us back to the seriously hot moment we just shared, when she melted into me so sweetly.
She clears her throat. “I’m Lina.”
“As in ‘Lena Horne’ or like—?”
If I’m not mistaken, she blushes a little. “Uh, it’s L-I-N-A. Short for Angelina,” she mumbles. “Which you can never call me.”
My response is just a smile as I consider her in front of me. Angelina. Lina. Both names sound beautiful, but hell, she could be named Roger and I’d still love it.
“Why not? What’s so bad about Angelina?”
“Nothing, I guess, except for that it literally means angel?” She wrinkles her nose like she can’t even stand talking about it. “My parents and their wishful thinking. It’s just so... corny.”
She’s so fucking cute, her little pout only serving to put her lips further on display for me. I don’t hesitate, I know I need to kiss her again. This time, I pull her into a kiss and spin her back around, pressing her against the wall and using my body to shield her from view of the guys. Not that there’s anything to see, but I feel protective over all of her, especially the way she angles her hips toward me and rubs against the front of my pants. The guys heckle me again, but I’m too far gone to care.
This is incredibly out of character for me, but I swear, if she wanted it, I’d get her off right here in public. Still, the thought of those idiots seeing any of that forces me to pull away. I’ve got her tucked under my arm and headed toward the door before she even registers that we’re moving.
I nod over at the guys as we walk past. They stare at me, mouths agape, as they get a closer look at Lina.
Yeah, that’s fucking right, idiots. She’s mine.
I can’t let myself question the unexpectedly possessive tone of my thoughts right now.
Not yet.
Lina
Sometimes I think about how my choice to attend Woodburgh ultimately came down to the financial aid package and the fact that it was just far enough from my folks that I wouldn’t see them all the time, but not so far that I couldn’t go home to see my brother and sister at least once a month. It’s a little ridiculous to me that such a huge decision was formed by such practical factors.
Usually, when something wonderful happens — like I make a new connection or form a new memory from my time here, I think back to how different my life could have been if I had just chosen a different school. About how the most important years of my life thus far could have easily been so different. And I throw up a little prayer of gratitude to the universe for ensuring I got to this place.
Tonight, meeting Ben and kissing him and feeling so tethered to him already that I kind of can’t breathe? Yeah, this is definitely a thank the universe kind of night.
After leaving the patio, we decide to stay at the bar a little longer. We each order a drink and, pretty soon, the DJ starts playing all my favorites. I’m squirming in my barstool, but eventually, I hop up and can’t help but to start moving. Ben watches me from under his incredible lashes, and I feel motherfucking powerful. I shake my ass and grind on him a little. He bands an arm around me, but I wriggle out of his hold.
“Come to the dance floor?” I plead. I don’t mind dancing alone, but something tells me dancing with him is going to be an experience. He shakes his head, “you go on, sweetheart. I’ll be right here.”
Ugh.
I shrug and pick my way through the crowded dance floor, trying to see if any of my friends are back from whatever adventures they’ve run off to. But no, I just see folks enjoying the dance. A nice-looking guy approaches me, his hand out and eyebrow quirked in the universal “wanna dance?” gesture.
Before I can say anything, I feel Ben’s sturdy frame behind me, as he bends low to whisper in my ear. “I changed my mind, gorgeous. Suddenly I’m feeling entirely too possessive over you. I’ll dance whenever and wherever you want.”
He spins me around so our fronts are facing each other. My almost-dance partner eyes Ben and ultimately decides not to fight him or even say anything to him. Probably smart.
Ben and I settle into an easy, sensual rhythm as an old R&B song plays. He’s perfectly on beat and the feel of his hands up and down my body is enough to make my panties wet... um, wetter.
“I thought you said you couldn’t dance,” I say in what I hope is a playful tone. In reality, I don’t feel very playful right now. I feel ridiculously turned on and more than a little breathless. His response is just a sexy wink and a shake of his head. How did he make winking sexy? Winking is supposed to be creepy. The only people who ever winked at me were like old guys at the grocery store and my mom’s best friend.
My rambling thoughts dissipate as Ben slides his muscular thigh between my legs and presses me even closer to him. Suddenly, I can’t think about much of anything besides the amazing way he feels. The thin fabric of my romper allows me to feel almost everything. The thick muscle of his thigh, flexing and unflexing as we grind together on this crowded dance floor. The slight abrasion of his slacks against my skin.
A slight thrill shoots through me when I realize I’ll probably leave a wet spot on the front of his pants. I guess I should be embarrassed by it, but if anything it just makes me want to leave a bigger mark on him.
He watches me with something akin to awe. My insides positively melt when he grabs me tight by the back of my neck, tilting my head slightly and licking a straight path from the base of my neck up to just below my ear. It feels so good but I jerk my head slightly.
