11
Seeing King like that, sweat sheening on his temples, the hair closest to his skin becoming saturated in it, makes something shift in me again.
All this arguing, his protectiveness, the emotions, once again my body is hot.
All I want to do is kiss him, to hold him, for him to say what I wish he would.
Leaning back, my voice falls to a lower decibel. “So you don’t like it?” I ask, opening my bare thighs.
King looks over at me, then his eyes drop instinctively to where I’m opening my legs, my left leg bending a little toward him.
King looks up at my eyes once before looking down at me sliding my hand in between my legs. He can’t see my pussy or anything because the skirt is still mostly covering it. He doesn’t know how easily my fingers are gliding across my clitoris under my panties.
This feels oddly familiar.
“You telling me that… you’re not into me? Not turned on by me?” I tease, letting my tongue rest between my teeth, smirking seductively, knowing I can get him.
King looks back to the road but mostly looks at me. Then he sucks in his bottom lip, seemingly angry, and swerves the truck off into an empty parking lot with no lights.
My eyes go wide, just a little bit kind of feeling excited. Then he shuts off the truck. The lights immediately turn off, dimming us into darkness with the exception of the light in the parking lot.
Turning to me, his voice lowers into a growl as he leans in a little closer, anger registered on his face. “You think everything is a game? ’Cause one day you’re going to wake up and realize you wasted your life using your body to attract the wrong man,” he warns.
“And are you the right man?” I tease, my fingers still gliding over my wetness idly, barely moving, just enough for the display.
“Erica, STOP it!” he yells.
“I would, but you make it very hard for me when you keep staring at my body and getting erections around me,” I shoot back defiantly, keeping my svelte tone.
“My flesh still reacts, but that has nothing to do with how you behave,” he says, trying his best to drive home his disappointment, but I can see he’s faltering, his voice a little less harsh.
My fingers curl under the hem of my already very short dress, and I lift it so he can see my panties.
“Does that offend you… Brother King?” I suck in my bottom lip.
King breathes a little faster through his nose, then looks at my panties and my bare thighs. Then he looks at me, tilting his head in disappointment, eyes narrowing. He reaches forward and pulls down my dress back over my thighs.
Laughing, I fight him to pull it back up.
“Stop it!” he scolds me, fighting me to pull my dress back to cover myself.
“No! I don’t want to,” I mock playfully and defiantly. My hands pull up my skirt again, my underwear with a wet spot on it on full display.
“Erica, stop,” he growls. The both of us are grunting, fighting each other.
He’s basically leaning all the way over me from the driver’s side seat, his right knee on his seat for leverage.
Soon as he pulls it back over, I let him think he’s won and I pull it right back up, this time lifting myself slightly so I can pull the part of the dress that I’m sitting on over my ass so it’s bunched up between me and the seat.
My giggle causes him to stop. He stops everything. Stops fighting. Stops talking. He just looks at my panties, my legs open, swaying to and fro very softly as I keep my eyes on him, lifting my eyebrows momentarily before lowering them in mischief.
“Why are you doing this?” he asks, his eyes now on me as if pleading, as if helpless.
For a good solid eight seconds I let him sit in the silence before I say, “Because I’m a bad girl. And I like to feel good. And I like you. And I know that you’re a good man and you’ll never give in.”
Breathing hard, King’s hands shake, one arm against the glove compartment and his right hand planted on the seat right beside my outer left thigh. His hand resting on the dash moves forward to pull down my dress again. This time I don’t do anything.
As he pulls down my dress, he takes his time, pulling part of it over my right thigh, then my left, then he tries to even them out and rests his left hand on my right thigh. I can’t see his face. His head is bowed, looking at my lap like he’s fighting.
The both of us are breathing a little heavy. Then he looks up at me.
Our faces are very close, like they were at Christmas. I want them to be closer.
His eyes drop to my lips, then he closes his eyes and turns his head to the right, away from me.
“Let’s… let’s go back,” he whispers, fighting what I can clearly see is his urge.
I oblige, suddenly feeling a lot more tired. Honestly, I don’t have the fight in me anymore.
King starts the truck, breathing out a sigh of tension, and we take off.
We drive in silence the whole way back to the camp. The truck’s engine drones deeply, headlights cutting through the dark road, but neither of us says a word.
When we finally pull in, King parks near the path to the cabins.
We walk in silence. I look over at King, still feeling the moisture in my underwear. Tension radiates off him, shoulders tight, steps heavy. We almost did something, didn’t we?
We continue along the path, passing trees, darkness wrapping around us. King’s cabin with the blue roof shows up first on the right. I keep walking down the lane to the left, where a row of smaller cabins lines up. Mine and Zoe’s is at the very end, almost directly across from Jun’s.
Slowing down, I look over my shoulder at King. When he reaches his door, he looks over his shoulder at me. Both of us say nothing.
The moment I step inside, silence greets me. Where is Zoe?
Checking my phone, I see a missed text.
Zoe: Heading home. Love you.
That’s right. I thought I heard she was going to stay the weekend, but maybe I was wrong. My body aches. I feel colder than usual.
Was it the argument? Is it because I’m in the mood? No idea.
All I know is that I’m exhausted. I try to gear myself up to head back out so I can go home, but I’m too tired. I can’t drive like this. Might as well sleep.
My fingers move over my phone as I text back Zosha.
Me: Safe travels. Love you too.
So quiet.
My sheets feel soft but not as soft as my bed at home.
I mean, I did bring the sheet with me. Every week I change it, fold it up, and bring it back, or I could just use the laundry room in the sports area.
There’s one in the science building too.
That’s what some people do, just throw their laundry in there.
Or they wash their stuff in the lake, which I personally think is nasty.
I want to go home.
Why do I feel like this? So weak. Did I drink that much alcohol? Even still, it should be wearing off by now.
There’s a knock on the cabin. My eyes flip open. I guess I did doze off.
Who would be knocking at this time?
Maybe it’s Jun.
Ignore.
I’m too tired to even get up. The door creaks open and someone steps inside. Opening my eyes, since I’m lying on my left, I can immediately see who it is.
“You’re still here,” King says, coming in and closing the door behind him.
“Are you not going home for the weekend?” he asks.
“I’m tired. I can’t drive like this,” I reply.
After a moment of silence, King softly says, “I’ll drive you.”