4
ELIAS
The wind gusts up the road, causing the trash in the gutter to spin and roll. I push my hands into my favorite dark jeans, shivering against the cold. I should have brought a jacket, but I spilled beer on it last night and didn't have time to wash it. Having only one jacket makes me feel like a loser. My friends have closets filled with clothes, and moms who send them care packages and buy them pricey gifts for special occasions. I get the privilege of struggling for myself.
I glance in both directions, searching for Celine. I did offer to pick her up, but she told me she'd meet me at the bar instead. This arrangement doesn't sit well with me, but I'm not her boyfriend, and arguing about her lack of concern for her safety isn't my place.
In the distance, a petite girl with long dark hair strides towards the bar. I ignore her, glancing at my watch and registering that I've been waiting for fifteen minutes. Celine’s late, which I guess is a female prerogative. It doesn't take me longer than fifteen minutes to shower and dress and run some product through my hair. With all that beautiful, long red hair, it must take Celine hours to get ready.
"Elias." The voice sounds like Celine's and when I whip around, I find a girl with a face like Celine's, but everything else about her is different.
Dark hair spreads around her shoulders in soft waves, and the dress she's wearing is bright red and so tight, it's like a second skin. Her green eyes are ringed with black shadow, and her lips are painted to match her outfit.
She's a bombshell but not the real Celine.
"Wow." I don't know what to say. If I tell her she looks amazing, will she think I didn't like the way she looked before? If I tell her I prefer her natural hair and her more subtle way of dressing, will she feel bad about the changes she's made?
This situation is as treacherous as a minefield.
"You like?" Celine pivots on one very shiny black stiletto shoe, revealing all her slim curves that I remember so well.
"I like it," I say. "Do you like it?"
She beams. "I feel different, which is good. I like this new version of me."
"I like both," I say, treading a careful line.
"I didn't think diplomacy would come so easy to you." She steps closer, hooking her hand around the back of my neck to press a soft kiss to my cheek. She smells good in a feminine way that sends heat flooding low, tightening my balls. Moving closer to my ear, she whispers, "You always seem to say what’s on your mind." She’s right. I usually do. But for some reason, protecting Celine’s feelings has modified that tendency.
When she draws back, she swipes my cheek to wipe away the lipstick she left behind. "Thanks for suggesting this. It's good to be out rather than sitting at home."
"I've seen a lot of people we know go inside," I tell her. "Not Eddie yet, but plenty of people who will mention it to him."
She nods, smiling at the prospect. There's something wicked about her desire to rile Eddie up. Something vindictive that I enjoy. Revenge is a base emotion, but it sure feels good when you give in to the desire.
I take her hand in mine and lead her to the entrance, nodding to the doormen who know me well. "Have a good night," one of them says as we pass.
Inside, the bar is only half full. It's still early, and I prefer not to be crushed amongst too many people. Being big and bulky has its advantages, but it also makes pushing through crowds a challenge if you don't want to be an asshole and knock people off their feet. I smile at the thought of knocking a pathway through the current crowd, separating everyone like pins at a bowling alley.
When I was a kid, I dreamed of being a man as big as my dad, who wouldn't ever have to worry about getting hurt again. I love my bulk and have cultivated my menacing stare. Since I turned eighteen, not a single man has tried to take me on.
At the bar, Celine stands on tiptoes and struggles backward onto a stool. She's so much smaller than me; it's almost humorous. "What's your pleasure?"
She grins, her perfectly shaped brows rising suggestively. "I think you know."
Damn. My cock thickens against my zipper, but I resist the urge to adjust myself. "Oh, I know. But I'm talking about a drink."
"Spoilsport." Her eyelashes flutter. "How about a Cosmo?"
I wave at the barman to get his attention and order one cosmopolitan and a bottle of beer. The drinks are ridiculously expensive, but I pay anyway, thinking through where I can tighten my budget later in the month.
Celine makes easy work of the drink, but I savor my beer, scanning the bar to see who's around. Eddie's best friend is in the corner, speaking to a girl. When he raises his head, our eyes meet, and he tips his head in greeting. Then he notices Celine, and his eyes widen.
"We've been noticed." I lean close to Celine's ear, brushing my lips over the sweet shell and relishing the shiver my touch elicits. There’s something about our connection, a different level of awareness between us that I haven’t found with anyone else. It’s what prompted me to suggest this fake date. I want a chance to get in between Celine’s legs again and find out if a second night with her will be as explosive as the first. She’s the only girl I’ve wanted more of after a one-night stand. "Want to put on a good show?"
"Yes." Her agreement is a breathy whisper, and her hand on my chest is gentle encouragement. I dip my head and press my lips to hers, savoring the softness of her lips and the slide of her tongue. As I move deeper, she grips my shirt, wrapping her lean, toned, and very bare legs around my waist. I press hard against her pussy, using a hand to urge her hips closer to mine.
