Chapter 18 #2
Like fuck. I ache. And you come here, looking so daisy fresh, so innocent and so soft in your schoolgirl uniform. So unlike the bad girl you are. Who wants to flip her skirt and flash me her pussy. You want to, don’t you?
Yes, I want to.
That’s why I’m squirming in my chair while those girls are watching us and the rest of the world is absorbed in their homework. That’s why I want to tell him to meet me somewhere so I can show him how horny he makes me.
In fact, I’m even leaning against the table, searching for friction for my hard nipples as I reply, Yes. I wanna. I so, so wanna. When can we do it again?
I hear his pained chuckle and I notice that he’s even more golden now, shinier and more glistening.
His note says, I’m not going to have sex with you again right after I broke you in and made you bleed. I’m an asshole but I’m not a total bastard, Salem.
Again, I read his note multiple times before I can gather enough sense to look up at him. I can’t decide which I like more: him saying my name or writing it.
I guess I love it all. Just like I love him.
My darling, darling Arrow.
I pout at him, at his no-sex rule and his nostrils flare.
Then I pen him a request. Okay, fine. But will you take me for a ride tonight?
He reads my note and thinks about it for a second before answering, Midnight tonight.
It’s a date. Yay!
I hear his sigh and when he passes me his reply, I hear him growl it in my ears, making me want to laugh.
Can we get back to trigonometry now?
I find him by his Ducati at midnight.
This is the first time I’ve snuck out all alone, without any help from my girls. I was a little nervous about it, but it turned out okay. What I should be more nervous about, or at least more anticipatory about, is the fact that I’m breaking one of his rules for the first time ever.
I’m wearing a skirt.
I borrowed it from Poe again, this one plaid too but with good-girl pleats and bad-girl length that barely covers my ass.
He’s gonna freak, I know. But whatever. He can punish me if he likes. I have his jacket on though, which drowns me so it’s not as if anyone can see anything.
Anyway, I’m here now.
I pause a moment to take him in. He’s leaning against his motorcycle in his usual, familiar clothes that are already making me feel warm, smoking a cigarette.
His little bad habit.
A tiny rule that he breaks because it helps him relax and de-stress.
God, he’s so hard on himself, isn’t he?
So hard and critical. So tied up in severe knots.
That’s why I came up with this idea. This ride at midnight. If I can’t make him believe that he’s not a failure, then at least I can help him let loose.
This broken boy.
This new Arrow.
The one who looks like a quintessential bad boy right now – seemingly dark hair, dark intentions, waiting for his teenage sweetheart that he’s going to take away on his motorcycle.
He’s going to find a dark alley or a lonely corner under a rusty bridge somewhere and corrupt every little innocent part of her with those big hands and darling lips.
I begin walking toward him and the sound of my feet makes him look at me.
As soon as he does, he straightens up and lets out a puff of smoke and I start to run toward him like I did in our backyard.
Although I stumble just when I reach him, but he catches me, as usual. Panting, I hug him and close my eyes, pressing my cheek against his ribs, exactly where his heart is.
“If you don’t stop doing that, I’ll have to assume you’re doing it on purpose,” he drawls, his arms around me squeezing.
I rub my cheek on his chest. “Doing what on purpose?”
“Falling.”
“Why would I do that on purpose?”
“So I could catch you.”
I kiss his dead heart and look up. “Maybe I am.”
He narrows his eyes at me as he squeezes me tighter and mutters, “Pain in the ass.”
That I am and I’m going to become even more of a pain now.
“You’re smoking,” I tell him as I watch tendrils of smoke snake out of his gorgeous mouth.
“You’re late.”
“Why are you smoking?”
“Haven’t we had this conversation before?”
We have and that’s why I ask, my eyebrows raised, “So what are you trying to forget tonight?”
He stares down at me for a beat before growling, “We lost.”
“The game?”
The clench of his jaw is my answer.
I raise my hand to cup his sharp cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“We had it,” he says, his eyes boring into mine. “We almost had it. It went into overtime and they had Rodriguez in the penalty shootout. It should’ve been me. I should’ve been there, taking that shot. And now we’re out for the season. I –”
“Hey, hey,” I cut him off, rising up on my tiptoes.
“You will be there. You will do it. You just have to hold on for a little while.” His jaw pulses under my palm and his eyes burn bright with anger, with self-hatred and I kiss his hot, smoking lips, trying to soften him up.
“So will you please put out your cigarette so I can give you the gift I brought for you?”
