Booty Call(19)

“No whining. You want the date or not?”

“If we’re calling it a date, abso-fucking-lutely.”





— —





He picks me up from my exam and we head back to his place. He asks me how it went, and I launch into a too-long explanation of why I didn’t like the exam questions, but I think I gave the answers the professor was looking for. My answer lasts all the way back to his place—which is nice, and I try to steer the conversation to that, but he just grins at me and asks another question about my exam.

He’s been slowly unwinding from buttoned-up Scott as we’ve been talking. His tie came off—hot—and he unbuttoned his jacket—even hotter. Now he flicks open the top button of his dress shirt and I swear my panties get wet from that one simple action. “We can go out for drinks as soon as I get changed.”

“You wanna go to the campus bar?” I ask, although really, I just want to help him get changed, and by that, I mean get naked. And then I want to ride him like a rodeo bronco. It is my celebration, after all.

He makes a face. “No.”

I laugh. “Do you have a neighborhood bar around here?”

“Yeah.” He watches me watching him slide off his dress shirt. “Or we could get a bottle of tequila and a lime from the store and come back to my place. Or your place. Hell, we can call up your friends and invite them along.”

“Seriously, I told you last night. Corey was my only friend. Being on an accelerated program made that kind of weird, because I stopped taking classes with the people I started with, and everyone else had already formed friendships. I mean, I’m friendly with people…” I’m babbling. I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Scott looks like he’s torn between glowering and being sympathetic. He fails at the latter. Glower is in full effect. “We won’t call Corey.”

“He’ll be so disappointed,” I say, laughing as he roughly grabs my hips and slides our bodies together.

“I never wanted to get between you and a friend.” He’s serious about that, and I appreciate it.

I kiss his jaw. “I know. But if being reminded that I’m not interested steers him away, then maybe he wasn’t that close of a friend to begin with.”

“How the hell are you this mature? I still don’t have that kind of objectivity.”

“Yeah? What friends hurt you?”

Something flickers in his eyes, but I’ve learned that while I can ask that kind of question, and he’ll never shut me down…he doesn’t answer, either.

But it’s my last day of school for a few weeks—until summer school begins, although I’ll have some prep for that to do, because I’m finishing my senior project for double credit—and I don’t want to go all emo about him not sharing when I’ve pushed for this to be light between us.

So I don’t need to mess with feelings and secrets and heaviness. I’ve got a hot friend who wants to do tequila shots with me to celebrate my last exam of the spring. “Never mind. Bring it on, old man. Let’s go get some tequila and see just how hard you can celebrate.”

He grins at me, his white teeth glinting in the street light. “Famous last words, sweetness. Famous last words.”





— —





An hour later, we’ve got tequila and limes and salt—fancy salt that the fancy corner store in his fancy neighborhood sells for just this purpose.

And I’m a little drunk, obviously, because I’m adding fancy to every other word. Fancy that.

We’re sharing life stories. His is considerably longer than mine.

I squint at him. “What happened?”

“I left the navy to join my father’s company.”

I frown, because that sounds…not fun. He gives me a bland look which just makes me wanna be sarcastic. Not my finest personality trait. I roll my eyes. “And now you’re a bodyguard. That’s a logical chain of events.”

“It didn’t work out. Although neither did being a bodyguard, so the common denominator there is me.”

“But you liked the navy. And it sounds like the navy liked you.”

“Yeah.”

I don’t ask for more than that. It’s none of my business. But maybe we’re not so different, Scott and me. I decide to share a little secret with him. Tequila makes me brave. “I’ve got one more semester left. Then I’m running away. I know Cole could find me anywhere, so like, not literally running away, but I’m done with my family. I want to go live somewhere they don’t have a presence.”

He gives me a long, perusing look. Like he’s trying to figure out if I’m serious or if this is the fantasy of a college co-ed. “Where?”

I haven’t figured that part out yet. “I don’t know. Maybe London. Paris. Sydney, Australia sounds great.”

He laughs. “You know other countries have rules about who can just move there, right?”

“You don’t think the Queen of England wants me in her backyard? I’m not my sister. I’m not likely to blow a prince and leak the video.”

“You better not.” His jealousy is cute. Always nice to be wanted. But in this hypothetical-but-very-real fantasy of mine, I’m running away from Scott, too. I shift uncomfortably. “Ali,” he growls, and I wave him off.

“Let’s not talk about who I’m going to give future blow jobs to, okay?”

“Not okay.” He tips me onto my back and crawls over me, tangling his hands in my hair as he crushes his mouth to mine. We make out like kids on his very nice rug for a few minutes, then I push him off me.

“I want another shot.”

“Maybe we’ve had enough.”

I give him a look. “Really?”

He snorts and pours me another shot. “Your funeral.”

I’m warm and fuzzy, but I’m fine. I slam it back, then lick my lips and scoot back until I’m leaning against his couch. “Where would you go, if you could live anywhere in the world?”

“French Polynesia,” he says without hesitation. “Most beautiful place on earth.”

I nod. I’ve been to Tahiti once. “Nice.”

“You don’t agree.”

I shrug. “Hard to take over the world from the middle of nowhere.”

“That’s my girl.” There’s legit pride in his voice as he says it, but this conversation just reveals the true divide between us. I want big cosmopolitan city, and a life of important responsibility. He wants…bikinis and no drama.

I fall silent, playing with a lime wedge.

“Let’s not talk about you leaving. Or me…escaping to an island. That’s just talk, you know.”

“Okay.” I don’t want to talk about it, either. I meant to tell him that to share that I get how family can be fucked up, and it came out all wrong. Like I’ll be flippant when what we have ends, and I won’t.

I’ll always remember Scott.

Always…

My stomach clenches hard at the thought of taking another man like I’ve taken Scott. It’s unfathomable, really, but I thought losing my virginity would be this crazy thing, and it had turned out to be wonderful.

Maybe I’ll be celibate once we part ways. I’ve certainly got enough fantasy fodder.

“Hey, smarty pants, stop that.” I look up at him and he’s holding out another shot. “One more, and then we take this party into my bedroom.”

“Not right here?”

He grins. “I’ve got a nice big headboard. I want you to hold on to it while you ride my face.”

Oh. My skin bursts into flames and I take the shot. “All right, then.”





—twenty—





Scott





“I want to take you away for the weekend,” I tell Ali, rolling onto my back. She slides against me, one of her thighs wrapping over mine. That’s all it takes. One hot press of her naked body against mine and my cock is bouncing back to attention. She laughs quietly as he taps her leg, then sways up to my belly.

It’s not fucking funny. I want back inside her. I want to mark her. Make her wet and stretch her to her max, so she’s sore tomorrow and remembers who owns her pussy.

It’s mine.

She’s mine.

God, she’s driving me out of my mind.

We need some time where I’m not working and she’s not studying. Where we can touch and kiss and fucking consume each other, non-stop. So we can quench this insane fire that burns so bright between us, I can’t even carry on a fucking conversation before rolling her onto her back and spreading her legs wide.

“I want to take you away for the weekend.”

“We could just fuck for a weekend here.”

I nip at her shoulder. “I need to go to London next week. Come with me to Europe. We’ll go to Paris for the weekend, and then when we’re in London, you can go shopping or study while I’m working.”

“That’s not taking me away for the weekend.”

“But the weekend would be all ours. No interruptions. And then real life will intrude, as it always does, but at least we’ll be together.”

“Shopping?”

“There are Agent Provocateur shops in both Paris and London. In fact, there’s one right around the corner from my flat.”