“Ah, fuck.” He searches frantically for the wrapper with his hands, finds it and tears it open. He’s an expert and sheathes his dick in record speed. Then, it’s back to business. He pushes pack into me, spreading me wide with each careful thrust.
His tempo speeds up and a fire is lit in his eyes. The same eyes that were feral before have now turned into something else. He watches me as he fucks me and places a palm behind my head, cradling me as he drives into me.
It’s intimate, but it’s also not. My prediction and observations were correct. He doesn’t make love. He fucks. He’s a master and he revels in watching as he turns me inside out.
My body sweats against both the leather beneath me, and the man on top of me. The cologne he had doused himself in before he left his house this morning drifts into a musky scent as his own body begins to sweat.
I hook my legs beneath the cheeks of his muscular ass as I feel a swell building from within. I crave for him to drive into me deeper and harder, and that he does. Not counting the moans and grunts, he’s quiet. That’s the way I like it.
Sex is best when you boil it down to the basics. Two people fucking like the animals that they are. His ass bounces against my bare feet with every thrust, and his body begins to quake, forcing his chest to contract.
I push my body closer to him and lower my finger to my clit. But, he knocks my hand again and begins to rub it himself. “Come for me, Apple.”
I swallow a lump in my throat and engage in a staring war with him. His eyes are drawn back now, lost in waves of pleasure.
I snap my eyes shut.
I curl my toes.
And I fucking explode as he continues to fuck me deeper into the sweat-drenched seat. I don’t see stars, or the entire galaxy. I see him, fucking me harder and deeper, prolonging my orgasm and ripping me from one world into the next.
I dig my fingers into his ass, trying to keep hold of him as my entire body shakes.
“I’m going to come,” he moans. “Where do you want it?”
“Just keep going,” I beg him through exasperated breaths.
“Where?” His voice is husky and shaky, and his pecs draw tight. “Where do you want me to come?”
I really don’t care.
“Fuckkkk,” he cries out and raises my legs with his hands as he begins to pound me like you see in those shows about Rome. His entire body is strained and his mouth drops open. His thrusts are wild and uneven as he bucks through his own explosion, slamming all the way into me until I can feel his balls against my beaten flesh.
Stubble brushes against my heaving breasts as he falls onto me with his condom-covered dick still inside.
And I think to myself, I just got fucked.
And I’m not talking about cock-in-pussy action.
“You don’t need to come back to work, or whatever you want to call it,” he has the nerve to say while still laying on top of me.
“This was a game to you, wasn’t it?” Yes, I’m well aware of the hypocrisy.
“Not so much a game.” He crawls away from me and slips off the condom. “But I think we can both agree things could get complicated.” He ties the condom, pops open the door and tosses it on the ground.
“I love complicated.” I slide up against the steamed window.
“I don’t.”
“Was this your plan from the beginning? To hook up with me?”
“It wasn’t.” He runs his fingers through short hair. “But now that it has transpired, I don’t regret it.”
“Do you ever have regrets?”
“Stop asking questions and enjoy the silence.”
“I don’t like silence.”
“That’s a shame, because it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”
“Agree to disagree.” I’m bored now, and need a vacation from him to rethink my strategy. “Can you take me to my car?”
“Do you want to stop and get a bite to eat first?”
“Nah, I’m drained.”
“Your prerogative.” He shrugs and pushes the car door open. He peeks his head out to make sure nobody is around, before slipping behind the car and gathering our pile of clothes. I pick my torn panties off the floor and shake my head at myself.
He’s just like all the other men in the world. With that knowledge, I’m more determined than ever to destroy him. He’s a good fuck, and that’s all he seems interested in. However, he has a weak point and it’s my job to find it.
13
I was weak, and I fell for his cock like a hooker after a week-long dry spell. For two years, I thought about last night. In my wildest dreams, I never imagined it would end up how it did. In my dreams, I would ride him so fast and so hard that he would beg for seconds, of which he would be denied.
Reality has a bad habit of crushing dreams. As fate would have it, it is now I whom must beg for a second chance. Whether he likes it or not, he will fall in love with me and I will crush his heart, leaving his reputation destroyed in the process.
I mustn’t lose sight of the end game.
I storm past the busy secretary in the office, and past an elderly woman cradling a stack of papers in her arms. The scent of coffee and donuts permeates through the air, masking a stench that rises from the ancient and beaten carpets. I suppose there wasn’t enough money left from my tuition to install new floors.
At the end of the hall is his office, with a nice little engraved silver plate that I somehow managed to miss before: PROFESSOR J. MOON
I reach for the knob and rip the door open.
Jensen looks up to me from his desk. A pair of reading glasses sits on the dock of his nose. They look surprisingly good on him, but that’s not why I have come all the way across campus today. I tend to avoid campus for the most part, going so far as to register all online classes, except for my marketing course, for my final semester.
“What are you doing here?” The tone of his voice would indicate he’s annoyed. This in turn annoys me.
“Reporting for duty,” I say with a forced smile and retrieve a red pen from my purse. I have no idea what I’m going to use it for, but there are a few notes I would love to scribble across a few student’s tests.
He looks down and flips a paper over on his desk. “That’s not necessary, remember?”
“Like it was yesterday.” It was yesterday. “I want to be here.”
“You’re working another angle,” he says, continuing to make a conscious effort to ignore me.
“I promise I’m not.”
“Tigers really do change their stripes, eh?”
“Maybe,” I say, purse my lips and shrug, “that tiger was always wearing a mask.”
His attention shifts to me, and I catch a glimpse of those beautiful, oceanic eyes. “That’s rather poetic.”
“I wasn’t even trying.” I smile innocently, and convincingly, knowing full well I was up all night thinking of that line.
“I hate poetry.” He goes back to work, striking red lines of ink through a typed page.
“Jesus Christ,” I snap and throw the pen at his head. “What the hell is wrong with you?’
“You’re not here because you want to work.” He slides the glasses off the edge of his nose and slams them onto the desk. “You’re here for something else entirely, but once again, I can’t figure it out.”
“I had fun last night.”
“Yeah.” He leans back in his chair and folds his arms over each other. “It was a blast.” Sarcastic or serious, I feel him slipping out of my fingers.
“Why are you so guarded?” I ask with a shake of my head.
He looks me dead in the eyes. “Why are you?”
“Who says I’m guarded?”
“Are we going to play a game of twenty questions, or are you going to tell me why you’re actually here?”