“I’m so sweaty,” I protest, by way of... what? Apology? Justification for how I taste?
Ben growls and pulls me close to him again. He brushes my hair away from my ear and presses a kiss there before whispering, “You taste perfect. I’m tempted to find the nearest dark corner and lick you head to toe so I can see how good you taste everywhere else.”
“Oh,” I breathe, “well, you know, we could... go outside, maybe?” What am I even doing right now? Who am I? Before I can contemplate these questions some more, Ben’s already leading me again, this time through the massive crowd and onto the street.
“Please tell me you live close by, and preferably not with a roommate? I need to see you all spread out on a bed, naked and dripping” he pleads, once we’re out in front of the bar.
I shake my head.
He groans and reaches for my hand. Before I can ask where we’re going, he has me settled against a cool brick wall on the side of the bar. It’s not exactly private, since anyone on the sidewalk can
see us if they’re looking. But it’s far enough removed that they’d have to squint to see our faces. And honestly, they could see my whole ass right now for all I care. I don’t give a shit.
Ben and I stare at each other for a beat, both of us breathing heavier than usual. He brushes his thumb under my cheekbone, before cupping my face with his hand.
“You’re ridiculously beautiful,” he whispers. “Have I told you that yet?”
“I’m... I’m not sure,” I say truthfully.
“Well, you are.”
“Okay.”
“I want you,” he says.
My only response is a nod, which is enough to prompt him to kiss me. God, it’s been too long since we kissed. He sucks on my bottom lip, giving me a nip that borders on pain before he kisses and licks it better.
My hands go into his thick hair, trying to get him in deeper. He recreates our position from the dance floor—with his thigh between my legs again. I’m grinding against him almost involuntarily but oh god I can’t stop.
“That’s right, gorgeous, grind that sweet thing on me. Do you think you could get off like this?”
Oh god oh god oh god.
The telltale signs of release have been building the whole night, and I’m so close. But still, there’s something else I need.
“I... oh... Ben, I need...,” I can barely get the words out because he’s lightly running his hand along my nipple. He looks at me and I guess whatever he sees there encourages him to keep going. He pinches my nipple in earnest. I gasp at the sensation, feeling a corresponding pull on my clit.
“Sweet girl, you’re so fucking hot. I knew you were gorgeous when I first saw you. But right now? While you rub your pussy on me and try to get yourself off? This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“More,” I whisper, “I need more. I need something. God, please touch me.” My voice sounds foreign to my own ears, but I can’t find it in me to care about how desperate I sound.
Ben lets out a hum of consideration as he assesses my outfit. The bottom of the romper ends in loose shorts, and I feel a thrill of anticipation when I see the idea take root in his brain. He trails his hand down to my thigh, lightly teasing at the bottom of my shorts. He pauses just beneath the hem, then looks up at me for permission.
I nod frantically, which earns me a chuckle from him. He kisses me lightly but pulls away before I can deepen it. I make an unladylike grunt of frustration.
“Shh, I got you, sweetheart, I got you. I just need you to say it. I need to hear that you’re sure.”
“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” I know I sound grumpy and I don’t care. He needs to stop teasing me or I’m two seconds away from shoving my own hand in my panties and taking care of myself.
“Ben, for the love of god, yes. Please. Please put your hand inside my damn panties and make me come. Okay?”
“Oh, is that what you want?” This motherfucker has the nerve to still be teasing me!
“Well, since you asked so nicely...” He trails off as he resumes his teasing kisses and sucks along my neck and collar. I’m going to have hickeys like a damn high school student and I don’t give one single fuck. I love it.
Finally, blissfully, he brings his hand up my thigh and under the hem of my shorts. He teases me even more by rubbing his hand lightly over my soaked panties, but I think he realizes I’m thisclose to murdering him, because he only teases for a second before pushing my panties aside and rubbing me in just the perfect place.
Ben groans and rests his head on my shoulder for a moment. “Goddamn it sweetheart, you are so hot and wet. Tell me, did you soak these panties for me?” His whisper in my ear sends even more wetness to my needy pussy.
I can barely form words as he caresses my entrance, lightly slipping one finger just inside me but not going any further. Dear god he’s going to kill me like this.
“Lina...,” he says, his warning tone bringing me out of my blissed-out stupor.
“Hmm?” I’m squirming, trying to get his hand to go where I need it.
“I asked you a question,” he says.
Huh? Did he? What was the question?
I open my eyes and meet his gaze, his eyes nearly consumed by desire.
At seeing my dazed expression, he gives me a little shake of his head and a wicked smile. “I asked you if you soaked these panties for me. Were you thinking about coming for me when we were in the bar?”
“Mmm yes,” I say, breathless as he starts his assault of my pussy with renewed vigor.
