CHAPTER 2 — AJAX
Fuck, she looks perfect as always with her honey blonde hair and that silky, orangey-pink dress that skims her milky skin like soft brush strokes on a painting.
She really is a work of art. Sometimes it feels wrong to objectify her in my mind.
I almost feel as if a woman this beautiful shouldn’t be sexualized.
Of course, I do anyways. I can’t help it.
Because, in addition to her clear skin and sparkling eyes, she is fucking hot.
From her round breasts to her curvy hips, she’s pure perfection.
I get the sense too that she doesn’t even know it.
I’m sure she thinks she’s pretty, but I don’t think she realizes just how obsessed most of the men on campus are with her.
I’m not a student here, but I’m around a lot since I deal drugs to the students, and I notice how the men look at her. I’ll admit, it feels pretty good to be walking around with her. I’m used to being around beautiful women, but she’s something else.
She catches my eye and smiles. She bites her lower lip, and I feel all the blood rush to my groin. Fuck. Only she could turn me on this quickly.
“I’ll be back in a second, angel,” I say, turning. I don’t mind it if she knows that I’m turned on by her, but this quickly, it’s a bit much.
When it’s time for my order, the cute barista with a short brown bob giggles.
“Medium black coffee?” she asks.
“You got it,” I say, smiling.
“Of course,” she says, and she fucking winks, which isn’t totally surprising, because I’ve had the sense that she’s into me for a few weeks. She’s been escalating her flirting every single time. She’s cute, but not really my type. Still, I’m always nice to her, as I am with any woman.
“It’s on the house,” she says as she places it down in front of me.
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Is that it?” she says, smiling, cutting me off.
“Almond milk latte,” I say. I didn’t ask Belle what she wanted, but I’m observant.
She looks at me, confused, and then her eyes flit behind me to where Belle is sitting. Suddenly, she scowls and turns away abruptly.
I watch her back as she fiddles with the silver machine, making the latte. When she comes back, her demeanor has totally changed. She’s sullen, like a pouting child.
“Here,” she mumbles. “6.81.”
I can’t help but notice that she’s now charged me for both drinks when mine was supposed to be on the house. Still, I’m not going to fight her on it. She’s feeling rejected, and I don’t need to rub that in. Although the whole thing is a bit ridiculous.
“Thanks,” I say, flashing her a smile. And for a split second, she melts, smiling back. And then, as if she remembers better, her mouth contorts back into a frown, and she turns away. I stifle a laugh as I walk towards Belle.
“Here you go, beautiful,” I say, placing the drink in front of her.
“Thanks,” she says, smiling. “What was that all about?” she asks, nodding her head towards the barista.
“Oh, that was nothing,” I say blithely.
She squints, and a piece of blonde hair falls in front of her eyes. Instinctively, I reach forward and tuck it behind her ear. She stills when I touch her. I pause for a second, my hand on the space between her eye and her ear. I’m surprised by how cold she is.
“You’re freezing,” I say. “Here.” I immediately get up and shrug off my leather jacket.
“Thanks, but I—” She pauses, looking embarrassed.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’m vegan,” she mumbles.
“Oh, of course,” I say. “Um… hold on.”
Quick as a flash, I pull off my sweatshirt. I’m wearing a muscle tank underneath, which isn’t really weather-appropriate, but that doesn’t matter. Her comfort matters more.
I notice her eyes bulge as I throw my leather jacket back on. She glances away, but I notice her visibly swallow, and her cheeks turn pink. My cock throbs. God, I want her.
“I love how principled you are, by the way,” I say, leaning forward. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“Thanks,” she says. She looks conflicted, like she’s not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult in disguise.
“I mean it,” I say, smiling bigger. “It just makes it that much more satisfying to break you. Anybody can break a weak woman. It’s the stubborn ones like you that are the most fun,” I say, winking.
She blushes. “Stubborn? I thought you said principled.”
“Same thing,” I say, shrugging. “Speaking of which—” I pause and lean forward. She leans forward immediately too, and then, as if she catches herself, starts to back up.
I lean forward quick as a flash and wrap my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in. She struggles for a half second and then relents. Her breathing gets shallower. She smells like lilacs and innocence.
“Did you follow my instructions?” I ask.
She bites her lower lip and ducks her head. “Yes,” she mumbles.
My right hand is wrapped around the back of her neck. I move my thumb so it’s underneath her chin, tilting it up.
“Look at me,” I say. “Did you follow my instructions?”
“Yes,” she says, her eyes flitting downwards.
I move my thumb down slightly so it’s right around her throat. I press lightly. We’re huddled so close that nobody can really see us. I’m not hurting her. I’m just showing her that I’m in control.
“Don’t think I don’t notice when you look away from me, sweetheart,” I say. “Now look me in the eyes and say, ‘Yes, daddy, I followed your instructions.’”
She groans. “Are you serious?” she whispers. “We’re in public.”
“Exactly,” I say, smirking. “That makes it that much better, doesn’t it?”
She flushes and looks away.
