bare. More than that we were joined, our flesh rubbing together, fusing. I pushed inside her, and this was the one constant. No matter who was on top, who was topping, there was this. Her wet heat gripping so tightly I was sure I’d never last another thrust-until I did. Again and again.
“ How does he take me?” she gasped.
I groaned as the fantasy sketched in my head. “From behind.”
“ Hard?” She panted. “Does he fuck me hard?”
“ God, yeah.” My hips pistoned faster, deeper, to demonstrate.
“ Your hands, they’re tied up?” Her eyelids were so low, her inner muscles quivering around me. She was so damn close to orgasm, but her voice was only out of breath, still underlined with steel. Even now she was invincible. “You can’t touch yourself. Can’t rub against anything at all while you’re watching?”
And I felt it; even as my cock was engulfed in her wet heat, I ached with denial. Pleasure and pain coiled together, and then she went over. Those sounds, those fucking beautiful sounds-out of breath, out of control, and finally I came too, lost. Around her, over her, owned by her.
Slowly our breathing evened out, racing hearts calmed. She ran a gentling hand along the back of my neck. I pressed a kiss to her temple, damp with sweat. This was the sweetest game: the two of us joined together with no barriers and no pretense.
I knew then that we would never run out of ideas, not as long as we had each other. But in the end, that wasn’t what would keep us together. It was trust. And sex. But mostly the trust.
THE FULL GIRLFRIEND EXPERIENCE
We went to the Greyhound bus station to try to persuade somebody to give us the money instead of taking a bus for the Coast. We were too bashful to approach anyone. We wandered around sadly. It was cold outside. A college boy was sweating at the sight of luscious Marylou and trying to look unconcerned. Dean and I consulted but decided we weren’t pimps.
Dean was the first and last killer I ever fucked. That I know of, at least.
Dean and I weren’t dating. He was just the career deviant from high school that I couldn’t shake. Every few weeks he’d appear at the wrong time and talk his way into my skirt. Did I mention he was hot enough to stop your heart with a look, and alpha enough to start it again with a snap of his fingers? Dean was cleft chin, thick hair, easy smile, and one-hundred percent damaged.
Just a week ago, Dean had found me in a fancy restaurant, slapped me, broke the strap of my dress, and dragged me past the shocked maitre d’. He pushed my face onto his cock and peeled out of the parking lot, screaming something about Muslims in government. That was the end of a special date with a very fabulous boy, Jack. Jack and I had a class together and he made me feel like Scarlett Johansson with the way he stared.
Sorry, Jack! I thought, mouth full of Dean’s amazing cock. I wanted this to be you.
Since Jack liked me so much, I expected to be able to salvage things with him at the next class. It turned out to be supremely uncomfortable:
“ Where’d you get that black eye, Lorelei?”
“ Violent sex games,” I said.
It went downhill from there. I’m the only one who gets Dean.
On the weekend of our final adventure together, Dean rolled up in a white ’88 Chevy Cavalier I didn’t recognize and screamed at me to get in. His eyes were fucking crazy; a girl wouldn’t dare say no.
Dean was tweaking. His skin quivered like hairy flan and he mumbled nonstop. I was terrified until he kissed the fuck out of me. Every kiss from that boy felt like we were jumping off a bridge together.
“ Happy twentieth, Lorelei,” he crooned.
He was unbuttoning my blouse even though we were right there in the car.
“ Thanks, baby. What did you get me?”
“ Three days of guaranteed awesome, Lorelei. Look at this, and this.” He showed me a roll of twenties and then a quart bag of Ecstasy pills-it was more than any reasonable sensationalist could take in a year. Dean didn’t have a job. He didn’t own a car. He didn’t have connections for that much X. There was a 9-mm pistol on the floor between my feet.
“ Dean, what did you do?”
“ Dayton, Ohio,” he said decisively. “Ali Katz is playing on the Ohiopalooza tour. You like her, right?”
Words could not express how much I loved that chick. I had a hip tattoo that matched hers.
He grinned at my face. He was calming down slightly, which melted some of my reserve. “Three days of you being a sexy counterculture whore. Disappoint your daddy like you always wanted. You see Ali Katz, while I have a permanent hard-on watching you slut around. You’re back on Monday, full of regrets.”
It sounded awesome, but… “I have an assignment due on Monday.”
“ The fuck?” I don’t know where I got the cheek to say no to him. He didn’t just hate being contradicted, he gutted conflict with a knife wherever it stumbled into his path. “I told you, college is a fucking waste of time. But it’s your birthday, so it’s your party. You may bring your books with you.”
“ It’s a project with another student. Jack.”
“ Quiet Jack?” Dean snorted. “He’s in your class? I feel like I saw him at a restaurant recently…”
“ Can we take a raincheck?”
“ We fucking cannot. This is a limited time offer, Lorelei.”
He flipped open a phone I didn’t know he owned and demanded Jack’s number from me.
“ Jack-o,” he said, his voice low. “I’m taking Lorelei on a road trip. No, she doesn’t get a choice. Yeah, I know about your dumb fucking homework. Here’s the deal, you’re coming with us. Yes. Yes, you are.”
Dean rolled his eyes at me and smiled. I wasn’t fooled.
He said this next: “I’ve had a horrible week, and I’m beating the fuck out of someone. If it’s not you, it’s Lorelei.”
He winked at me.
“ Right, we’ll see you in five minutes.” Dean hung up. “I got you something to wear.”
My blouse was open anyway, so I pulled it off and watched while he dug behind the seats. The back of the Cavalier was full of kids toys. He pulled out a Niemann Marcus bag, and inside was a shiny dress with the shoplifting tag still on it.
It was a shimmering, short, cocktail thing with spaghetti-straps and a fitted bodice. I let it slide luxuriously down over my breasts. I felt more pleased than I should have under Dean’s gaze.
“ Don’t wear anything else with it,” he said, watching me shimmy my jeans down.
The top was too low-cut to allow a regular bra. The breast cups were also sized larger than I was. They would be a constant invitation for anybody with an angled view, or for side-boob aficionados.
“ Not even panties?” I asked.
“ Panties are for teenagers. You’re twenty, now.”
Dean’s mood was only slightly improved by the time we rolled up to Jack’s dormitory.
Jack was pacing the sidewalk. He rushed over when he saw me through the passenger window.
“ Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“ Don’t talk to Lorelei when I can’t hear,” Dean said. “If you whisper to her again, I’m putting a bullet through her brain. And then yours.”