“Good girl,” he whispers. I shouldn’t find that as hot as I do but goddamn it if I don’t whimper and writhe on his hand while he praises me. “Yes baby, ride my hand. Fucking soak my fingers. I can’t fucking wait to lick them clean. Can’t wait to taste you. God, I bet you taste so good.”
I feel myself teetering and that’s when it really hits me that I’m about to come in a semi-public place. It takes me less than half a second to confirm that I still don’t give a shit, all I want is to come for him right fucking now. If it were a little more private, I’d maybe—okay, definitely—let him fuck me against this wall.
That thought should scare me but it actually makes me so excited that I propel over the cliff into euphoria, my orgasm splintering through me and making me feel better than any orgasm from a finger fuck has the right to.
I’m practically incoherent, babbling and moaning as I keep coming, Ben’s dirty whispered encouragement and the feeling of his thick finger tapping against my G-spot setting me over the edge once more. It feels like I come for ages, longer than any orgasm I’ve ever experienced.
In the hazy midst of my post-orgasm comedown, I register that Ben’s attention is diverted as a group of rowdy guys make their way out of the bar, coming to a stop just near the entrance to the alley. I can’t make them out too clearly but I recognize at least one of them from the group Ben was with earlier. They are definitely drunk, a few older guys stumbling out while trying to keep the good-looking young-ish guy propped up between them.
I feel Ben’s heavy sigh as he mutters under his breath.
“Fucking hell.” He looks up at me, apology and regret in his eyes, and I shake my head.
“Of course, please take care of your friends, it’s not a big deal.”
“They’re not even really my friends,” he says, like he is still trying to decide if he wants to go help. But I know he will. He’s a decent person, I can already tell. He’s definitely going to go help.
At the same time, it seems like Ben and I both realize that his hand is still inside me. It felt natural, not awkward at all. But suddenly, it feels... I don’t know. Just a minute ago, that hand brought me to indescribable levels of pleasure. And now... it just feels a little... out of place? Whatever it is I’m feeling, it seems like Ben feels it too. He’s careful not to meet my eyes as he gently pulls his fingers out of me and arranges my panties back in place.
Despite his earlier proclamation that he would lick his fingers clean, Ben wipes his wet hand on the side of his pant leg. The sight of it shouldn’t exactly upset me. Hell, if he had just fingered me and then wiped his hand like that, I wouldn’t have even registered the action.
But, because he whispered that filthy promise to me, that expression of unfiltered lust, the fact that he actually does nearly the opposite makes me realize that whatever dreamy place we occupied tonight is officially over.
He takes a step away from me, glancing over at the guys. One of them is currently puking in a potted plant outside the bar.
“I swear, he’s going to lose his damn job before he even starts,” Ben mutters, more to himself than anything. He runs his hands through his hair and turns back to me.
Now that I’m no longer wrapped around him like ivy, I suppose he’s able to take a second and assess the situation. And, while he assesses, I know for sure that this thing between us is very much not a thing anymore. If I thought him wiping his hand on his pants signified the bursting of our dream bubble, this moment is th
e official end—the moment where he might try to convince me or himself that the dream bubble never even existed. He has the look of a man who knows he’s about to upset someone. I decide to make it easier for him.
I touch his arm lightly to bring his attention back to me. “Hey, it’s okay. I had fun tonight. I’m just going to...,” I trail off, waving my phone in the air and hoping he knows this means I’m about to call an Uber.
“No, wait,” he says.
His words send an involuntary thrill to my core, as a big part of me hopes that he’s going to ask for my number or something to let me know that I’m not crazy. I mean, fuck. I never have nights like this, where I’m so drawn to someone that I need to know everything about them—what they like, what they hate, what they taste like, what they feel like. I want to know I’m not the only one feeling this craziness tonight. But, I brace myself for the possibility that it is just me. Maybe he was drunk before and now he’s sobering up and realizing he actually doesn’t want to take me home.
“Lina. I see so many thoughts racing through your head right now, and I guarantee you they’re probably all false. Don’t... just... I don’t want you to think for one moment that I’m not attracted to you. Because lord knows I am. Very. But...,” he trails off, glancing back at his friends again. They’re in the midst of a loud argument about where they will be Ubering to next.
Ben turns back to me, a wild look in his eye. “Fuck it. I’m just going to be honest with you here, Lina. I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “I mean, neither do I, like ever, but was there something specific on your mind right now?”
He shoots me an incredulous look. “I’m a 37-year-old professor. At this school. And I’m pretty sure you’re a student.” He waits for me to correct him. When I don’t say anything, he continues. “Which means, you are off limits. And yet, I was just knuckles deep in your pussy and I’m pretty sure I would have taken you home tonight and fucked you if we weren’t interrupted. That thought is a little scary because I’ve never ever done that. It’s not me.”
Extra Credit: A Dirty & Diverse Novella Page 2