Arrow simply watches me for a few seconds before the aggression leaches out of his body and he asks, “You brought me a gift?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s not a poem, is it?”
I swat his chest and a soft chuckle escapes him. “No, you idiot. Just help me up.”
Again, he stares at me a beat before throwing his cigarette away and boosting me up and soon, I’m climbing over his body, my thighs around his slim waist and my arms clutching his shoulders.
But that’s not the exciting part.
The exciting part is when he notices.
That I’ve broken his rule.
His hands grab my naked thighs, before inching up and covering the cheeks of my ass.
Bare cheeks.
“You’re wearing a skirt,” he growls, this time laced with sexual, dominating intent rather than anger.
Good.
At least he’s not focusing on lost games.
I bite my lip and squirm in his lap, my bare pussy – I’m not wearing my thong tonight too – rubbing up against his t-shirt.
“I know. I’m breaking one of your rules.
So you can punish me if you like. But. Gift first!
” I go fishing for his gift in my jacket pocket and produce it with a flourish.
“That’s why I was late. Because I stopped to bring this for you. ”
He doesn’t look at it right away.
In fact, he stares into my eyes as he parts the cheeks of my ass with punishing fingers and when I bite my lip, only then does he glance down at my offering – a little flower, a gardenia, with a tiny green stem that I clipped for him from the garden.
“You brought me a flower,” he rumbles, lifting his eyes.
I nod. “Yes. It’s the official flower of St. Mary’s, which you already know. But did you know that it also stands for purity and innocence?”
And secret love.
It also stands for secret love. But I’m not going to tell him that. Because this isn’t about love, what we have. This is about making him feel better, even for a little while.
Instead of taking the flower, Arrow grabs a fistful of my ass and bounces me in his lap. “Purity and innocence.”
I undulate against him shamelessly, trying to hold on to the flower with my trembling fingers. “Yes.”
He bounces me again, causing an ache in my clit.
“Yeah, I can see that. How innocent you look right now, giving me this flower. No bra. No panties. Nothing to cover up your perky, bouncing tits and your out-of-control pussy.” He leans forward and bites my lower lip.
“How innocent you looked last night, in my bed, when you gave up that flower between your legs.”
I shudder. “Uh-huh. Totally. Innocent. But no one calls it a flower, Arrow.”
“No? So what is it called then?”
His casual question is accompanied by a very casual flick of his thumb along the crease of my ass, making me moan.
But somehow, I manage to answer him demurely. “The p-word.”
“Ah, the p-word.” His thumb still moves up and down my crease. “Peach, you mean.”
I shake my head and bite his lip. “You know what I mean, asshole. Stop teasing me and take my flower.”
He chuckles then before snatching my mouth in a kiss and bringing his thumb down to my soppy pussy where he wreaks havoc on my clit. He doesn’t let go until I climax.
Until I’m coming on his t-shirt.
Only then he slides me down his body with hooded eyes, takes my flower and takes me out on a date.
First stop is the ice cream parlor, all the way in the college town of Middlemarch.
It’s almost deserted, with only a handful of people inside the store.
When he asks for a vanilla cone for himself, I chirp in and tell the guy behind the counter that my guy will take a chocolate cone with all the chips and sprinkles and trappings, just like me.
When Arrow gives me a look, I say, “You wanna be boring all your life or do you wanna be awesome like me?”
At which, Arrow grabs the back of my neck and lays a hard kiss on my lips, right in front of the counter guy.
Once we have our ice creams, we go outside and I straddle the Ducati that he parked on the empty street, and lick my cone.
At first he’s simply leaning against the motorcycle, his face both lit up and shadowed under the insufficient street light as he watches me lick my ice cream. Then he throws away his cone and straddles the bike too.
Eyes heavy, he grabs my waist and yanks me over to him, my juices probably streaking a path across his leather seat. “I ruined your seat.”
He drapes my bare legs over his powerful thighs, opening them up. “Not yet, you haven’t.”
Before I can say anything else, he sticks his hand under the jacket that I’m wearing and in turn, under the hem of my skirt and kisses me with ice-cream cold lips.
Shivering, I kiss him back, forgetting about the cone in my hand.
I jump when I feel something on my pussy.
Something other than his fingers.
Something like my flower.
The flower I gave him back at St. Mary’s that he pocketed, right where his dead heart is.
Arrow is touching me with it.
I don’t know when he got it out and when he snuck it under my skirt but he’s sliding the flower along my slit, twirling it over my clit.