With no care for who's around us, she grinds up against me, moaning softly.
"Get a room," a deep voice says from behind us, but I don't stop. It's too good, and the memories of how much better it gets when I'm up inside her spur me on.
It's Celine who pushes against my chest, bringing the kiss to an end. My mouth separates from hers, wet and bruised. My cock is thick and hard, a bar against my boxer briefs. Her mesmerizing green eyes blink; dazed and confused. I feel the same.
"Remembering how good it was?" I tip my head to the side and fold my lips into my mouth, tasting her again. I shoot her with my most smoldering look, sure that my arrogance is part of what turns her on. It's what all girls seem to like. Treat them well, and they run a mile. Dangle them from strings so they don't know whether you like them or not, and they want to marry you.
"Yep." It's said with no pretense, which catches me off guard.
"I know this is a fake date, but we could make it a real one-night stand?"
Celine stifles a smile. "You're a real Romeo, you know that?"
"Didn't Romeo fall in love with an underage girl, have a three-day relationship, and then kill himself?"
Celine snorts, frowning in confusion. "That's a pretty dark summary of an amazingly romantic play."
"It’s not a romance. It’s a tragedy, and that doesn't answer my question."
She narrows her eyes and then glances around the bar to see who's noticed us. I keep my eyes on her, not caring about the observers. All I want to know is whether she's coming home with me tonight.
"Eddie's friend is on the phone."
"Oh, really. Want to give him something else to tell his asshole cheating friend?"
I lean in again, and she holds me back. "You're seriously going to tell me you never cheated?"
With my nose brushing against the tip of hers, I tell her the truth. "I don't date, so cheating isn't a thing."
"You mean you don't commit?"
"Exactly."
She kisses my lips again as though she's assumed this isn't going anywhere apart from the fake date arrangement and is happy about it. She's probably right. Relationships are bullshit. People just latch onto each other and then spend the rest of their lives trying to tear each other apart. It's better to just enjoy what there is to enjoy: a few stolen moments, some shared passion, and a little surface-level connection. Then part with happy memories we'll both smile about in a few years.
God, I want this girl in my bed.
I pull back, gripping her mane of chestnut hair in my hand, tipping her face up to mine. "Do you think we've made enough waves here?"
She nods, and then her eyes flick to the left. "Can I get a picture before we go for socials?"
I grit my teeth because social media is my pet peeve. It's just a load of fake people faking their happiness or empathy to make everyone else feel bad about their lives or about themselves. I don't like people taking photos of me, either. I like to move through the world living in the moment. Looking back is for people who've had childhoods filled with blissful memories, and that isn't me.
But Celine is all wide, pleading eyes, and for some reason, with her, I don't want to say no.
She pulls her phone from her purse and holds it over our heads the way influencers do to reduce their jowls. I don't look at the camera but rest my forehead against the side of her head so that only a portion of my side profile is visible. Celine seems content with the image because she quickly uploads it to Insta while I finish my beer. I don't have an account to check who's responding to it, though.
"Let's go," she says eventually. Making a big show about sliding off the stool in a sexy way, Celine plumps her new curls and pivots in her new dress, cocking her hip and showing off her perfect legs. If people weren't looking before, they sure are looking now. Taking her by the hand, I walk her to the door, enjoying the glances we receive as we cross through the crowd. Outside, Celine drops my hand and stretches her arms into the air, making a high-pitched, happy sound. "That was good, Elias. Really good." She focuses on me with a big, bright smile, sending something warm that wraps around my heart. "If that doesn't make him scream, I don't know what will."
"Forget making Eddie scream. How about I make you scream?"
Even in the darkness, I can see her pupils swell with arousal. When I take a step closer, looming over her, she holds her ground.
With a husky whisper, she says, "I thought you'd never ask."
We don't even make it through the door to my dorm room before grasping at each other in desperation. I shove down the thin straps of her dress, baring her perfect breasts cupped in a bra that almost reveals her nipples. My mouth is on her neck, her clavicle, and lower until I'm latched onto one tight little nipple and sucking hard enough to make her gasp. Celine pulls my shirt, and I tear it from my body in one rough motion that has the stitches breaking.
"Damn," she says, trailing my body with lazy eyes. "Your body is insane."
"Nothing insane about it. Just hard work and dedication."
I push my shoulders back and make my pecs jump one at a time and laugh when I make her giggle.
"Well, I, for one, am very happy to appreciate the results of your intense focus." She trails a hand down the middle of my chest, reading the bumps of my abs with slow precision. When she gets to my belt, she stops.
"Show me what I've been missing."
She doesn't need to ask twice. I remove my belt with one hand, tearing the leather from the loops fast and hard. Her mouth drops open at the whip-crack of the sound it makes.
