I can tell she expects the worst.
“I haven't done this before,” I admit.
“What? Sex outdoors?”
“Yeah. Or, like, sex in general,” I say, unable to meet her stunning eyes.
I feel her unhurried hand slide up my thigh. She smiles at me as she bites her lower lip.
“You sure acted like you knew just what you were doing. You even had the cocky asshole vibe that comes from whoring around.”
She leans into me and meets my lips with her own. I push her away and she tenses, as if she senses an impending rejection.
“Wait… rewind. Did you just call me a cocky asshole?” I ask with a flirty smile.
She nods and lets out a deep sigh of relief before straddling my waist. Her dress bunches toward her midsection as she climbs on top of me. My hands race down her sides until I can grab hold of her ass. She’s wearing thin, lacy underwear that hardly covers her. I grasp at the soft skin of her hips and can’t help but growl against her neck. I can feel how wet she is.
This girl is driving me wild. She is sinful and delicious. Just as enticing as those women who have “classic beauty”, if not a little more. She kisses me fiercely as her fingers fumble with the button on my jeans. I pull her dress up over her head. She has a stunning pair of breasts beneath a lacy black bra that matches her panties. I reach behind her to unclasp it and watch her face for cues to stop or slow down. I fumble with the clasp. She laughs and reaches back to undo it herself.
She bites her lip and whimpers as I slip her bra off slowly, completely entrapped in the moment. She grows impatient and puts my hands to her chest. My firm grasp leaves finger marks on the pale skin of her breasts. I pull her towards me as my tongue teases her nipples. I flick the soft mounds with my tongue and she moans softly. She wiggles on my lap as I nibble and tug on them ever so slightly. She kisses down my stomach and toward my waist as her fingers work down my zipper. She pulls my jeans down past my ass as her hand rubs me through the fabric of my boxers. She smirks up at me as she feels my entire length. I'm still hard. Thank god my nerves are cooperating this time. I drop my head back in anticipation and moan into the night.
“Elisa.”
Her chilled hands ease my boxers down. Her breath is warm and her tongue is hot against the skin of my cock. She takes as much of me as she can into her mouth until I feel the back of her throat. It’s dirty and sloppy, and I can’t help but thrust my hips forward. She gags. I grab a fistful of her hair and crane her neck back so I can look at her. Her lips are pursed and she has a bit of drool on her chin.
“I'm going to come,” I tell her.
I know I’m coming too soon, and I feel a bit of panic rise into my belly. If she thinks the same, she doesn’t show it. She smirks and takes me back into her mouth without an answer—which is the answer. I utter a deep groan as my hips pulse against her and I fill her throat. There's an awkward pause. She’s smiling up at me, swallowing hard, and waiting for my move.
Think. Think. Think.
I push her down onto her back, lift her hips, and pull her panties down her thighs. The first few thrusts of my fingers terrify me. I worry I’m hurting her—or that I’m not hurting her. I push my fingers into her harder. I start with two before moving to three and then four.
“It’s too much,” she says.
Her whimpers of pain unearth the animal inside me. It’s the part of me I keep locked away for fear of what I might become if it’s allowed to roam. I grab a fistful of her hair once again. I pull her up so she's standing in front of me and face her away roughly.
“That hurts!” she whines softly.
I bite her neck and growl against her skin in response. I shove her against the top of the truck, bend her over, and pull her hips towards mine. Her noises invite the blood to rush between my legs again. I’m throbbing. Before she can make any sounds of defiance, I wrap my hand around her mouth, stifling any chance to say more. I’m hard and swollen as I hold myself against her. I guide myself inside her and slam my hips hard against her. She feels for something to steady herself. Her hands grasp the rack on the roof of the truck. I press her body against the metal. She moans into my hand.
“Be quiet,” I growl into her ear.
She struggles against my unwavering grasp on her hips. The more she fights, the closer I get. I pull out and finish. She turns to face me with wide, watery eyes. Her lipstick is smeared, her legs tremble, and for a few moments, I’m not sure if she’s angry or pleased. Or both.
I hand over her clothes, and she stumbles as she puts on her bra and panties. She steps into her dress, pulls the fabric over her hips, and climbs down from the truck bed without a word. She carries her heels and hops into the passenger seat. I pull my jeans up and button them before I join her in the cab. My hands are shaking. I fumble with the keys, and the truck roars to life.
Elisa pulls down the visor to look at herself in the mirror. She wipes away the mascara and lipstick smeared across her porcelain skin. The silence between us is deafening as I drive her home. When we arrive at her house, she looks over at me with big blue eyes.
“Wait!” I yell to her as she closes the passenger door.
She comes to the driver’s side of the truck. “What?”
“Can I have your number?”
I hand her my phone and she types her name and phone number into my contacts. She sends a quick text to herself so she has mine as well.
“Bye,” she whispers.
* * *
Emily
David comesinto my room at three a.m., smelling like perfume and sweat—a combination that isn’t entirely foreign to me. He hands me the truck keys and kisses me on the forehead. I turn to look at him. He appears as if he’s been through the wringer, but he’s grinning from ear-to-ear.
“What’s gotten into you?” I ask, pulling myself onto my elbows and yawning.
“I finally got laid!”
My stomach tightens and my cheeks flush. I can't bring myself to congratulate him. Is that even what you do? Congratulate your friends on having sex?
“Emily, it was incredible. We were by the river and she was so—“
My mouth forms a tight, thin line.
She was what? Perfect? Beautiful? Amazing?
My body language pleads with him to end his sentence. He sits beside me when he realizes I'm not sharing in his excitement. His hand grazes mine, and I recoil from his touch.
Did he even wash up afterward, or will I still be able to smell her on his fingertips?
“Emily, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I'm just tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
He leans in to kiss my forehead again, but I turn and pull the blanket over my head. When I hear my door close, I turn onto my back. I pull the blanket down. I’m hot and irritable. I imagine him sweetly making love to some beautiful girl. A girl like those on his posters. An unbelievably lucky girl. Fuck that girl.