“Belle, Belle, Belle,” I say. “How much longer are we going to continue playing this game, where you pretend that you don’t like this, when it’s extremely obvious to both of us that you do?”
She purses her lips and shakes her head.
“I guess we’re getting somewhere,” I say, smirking. “A week ago, you would have vehemently denied that. That was the most half-hearted no I’ve ever heard.”
She looks at me straight in the eyes this time. “You’re wrong,” she says, with a bit more bravado.
“That’s more like it,” I say, smiling. “There’s my girl.”
She scowls at me.
“Even better,” I say. “Okay, so you do want to play that game?”
“What game?” she asks.
“The one where you pretend you don’t like this, and I make you admit that you do.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, looking away.
“You’re such a little tease,” I say. “Such a silly little girl. But that’s okay. Daddy has all day.”
I notice her blush brighter when I say the word “daddy.”
“Oh, does that embarrass you, sweetheart?” I ask. “When I say I’m your daddy in public? Should I say it a bit louder?”
“No,” she hisses, loud enough that a few people look at us.
“Oh, you’re drawing attention,” I say. “Tsk, tsk. Isn’t that the opposite of what you should be trying to do right now?”
“This is ridiculous,” she says, starting to get up. “I’m—”
“You’re not going anywhere,” I say, reaching out and grabbing her wrist. “Look at me.”
She looks at me, her brown and gold speckled eyes dancing with light.
“You know what to say if you want me to stop. But until you say that, I’m not going to.”
I’m talking about our safe word, “red.” Basic, but it’s a classic for a reason.
I try not to bring it up too often because I don’t want to bring her out of the moment, but given how inexperienced she is, I do want to remind her now and then that she always has an out.
At the same time, if I ever sensed she wasn’t actually into it, I would back off.
But despite her weak protestations and feeble attempt to get away, I can tell that she doesn’t want to.
I can tell by the way she’s looking at me, biting her lip, fidgeting; by the light sheen on her skin; the way her heart is beating faster.
I swear I can smell her from across the table, dripping onto the seat.
If she didn’t want me, she wouldn’t have shown up without any panties on.
I stare at her for a few seconds, daring her to move, to say the word “red,” but we both know she won’t. She doesn’t.
“Good girl,” I say.
She blushes redder, and my cock swells with more blood.
God, if there was nobody here right now, I would bend her over the table right now.
We still haven’t slept together, but even if she’s not ready for that, there are many things I want to do to her little body.
But we’re in public at her Christian school, so I have to be careful.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun.
“Go on, sweetheart,” I say, rubbing my thumb across the inner part of her wrist. “Tell me just how much you dislike this. Tell me why you decided not to wear any panties when you hate this so much. Explain that to me. Daddy doesn’t get it.”
She looks around. I squeeze her wrist. “Look at me.”
She looks back at me, her eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights.
“I don’t know,” she stammers.
“Oh, I think you do,” I say.
She nods.
“Well, I want to hear you say it.”
“Because I wanted to,” she says.
I laugh. “Of course, that much is obvious. But why? Tell me why you wanted to.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“No?” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Are you disobeying me?”
“Um.”
“Not so brave anymore, are we?” I ask.
The hand that I have around her wrist slides up her forearm until I’m in the crook of her elbow.
I press my thumb into it, and she gasps.
It’s not what anybody would consider an intimate body part, but that’s why, in a weird way, it is.
It’s surprising. I continue to run my hand up her arm until it’s right at the crease of her armpit.
Her dress is short-sleeved, so when I run my thumb just underneath the material, I’m only a few inches away from her breast.
“No bra either,” I say. “I like that. The only thing that’s in between me and your perfect, tight little body is this piece of material.
You know what?” I lean in further and tighten the grip I have on the back of her neck, pushing her in towards me.
“If we were alone right now, I’d rip that dress off you and bend you over this table. What do you think about that?”
She inhales sharply, her mouth in a small O. God, I can’t help myself. I lean forward and kiss her, capturing her mouth in mine. She softens into me, and I capture her lower lip. It’s soft and full and tastes like gummy bears.
I slip my tongue into her mouth and swirl it around. A soft, almost imperceptible moan escapes her mouth. There’s no way anyone heard, but she pulls back immediately, eyes wide.
“Oh my God,” she says.
“Are we done now? Are you ready to admit it?” I ask.
“Admit what?”
“That you’re my horny little slut,” I say.
She shakes her head.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” I say. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
I stand up and grab her hand. It’s so small in mine. It’s not even that she’s particularly small, but at 6′4″, I dwarf most people, and definitely most women. I also have very large hands relative to the rest of my body.
And it’s not the only part of me that’s disproportionately large.
I take big steps, and she has to walk fast to keep up, which is good. I want her breathless, on edge. I like her best this way, and I think she likes it too. She’s not used to being rattled like this. I’m pretty sure she’s the type of girl who’s always in control, but not with me.
And that’s why she’s practically skipping to keep up with me right now. Slightly scared, but also turned on out of her mind.