Interesting.
I toe off my shoes and lose the socks—there's nothing less sexy than a dude standing around naked in footwear—then drop my jeans.
Celine's focus zeros in on my cock, which is a very obvious bar in my tight black boxer briefs. "I've had dreams about that night." Her hand trails gently over the outline, sending a shiver of sensation up my spine and over my scalp. This girl is going to kill me.
I don't admit that I've thought about that night a lot as well. Mostly alone with my left hand working. "Celine. Fuck." I grab her beneath the ass with one hand, pulling her high against my body. Her legs wrap around my waist, clinging on as she gasps. Our mouths find each other, and we slide into a kiss that feels like mayhem. I can't breathe; I want to get inside her so much.
When her back hits the wall, it knocks the breath from both our lungs. Celine throws her head back, baring her throat, and I run my tongue over her pulse until I'm close to her ear. "Shall I fuck you now, Celine? Tell me what you want."
"Hard. Fast. Jesus, Mazur. Just give me your dick already."
With a heart that feels like it's beating hard enough to punch its way out of my chest, I release my cock, pushing her panties aside, and thrust deep in one slick motion that makes Celine scream and forces me up on my toes.
Oh god. It feels so good. So right. I can't even breathe.
I grind up inside her, pressing my hips against her sweet little pussy, relishing the wetness between her thighs like sweet pudding. Each thrust is a violent punctuation of my craving for her. I’m out of my mind, kissing her so deeply my jaw aches, shoving down her bra until her breasts are bare, and leaving hickeys all over her skin.
I'm deep, but I want deeper.
I yank her away from the wall, striding across my room with her clinging to me like a koala. I lower her onto the bed, still embedded deep, resting her legs over my shoulders before I fold her in two. That's it. That's it. Fuck.
"Oh god," she cries out. "Oh…oh… don't stop."
"Fucking come for me," I growl, keeping the unyielding tempo but adding more force to each slam of my hips. Celine's eyes roll, and her pussy clamps down so hard, I see stars. Her body jerks, spasming under my weight. I rest a hand over her heart and feel the explosive race as she orgasms violently.
I keep going, focusing on her pretty, parted lips. I lean back, looking between us at the sweet patch of red curls at the apex of her thighs. She's dyed her hair, but this part of her is still as I remember it. I close my eyes as heat licks over my balls until my cock swells and everything tense inside me for weeks and weeks spills between Celine's thighs.
Oh fuck. It feels so damned good.
So damned good. "Mmmm," I groan. Sweat trickles down my back as I pump slowly into her, easing my cum deeper and deeper, watching my cock disappear into her sweet little pussy.
She trembles, and her legs shake. I like knowing that I wrecked her. If I want more, which I do, she has to know she can't get better anywhere else.
I don't want to pull out. She feels so good. So perfect beneath me. Celine blinks up at me, her pupils still blown so wide, her eyes are almost as black as mine.
"Fuck, Elias. That was…"
I rest a finger over her lips. "It was." There's no point in either of us sliding into something emotional after sex.
Yes, fucking Celine is the best sex I've ever had. Yes, she makes me smile with her sassy humor and fiery character. She’s not afraid to bite back or to go for what she wants. I respect that. But that's it. That's as far as it goes, for both our sakes. I don't date, and even if I did, Celine's rebounding hard, which is not a foundation for building anything new.
But that doesn't mean I won't enjoy this for what it is.
I roll onto my back and pull Celine against my chest, staring up at the ceiling I face every night.
"Girl, you rock my world," I tell her.
"You smash mine into a million tiny pieces."
We stare at each other, and I take in the tiny freckles that dust her nose and cheeks like glitter and the pout of her bottom lip. I've kissed all the makeup from her face, but that's okay. I like her better this way.
I let my hand roam her hip and ass, and then I slick my finger between her legs. She's dripping what I shot inside her, and the sensation that I've claimed her makes my balls tighten again. Instinct drives me to push what's leaking out back up inside her.
"We didn't use protection," I say. "You were on birth control last time."
"I still am. I got tested, too, in case Eddie passed me something nasty. I'm all good."
"I'm good, too." I don't elaborate that she's the only girl I've ever gone bareback with.
I let my thumb play with the short curls between her thighs, and she moans enough to make my cock thicken. She shifts like she's already hungry for more. Like last time, we're a match just waiting to ignite. "I know you wanted a change," I find myself saying as I focus on a lock of her hair between my thumb and forefinger. "But you looked good before, Celine. Don't be afraid to go back."
Her throat clicks when she swallows, focusing on the wall I've covered with posters of my favorite footballers and some bikini-clad women. She doesn't answer, but when her hand snakes around my cock, making it hard all over again, and she shifts until she takes it into her mouth, I forget everything I was thinking in an instant.